Hope Falls_Sparks Fly

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Melanie Shawn. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Hope Falls remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Melanie Shawn, or their affiliates or licensors.

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  Sparks Fly – A Novella

  By Jennifer Miller

  Also by Jennifer Miller

  Deadly Sins Series

  Fighting Envy

  Fighting Wrath

  Fighting Lust

  Fighting Pride

  Pretty Little Lies Series

  Pretty Little Lies

  Pretty Little Dreams

  Pretty Little Vows

  Perfect Little Plan

  Whispering Wishes

  Charming – A Modern Day Cinderella Story

  Beer Goggles Anthology – Strike Out

  Dedication

  To Jake, because sparks always fly when I’m with you.

  Table of Contents

  Title

  Also by Jennifer Miller

  Dedication

  OH HENRY

  THAT ASS THOUGH

  BARBIE

  LET’S EAT

  BIG BROTHER FAIL

  BUT FIRST, COFFEE

  A NICE SURPRISE

  TOLD YA, SUCKER!

  MOVIES & MOVES

  LET’S RIDE

  SAY WHAT NOW?

  C’EST LA VIE

  NEW FRIENDS

  Also by Jennifer Miller

  Chapter One

  Britt

  Why I decided a road trip to Hope Falls would be a great idea when I hate driving long distances alone, I have no idea. Road trips are supposed to involve more than one person. Like, two girlfriends headed on an adventure, or new lovers being spontaneous and getting away for the weekend. Instead, I’m a single girl with currently zero friends headed out of town to visit her brother. And not because we have some great escapade planned, although he’s going to take some time off to spend with me, but because I needed to get away for a little while and since I haven’t seen him in far too long, he offered me a place to go that I could actually afford. Free seemed like a good idea.

  Maybe I’m wrong, but I believe when people think of their hairdresser they probably picture someone that’s social and has a lot of friends. Perhaps it’s due to all of the clients they interact with on a daily basis. They’re kind of like bartenders in a way, people tell them their life stories, vomit their emotional garbage, all while the hair stylist carries on conversation the entire time while making people look beautiful. Such is my life anyway. But once they leave, I don’t speak to them again until they return and I certainly don’t share their stories. And since I talk to people all day, every day, by the end of the day I’m just talked out and perhaps that’s why I suck so hard at making friends; I’m socialized out. When the day is over, I just want to go home. I’m ready for some quiet time to myself. Maybe I just haven’t met the right friend yet and that’s the issue or part of it, I’m not sure.

  I thought moving and living in LA would be super cool. I envisioned being in the hustle and bustle amid celebrities surrounded by and interacting with people all the time, but in truth, all I am is really lonely. Sure, I encounter a lot of people; a lot of people caught up in their own lives. And the crowds only seem to highlight my aloneness. Celebrity sightings, shopping and being a foodie is no fun when you don’t have anyone to share it with. I think that’s why I decided to use up some of the vacation time I had and that a road trip was in order because I want to go talk to someone that actually cares about me and what I have to say.

  Tired of my morose thoughts, I flip on the radio and sing along to a Graffiti song that’s playing on the radio. I’m feeling itchy and jumpy. I’ve been in the car for longer than anticipated, having gone through an area of road construction, and knowing I’m close to the town just outside of Hope Falls is making me impatient. I just want to get there already. The thought has barely left my mind when I become aware that something is not quite right.

  It starts as a little jerk, then a louder, strange noise. Before I know it, I’m cursing profanities because my car is spewing white smoke from the front and making a noise that sounds an awful lot like it’s dying.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” I plead. “Come on baby boy. Don’t be like all the other men in my life. Your only job was getting me to my brother’s place. That’s it.” When it shudders hard and emits a hissing sound that sounds like a sigh, I curse. “Of course. Just like any other guy after being ridden hard – you take a freaking nap.”

  Having pulled over to the side of the road, I get out of the car and take a long look up and down the road before walking around my car in a circle. I’ve only been out of the car two minutes and sweat is already starting to gather on my upper lip. The road is deserted. It feels like I’m in the middle of nowhere, but I know that the closest town is fifteen miles away. With a sigh I get back into my car turn the ignition and watch the little indicator on the dash that’s telling me he’s getting hotter by the second. Thankful my phone battery is full and I have a strong signal. I contemplate calling my brother for help, but then change my mind. He’s a cop, and while I know he would send the cavalry in a second, I don’t want to bother him, nor do I want that to be the first impression this little sister gives anyone from his work. His poor sister can’t even make it to his damn house without help. I grimace at myself and criticize my thinking. It’s likely that no one would even think that, let alone say it, but it’s my insecurity never the less and I’m not doing it. Instead, I use my phone and quickly look up the closest mechanic and give them a call.

  Tapping my foot impatiently while the phone rings, I reach forward and pop the hood of my car, rolling my eyes when another waive of white smoke billows out. “Stupid asshole,” I curse at my car.

  “Excuse me?” A deep voice questions on the other end.

  “Oh, god, I’m sorry. I was cursing at my car, not you.” The deep voice chuckles on the other end and I smile. “Which I’m sure you can figure out is why I’m calling.”

  “Car trouble?” he asks and I can practically see his smile on the other end of the line through his tone.

  “Yes. In fact, I’m about fifteen miles outside of Hope Falls and I could use a tow. My car just died and given the smoke he emitted, he’s not going to start again.”

  “He?”

  “Yep. His name is Henry. And right now, Henry and I aren’t on speaking terms, so if you could send someone out to tow and pick me up, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “I can do that,” he promises and asks what road and mile marker I’m on. I give him the information and he promises to be there as soon as possible before hanging up.

  Full on sweating now, I take a drink from my hydro flask. I never go anywhere without it. I get out of the car again; it’s hot out, but not as hot as my car is going to be soon. Looking down at myself, I contemplate if I should take my blouse off since I have a camisole on underneath or not. When the wind blows in my face and it feels more like a blow dryer set on high heat than anything remotely refreshing, I don’t hesitate. I pull my shirt over my head and look down at myself once more and shrug. I’m showing a little more boob than I would normally, but I don’t care. I don’t know the guy on the way, and other than hopefully fixing my car, I’ll never see him again.

  Moving to the front of my car now, I pop the hood and put the stand in place propping it open. Then I stand and stare, totally at a loss. Perhaps I should have taken that car first aid course a
fter all. Shrugging, I pull my phone out of my pocket and look through social media for a while, then enter Henry’s symptoms to see if the internet provides any potential cause or cure. After a few minutes of reading, I’ve concluded that maybe this could be nothing more than a fluid needing topped off. Pocketing my phone again, I pop my trunk and take out the jug of water I keep there. Then, I get into my glove compartment and verify the location of both the radiator cap and wiper fluid in the manual, Back under the hood, I open the caps, careful not to burn myself by steam, and fill it with water before recapping the jug and trying to start my car once more. Nothing happens. I replace the jug of water, then lean back against my car and become thankful once more when I finally see a truck, that looks specifically like a tow truck, headed in my direction.

  As it gets closer and I see Miracle Auto Service and Towing written on the side, I thank the stars. I’m ready to get out of this heat and on my way. I can feel the crabbiness entering my body bit by bit. This heat is going to make me bitchy. When Mr. Mechanic finally pulls up next to me and his window rolls down inch by inch, my brows rise. Well, at least he’s a looker. That will help this be a little less painful.

  Chapter Two

  Landon

  Today must be my lucky day. When I get a good look at the woman waiting with her car, I stare longer than is appropriate. She’s wearing shorts that are so short they have to be illegal and a tank top that’s ridiculously tight. It isn’t hiding any of her… uh…assets.

  “Hi there, ma’am,” I talk to her out the window I roll down and giver her a nod of my head.

  She waves, “Hi. Thank god you’re here. It seemed like it took you forever; this damn heat is unbearable. You wouldn’t happen to have any water would you?”

  Reaching between the seats, I take a bottle of water out of the cooler I keep there then hop down from the truck and hand it to her. “Here you go.”

  She smiles gratefully and wastes no time unscrewing the cap and taking several gulps before she closes it and then runs the bottle over her chest. She sighs deeply and drops her head back. I can’t help but follow the path the lines of water make as they drip down her chest and disappear under the fabric.

  “Thanks for the water. It’s so hot that when the wind blows, it feels like I stuck my head in the oven. Or that someone has the hair dryer on high heat and is blowing it in my face.”

  “This heat wave we’re having is a brutal one, thought they say it’s supposed to cool down a bit tomorrow,” I tell her before I finally jerk my eyes away to focus on her car. “So, what seems to be the problem?”

  “Hell if I know. All I know about cars is how to drive them,” she looks sheepish by her confession and then grimaces. “Guess that’s not something I’m supposed to say to a mechanic is it?”

  “Why would you say that?” I ask her.

  “My daddy always told me that you can’t trust two people in this world - lawyers and mechanics. Seems you’re one of the two.”

  “I’ll have to disagree with your father.”

  “So, you’re saying you won’t milk me for all I’m worth?” She pauses. Is it my imagination or did she look me up and down when she said that? “Now that you know that I don’t know anything about cars?”

  “No. Of course not,” I tell her as I determine that she’s not the only one this heat is getting to. “That’s not how I run my business.”

  “Your business?” she asks as she walks to her car. Before I can respond, she distracts me by leaning over the hood of her car. I clear my throat.

  “Yep. It’s my towing and car service business.”

  She ignores this and tells me, “I checked to make sure the fluids were topped off and they’re fine. I at least know how to do that much,” she says with a laugh. I barely hear her. When she leaned over, all I could see was the apple shape of her ass. It makes me want to do wicked things to her bent over the car like that. She turns and catches me staring.

  “Somehow I don’t think looking at my ass is going to make my car run again,” she says saucily while crossing her arms over her chest.

  Well, I guess I was able to hold onto my business persona for all of what…ten minutes? “I don’t know, darlin’. I’m thinking you could get an awful lot of things running with your ass in that position.” Her mouth falls open in surprise, but is that humor I see flashing in her eyes at my smirk? “Besides, no offense, but you’re the one that stuck it in the air like that,” I tell her honestly and she makes a noise I can’t define.

  “Just check the car,” she tells me bossily and I almost laugh. She’s the one that started it.

  I approach the car and she moves out of the way so I can look under the hood. “It may be as simple as the car battery, but I suggest we tow it to my shop because if that’s the problem, even if I jump you, it could break down again later.”

  “Don’t you mean if you give my car battery a jump?”

  “That too.”

  She sighs, “I knew this wouldn’t be simple. Fuck you, Henry!” She yells and gives her car the middle finger. I almost laugh but somehow I’m afraid of what she might do to me if I dare so I keep my mouth shut and bite my lip. Hard. “Alright, let’s do this then. I’ve got somewhere to be.” She walks to the back of her car and opens the door and pulls out her purse and a bag.

  “Here,” I tell her opening up the passenger door to my truck. “Have a seat in the air conditioning while I get the car on the tow.” She gets inside and I get a nice look at that ass again as she steps up into the big tow truck. When she’s seated, I shut the door and move to the driver’s side and work to get the truck turned around and backed up into her car as close as possible. After fifteen minutes or so, I’ve got ‘Henry’ loaded up and ready to go. When I get back in the car, I’m sweating from the heat and exertion and I grab water from the cooler and take several gulps. When I look at her, I see she’s staring at my bare chest. I took my shirt off as I was walking back to the truck and used it as a rag to wipe off my sweat. Her eyes take a moment to focus back on my face. When she does, she clears her throat loudly. “I think you’re right,” I tell her. “A hair dryer is a good description.” She nods and I put the truck in drive and get moving on our way back to my shop. Why is it that while she thinks I’m the one that could take her for all she’s worth, I have a feeling that it’s going to be the other way around?

  Chapter Three

  Britt

  He looks like a young Brad Pitt – from the Legends of the Fall stage, not Thelma & Louise. But with shorter hair like in Fight Club. Not that I’m a Brad Pitt fan. Anymore. Ugh. Seriously, his stomach and chest is ripped. How the hell does a mechanic look like that? Aren’t they supposed to be kind of greasy and… I don’t know…pudgy? Oh god, I’m being stereotypical – it’s just that I find him…disarming. The faster I get my car in and out of there, the better.

  “So, where are you coming from?” he asks me conversationally.

  “Los Angeles,” I tell him shortly. I’m sitting as close to the door as possible, which is stupid considering how big this cab is and that I was just blatantly flirting with him. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “What brings you to Hope Falls?”

  “Family.”

  “Are you going to be here long?”

  “Just a few days,” which brings me to another thought. “I hope that my car won’t take longer than that, or I’m screwed. I have to get back to LA to work.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a hair stylist,” I tell him. As the air conditioning blows a long lock of hair into his eyes I smirk, “When was your last hair cut?”

  He grabs the back of his neck and shakes his head, “Too long. I’m due.”

  “Definitely,” I tell him smartly.

  “Maybe you can take care of it. I’ll take the cost out of your bill,” he says with a smile.

  “Sorry,” I wiggle my fingers, “these hands are on vacation.”

  “Aw, too bad, but probably for th
e best. My mama always told me that you can’t trust hair stylists or writers.”

  “She did not.”

  “Yes she did. Hair stylists can make you look funny. And how can you trust writers when they can’t even spell?”

  “Can’t spell?” He’s not making any sense.

  “No. Why do you think they have editors? Plus, you have to be careful what you say around them. One day you’re just living your life and the next you become the muse to their next story because your life or event inspires them.”

  “Sounds like you know an awful lot about writing. For a mechanic I mean,” I tell him my eyes tracking everything we drive past now that we’ve made our way into town.

  “Yeah, my sister’s a writer,” he looks at me and smiles. “I’m still mad at her for including some of my embarrassing learning experiences and life choices as jokes in her work.”

  “I see,” I tell him then smile widely. “And her name is?”

  “Nice try. I’m not telling you anything. Her punishment is that I don’t tell anyone about her books. She’s a pain in my ass. Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asks.

  “Yes. A brother.”

  “Oh yeah? Is he the family you’re here to visit?”

  Before I can answer, we pull through a gate and up to a building with a four car garage bearing a large sign overhead that says, ‘Miracle Auto Service and Towing.’ He swings the truck to the side and when he gets out of the truck motions to another mechanic to come handle the car.

  He opens the door for me and offers his hand to help me down. “Thank you,” I say kindly as I take his warm hand in my own and step down. After he pulls away I feel a tingle on the inside of my palm.