Chapter Four
“Oh, Bellamy! Honey, are you okay?” Holly's arms were around Bellamy in a tight embrace before she and Jenna could even cross the threshold of their suite.
“Holly, it's my car that's toast, not me,” she managed to breathe out through the tumble of bright red curls falling over her friend's shoulder. “I'm fine. I can think of about fifty things off the top of my head I'd rather do with that money, but what choice do I have?”
Bellamy looked around the gorgeously appointed common room of their suite, which was both cozy and utterly lavish. The breathtaking view of the Blue Ridge Mountains surrounded by the whispering hints of sunset should have been a complete tension buster, and she sighed as she gazed at the panoramic sight beyond the glass.
It was going to take something stronger than the stunning landscape outside her window and the promise of imminent spa treatments to kill the stress that had set up camp in her shoulders. Something along the lines of 80 proof, bearing the moniker Jose Cuervo would do the trick just fine.
Holly flopped into a luxurious overstuffed chair, curling her petite legs beneath her. “Well, I hope you're not getting ripped off. Are you sure this mechanic guy knows what he's talking about?”
Bellamy thought of the intense way Shane's hands had moved over her car as he assessed the damage. He might be a cocky SOB, but he was the only mechanic who'd ever given it to her straight.
“Not for a fact, no. But I double checked with the Mazda dealership in the city when I was sitting in his office, and he wasn't wrong about the wait
or
the prices. Do you know that those guys charge over a hundred dollars an hour for freaking labor? I'm in the wrong damned business,” she mumbled, slumping into the couch.
Jenna popped her honey-colored head in from the tiny kitchenette, holding a block of cheese and some garlic and herb crackers. “You got another estimate?”
Bellamy crinkled her nose at her friend. “You're not really going to put those crackers with that kind of cheese, are you? They totally don't go together.”
“Oh, I forgot. The food Nazi's here. You want to do this, then?” Jenna laughed, bringing the hospitality basket over.
“Mmm, fig preserves. Nice.” Bellamy rooted through the basket of goodies, lifting an approving eyebrow at the contents. “And hell yes I got another estimate. Getting swindled isn't my idea of fun.” She paused, sweeping a few items onto the coffee table and going to work. “But Shane seems to know what he's doing, plus he said he'd start today. As it is, I have no idea how I'm going to manage not having a car for a whole week.”
God, she really wanted to forget every single second of the last couple of days. Missing a week's worth of work because she was stranded in the mountains was probably going to send her boss into the stratosphere. She'd have to come up with a way to go home and come back for her car next week, or risk having Bosszilla so far in her shit that she'd never be rid of the woman.
“Yeah, that's kind of a no-brainer. Have it hauled back to the city for more money or leave it here and let some totally hot mechanic have his way with it,” Jenna laughed, nudging Bellamy with one long leg as she sat down next to her on the floor.
“I didn't leave it with him because it was cheaper! I left it because it was
faster
,” Bellamy asserted, her hands stopping over the assembly line of snacks she'd laid out.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, nobody said anything about the mechanic being hot!” Holly interjected nosily, giggling from her perch in the nearby chair.
Bellamy flushed. “He's not
that
hot,” she protested, knowing it was a bald-faced lie.
Shane was hot as hell.
Jenna gave a no-nonsense snort. “You're full of shit, sister! I could see how smokin' hot he was the minute I walked in the door to come pick you up! If you didn't have dibs on him, I'd be half tempted to go yank something important-looking out from underneath the hood of my car and show up on his doorstep needing a little repair job of my own,” she snickered, popping one of Bellamy's hors d'oeuvres into her mouth.
Bellamy hopped up and made a beeline for the kitchenette to look for wineglasses. “Okay, first of all, I don't have
dibs
on him. What are we, in the seventh grade?” Her frown sent a knowing look between her two friends that Bellamy knew she had to nip in the bud right away. “And secondly, if you'd like my three thousand-dollar car trouble or the screeching reaction my boss is sure to have over the whole thing, you're welcome to it. I've been handed enough crap over the past couple of days without having to worry about some backwoods mechanic who has some grudge against all things city on top of it all,” she sighed.
“He likes you.” Jenna's brown eyes sparkled as she waggled her light brown brows at Bellamy.
“That's crazy.” She stopped in the middle of the carpet, three glasses in hand. “How do you know?” Was she seriously holding her breath?
“Because when I came in to pick you up, he was pretending not to look at you, even though he was
totally
looking at you. And these are amazing, by the way.” Jenna held up another cracker before polishing it off in one bite.
A nervous laugh spilled from Bellamy's lips. “Thank you. And he was
not
looking at me,” she countered. Shane had been way more interested in the lone car sitting in the garage than anything else. The only second thought he'd given her had come in the form of eye rolls and cocky smirks, she was sure of it.
Now
those
, she had caught.
“How do I always miss the good stuff?” Holly pouted dramatically. “Hot mechanic guy checking out my bestie on the sly? Seriously, next time,
you
can stay here,” she said to Jenna, tossing her auburn hair. “Damn, these
are
good, Bellamy.”
“They're even better with the spicy mustard on them. Here.” Bellamy passed the jar to her friend with a shake of her head. “And nobody checked me out,” she insisted.
“If that's what you think, then you
definitely
didn't catch him looking at your ass when we left.”
The jaw-dropping look on Bellamy's face sealed her fate. Both Jenna and Holly were overcome with a fit of giggles that no amount of arguing was going to erase.
“Shut up,” Bellamy groused, but a tiny smile played on her lips.
“Oh, come on, B. You've had the week from hell. Let's go downstairs and get mani-pedis, indulge in a dinner where calories totally don't count, and then you can let me and Holly take you out to drown your troubles. We're in the mountains. You can get embarrassingly snockered if you want, and there won't be any witnesses.” She paused to grin. “Well, none that you'll ever see again, anyway. What do you say?”
Now
that
sounded like a plan. “I say I need a drink like nobody's business.”
After all, it wasn't as if anything else could possibly go wrong.
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“Not a whole lot of people in the Blue Ridge who actually
want
to yank a tranny on their Friday night. Guess you're just special.”
Shane didn't have to turn around to know that Jackson Carter was wearing a smartass grin that matched his personality with absolute perfection.
“You say the nicest things.” Shane didn't even break stride with the wrench in his hand, even though he was far from ignoring his closest friend.
Jackson laughed, sauntering into the garage with a cold wind at his back. “Asshole.”
“Stop. I'm blushing.” Shane cracked a grin, finally swinging his gaze from the underside of the Miata. He'd had it on the lift for a couple hours now, and it was every bit the pain in the ass he'd predicted it would be. But considering the paycheck that would come out of the deal, he really couldn't bitch.
“So, did you come all the way out here just to blow sunshine up my skirt?” Shane dragged the rolled-up sleeve of his flannel shirt over his brow and eyed Jackson with a smirk.
“Nope. I'm a man on a mission.” Jackson ducked his six-foot-four, I-ate-a-linebacker-for-breakfast-and-went-back-for-seconds frame under the tiny red sports car and lifted his eyes with a frown. “Do I even want to know where you came up with this?”
Shane thought of Bellamy's fiery green eyes and the way her hips looked in those expensive designer jeans for a long second before answering. “Probably not.”
“Right. So what say we go grab some beers at the Double Shot? Come on, buddy. I'm buying.”
Shane's brows popped. “That's your mission? Are you honestly that hard up for someone to drink with?”
“Matter of fact, I am. Word is Samantha Kane just broke up with Jimmy Bowman.”
“Jesus, is that the girl you've had the crush on since sixth grade?” Shane laughed. How anyone could have a jones like that for someone else was beyond him. Dating, he got. Hell, even casual sex made sense as long as both parties were on the same page. But unrequited love? Not happening to Shane in a million years.
“If you want to get technical, since December of the fifth grade. But anyway. She's bound to be out tonight, and I'm not going to impress her if I show up alone. I need a wingman, and you, my friend, have special charm. Even if you never use it. Whaddaya say?” Jackson arched a brow toward his blond crew cut and grinned, but something flickered in his stare.
Shane tilted his head at Jackson. “Did Grady put you up to this?”
Shane had called Grady right after Bellamy left the garage to let him know the job had come in, although he'd deliberately fudged the truth about when he planned to pull the tranny so the old man wouldn't come back in to work. The lines on Grady's face lately suggested that being in the garage was wearing on him, and Shane didn't mind picking up the slack.
Just so long as Grady didn't
know
he was picking up the slack.
Jackson stared at his scuffed work boots. “Not really.”
“You suck at bending the truth,” Shane offered, pressing his lips into a tight line. He raked a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly.
“Well, the Samantha Kane thing is true,” Jackson started, and Shane saw the honesty in his expression. “But yeah. I saw Grady in town a little while ago and he said something about you bein' here an awful lot. So I thought I'd see if you wanted to go grab a few. It's not like it'll hurt anything. This time tomorrow, you'll have that tranny out, and for what? A three-day wait on parts? Come on.” Jackson tipped his crew cut toward the door. “This fancy bucket of bolts will be here tomorrow, no worse for the wear.”
As much as Shane hated to admit it, Jackson had a point. Plus, the last thing Shane needed was Grady thinking he spent too much time in the garage. He worked his ass off because he loved it, period. It had been that way ever since the minute Grady hired him.
Hell if that wasn't a thread Shane didn't feel like pulling.
He grumbled, mostly to cover up his smile. “I'll only go on one condition.”
Jackson lifted his brows at Shane in question. “And that is?”
“Your ass is coming back in here tomorrow to help me muscle this tranny out.”
Jackson shook his head like he should've known better. “Let me guess. Damn thing seized? You know those things are a pain no pill can reach, right?”
Thinking of how the car had come to be here in the first place, Shane had to laugh. “You think that's bad, you should see its owner. Come to think of it, a couple of beers might not be the worst way to end this day after all.”
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Bellamy eyed the faded sign over the side of the worn wooden building and giggled.
“Okay, you guys. You're seriously taking me to a bar called the Double Shot in an effort to make me feel better?” She was feeling the effects of the two gin and tonics she'd had with dinner, especially since they'd been strong enough to take the paint off her car.
The very car that was currently sitting in some back roads garage, waiting for parts that cost more than a Mexican beach getaway.
She wasn't drunk enough.
“Yes. We plugged âhot men, local bar' into the GPS and this is what popped up. Go figure,” Jenna said.
“Bellamy's here to forget men,” Holly reminded her, slamming the car door.
Huh. In the wake of all the crappy events raining down on her today, Bellamy hadn't even thought twice about Derek. He seemed like small potatoes compared to her French-fried transmission and its sky-high price tag, not to mention the fact that she still had to deal with calling the boss from hell to try and weasel a whole week's worth of days away from the grind.
“I'm here to forget
one
man,” she corrected. “And to be honest, I don't really think it's worth my energy to be pissed at Derek.”
Jenna tipped her head as they hustled through the busy parking lot. “You're not mad at Mr. Fantastic anymore?”
“He wasn't that fantastic, obviously,” Bellamy griped.
“How great can a guy who colors his hair be?” Holly said, giggling. “I swear, he was more of a product whore than me, and that is totally saying something.”
Bellamy laughed, letting the bone-chilling cold take her buzz down a notch. “I'm not talking about that.” Oh, thank God. They had finally reached the door. “What I mean is, now that I think about it, the whole thing was kind of just . . . meh.”
If her relationship with Derek was as exciting as dry wheat toast, then she'd found its polar opposite in the bar she'd just entered. The place was packed with people, all in various states of drunk and disorderly, and between the low lighting and the loud, freely flowing music, Bellamy knew they'd discovered the perfect place for her to drown her sorrows.