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  She’d debated long and hard on the consequences, when her only other option would have been to sleep in the car. But that would be too cold for Zoe and it would certainly attract the attention of the local sheriff. So, she’d grasped the idea and found a warm, safe, secure place to sleep. And when it came time, she’d explain to the Calhouns why she’d made the choice she had.

  She settled Zoe in for a feed, covering her with a baby blanket, and nibbled on the muffin, alternating with sips of milk as she absorbed the peace of her surroundings. The rustle of the wind in the trees, the lap of the water against the shore. Laughter off the street, whoops from the boys fishing on the dock. No shouting or arguing. No one forcing her to make decisions she didn’t want to make about adoption. Pushing the blanket back a little, she traced a finger down Zoe’s cheek, her heart full of love. How had she created a human being so beautiful? She couldn’t undo the poor choices that had brought Zoe into the world, but she could do everything in her power to secure her baby’s future and be a good mom.

  Heavy footfalls rustled the fallen leaves on the grass. “We meet again.”

  She looked up at the sound of Chase Calhoun’s voice. “We do.”

  No longer hedged in by questions and small spaces, the unease his earlier presence had raised, eased a little. A twinge of regret pinched at her belly. She hated telling lies, even small ones that would protect her and her baby.

  Long legs encased in denim, a black long-sleeved T-shirt emblazoned with the Calhoun Customs logo under a thick jacket, opened by one hand pushed into the pocket of his jeans. Holy hotness. Another time, another place, and she might have been interested. A time before she’d become solely responsible for another precious life. Still, Chase Calhoun was eye candy, and there was no harm in appreciating his presence.

  “I’m Chase Calhoun.”

  “I know.”

  He frowned. “I guess you’re one up on me then,” he said as he held out a thermos.

  “I’m Charlie.”

  “Hi, Charlie. We kinda got off on the wrong foot earlier. I brought you some herbal tea to go with that muffin as a peace offering. Molly said coffee wouldn’t be good for you when you’re … you know …” He waved a hand at where Zoe had let go of her breast, exposing her naked skin to the cold.

  She tugged the blanket up to cover Zoe as she reattached. “Thank you again.”

  Chase leaned down to place the thermos on the grass next to her. “You’re welcome. So, I’m guessing if you’ve only just arrived in town, you’re killing time until check-in? Do you like cars?”

  The irony of his questions had her lips curving against her will. If only he knew. “I like custom-built cars. I’m a fan of your dad’s work. He’s a genius in design and graphics.” The moment she’d seen the sign above the garage, she’d recognized she was in Calhoun country and her sketching fingers had started to itch.

  He laughed. “Dad would love hearing that. How about I give you a tour of the garage when you return the thermos later? It will get you out of the wind for a while.”

  Excitement trickled through her bloodstream. “I’d like that, thank you.” No way would she pass up the opportunity to appreciate the beauty and craftsmanship of a Calhoun custom build up close rather than in magazines.

  His mouth curved in a smile that almost stopped her heart. A smile filled with pride and excitement that spoke of his passion for the garage. The kind of passion she wanted to harness and capture, to release back into the artwork that came alive on their custom builds.

  “I guess I’ll see you later then.” He took a few steps backward, retreating slowly.

  “Later.”

  She watched him walk away for the pure beauty of it. One hand in the pocket of his short-length jacket, the other raking through his hair, hips that moved with grace and an invitation that brought a different kind of rhythm to mind. An ass that begged for a starring role in a Levi’s commercial. Long legs that made short work of the distance as they carried him out of reach.

  On the dock, the boys packed up their rods and their catch, ready to move on. Waves lapped at their feet as the wind that swirled through the bay whipped up a swell. She shivered and reached for the thermos, careful to keep it away from Zoe. Securing it between her knees, she unscrewed the top and poured the liquid into the plastic cup. Not too hot, not too cold. Perfect.

  In her spot, sheltered by the trees, Charlie sipped the tea, enjoying the view and flipping through the newspaper until Zoe finished feeding. Her attention snagged on an ad for a graphics artist and her heart pounded against her ribs. Maybe the fates were smiling on her after all. In the most unexpected way. A design artist at Calhoun Customs was her dream come true. And she’d embrace the opportunity she’d been given with both hands.

  Warm, content, energized, she cleared her impromptu picnic, threw the wrappers and carton in the nearby trash can, then dropped the thermos into her carryall. She tucked the blanket around Zoe’s wrap carrier to ward off the chill of the walk ahead and tried to suppress the excitement of seeing Chase again in the comfort of his own environment. Chase Calhoun was a nice guy and, if she was successful in gaining an interview, her prospective employer. That was all he could be to her.

  Expectation fired her imagination as she walked the short distance up the main street to Calhoun Customs Garage. She peered in through the big windows. Up front, examples of their work took pride of place. A Studebaker restored to its original state—polished chrome and baby-blue paint, whitewall tires and cereal bowl hubcaps. A ’66 Mustang in cherry red with black stripes and a mean air scoop on the hood, flares on the rear, and chrome wheels no one would dare let loose on a racetrack for fear of damage. A Pontiac Trans Am with artwork all over it that made her heart thump with excitement. This was where she wanted to be. With people who had a passion for the car not the race, for the power and beauty not the win.

  She looked left toward a shadowy corner in the back where a project stood hidden under cover with no hint of what might be underneath. To the right, a low wall ran the length of the showroom, topped by windows that showcased the garage where the restorations took place.

  Behind the glass, Chase leaned on the fender of a ’57 Chevy, deep in conversation with Marty Calhoun, track legend and the artist she’d always dreamed of meeting. The Calhouns had a vision her father would never have. Custom design, an art her father considered a hobby not a career, but something the Calhouns took seriously.

  Charlie opened the door and entered the showroom. The faint scent of polish and leather teased her senses. She moved to the Trans Am and ran her hand over the smooth surface of the artwork. Not a decal anywhere. Only art, airbrushed directly on the body with a steady hand, the way she wanted to do it. She sensed Chase rather than saw him as his shadow crossed the hood under the spotlights. He filled the space beside her.

  “How was the tea?”

  She smiled. “Perfect, thank you. Is this your dad’s work?”

  Pride lit his features before it was chased by sadness. “Yeah. He struggles to keep a steady hand these days. He’s in the early stages of Parkinson’s disease. We’ve had to advertise for an artist to take over the work.”

  “That’s so sad.” She couldn’t imagine a world without his designs. It would be the end of an era in custom cars.

  “He wants to find someone he can mentor in the way we do things to prepare for a time when he can’t do it anymore. Dad’s a tough guy. He’ll keep doing it until he finds the right person to take over.” He nodded toward the garage. “Come on in and meet him. He’s expecting you.”

  Chase stepped back for her to precede him, guiding her with a light hand on her elbow. She liked the gentleness of his touch, the comfort and reassurance in it, the pleasant tingle of goose bumps it created on her skin. She stepped into the garage with its sealed floors and walls lined with tool drawers and equipment. Excitement rippled through her again. Back home, she’d been allocated to a desk, designing team merchandise or collating images for adver
tising and articles in their team magazine.

  This was the real thing. This was the hands-on stuff she’d dreamed of doing. She stepped toward the Chevy and her fingers itched for sketch pad and pencils to create a design for the hood and the sides. Maybe even one for the tailgate.

  Marty Calhoun straightened as she approached. “You must be Charlie.”

  She held out her hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Calhoun.”

  “Call me Marty.” He shook her hand with only the slightest tremble to his fingers. “So, what do you think about the place?”

  “It’s everything I expected it to be and more.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing, right? And who is this?” He nodded toward the bundle under the blanket.

  “This is Zoe, my little girl.” Pride touched her voice as she peeled back the blanket. Zoe slept peacefully snuggled inside the carrier.

  “Been a long time since my kids were that small.” Marty smiled. “What brings you to Bigfork in the fall? Most folks prefer to hang out here in the summertime when the water’s warmer and the fish are biting.”

  “I had a job lined up in Kalispell, but it fell through. So, I kept going and found Bigfork.”

  And if the Calhouns were looking for a graphic design artist, this could be her and Zoe’s new hometown, their new life. Her lucky break. The perfect job, except it would be in the enemy’s camp. That wouldn’t go down well with her father. Could she afford the risk? Not let an old feud stop her from grasping this opportunity when she needed it so badly? Yes, she could. Wasn’t that what finding her independence was all about? Standing up for what she believed in rather than allowing her father to make her decisions for her?

  “You’re not from around here, are you? Do I detect an East Coast inflection?” Marty’s question stilled her thoughts.

  Charlie wrinkled her nose. “Florida, mostly, but my family traveled a lot.”

  “Brave move coming all the way over from Florida with a baby to start a new job.”

  Her father would call it rebellious. Her mother would say it was stupid and irresponsible. She’d prove them wrong. “It’s time I made a life for Zoe and me outside the family circle.”

  “Hmm…” Marty studied her carefully. “You look kinda familiar. Do I know your family?”

  Her breath hitched in her throat. With her black and pink hair dye and heavy makeup long gone, she looked a lot like her mom, who was easily recognizable through her charity work and society page appearances. If the Calhouns knew who she was, would they still be prepared to consider her for the artist’s job? Would they give a job to the daughter of a man who hated them and everything their success stood for? Doubt edged into her thoughts, making her take a step back as she tried to think of an answer.

  Chase stepped in with a touch to her shoulder. “Dad knows so many people, he sees someone he recognizes in everyone.” He offered her a smile that did little to settle the thoughts chasing each other through her mind. “The Chevy Dad’s working on belongs to my brother, Carter. He has a few running around the ranch he wants restored and painted. Why don’t I show you the rest of the setup? We recently installed a spray booth with a high-tech extraction system to minimize fumes during spraying and airbrushing.”

  She followed Chase to the rear of the garage where the booth stood empty and silent, the double doors closed and the lights off. Could she do this? The airbrushing she’d done had been in less sophisticated places than this. Backyard painting projects done in secret, in the company of people her parents would turn their noses up at. Artwork they snubbed as little more than somewhat stylish graffiti.

  “It’s fully automated, so it’s a case of simply selecting the program you want. Makes things a lot easier when we’re doing undercoats and topcoats on whole bodies. Shaves off a lot of the waiting time.”

  Chase’s words eased the doubt. She could learn to work with new technology. For Zoe. For herself. She had to take one last rebellious stand. There’d be too much to lose if she didn’t. “I saw your advertisement in the paper for a graphics artist. Airbrush art is something I’ve always loved to do, but it’s been more of a hobby than a career because there was no scope for it in the job I did back in Florida.”

  Interest fired in his eyes. “Have you worked on custom designs before? You said you were a fan.”

  “I did airbrushing privately, but it was backyard art for a small clientele. I’d be happy to show you some of my work?” Her heart beat a nervous tattoo in her chest.

  “I’d like to see it and I’m sure Dad would too. How about you drop by with it tomorrow? I’d say we do it this afternoon, but we’ve got a big reveal scheduled for today.”

  His smile widened with encouragement and fresh hope bloomed in her chest. For once, the skills she’d learned as a rebellious teenager could be used to get her out of trouble instead of into it. “I’d like that. Tomorrow morning it is.”

  “It’s a date.” He held out his hand to shake on it, his fingers closing around hers as she placed her palm against his.

  She ignored the lurch of excitement in her belly that came from more than the promise of an official interview. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

  “You’re welcome. So, have you checked in at the Swan Inn yet?”

  Charlie stiffened. How to answer that one? She’d prefer him not to know quite yet that she’d arrived in town last night and had to take refuge in the attic above his garage. “Er … no, not yet.” Evading the question wasn’t lying, right? Guilt niggled at her again. She hated having to do what she’d done, but she’d had little choice.

  “Well, then you probably don’t know that the inn is inhabitable due to a burst water main.”

  Oh, she knew all right. That was what had put her in this pickle and thrown a huge sledgehammer on her well-laid-out plans. She’d make it up to them. She had to. “Oh.”

  “There is another inn about ten miles out of town.”

  “Thank you, I’ll look it up.”

  “And make sure George gives you a refund if you’ve paid the deposit on the room.”

  “Okay, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow with my portfolio.” Tomorrow, she’d confess to seeking refuge in their attic, explain the circumstances that had put her there. With a job secured, she could afford to pay out cash for a room somewhere and stay card-untraceable until she had her feet back under her. Tomorrow her future would begin.

  Chapter Two

  Outside Chase’s cabin an owl hooted, and laughter drifted up through the night from the ranch campsite where his younger brother, Carter, would be entertaining guests with stories around the bonfire, a perk they could all enjoy after a day in the garage.

  Carter … the brother the car gene had skipped. Instead he’d inherited their maternal grandfather’s love of the land and had turned the family property into a lucrative tourist attraction that gave visitors the full ranch experience.

  As much as Chase enjoyed coming home to the ranch at night, it was the garage that kept him buzzing. And today, he’d been buzzing with an excitement of a different kind. A dangerous kind when he couldn’t afford to think with his heart instead of his head.

  Charlie, a mystery that intrigued him. He’d waved her goodbye with a niggle in his gut. Something didn’t add up. He couldn’t deny he was attracted to her. What sane, fully functional, testosterone-driven male wouldn’t be? She was a beautiful girl. One who possessed a certain kind of charm. The kind that wrapped a guy around her little finger and drew him in. A dangerous charm when his trustworthy instinct told him she wasn’t being completely upfront with him.

  He’d kept a close eye on her as she’d approached her rental car parked near Molly’s store. He’d heard the chirp of the alarm before she’d opened the back door and unwrapped the carrier from around her, strapped the baby into a safety seat and closed the door. She’d made her way to the driver’s door, checking up and down the street. Once. Twice. Three times. Looking for something. Or someone. He’d watched as she got in, sta
rted the car and pulled away from the curb. In the opposite direction of the inn he’d told her about.

  She’d lied. He knew that, and while his bullshit detector never failed him, his gut told him there was a reason she’d lied. She’d asked questions but answered few. Evasive, carefully thought-out answers that had him wishing he had her resume, so he could read it tonight. Tomorrow, he’d interview her for the job and wait for her to come clean with him. The thought reminded him that he hadn’t checked his emails to see if there’d been any other applicants for his advertisement.

  Damn it. In all the excitement of Bobby Stuart’s new car reveal, he’d left his laptop at the garage. Chase checked his watch. He could leave it till the morning, but with Charlie coming in tomorrow for an interview, he wanted to be sure of any other possibilities before he offered her the position.

  And with her name on his mind and the questions it raised, came the thought of a pair of beautiful green eyes, and the picture of a woman nursing her baby, looking as if she held the most precious bundle in the world. A man shouldn’t find that incredibly beautiful when there was most likely a baby-daddy in the mix somewhere.

  Was that who she was running from? Now there was a situation he should be wary of, but something in her green eyes had called to him at a level that went beyond mere interest and his instinct told him there was more to her story.

  He tossed his pickup keys in his hand. Thirty minutes from the ranch into town. If he hurried, he’d be back in time to share a last-call beer with Carter and his guests around the campfire. Carter, the only cowboy in their family. Unless he counted Mason, who gave “cowboy” a whole new meaning through speed and dare-devil stunts.

  Chase pulled the door of his cabin closed and waved to Carter, standing on the porch of the main ranch house, as he crossed the distance to his truck.

  “Going out?” Carter checked his watch. “Hot date?”

  Chase grinned. “I wish. I left my laptop at the garage and I’ve still got work to do.”