Turn Up the Heat (7 page)

“So he was a good kisser? He
looked
like a good kisser,” Holly mused.

Jenna broke in, snagging a scone from the tray before sitting back on the bed. “Told you he's hot.”

“I hate you both,” Bellamy muttered without malice. She should have known they'd do this. Hell, if the shoe was on the other foot, she wouldn't hesitate to dole out a little friendly ribbing.

“We're okay with that. You're the only one of the three of us who scored last night. Come on! Dish a little,” Jenna said, scrunching up her nose.

“I didn't
score
. To be honest, I think the whole thing was a mistake. And why do you look like you just bit into a lemon?” Bellamy took a long swallow of coffee, and the warming sensation helped lift the edges of her hangover.

“These scones are like hockey pucks. Go with the bagels if you value your life.” Jenna tossed the half-eaten scone back on the tray with a thunk.

“That's what happens when you overwork your dough.” Bellamy shrugged, taking a cinnamon raisin bagel from the platter and tearing off a hunk. “Hey, toss that Motrin over here, would you?” It was as close as she would get to admitting that her head really did hurt.

“So you're not going to give up any details about your rendezvous with Mr. Goodwrench? Really?” Holly poured some orange juice for Bellamy to swallow the pills, looking disappointed.

“I would, but there aren't any. I told you, it was a mistake,” Bellamy mumbled around the Motrin.

Jenna laughed. “What, like forgetting to pay your cable bill? Come on!”

Bellamy blushed, heat creeping all the way up to her ears. “No. I meant the kind of mistake that involves beer goggles,” she said, ripping her bagel into tiny pieces.

“Um, you've got some rose-colored beer goggles, sweetheart. Jenna's right. That man is fine.” Holly cracked open a cold pack and passed it over wordlessly.

“Not me, him.” Bellamy's words were so quiet, they almost qualified as a whisper. She leaned into the cold pack, feeling the ache of it seep into her cheekbone. It was embarrassing enough that she'd walked into a pole trying to look cool in front of the cocky jerk, but then to go and kiss him like a groupie on top of it all? Insult and injury were supposed to be metaphorical, for God's sake!

Jenna lifted her gaze from the bagel she was buttering, confused. “But he seemed sober.”

Bellamy cut off her thoughts with a wave. Nope. Her ego was a sinking ship as it was. She simply couldn't dwell on it. “Either way, it was nothing. As a matter of fact, it was less than nothing.” Shifting the cold pack, Bellamy traced a line down her half-numb cheek. “Hey, does this look bad enough to get me out of work for a couple of days? I'm thinking I should milk it for all it's worth, and fifty bucks says Bosszilla asks for photographic proof of bodily harm before she gives me another couple of days off.”

“Oh, come on! Your car is about to be in a bazillion pieces. She won't let you off the hook?” Holly rolled her eyes.

Bellamy smirked. “Clearly, you're forgetting the time I took two days off for my great-aunt's funeral in New Jersey. She made me give her the obituary so she could call the funeral home to verify everything.”

“Well, the bruise isn't terrible, but we could Photoshop you to make it look really awful,” Holly suggested, falling for the change in subject hook, line, and sinker.

Bellamy played right along. “Knock yourself out. I have twenty-four hours to come up with a viable excuse, or else my boss is going to go full frontal bitch. And trust me when I say, it's not a pretty sight.”

She sank back against the headboard as Jenna and Holly argued over whether being mauled by a bear in the mountains was a viable excuse. The subject of Bellamy's clandestine barroom kiss had been all but forgotten, swept under the rug as if it had never happened. Which was just the way she wanted it, because the whole thing had been a mistake of epic proportions.

Now if only she could get the feel of Shane's mouth, hot and oh so male, out of her head, she'd be just fine.

By the time lunch rolled around, Shane had been under Bellamy's Miata for three hours, and that was after running the five mile loop behind the old log cabin he rented. The unease he'd felt all morning sloshed around in his belly by the gallon. If a five mile run and yanking a transmission that was as stubborn as its owner didn't work to lighten his restlessness, Shane was out of ideas for what would.

“Lemme guess. You've been here a while. And by a while, I don't mean twenty minutes,” Jackson drawled from the side door of the garage as he came in, huddled deep in his jacket against the January cold.

“A while, yeah.” It wasn't Shane's fault he couldn't sleep, for God's sake. He had work to do.

“Tell me you at least stayed in bed until after the sun was up, you freaking workaholic.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, man.” Getting paid meant getting it done, and Shane had waited long enough to start pulling the tranny on this thing. Plus, if he kept his hands busy on Bellamy's car, then maybe he wouldn't be so tempted to be doing other things with them. Christ, it was a good thing this tranny would take all afternoon. Maybe he'd offer to tune up Jackson's truck, just for good measure.

Jackson shook his head, joking as he ducked to stand under the car. “Don't you ever rest?”

“Got plenty of time to rest when I'm dead,” Shane quipped over his shoulder with forced humor.

“Aren't you just a ray of frickin' sunshine?”

“Sorry. This thing's a pain in the ass.” It took Shane all of three seconds to notice his buddy's ear-to-ear smile. Damn, those things were contagious. He couldn't help but return the favor, and was relieved to feel his bad mood get knocked down a few pegs. “What's with you?”

“I am taking Samantha Kane to the Pine Mountain Resort bonfire tonight, that's what's with me.” Jackson's grin turned downright goofy as he looked up at the work Shane had done so far.

Shane laughed. “That explains the shit-eating grin, I guess.”

Jackson's hands went up, signaling
guilty as charged
. “Well, if you hadn't taken off so early last night, you'd be in the know. Where'd you get to, anyway? One minute, we're standing there throwing back a cold one and the next thing I know, you're a ghost.”

Good thing Shane had the bored look down pat, because he was giving it a workout right now. “Yeah, I was just beat from working all day. I'd have said good-bye to you, but you looked kind of occupied.”

Jackson went for round two with his grin, and Shane just shook his head as he continued. “So it all worked out, huh? You were pretty cozy with her when I left.”

“Yup. She even let me kiss her good night. Man, that woman can kiss. Hot enough to singe my toes, dude,” Jackson said, lost for a second in what was probably a vivid recollection.

“I don't think that's your toes,” Shane volleyed, but then suddenly, he was caught up in a recollection of his own. One that didn't involve
his
toes, either.

Well, shit.

“Yeah, yeah. She's not that kind of girl. Not yet, anyway,” he laughed. “She stuck pretty close to the safety net of her friend just to make sure I wasn't a consummate creep. And speaking of her friend—” Jackson narrowed his eyes as Shane busied himself again with the car overhead. “You gotta come to the bonfire with me tonight. Melody was really into you. If you'd stuck around, maybe I wouldn't have been the only one who got kissed senseless, you know?”

Shane skipped around the irony of those words and the mention of Samantha's friend, dodging both like the land mines they were. “Yeah, I'm going to pass on the bonfire. I've got a couple of things I have to take care of.” Never mind that those things would probably take all of an hour. As far as Shane was concerned, even a flimsy excuse was a good excuse to stay away from that fat-cat resort.

Jackson shot Shane a look of disbelief. “What could you possibly have to take care of on a Saturday night?”

Crossing the room to put his wrench down with a clank, Shane shrugged. “If I don't hit the grocery store, I'm going to be stuck eating ketchup for dinner. Plus, I gotta swing by Grady's.” The way the old man had looked the other day still played at the back of Shane's mind. He'd looked tired, and not for lack of sleep.

“Well, you should come to the bonfire after. I know you avoid the resort like the plague, but I'm telling you, you won't be disappointed.”

Shane looked up from where he'd been carefully straightening the tools on the workbench. His trip to the Double Shot last night had been enough social interaction to last him a month. The faster he could get back to working in the garage, paying off his loan and forgetting everything that had happened in the back room of that bar, the better.

“If you say so, Jax. Now are you gonna help me yank this tranny, or are you just gonna stand there looking pretty?”

Just like that, Shane's life went back to normal.

 

 

Bellamy examined the fridge in the suite's kitchenette with disdain. “We made pretty fast work of that hospitality basket, huh?” The only signs that it had even existed were some lonely slices of cheddar cheese and a jar of spicy mustard with nothing but dregs at the bottom.

“Yeah, sorry. I got the munchies last night after we came back,” Holly said, looking sheepish from where she lay sprawled on the couch.

“That's an understatement. No lie, I thought she was going to lick the jar.” Jenna laughed, moving just in time to dodge Holly's elbow.

Bellamy cracked a grin. The hourlong massage and matching facial treatment she'd indulged in had gone a long way toward improving her mood, especially since the aesthetician had put special effort into reducing the bruise on her face. With some strategically placed concealer, she'd be good as new.

“Well, we can't have you licking the jar. It's just embarrassing,” Bellamy said. She pondered room service, but breakfast had been lackluster at best. Which was to say that it basically sucked.

“You're one to talk, Bruiser.” Holly giggled, throwing a pillow across the common room toward the kitchenette.

The pillow missed by a mile, but the reminder of Bellamy's faux pas and the kiss that went with it stung. “Just for that, I might consider not going to the grocery store in town for more snacks.” Bellamy arched a brow at her friend, noticing that it hurt a lot less than during previous attempts throughout the day.

Jenna tossed her the keys to her BMW without pause. “You will not, you big, fat foodie! The crappy room service has to be driving you bazoo. I don't suppose you'll get me a good old-fashioned bag of chips, huh?”

Bellamy wrinkled her nose as she slipped into her black wool peacoat and threw a knit hat over her tangle of curls to properly hide their disarray. “Since it's your car, I guess I can hook you up,” she grumbled. Damn, she missed her car.

Nope. Not thinking about it. Not even a little bit.

“Okay, you brats. I'd say call me if you think of anything else, but, well, you know.” She rolled her eyes at the idea of her worthless cell phone as she hustled out the door. To be honest, as much as she knew she'd probably pay for it in the end, it
had
been kind of liberating not to worry about the stupid thing all day.

Bellamy made her way down the curvy mountain road at a snail's pace. Part of her care came from the gut-clenching drop-off on the other side of the guardrail, but most of it was so she could take in the breathtaking view. Afternoon sun peeked through the high, thin clouds, bathing the tall, thick evergreens in sparkling light and smokelike shadows. The sky, a mix of watercolor blue and iron gray, was a perfect canvas overhead, and by the time Bellamy reached the grocery store, her mood had crossed the threshold of decent for the second time that day.

She parked Jenna's BMW in front of Joe's Grocery, squaring her shoulders before going inside. Bellamy didn't have high hopes for what lay beyond the doors, but with a little luck, she'd be able to work some magic and do better than the surprisingly mediocre room service food at the resort.

“Okay, Joe. Let's see what you're made of, baby,” Bellamy murmured under her breath.

As soon as she stepped inside the grocery store, a warm pang erased every ounce of trepidation she'd carried in with her. This wasn't your typical, institutional mega-mart, with fluorescent lighting and symmetrical stacks of ho-hum produce. No, Joe's was set up like a cross between a country store and a cozy gourmet market, with buffed hardwood floors the color of warm honey, and large bushel baskets overflowing with gorgeous red apples and bottom-heavy, green pears at the height of ripeness. There were assorted cheeses in a refrigerated dairy case against one wall, and a counter boasting prepared salads, half a dozen kinds of fresh bread, and pastries arranged on mouth-watering platters, all right before her eyes at the front of the store.

No two ways about it. Bellamy had found her own personal version of the Promised Land.

“Afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?”

It took Bellamy a full minute to realize that the pleasant man behind the counter had been speaking to her. “Oh! Ah, I'm not sure. I think I'm a little overwhelmed. To be honest, I wasn't really expecting . . .” Oh my God. Were those wheels of Brie in the cheese case? And figs in the basket next to it? Seriously?

The man laughed. “Not a whole lot of people do. In fairness, if you head back that way, you'll find the normal stuff, too, so if you're hankerin' for Froot Loops, don't fret.”

Bellamy blinked, unsure where to begin. “Oh, no. This will do just fine. Thank you.” When she saw the basket holding fresh avocados, it was all she could do to suppress a squeal. She could make guacamole like nobody's business. How much more perfect for nighttime munchies could you get?

By the time she'd made her way from the brisk scent of the grapefruits and navel oranges to the impressive selection of cheeses and deli meats in the case along the wall, the basket draped over Bellamy's arm was heavier than a stack of phone books. She had much more than she needed, but caring was the furthest thing from her mind. Her mood was lighter than it had been in days; hell,
months
. Enjoying it was her number one priority before she had to face reality in the form of a boss who could screech like a howler monkey and an insubordinate car that had stranded her at the foot of a mountain with nothing but an arrogant mechanic to show for her troubles.

Make that an arrogant mechanic who could make a girl forget she had knees with the heat of a single kiss, then saunter off like it was no big deal after he was done.

Bellamy turned toward the bushels of deep red Fuji apples, flushing to match their color as she forced herself to shove the thought aside. She'd forgotten about her wonder-ex, Derek, for God's sake, and they'd kissed a hell of a lot more times than the whopping once she'd shared with Shane. Mentally ditching the image of one measly kiss should be a piece of cake. Except Derek's kisses had never felt anything like that.

Come to think of it, nobody's had.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief second to block out the memory once and for all before swiping a couple of apples to top off her basket. Exhaling a slow breath, Bellamy turned toward the checkout line, leaving all thoughts of Shane Griffin in the dust.

 

 

Shane was taking the shortcut to the frozen dinner section in Joe's Grocery when he caught sight of a fall of blond curls that could only belong to one woman. Great. He had to run into Bellamy at the grocery store, of all places. She couldn't eat room service like everyone else up at the resort? And was that a wheel of Brie in her hand?

Christ. Kiss or no kiss, he sure had her pegged. He turned, intending to slink behind the tall stand of fresh cut flowers in order to avoid her. But the way she looked in profile made him stop, halfway hidden from where she stood, and stare.

Bellamy's face was shrouded by a light blue hat that softened her features, and her fair hair spilled down her back in its trademark ringlets. Shane could see the bruise on her cheek, right by her eye, and he was shocked to see it was already starting to fade. Her green eyes glittered in the light pouring through the giant store windows, and she wore a smile that was as honest as a day's worth of work.

What rooted him to the spot wasn't any of those things, although each of them captured his attention. The thing that made him pause, watching surreptitiously from behind buckets of lilies and greenery, was the look on Bellamy's face. She studied everything she touched with tender reverence, cradling the avocados carefully as she chose the ones she wanted, letting her fingers sweep over the pears like they were made of glass. The sight fascinated the hell out of Shane.

Right up until she turned around and caught him blatantly staring at her.

“Oh!” Bellamy gasped across the row of apple bushels, her eyes flying wide. “What are you doing here?”

The way Shane saw it, he only had two options. He could either stand there like the dumbass he currently was, or he could joke his way out of this mess.

And he'd never been too partial to looking like a dumbass.

“Well, it's a little known secret, but we mechanics do eat.” He stopped to let out a half smile. “I'm grocery shopping. What are you doing?” Shane stepped away from the flowers and met her gaze head-on over the bins of produce. It wasn't lost on him that Bellamy got kind of cute when she was unnerved, and he both hated and was turned on by how endearing it suddenly made her.

“Grocery shopping,” she said, as if she wished she had something more clever to say.