She nodded and gave him a pleased smile. “Yes, this is Priscilla.” She ran a hand over the curve of the hood, her glossy nails almost a perfect match for the paint color as her fingers caressed it. Bowie wouldn’t mind having her stroke him like that.
“Is something wrong with her?” he asked.
“Apart from being old? I’m not sure, I’ve only had her a couple days. She makes a strange sound when I accelerate. I wanted to get her checked out and fixed up, just to be on the safe side.” She ran her hand over the edge of the roof, the motion elegant and sensual at the same time. “She’s sentimental to me.”
“She’s a beauty.” Not nearly as gorgeous as her owner, but still. “Pop the hood for me.”
She opened the driver’s door and leaned over to pop the latch, giving him a view of the muscles in her bare calves in those sexy heels, the nip of her waist and the flare of her skirt giving him an instant visual of what she’d look like underneath it. Full, lush curves a man could explore for hours. Curves he could wrap his hands around and hold onto while he eased into her from behind.
The thought came unbidden, startling him. He hadn’t thought those kinds of things about someone he’d just met in forever.
Behind him, Chase cleared his throat. Bowie snapped to attention and walked around to the driver’s side door as the woman straightened. He slid into the caramel-colored seat, once again getting a whiff of her clean, tart scent. Yum. “Let’s start her up and see what the old girl tells us.”
He fired up the engine. The starter took a few seconds to catch. There was a definite lag, and when he gave it gas, the high-pitched squeal indicated a potential problem with the belts.
After giving a few other things a cursory check, he turned off the ignition and looked up at the woman. She stood next to Chase, completely ignoring his brother as she cupped her elbows, her full attention on Bowie.
He felt the impact of that pale green gaze all the way to his center. “I’d say she definitely needs a little TLC.”
“I know you’ve barely looked at her, but can you give me a ballpark estimate of cost, just so I have an idea of what I’m looking at?”
He named a price range. “I’ve got time to look at her early tomorrow afternoon, if that works.”
“That’s perfect.” With that she turned and headed straight back inside. Chase lunged over to grab the door for her. Bowie managed to beat him through it, entering right behind the woman, and came to stand at the desk with her while she booked the appointment.
“What’s your name?” Barb asked her with a bright smile.
“Aspen Savich.”
Aspen. A name as unique and sexy as she was.
Barb typed in her name and cell number, then looked at Bowie. “Do you figure you’ll have it ready by closing tomorrow night?”
“Barring any unforeseen problems or special parts I need to order in, yeah.” He turned back to Aspen, caught off guard by the strange tug deep in his gut when their gazes connected. He’d forgotten what that felt like. “But if I come across a problem I’ll call to check with you before doing anything. Right now, I’m just thinking a basic tune-up and checking the belts, nothing too bad.”
She nodded. “Sounds good. Thanks very much.”
“No problem.” He held out his hand. “I’m Bowie, by the way.”
She gave him a mysterious smile, those pale green eyes holding a trace of amusement as she accepted his hand. “I know,” she murmured.
The moment their palms touched, he felt that tug deep inside him again. Her skin was soft and warm.
Withdrawing her hand, she glanced at the three of them. “Thanks a lot. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Those amazing eyes shifted to him again, and this time there was no mistaking the leap of attraction inside him. He didn’t like it. “Unless I hear from you sooner.”
With those flirtatious parting words, she slid a pair of oversized dark sunglasses on and walked out. Bowie stared at the closed door for a long moment, her scent still lingering faintly in the air. The sound of the Morris starting shook him out of his stupor and he spun around to head back to the shop.
Chase was right behind him. “Forget what I asked about the business earlier. Based on what I just saw, I’d say business is real good.” He chuckled, eyes twinkling.
Bowie grunted and gave him a sharp look, annoyed at himself. For gawking like an idiot, but more for his weird reaction to her. He hadn’t reacted to anyone like that since—
Simultaneous blades of guilt and pain sliced through him. He shut and locked the door to the past in his mind, and blocked any more thoughts of Aspen Savich. She was just another client. “Stop yammerin’ and get your lazy ass back to work,” he grumbled. “This ain’t Hollywood—we gotta actually work for our money around here.”
The amused, knowing look Chase shot him didn’t help settle Bowie’s unease. He didn’t want to react to Aspen like that, or any other woman.
That part of him should have died years ago, with the woman he’d planned to spend the rest of his life with.
Chapter Two
Okay, maybe this had all been a huge mistake.
The moment the thought registered, Aspen made a frustrated sound and shook her head at herself. Few thousand miles and dollars too late to be having second thoughts now.
Priscilla’s engine whined ominously as she shifted into third up a slight hill, that squeaking sound grating on her ears. “Hang in there, old girl,” she murmured. “One more day and we’ll get you all fixed up.” She patted the dashboard in encouragement, praying the car wouldn’t conk out on her before the appointment tomorrow.
Priscilla might not be worth much in terms of market value, but of all the things Aspen had inherited from her great-uncle, this car had the most sentimental value. Some of her fondest memories of her and Harry were from trips to the beach or the ice cream shop together in Priscilla with the windows down and a Beach Boys song blasting from the old radio.
Aspen could never have sold her, not for a million dollars. Whatever it cost to keep her healthy and running, so be it. She’d find the money somehow.
At least the garage owner had seemed optimistic about being able to fix her. He was also hella hot with his thick, dark beard, startling gray eyes and tatted forearms, but not overly friendly. She’d found most locals here to be that way so far—polite, but not exactly welcoming. Even without the California plates on Priscilla, they knew she was an outsider the moment she opened her mouth, and treated her like any other tourist.
She blew out a long breath, ordering herself not to get ahead of herself. It had only been a few days. Hopefully in time the people here would accept her, because going back to California wasn’t an option. Ever.
That insistent tingle started up again at the back of her neck, her subconscious still worried she might have been followed here. Which was nuts.
She shook off the thought and focused on the pretty marsh and canals she passed, the huge live oaks dripping with Spanish moss shading the road as she neared another bridge. After two long years of legal battles and the kind of stress that had eventually eaten two ulcers in her stomach lining, she was finally free. Her old life was behind her now, and she wanted it to stay there.