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Cortney
Goosebumps appear on my skin that have nothing to do with the air temperature. The heat from the summer day has only gotten worse as the afternoon fades into evening. The events on Main Street are winding down as the locals shift to the racetrack and the bars for the evening festivities. People will get drunk late into the night while watching the races and enjoying the street dances and music until midnight.
I tore down my booth around four, packing my tent and closing my RV. I drove the beast back to my brother Jude’s property where we house the family dog sanctuary. The mobile clinic comes in handy there for vet checks. It has all the basic supplies I might need if there’s a problem with one of the rescue dogs and saves Jude a trip into town since he’s a bit of a hermit.
Without a single hesitation, I made the drive back into the heart of Fairview Valley and pulled into the parking lot of Tony’s Auto Shop, where I am now.
My heart thuds at the lack of people on this end of town. The parking lot is half-filled with customers’ cars waiting for parts and services, but the owners are long gone. The lobby windows reveal a dark, empty interior. The only light is the bright orangeclosedsign attached to the glass.
My desire to see Spencer again wins against the feelings of stupidity creeping in. A little voice in the back of my head nags at me to leave. To go home and check on my teenage son, Oliver, and his friend, Lincoln. Or to find a girlfriend and head to the bar like all the other locals this evening.
But before that voice can get any louder, the big door covering the bay slides open with a grumble of a motor and cranks, and the silhouette of Spencer appears. His big hand waves me in.
I suppose he wants to keep up with the appearance of doing me a favor. With a sigh, I throw my car into drive and roll inside. The big door lowers shut behind me.
“You do know my car works just fine, right?” I say as I slip out from behind the wheel.
Spencer shuts my door with a loud bang in the large, empty garage before pressing my back tightly against it.
Without so much as a hello, his mouth slams down on mine.
I moan at the taste of him, opening to grant him access. A week without has been too long when I easily became accustomed to his kisses.
He takes advantage of the lack of resistance and slips his tongue inside, inviting me to sample the remnants of a fresh, cold beer he recently consumed.
The way his hands cup the sides of my head, fingers speared through my hair, convey a dizzying need. His desperate hold warms the cold, lonely parts inside of me. Reaching into the newly mended cracks and reinforcing them with all that is Spencer Stone. Forcing me to never forget the feelings he rouses inside of me.
Just as suddenly as he drew me in, he pulls away. His thumb swipes the moisture left along my swollen bottom lip.
“Did you miss me?” Spencer smirks, but I sense the hint of vulnerability lurking just beneath the hard exterior.
Spencer Stone isn’t used to being missed by anybody.
“Do you even have to ask?” My voice is soft and breathless.
He brushes his hands through my hair and settles them on my waist. “Just checking.”
“What happened to what you said on the plane?”
“What?” He leans in and brushes his nose against mine. “Did you really think that our two weeks alone in the Caribbean was just a fling?”
My eyelashes flutter. “Thatiswhat you said.”
“Things were moving really fast. I believe it was you who said I was a good rebound.”
A breath leaves my parted lips. “That was self-preservation. You do have a history of leaving me after we spend a night together.”
A grumble sounds from Spencer’s chest. “That was twenty years ago, woman. I thought I more than made it up to you at our hotel.”
I release a pleasant hum. Memories flood forward, bringing an arousing clench below my waist. “That you did. But then you did it again when we arrived in Minnesota.”
“Maybe I had a need for some self-preservation as well.”
Can I blame him? Three weeks ago my fiancé,ex-fiancé,cheated on me, and I boarded a plane alone for our honeymoon not knowing he sold his half of our tickets to a stranger. Or so he thought. Spencer, having heard the story through mutual channels, bought the tickets and went on the trip with me.
When he sat down on the plane in first-class beside me, I was pissed at the invasion of my privacy. I wanted to lick my wounds in peace. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that a little of Spencer’s charm was all I needed to move on from my broken heart.
Apparently, somewhere during our two-week stay, he didn’t get the message that I’d moved on from my ex fiancé. For that, I only have myself to blame.
