Page 7 of Montana Heat

No matter how many times I tried it, the engine wouldn’t turnover. I tried one final time, and with a putter and growl, it finally started.

Charlie jogged up to me, squinting as the cold breeze chilled his face. He must’ve been watching from the door.

I quickly rolled down the window, suppressing a shiver. “It was just struggling to start.”

He cringed. “Damn. Don’t know much about cars, but it may be the alternator. You’ll want to get that taken care of right now. Having a drivable car is important in your situation.”

“Is there anywhere in town, or do I need to go somewhere else?”

“There’s a garage down the street. The new owner is a friend of the Resting Warrior Ranch guys. He’s honest, and you can trust him.”

I wasn’t sure I felt like I could trust any stranger right now, but what choice did I have? It wasn’t like I could walk around in this weather. And if I had to leave in a hurry…

“Yeah, okay. I’ll give the ruffian wannabe a shot.” My insides twisted at the thought, but I plastered a small smile on my face.

Charlie laughed and gave me directions to the garage, then retreated back inside the station, out of the cold.

I followed Charlie’s directions, swallowing my frustration. Moving anywhere always came with hiccups. I knew that. I’d coached residential real estate clients through the headaches of relocating many times. Had done the same with commercial real estate clients from time to time too.

This was just a hiccup.

But why did it feel like an omen?

Chapter Two

Jensen

I wandered in from the repair bay of my shop to the office section, beelining for the coffeepot.

I was not the best morning person, and everybody who knew me generally tried to avoid me until after lunch or I’d drunk a full pot of coffee, whichever came first.

“Aw, come on. Empty? I’ve only had one cup.” I narrowed my eyes at the coffeepot my office manager Susanna hadn’t filled, as if my glare would cause coffee to magically appear.

Damn it.

Susanna didn’t rate keeping the coffeepot filled high on her to-do list. I didn’t expect her to wait on me, of course. She was here to do the books and deal with customers.

But man, actually drinking coffee rather than willing it to appear would be so much better right now.

Grumbling, I got out the needed items and started a fresh pot.

Maybe I could put up a sign threatening death to anyone who drank this batch. I glared as the machine took an excessively long time—at least fifteen seconds—to start brewing.

“Jensen?” Susanna’s voice called out from the front section where she dealt with customers.

Fuck. Ineeded at least four more cups of coffee before talking to anyone, including Susanna.

Apeople personI was not. But coffee at least helped.

“Jensen, is that you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Who else would it be?”

I only hired a few part-timers, young guys who needed the experience. Sometimes even some of the clients staying at Resting Warrior Ranch would have an itch to get their hands dirty, just to do something while they were recovering, and I would let them tinker around with some stuff in the garage.

Business normally slowed down this time of the year anyway. It was mostly just me and Susanna unless something occurred that required more hands, and then I’d call in some part-time help.

“Come here, then,” Susanna hollered from the office.

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