Lady Luck (Colorado Mountain #3)(70)

I moved to my mug, picked it up, backed up until my h*ps hit counter and then surveyed the scene.

It wasn’t much of a stamp but it was something.

And every bit was perfect.

Even the snow globe.

I grinned to myself and walked my coffee upstairs to get dressed.

I had a house to clean then groceries to buy and then I had to find a craft shop.

* * * * *

That afternoon, I drove into the mechanics, my eyes moving between the three large bays at the same time searching for a parking space.

I’d driven by the garage many times since I hit Carnal but had never been there. The tarmac outside was huge. A little office up some cement steps to the side of the bays. A plethora of bikes and cars all around. Garage sounds coming at me through my open windows.

I found my spot at the very end in front of the office, parked, shut her down, got out and rounded the trunk, eyes to the bays.

Then he came out, light gray-blue coveralls unbuttoned to the waist, the top of them hanging down making it look like he had an upside down shirt hanging from his hips. He had on a white wife-beater that must have been in his workout bag because he left in jeans and a tee. He looked hot even in that getup, what with the muscles and tats on display, but he could probably wear a pink polo shirt with the collar turned up and look hot (though I hoped he never did).

He had black grease stains on his wife-beater, all over his hands and up his forearms.

And I didn’t care.

I also didn’t care that I had on strappy, super-high, platform wedges. I still ran flat out across the wide expanse toward him and didn’t stop even as I noticed he saw I wasn’t going to. So he did and he braced right before I took a flying leap into his arms.

Those arms closed around me, mine closed around his neck and I was suspended several inches off the ground as my hand curled over his short-cropped hair and I pulled his mouth to mine.

Then I laid a hot, wet one on him.

After I did that, I tore my mouth from his, kept my arms tight and asked excitedly, “Guess what?”

“Lex, got grease all over me. What the f**k?” was his taking-all-the-fun-out-of-it response.

My arms gave him a squeeze and I repeated, “Ty! Guess what?”

His lips twitched and he asked, “What?”

“Dominic at Carnal Spa gave me the job!” I cried loudly.

At that news, his arms gave me a squeeze and he muttered, “Good news.”

“Uh… yeah!” I exclaimed and he set me on my feet but didn’t release me, just bent his neck deep so his face could remain close (ish) and his eyes could hold mine. “I just got the call. No way did I expect that he’d hire me because I’m not really local… yet. But he did! He said I have the flair and comportment, his words, that screamed ‘Carnal Spa’, also his words, and the minute he saw me he wouldn’t have chosen anyone else. I start next Tuesday.”

“Happy for you, babe,” he said softly, his eyes warm, his lips tipped up at the ends.

“Me too,” I replied. “I mean, it’s ten to four with half an hour lunch break so it isn’t full-time and it’s about two cents over minimum wage since I’m a glorified receptionist but still. He said that he might hire another stylist and is definitely hiring someone to do facials and with the extra business they may need another hour or more. Isn’t that cool?”

He didn’t respond verbally but he did give me a full grin so I took that as agreement he thought it was cool.

“Let’s celebrate,” I declared, pressing closer to him. “Tell me what your favorite meal is and I’ll make it for dinner tonight. Get a bottle of sparkling wine or something.”

“Celebration doesn’t say you cookin’ my favorite meal and wine from a grocery store. Celebration says me callin’ The Rooster and gettin’ us a table.”

I tipped my head to the side and asked, “The Rooster?”

“Steak place up the mountain. Fuckin’ great food. Top-notch.”

I smiled because that did, indeed, say celebration.

“Excellent. Can I dress up?”

His arms gave me another squeeze, his face dipped closer and his voice was low and super rumbly when he said, “You can do whatever you want.”

“Awesome,” I whispered, his eyes smiled into mine and I liked that so much, I leaned up and pressed my lips to his.

When I moved back, his eyes went over my shoulder and then started to come back to me but then they shot back over my shoulder and I felt the entirety of his frame freeze solid.

I didn’t like that or the expression on his face… no, I really didn’t like the expression on his face which almost looked like he was in pain so I pressed closer but looked over my shoulder to see a dark red SUV driving up to the office.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“The Keatons,” he rumbled low and that was when my body froze so I was stuck in position as the SUV parked and out of each side came a body.

Driver’s side was the man. Tall, straight, lean, dark blonde hair. Good-looking if you didn’t happen to be married to Ty Walker and Ty Walker didn’t happen to have friends the likes of Tate and Wood. Jeans, heavy, silver, Western-style belt buckle, cowboy boots, nice sports coat, chambray shirt.

Passenger side was the woman.

Misty.

Bitch-face Misty.