Chapter One
Lucas
Twilight settles over Brookshore and the sound of crickets wafts in through an open window. I’ve been in my office for a few hours, working on a design program to plan the complete overhaul of a customer’s car, and it’s not until I look away from the screen and blink that I realize my eyes are burning.
I love my job. No, really. I made millions with cryptocurrency and opened up the auto shop after I bought my mansion and pimped my own Porsche 911. I don’t need to be here; I want to be here. I get to give a few guys jobs, pay them well, and tinker and play with cars all day. What’s not to love about that?
I’m not driving my Porsche tonight. I’ve just replaced the engine in a local lady’s Toyota, so I drive that home instead so I can open her up a bit and see how she runs.
I don’t know what comes over me, but when I approach the fork in the road that lets me go right to my empty mansion or left into my old neighborhood, I get the strangest tingling feeling, like I should go left. I haven’t been into the neighborhood for a couple of years now. I wasn’t exactly living in the nicest part of town back then, if you know what I mean.
The place looks eerily similar to the way it did when I lived here when I still worked in the mine. I can almost see a shadow of my past self, covered in dust and dirt, walking home down the street. I roll down the window to inhale the place, and the familiar scent makes me almost nostalgic. The nearby sound of raised voices quickly does away with it.
“What do you mean you don’t know where he is? He lives here!”
I slow the Toyota to a crawl and drive by, unable to hear the other half of the conversation. I can see better now, though, and the silhouette of a girl with ample curves is backlit by the light streaming out of a door, before the door slams behind her. She pounds her way to the sidewalk and stops, stomping her little foot in frustration as she lets out a muted groan.
“Everything okay, Miss?” I ask, coming to a stop just in front of her.
She lifts her head to reveal the biggest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. Her cheeks are dusted with freckles that seem to shine under the streetlamps, and her hair is a mop of unruly, rich auburn curls that frame her face. To say that she was beautiful would be an understatement. She is divinity itself, placed here in my tracks to test my resolve. Well. My resolve is not strong, and I’m already hoping that whatever her problem is it ends up with her in my bed.
“Oh yeah, just peachy,” she says, and suddenly the doll-like beauty I’d been staring at just a moment ago has taken on another dimension. She is sarcastic, and funny with her cocked brow, and not afraid to look me in the eye and try to wither me with a glare.
I like her.
“Wanna tell me about it?” I ask, letting my eyes trail to her feet and back up. I spot her glancing into the back of the Toyota, where she must clock the two child safety seats strapped in. She’s in her early twenties by the looks of things, and I’m in my early forties. Of course she’s about to assume all sorts of things about my marital status and a brood of children. Funny how people don’t assume those things when I’m in my Porsche, eating up the road.
When I give her my best smile, I see her head tilt just a little to the right, like she’s seeing me for the first time. Her eyes go to my bare ring finger.
“No funny business,” I say, holding both hands up, so she can see they’re both bare. “Just driving through and noticed you not having the best time is all. Thought I’d stop and see if I can help.”
After regarding me for another thoughtful moment, she relents with a nod.
“Ugh. My stupid ex. We broke up like 18 months ago and I went traveling a year ago. Except I was paying the rent and he kept failing to find somewhere else to stay. He asked if he could stick around since I’d be away anyway, and I agreed as long as he promised to stay there and basically house sit until I was back.”
“Aha,” I nod, following along. I want to wring this ex-boyfriend’s neck already, for the crime of having been with and presumably touched the woman in front of me, but I don’t say that. That’s crazy talk.
“Well, it turns out he bailed shortly after I left and started subletting to this couple almost right away. Despite the fact I still pay the goddamned rent every month like clockwork. So I’m home expecting him to have just moved out and instead he’s moved people in. Asshole.”
“Asshole, indeed,” I agree with a nod. That seems to cheer her up a little, because she breaks a smile, her cheeks apple, and her face lights up in a way I didn’t think was possible. It fills me with warmth.
“So, you need somewhere to stay?” I ask.
Wren
I cock a brow when the guy in the car asks if I need somewhere to stay. He’s hot. He’s wearing a tight T-shirt covered in smears of some sort of grease or dirt, and I can see muscles rippling underneath the fabric.
“Uh,” I say, glancing back to the house. My house! But there’s not much I can do about that tonight, and I’m going to need to speak to a lawyer before I contact my good-for-nothing asshole ex-boyfriend, Bret, to get a refund on my rent.
“Could you give me a lift into town?” I ask the guy. I figure it can’t do much harm. He looks around forty and he’s driving a sensible family car full of child seats. I’m no expert criminologist, but I don’t think this is really the profile of a serial killer. His wife, though? Whew! That is one lucky lady.
“At this time? Everywhere’s closed.”
“Aww, shame,” I say. I have trouble controlling my smart mouth at the best of times. It gets worse when I’m stressed—and this rent situation has me stressed. “I was hoping to get a quick mani and do some shoe shopping. In the middle of the night. Just off a plane. Carrying a suitca—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I get it. Smart mouth.” He quirks one side of his mouth in a smile, and it’s the most panty-wetting, gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen.
“I’ll find a hotel room,” I say.
“You sure? I have a spare room, and you’re welcome to it.”
I’d be all over that offer if Mister Panty-Wetter wasn’t packing two kid seats. I did notice that he’s not wearing a ring. But whether that’s because he’s never worn one or because he’s divorced, I don’t know. Even if he’s divorced… those car seats look like a lot of baggage to me. And as we’ve established, I’ve had my fair share of troublemaking men.
“Positive,” I say. “But thanks for the offer, stranger.”
“Lucas.”
“Thanks for the offer, Lucas. If I’m in town I’ll be able to get to my lawyer’s office first thing to get this mess sorted out.”
“Sure thing, miss,” he says. “I’ll put your luggage in the trunk.”
“Wren,” I say. “My name’s Wre–en.”
The stutter is caused by him getting out of the car and rising up to his full height. Holy heck he is huge. Broader than he looked sitting down and a full foot taller than me. His arms are the size of my thighs—which, incidentally, are clenching in response to him—and he’s wearing coveralls on his bottom half, with the arms tied around his hips.