Page 36 of Turn Up The Heat

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Shane had beenawake and ignoring Monday morning for twenty minutes before the alarm on his cell phone went off, and he brushed his palm over it to silence the beeping. He thought about going for a good, long run to boil off some of the frustration that had been mounting for days now, but the one he’d taken last night had done nothing but move his blood through his body, and given the state of things, he wasn’t sure that was the best plan.

God, he’d wanted to do more than kiss Bellamy. Alotmore. And didn’t that just make lying in bed all by his lonesome nice and uncomfortable. He needed to get up and get in the shower before he admitted that what he reallyneeded was to get laid.

Maybe that run wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

His boxers and T-shirt offered little protection from the January cold lingering inside the walls of the log cabin he’d rented since moving to Pine Mountain. The place was small, just the one bedroom and what Shane guessed qualified as mostly a kitchen, although it was really more like a stove, an ancient fridge, and a sink crammed into one corner of the living space. He crossed the threshold of his bedroom and made it to the coffeepot in less than five strides, scooping enough grinds to jump-start a rhino into the filter before filling the pot to brew.

There was no room for a couch in the cramped living space, but he had the well-worn recliner and a TV, which suited him just fine. With all the time Shane spent at the garage or running on the trails around the cabin, everything else was basically an afterthought, anyway. Except for the particular afterthought that had set up residence in his frontal lobe and refused to budge, leaving sultry memories of a velvet laugh and a pair of oh-so provocative lips on his…

Strike the run. What Shane needed was a nice, cold shower. One that lasted until Bellamy Blake had her keys in her hand and her body behind the wheel of her runs-like-a-dream sports car. Because both times he’d kissed her, it had proven that his gut instinct was spot-on. A girl like her was bad for him, period.

No matter how good of a kisser she was.

Shane compromised with his dick and took a lukewarm shower, but promised himself to keep the image of Bellamy out of his head, especially when he wasn’t dressed. He didn’t seem to have much control over his parts when it came to the thought of her, and he knew if even one tiny flicker snuck its way into the shower with him, his resolve to not call her or see her would resemble burnt toast.

After getting dressed, he rummaged through the pitiful contents of the lone cupboard over the sink. A couple of apples went into a bag, and he grabbed a premade turkey sub, courtesy of the deli at Joe’s, from the fridge. It wasn’t much, but it’d do for him and Grady. Shane turned up the collar of his jacket, but he was greeted with a blast of icy air that shot right through him as if he were wearing nothing but swim trunks and a smile.

“Damn,” he bit out. The temperature must have dropped about fifteen degrees from yesterday, and the unforgiving wind was back with a vengeance. The F-150 protested the trip, warming up just in time for Shane to pull into the side lot of the garage. He’d been there for all of five minutes when a familiar voice snapped him out of his morning routine.

“Hey, I was driving by on my way to work and saw your truck. I’m surprised you’re here.” Jackson rubbed his hands together, stomping the cold from his boots as he entered the garage.

“Why wouldn’t I be here? It’s Monday. I’ve got a little more work to do on that convertible, plus I’ve gotta make sure the order for the parts is on its way.” Shane creased his brow. Why did Jackson look so shocked?

“Dude, do you live under a rock, or what? That massive snowstorm that was supposed to stall out in the Ohio Valley changed course and picked up a ton of steam. We’re going to get dumped on, starting any minute now.”

Well, that explained the look on Jackson’s face. Shit. “I’ve got to call Grady and make sure he’s alright.”

“I saw him last night at Joe’s, along with everybody else in town,” Jackson said. “Looked like he had enough in his cart to tide him over.”

Shane exhaled. Grady was no stranger to Blue Ridge winters, and he knew how to ride out a snowstorm, but still. Shane was relieved he wouldn’t be stuck with empty cupboards. “You’re heading out, then?”

Jackson cracked a grin. “Hell, yes, although this one’s going to be a bitch. Mix of ice and snow, and the wind is supposed to get downright nasty.” He paused to shudder. “Still, working for a plowing company this time of year, it’s like nickels and dimes falling from the sky, baby. Bring on Snowmageddon, I say.”

“Yeah, I’d better get some salt and sand ready. Bet we’ll get a couple of people who need hauling out from ditches.” This was standard winter fare in the mountains. Shane walked over to the bags of both salt and sand they kept stored on the far wall of the garage.

“I’ve got a little time before I have to check in, if you want help,” Jackson offered, tossing his cell phone and his wallet on the workbench and rolling up his sleeves.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Let me call Grady and tell him to stay put. It looks like we’re going to be in for a long haul.”

* * *

Bellamy burrowed deeplyunder the luxurious down comforter on her bed, cocooning herself in blissful warmth as she woke up slowly with a big, fat grin on her face. She, Holly, and Jenna spent hours stuffing themselves silly with bite after bite of Carly di Matisse’s pure culinary magic. To top it all off, the resort manager, Chase, had come through in flying colors, arranging a little meet-and-greet at the end of the night that had Bellamy halfway to the breathing-into-a-paper-bag state that Jenna and Holly had teased her about. Carly had been so nice, and even graciously listened to Bellamy babble on about how she’d made the “couples special” cedar-plank salmon for her parents’ special anniversary dinner, complete with the brown butter haricots verts and garlic roasted fingerling potatoes.

No doubt about it, Bellamy had had the night of her life and things were getting back to good. Or, they would be, if only she could find the source of whatever was making that incessant beeping noise and make it go far, far away. She fumbled for her cell phone, wondering what had possessed her to set her alarm in the first place.

Oh, wait. That was the ringer on her cell phone, not her alarm, and wait. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. What the hell?

She yanked the phone under the pillow to meet her ear, trying her best not to mumble. “Hello?”

“Bellamy, we’ve had a change of plans. I’m going to need the Anderson contract this afternoon.”

Well good morning to you, too, O Mighty Ruler of the Underworld.“I’m, um, not back in town until tomorrow,” Bellamy replied, trying to get her bearings and wipe the sleep from her eyes.

Bosszilla’s voice made nails on a chalkboard sound like a symphony, and the dreamy memory of Bellamy’s night shrank into the recesses of her mind.

“Well, the world doesn’t stop just because you’ve decided to take a little break. The client wants to move forward, and I’m not inclined to say no.”

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