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Chapter 1
THUMP, THUMP, THUMP. Katie Summers knew she had found trouble. Steering her station wagon to the shoulder, she glanced in the rearview mirror—and saw her passengers gnawing on the backseat. She wasn’t sure if she should be relieved they weren’t butting their horns against the car doors or alarmed that the inside of her station wagon would soon match the falling-apart exterior.
“Stop,” she said, her voice firm.
Two of the orphaned goats that she’d picked up while scouting locations for her friend Georgia’s bachelorette party ignored her. The third, the youngest of the bunch and the only girl, looked at her, and then back at her brothers, as if trying to decide who should have the final say. The big brothers won and the baby goat reached for the seat belt.
Outside the car, the thumping continued. Katie sighed. She’d blown a tire. Slowing the wagon to a stop, she cut the engine and climbed out to take a look. Standing with her hands on her hips, she surveyed the damage.
Shredded tire? Check.
Bent rim? Check.
She moved to the rear of the car and opened the trunk, silently cursing her fitted green sundress and strappy sandals. It was the perfect outfit for an early fall trip to visit vineyards and other potential venues in and around Independence Falls, but she’d rather have her cowboy boots and jeans for fixing her car.
“Don’t even think about trying to escape,” she said, staring down her four-legged passengers. Pulling the spare tire out of the truck, she quickly closed the rear door and set the spare beside her wagon. She’d forgotten the jack, dammit.
Returning to the trunk, she opened it and began searching through the extra horse gear and other random farm supplies she kept in the station wagon. The animals ignored her, preferring to destroy her car than try to escape.
“Where is it?” Her brothers always made sure she had a jack in her car. When it came to interfering with her life, overprotective was the tip of the iceberg when it came to her older siblings. And road safety? They drove and maintained a fleet of trucks for a living. They would never let her leave the house without a spare, a jack, and flares. Just in case.
She heard a loud rip and glanced up to see one of the boy goats holding a large chunk of her backseat.
“Stop that,” she said.
But the roar of a motorcycle drowned out her words and the sound of the goats tearing apart the wagon’s interior. She waited for it to pass her. But instead it slowed, then cut out altogether.
Everyone in Independence Falls knew her station wagon. Nine out of ten residents would stop to offer a hand. Most would probably worry what her brothers would do if they found out someone had driven past her.
But just in case this wasn’t a friendly face from her Oregon small town, Katie reached for the nearest heavy object—the jack, finally—and prepared to swing it at the person on the bike. Her brothers had taught her more than how to change a tire. If this guy made a wrong move, she’d make sure he regretted it.
One hand on the jack and the other pressed against the floor of the trunk, Katie glanced over her shoulder.
“No, no, no,” she murmured. “Not you.”
Wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans that casually hugged his muscular legs, Liam Trulane sat upright on his bike, his work boots resting on the ground. He pulled off his helmet, revealing his wavy brown hair. And just like that, her mind stumbled into the past.
“Come here, honey.” His deep brown eyes promised erotic adventure. He held out a hand, the muscles in his toned arms begging to be touched. “Now.”
Katie obeyed, swinging one leg over his thighs and settling onto his lap. She felt the hard ridge of his erection against her despite the layers of clothing. . .
Katie ground her teeth together, pushing the mental picture away. Maybe later, when she was alone, she would revisit the Liam Trulane highlight reel. But right now she’d be damned if this man saw even a hint of desire in her eyes.
She tolerated Liam Trulane. Mainly because his little sister, Georgia, had become Katie’s closest friend. But that’s where Katie drew the line. And she refused to let memories cloud her judgment. After what he’d done, the way he’d ended things between them, she deserved to hold tight to her anger.
Setting the helmet on the back of his bike, Liam reached for the zipper on his leather jacket, slowly drawing it down. But Katie didn’t need a glimpse beneath to confirm that he possessed a powerful upper body—one that made women across the Willamette Valley connect the word “logger” with “longing to touch.”
The tension in her jaw rippled through her body. At one point, she’d been one of those foolish girls. But not anymore. Now she connected this particular logger with one word. Betrayal.
Liam smiled as if he hadn’t cut apart her heart, shredded her trust, and then walked away. Maybe the years had dulled his memory. They had only sharpened hers.
“I thought this was your wagon.” He dismounted the bike in one fluid motion, resting it on the kickstand. “Breakdown?”
She stood, still
holding the jack. Her free hand smoothed her skirt. It figured that after all this time he’d catch her bent over with her dress riding up the backs of her legs. Judging from the way his gaze followed her hands, he was picturing all the ways he could use her short skirt to his advantage.
But Liam Trulane didn’t need to imagine.
Hands and knees pressing into the grass, her short skirt decorating her waist, her body waiting for his touch, needing it, craving it, silently hoping he would take charge as he’d done every other time. Following his commands, she could pretend this wasn’t new to her. . .
“Flat tire.” She punctuated her words with the slam of the trunk and moved to the side of the car. Kneeling down, she set up the jack.
“You’re not going to need that.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Liam’s tan boots standing beside her. “Planning to lift my wagon with your superpowers?”
“Honey, even I’m not that talented.”
No, you’re not. She wished she could say those words out loud—and mean them.
“Your spare is flat,” he added.
Abandoning the jack, Katie stood, dusting the roadside dirt off her knees, and looked at the tire she’d hauled from her trunk. Damn him, he was right. That tire wouldn’t make it the three miles to her family home.
“I have an extra helmet if you want a ride.”
She shook her head. There was no way she was getting on his motorcycle. The thought of his thighs nestled between hers, her chest against his back, and her arms wrapped around him, all while the motorcycle vibrated beneath them—it was hot, tempting, and downright impossible.
“No. If I show up on the back of your bike, my brothers will start throwing punches.” She turned to face Liam. He’d crossed his arms in front of his chest. Even with the leather jacket on, she could see the bulge of his biceps. He could probably land a few hits himself. But he wouldn’t. If it resembled the last fight she’d witnessed between her siblings and Liam, he’d take the hits. “And while that’s tempting—”
“You want your brothers to pick a fight?”
She shrugged. “Better than inviting you in for a beer and a game of pool.”
She’d dumped her last three boyfriends when they started spending more time hanging out with her brothers than with her. But this was Liam. The chances of her brothers shooting the shit with him were slim. As far as she knew, they hadn’t forgiven him. There wasn’t much she and her brothers agreed on these days. But when it came to their long-standing grudge against Liam Trulane? She knew her brothers were on her side.
“When they hear it was either a ride with me or standing on the side of the road in a cell phone dead zone, unable to call for help, I think they’ll offer me the beer.”
“My answer is still no. I can’t leave my goats.” She pointed to her backseat. “And they won’t fit on your bike.”
