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“You carry a blowtorch in your backpack and I had to pay five hundred bucks to get those fucking truck nuts off my bumper,” he said, meeting her eyes finally. It was his eyes that had gotten to her first—a blue so bright you could see the color from the other side of the room, the other side of the world. “Of course I want to be your friend. It’s safer than being your enemy.”
She smiled, because she had to after an admission like that.
“Please, Flash. One apology dinner. I’m even buying.”
Ian was strong and smart and it meant a lot to her that he wasn’t ashamed to humble himself a little. A real man. He wasn’t afraid of her even if he joked he was. Which is why she shouldn’t be doing this, having this conversation with him, thinking these thoughts. She cared too much about him already. He’d crushed her before and he could crush her again. She absolutely should not spend any time alone with him ever again, not if she didn’t want to get hurt like before, and God knows, she didn’t want to get hurt like before. She was still hurt.
“I’ll go get my torch,” she said. “But you better make good on the brewery or your fireplace screen won’t be the only thing I solder to the floor.”
“You’re sexy when you’re threatening permanent damage to my genitals,” he said.
She patted his shoulder.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
2
IAN WATCHED FLASH walk back into the office to retrieve her equipment. Dammit, what the hell was he thinking? He was thinking he wasn’t over Flash, that’s what he was thinking. And he needed to be over her. He really needed to be over her.
And under her.
And all around her.
And inside her. He needed that more than anything else.
“Pathetic, Asher. Just pathetic,” he muttered to himself as he fished around in his coat pocket to find his keys. Begging for crumbs from this woman when he wanted to feast on her. But he’d fucked it up with her so badly he knew she’d probably never lower her guard around him again. Not enough to give him anything but hope. Certainly not her love, which is what he wanted. Nothing else would do. And yet he knew it was over, all the way over. He’d had some hope when she welded metal testicles to his bumper. Only a woman with very strong feelings for him would pull a prank like that. But after that, nothing. Even the silent treatment would have been better than what he’d gotten from her. She’d treated him like she treated everyone else—with a mix of dark humor and utter disdain. He didn’t want her to treat him like she treated everyone else. He wanted to be special. But this was Veronica “Flash” Redding, and if making men feel like they were nothing special was a game show, she’d go home with one million dollars and a brand-new car.
And today she’d quit her job. Which meant he’d likely never see her again unless he did something hasty, drastic and stupid like beg her to help him fix up his house in the hopes of buying a little more time with her. Maybe he could talk her into forgiving him. Maybe he could talk her into another night. Maybe he could talk her into welding metal wings and flying them to the sun. He was dreaming too big here. Unlike him, Flash was already out there dating other people. He hadn’t gone on a second date since his one night with her. Why? Because he liked women and didn’t want to be an asshole to them, and only an asshole would take one woman out on a date while thinking about a different woman the entire time. A woman with punk red hair, a perfect face and a body that fit his so well he could believe she’d been sculpted to fit him. She wore loose canvas pants every day to work and T-shirts with no sleeves that showed off both her strong shoulders and the tattoos on her biceps. She wore that distressed bomber jacket every day of her life, no matter the weather. Brown leather, not black leather because Flash wasn’t trying to look cool—she just was cool. Too cool for him.
But still...he had to give it one more shot with this woman or he’d regret it the rest of his life.
Flash emerged from their office into the parking lot, a heavy-duty army-green duffel bag over her shoulder. With any other woman he would have taken the bag from her and carried it. But he’d learned the hard way not to try that with Flash. It wasn’t the implication she couldn’t carry a heavy load that pissed her off when he’d tried to be ge
ntlemanly one day. She just didn’t want anyone else touching her tools.
“You want to ride with me?” he asked. “Mine handles in snow better than yours.”
“I have chains if I need them,” she said. “This isn’t my first winter on the mountain, remember?” She opened her truck door and put her bag on the passenger seat.
“My new place is a little hard to find so follow me close. If you get lost, call my cell.”
“I won’t get lost,” she said as she slammed the passenger door and got in behind the wheel. “Lead on, Macduff.”
“That’s Macbeth, right?” he asked.
She looked at him, raised her eyebrow and then slammed her driver’s door shut. Maybe now was not the best time to discuss the Complete Works of William Shakespeare.
“You’re an idiot, Asher,” he said to himself.
Ian got behind the wheel of his Outback and pulled out of the parking lot onto Highway 26. His construction company was located a few miles outside of Portland in Sandy, and Government Camp was a good thirty miles east, right up to the snow-covered top of the mountain. When they started their drive the temperature was about forty, brisk and cool, but not biting cold. As they climbed the mountain, the temperature started to drop. In twenty miles it went from forty-one, according to the Outback’s readings, to thirty-one and falling fast.
Signs of civilization disappeared as they drove. The little towns faded in the rearview mirror and soon there was nothing but massive moss-covered trees of Mount Hood National Forest looming on either side of the road. Then they really started to climb. The trees fell away to the right as the highway edged along a valley that seemed to drop endlessly. Nothing stood between him and that eternal drop but a low concrete wall. The trees in the valley were white with snow and the road’s shoulder was piled high with the stuff tinged gray by highway soot. He glanced back and saw Flash right behind him in her little red pickup. As old as that thing was, he couldn’t believe it still ran. But it did and it kept up with him.
Government Camp—a town that was neither a camp nor affiliated with the government—was on the left and he made sure Flash followed him into the turn lane behind him. It wasn’t easy watching the road and watching her the entire time. He’d wished she’d ridden with him so he wouldn’t worry so much. She was the most stubborn woman on the planet, easily. The next road had been scraped clean, but there were still four-foot walls of snow on either side of the street and a thin layer of ice underneath him. But he shouldn’t have worried. Flash handled her truck as well as she handled her torch. No wonder she intimidated men. She was so skilled and self-sufficient a man couldn’t help but feel a little useless around her.
But he’d spent one incredible night with her and knew a little something about Flash Redding—she did find men useful for at least one very specific purpose and he would be more than happy, ecstatic even, to make himself of use to her in that capacity again.
At the end of a long street, Ian slowed his car to a crawl, turned right into the driveway nearly hidden by snow. More trees—hundred-year-old evergreens fifty feet high—shadowed his house. He hoped Flash liked it. It wasn’t bad to look at. A classic A-frame Swiss-chalet-style house with a green metal roof and cedar siding, it already felt like home to him even though he’d only been living there a month. It would feel much more like home once he had someone to share it with.
