Vivian Arend - Rocky Mountain Desire

Then she was gone, the wink of her flashlight disappearing behind her door.

He turned to face his fate.

It was just a bloody bed. He crawled in with his clothes still on, tugging the quilts right up to his chin. Lying in the dark, slowing his breathing, trying to calm the wild activity in his brain.

It was no use. It might be self-torture, but he had to do it. He sat up and shined the light around the place, looking for signs of Helen, looking for anything that would poke him and make him bleed.

Nothing. It was just a bedroom.

The ghosts wavered and faded to mist. There was enough heat generated from his body and the food in his belly to allow him to relax. He turned off the light and covered his ears. Yeah, the only thing haunting him right now had nothing to do with the knowledge that his ex-lover had slept in this room.

It was the bright-eyed woman on the other side of the wall, her enthusiastic laugh and her kindhearted actions that dogged his thoughts as he fell asleep.

The welcoming tinkle from the bells attached to the shop’s front door brought Hope from her inventory to greet a massive armload of familiar-looking supplies moving toward her.

“How…?”

The boxes lowered to reveal another familiar sight. Clay Thompson, old classmate and sometime dance partner, flashed her a smile. “Got a few things for you. Must have fallen out of Santa’s sled or something.”

“That’s the stuff from my car.” She came forward to pull the topmost of the pile off and lay it on a table. “Oh man, thank you for grabbing it for me. When I called this morning your dad said the tow truck was already gone.”

“Yeah, Matt Coleman phoned first thing. We had to rescue a couple others before your car, but she’s at the shop now.”

Hope wished she could stop the heat that rushed to her cheeks. She wondered if Clay would ask what Matt was doing phoning for her. He’d been gone when she got up, but obviously had taken time from his chores to put in the rescue call.

Clay lowered the rest to the floor. “We’ll look the car over and let you know what needs to be done to make her roadworthy.”

“You do miracles?”

“Ha. Yeah, she’s in rough shape, but until they’re completely dead, there’s always hope.”

His joke fizzled as she thought about how much harder having no vehicle was going to make life.

He motioned to the pile. “I think we found everything before we messed up the snow hauling your car from the ditch. Len’s got another load coming in a minute.”

“Len has the load right here.”

Hope turned as a second massive male stepped through her doorframe. The past twenty-four hours had brought far more testosterone into her shop than she’d had around for ages.

“Thanks for bringing it all over, guys. You didn’t need to do that.”

Clay grinned. “What? Not take the chance to skip out of work? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Your dad will know something is up if you’re more than five minutes behind schedule.” Hope helped settle the supplies in one spot, embarrassed by how much she’d actually had crammed into her vehicle.

“This is a business meeting.” Len retreated to the front counter, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his work coverall. “Why didn’t you ask our garage to be a part of your spring fundraiser?”

Hope stared in confusion, distracted as Clay worked his way to her side, watching his six-foot-three frame pass between the rows of quilting supplies a little like seeing a bull manoeuvre through a china shop. “Fundraiser? Oh, the quilt raffle? I just got started on setting up the challenge. It doesn’t officially begin until after the New Year. How did you hear about it?”

“Mason from the fire hall was bragging the other night that he and the volunteer firefighters are going to win.”

Hope laughed. “Good for him. I’m looking forward to seeing what quilt design they finish.”

Len jerked upright. “They have to sew a quilt?”

“Still want me to ask you to join in?” She laughed out loud at the chagrin on his face. “Come on now, it’s for a good cause. Only rule is the quilt you put up for auction has to be made by all the members of the sponsoring group, not their girlfriends or mothers.”

Clay swore. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. Proceeds go to the Big Brothers and Big Sisters Club. The shop teacher at the school is training the Big Sisters’ participants so they can offer car tune-ups during the fair.”

“We can’t sew.”

Hope took her time looking them up and down. “Then I guess the firefighters will get bragging rights for the year. Because if they make the only quilt to be raffled off at the spring fair…”

Len and Clay were making the most hilarious faces at each other. Her smile was real as she turned to examine the pile of supplies and start sorting them. A few things were completely fine—she put them to the side for reshelving as soon as the guys went back to the garage.

Her happiness faded as she picked up a plastic bag filled with wet yarn and grimaced. Here started the troubles. Maybe she could recover it enough to put the yarn up for a discount. Or use it herself for a sample item.

Clay dragged her back from her labours with a tug on her sleeve. “You plan on giving lessons? If we sign up for the challenge?”

“Sewing lessons? Of course, that’s part of the fun. And I’ve arranged for loaner sewing machines from the high school for anyone who needs one. I can come to your place or you can come here.” She eyeballed the tiny workspace at the back and pictured the five oversized guys from the car shop all fitting in there. “Maybe I’ll make it a rule I come out to the challenger’s place. That will help keep the designs a secret as well.”

“Secret designs. Now it sounds like a spy show and not sewing. This could be fun.”

Hope glanced at Len. “He’s getting you into trouble.”

Len grinned back. “Does it all the time. I’m used to it.”

“Go on, blame me. But hell, if the fire crew can do it, so can we.” Clay nodded. “I have to double-check with the rest of the guys, but I’m pretty sure they’ll agree.”

“Really?” She’d only begun setting up the challenge, but having two solidly male teams involved was exactly what she needed to get interest going. “Sponsoring teams pay for materials at cost, we’ll have the quilts displayed during the fair, then all the proceeds from the raffle go to the club.”

Clay glanced around the shop. “I figure you can find us a manly enough design, right?”

“Sure. Moose and rifles? Beer cans and barbecues?”

Len laughed. “We’ll talk about it more after New Year’s. I’m heading back to the shop. You coming, Clay?”

“In a minute.”

Hope waved Len off and stared at Clay as he shifted to the side of the display unit, grinning down at her. There was a flicker of interest—he was a handsome fellow. Having Matt Coleman under her roof might have revved her up, but Clay was sexy enough on his own to get a rise out of her without even trying. “You need something?”

“Yeah, an answer to when I get to see you again. When I asked you out in August, you said you were swamped with fall preparations, what with getting classes going. And then you were hard at it in October getting ready for the holiday rush. Now you’re going to tell me that after Christmas you’ll be busy with something else like this fundraiser?”

Hope took a deep breath and pulled a fabric bolt from the pile on the floor, refolding it to give her something to do with her hands. “Well, it is hectic running the shop.”

“It’s demanding working on cars and pulling people out of trouble. I still make time for fun. ”