Wherever You Go
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The last thing Paisley Peterson needs is to fall in love. Take a break from her stressful career? Yes. Try her hand at writing a romance novel? Yes. Beat the heck out of her cancer? Hell, yeah. Get in over her head in a stressful relationship with a mechanic with major family problems? No. Thanks anyway.
Asher has always been the one to take care of the people in his life, so when sexy Paisley strolls in and takes the lead, he finds himself turned on by her independence and confidence in a way he has never been turned on before. But after suffering too many losses in life and with a plate already brimming with family members who need his care and protection, can he handle the truth behind her sudden appearance in Healing Springs? How is he supposed to allow himself to get close to her when he could lose her?
Asher and Paisley are from two different worlds with two different life plans. Will their unplanned love affair turn into a dead end? Or will it be just the detour they have both needed all along?
Amanda Torrey
When not writing, Amanda enjoys hanging with her kids, reading, playing in nature, obsessively checking Facebook, visiting Disney World (as often as possible), ROAD TRIPS, and going to the movies. She loves meeting new people, and especially loves to hear from readers!
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Wherever You Go - Amanda Torrey
Wherever You Go
Amanda Torrey
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2015 Amanda Torrey
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Chapter One
Paisley wasn’t sure which was worse—the fact that her attempt at a one-night stand had ended with an erection that fled faster than she had fled from Boston, or the lump growing in her breast.
She laughed to herself, even though she knew it was probably too soon for cancer jokes.
And one should never joke about an erection gone bad.
Paisley ignored the ominous feeling in her gut as she dug through her pocketbook, searching for her lipstick as she drove down the rural road. She had overslept for the first time in her adult life and would now be late for her appointment if she hit any traffic. Lipstick would calm her—remind her that at her most basic level she was still a professional. An intelligent professional. A professional who had a winning track record.
She’d win this thing, too. And she’d honor her mother in the process.
She cursed under her breath at the line of school buses blocking her entrance to Main Street. Why so many buses at this time of the morning? Shouldn’t all the kids be tucked into their little desks, hard at work already?
She honked her horn and was rewarded by an arm out the window waving her to pass. She did, not concerned with her sister Freedom’s warning about how things were done differently in the small town of Healing Springs, New Hampshire versus the big city. Paisley wasn’t there to impress anyone.
Paisley turned up her air conditioning, irritated that her nerves had allowed her to sweat. She had always managed to turn her nerves into passion. To harness the insecurity and spin it into perseverance. That skill had served her well as an attorney. She couldn’t afford to let people see her sweat when she was in front of a courtroom.
The radio suddenly started playing at a lower volume, and the battery light on her dashboard flashed.
Come on, I love this song.
She fiddled with the volume button to no avail.
She flicked on her directional to signal that she was turning down the street that led to the highway and noticed the light was dim. The directional appeared to flash slower than usual.
What the hell?
She turned up the radio, but it started to sputter out as the lively song reached its crescendo.
And then the car died.
Are you kidding me?
She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. No frigging way did her car just die when she was already running late for an important appointment.
She put the car in Park and tried to restart it. Nothing. Not even a click.
After verifying that her gas tank was full, she popped the hood and got out of the car.
Paisley studied the engine. She had no damn clue what she was looking for, but she couldn’t sit helpless while her heart thudded at a marathoner’s pace.
The line of school buses passed by her, and the driver in the front smiled broadly, honked, and waved.
Bitch.
Simplicity—the hippy-dippy Peterson sister—would say this was karma, but Paisley didn’t believe in that new age crap.
Hands on hips, she looked around, not sure what she searched for.
As bad as the situation was, Paisley smiled when she realized she had broken down right across the street from an auto repair shop.
Brushing her sweating hands over her pencil-skirt-covered hips, she inhaled deeply and sprang into action. The mechanic would give her a jumpstart, and she’d be on her merry way.
She reached into her car to grab her purse. As soon as the mechanic went out to jump her car, she’d call the hospital and let them know she’d be a few minutes late.
Paisley sauntered across the street. She’d been waiting over a month for this appointment. She couldn’t miss it. The anxiety would kill her faster than the…
Her heart abruptly stalled as deliciously chocolate eyes stared up at her from under the hood of a car as she let herself into the garage.
Eyes that had recently discovered all of her secrets in the most anonymous and intimate way possible.
Eyes that haunted her dreams at night and fueled her fantasies all day.
Eyes framed by sharp brows that rose as she struggled to remember why she had stormed into the shop in the first place.
He broke the silence. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.
The hood slammed shut. He wiped his hands on a cloth that hung from the pocket of his jeans as his slow swagger brought him closer to her, robbing her of her breath.
Asher.
The one and only. Is that how you tracked me down? Asked around town about me, huh?
An indelicate hmmph escaped her throat as she started scratching the love mark on her wrist. Hardly.
His smirk told her he didn’t believe her, but she refused to back away from her defense.
She gestured out the door. My car. It broke down.
He nodded and leaned against the back of the car he had been studying seconds ago. She struggled to make sense of the grease on his jeans and his presence in the garage. What was a lawyer doing tinkering around under someone’s hood?
Convenient.
No, actually, not convenient. Do you know who works here? I need to have someone look at it.
She walked away from him, searching the area for an employee. I have an appointment I can’t miss.
Lead the way.
He gestured toward the door in the gallant, gentlemanly way that had made her fall for him in the first place.
Lead the way. He had said those same words to her as he had invited her to march ahead of him out of the coffee shop.
He had taken over the lead shortly after that.
Her knees struggled to hold her as the memory turned her muscles to jelly.
That’s okay. I’ll wait for the mechanic.
Let me take a look.
She checked the time on her cell, frustrated that she had already wasted a good seven minutes. She’d have to risk a speeding ticket on her way to Boston.
His broad shoulders blocked her view of the shop. Fine. She’d let him play hero and look at her car. Maybe he could give her a quick jump and she’d be on her way and he could get in touch with the workingman side of his masculinity.
Maybe his jumping car skills would be more adequate than his jumping women skills. Then again, she had gotten her hopes up about him before.
She had seen this need-to-solve-problems-that-were-beyond-their-skill-set behavior in other professional males. Sometimes they liked getting their hands dirty and pretending they could wear blue collars as well as the pristinely bleached and starched white collars they wore in the courtroom.
Heck, the guy she had been seeing here and there liked to brag about fixing things around his mother’s house, even though she knew the firm paid him enough to hire a handyman.
Less than a minute later, Asher gave her a diagnosis.
You need an alternator.
She wasn’t an expert on cars, but she knew that wasn’t a quick fix.
Can you please grab a mechanic so he can verify this? I can’t afford to need an alternator right now.
His smile grew suggestive.
We could work a deal.
Ew. Stop.
Heat spread across her neck and shivers ran down her spine. She glared at him long enough to elicit an embarrassed blush from him, too. I have plenty of money. What I don’t have is time. I need to get to Boston. I should be halfway to the border by now.
Bummer. Would have liked to have worked a deal with you.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, hoping he couldn’t see the lust that tore through her at the idea of her paying off her sexual debts. To him.
Listen. Take mine, and I’ll get yours done by the time you get home.
She did her best to hide her surprise. In spite of their slightly incomplete exchange of bodily fluids, they were, in essence, complete strangers. And he would not only give her his car, but also arrange to have hers fixed while she was gone?
Do you know the guys who run the shop?
His smile made her want to nibble his bottom lip.
You could say that.
He nodded his head toward the garage. It’s mine.
Your what?
My shop. I run it. I have posters hanging on my door to prove I’ve been the Healing Springs Herald’s Reader’s Choice for number one mechanic for the last five years. Counting on a sixth win this year. And though I’m backed up on appointments today, I like to give my special customers priority.
Did everything he say have to make her want to strip down and jump on him?
And did he just say he was a mechanic?
She narrowed her eyes and clutched her pocketbook to her hip.
You said you were a lawyer.
When did I say that?
His smile faded.
You know when!
Where was the cool reserve she was known for?
"I have never lied about who I am. You were the one bragging about your profession."
You said you were coming from court.
I was.
She felt the color and warmth he had previously stoked oozing from her body and running toward the street drains as he slowly nodded.
I slept with a criminal.
As I recall, there wasn’t a whole lot of sleeping going on. Matter of fact, I distinctly remember that when I reclined on the bed, you—
She held her hand up to stop him before he made her feel dirtier than she already felt.
I thought you were a lawyer.
Never said I was.
You didn’t say you weren’t, either.
You didn’t seem to give a shit about anything but what I could do with my hands. And my tongue. And my—
Don’t you dare…
His lips twisted up in a snarl/smile that still made her toes curl in her high-heels.
He lowered his voice, sending tremors below her lacy pantyline.
I don’t remember you being so uppity then.
I had had a bad day.
She tossed her head in the air as if to demonstrate her natural uppity disposition. She had no problem with who she was. She had simply allowed herself to let down her usual guard after receiving the news from her doctor.
She wasn’t over the diagnosis, but she was over the self-pity.
What were the charges against you?
Excuse me?
The charges. At court. What are you accused of, and were they dismissed?
Asher shook his head slowly, watching her carefully as the tips of his ears reddened.
I need to know if you’re dangerous.
She tightened her grip on her purse.
And you’ll take my word for it?
I’m excellent at reading people.
Clearly not as excellent as you like to think.
He sucked in a breath and poked his tongue into his cheek. You want to take the offer or not?
Paisley struggled to re-center herself. Asher’s dark hair fell over his eyebrow, and with his head cocked and his eyes studying her as if she might bite him at any moment, she realized he was being nice to her in spite of her snobbery. And no way was he capable of committing a violent crime. Probably nothing more than a traffic violation. She’d call in a favor and have it looked into.
Does it run?
Better than yours.
She rolled her eyes and bit back the performance question she so badly wanted to allow to roll off her tongue. I deserved that.
I’m a mechanic. You think I’d have a vehicle that didn’t work?
He took a step toward her. She backed up, cursing the tight skirt that didn’t allow her to take a giant step back. His chest practically touched hers, and though she wanted to reach out and trace the lines of sweat blotting his t-shirt, she knew better.
This was a small town. She couldn’t keep slumming around. One time was a mistake. Two times would be…
Splendid.
No. Stupid. Stupid.
She had meant to think stupid.
I’ll pay you a standard rental fee for the use of your vehicle. I’ll need it for the majority of the day.
He sucked his cheeks in, revealing high cheekbones that would be the envy of a cover model.
That’s not how we do things around here.
I don’t know what you mean.
When you need somethin’, we provide it. We don’t go around charging people for a kindness in their time of need.
She knew he was talking about the car, but all her nasty little brain could think about were the multiple favors he had done for her just a few days ago. And the favor she had been unable to fully pay back because he couldn’t keep it up…
If she allowed herself to invite him over again, could it be considered all one time? Surely the statute of limitations on their physical encounter hadn’t passed. If a one-night stand ended without one party’s completion, didn’t it only count as a half-night stand?
He must have interpreted her silence as acceptance, because he gestured toward the shop. His spicy, clean, all-too-male-and-all-too-delicious scent fanned the flames of her lust as the wind caught his armpit.
Weren’t mechanics and the like smelly?
Maybe not. She wouldn’t know, anyway. She didn’t make a habit of hanging out with them. She had an assistant who took care of those things for her.
She walked toward the shop, pausing when she got to the door. He nodded his head in the direction of a small parking lot next to the building.
You drive standard?
She swallowed a lump of fear and anxiety.
Then she nodded.
Of course.
It wasn’t a total lie. She knew how. She had been taught. Maybe ten years had passed since she last shifted a stick, but how hard could it be? She had to get to Boston, and if this was her only option, she had no choice in the matter.
She wondered if he feigned the look of admiration he wore as he smiled at her.
You’ve got to let me take you on a date.
I don’t think so. Which car is yours?
She held her hands out for his keys.
Keys are in the car. Why don’t you think so?
He blocked her from walking toward the parked cars. Was she supposed to guess which one was his? Try the doors? Who left their keys in their unlocked car, anyway?
Maybe if she kissed his neck first…
We’ve already moved past the awkward first stages of intimacy, and I don’t remember there being any awkwardness. A date should be a piece of cake.
Really? You don’t remember any awkwardness?
Was he kidding?
His neck reddened and he studied the floor.
Well, if you count the time when you burst into song along with that teeny-bopper boy band of yours…
She arched her brow at him, crossing her arms over her chest and forcing her lips into a straight, unamused line.
Okay, you’ve got me there. All the more reason for you to give me another shot.
I think I’m good.
Come on. You have to admit, the rest of the afternoon was pretty damn good.
She couldn’t deny it, but she didn’t want to fuel his ego while he had practically pummeled hers.
Depends on your definition of good, I suppose.
Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy the things I did to you.
She squared her shoulders. I never said I didn’t. I simply didn’t care for how it ended.
I didn’t want it to end, either.
That’s not what I meant.
Give me another shot.
Clearly he wasn’t the kind of guy to pay attention to hints. Or a soft rejection.
She’d have to let him down hard.
Kind of a challenge, though, when all she wanted to do was let him in. Hard.
She smiled. The famous smile that sold her case to juries. The smile that made more than one defense attorney stutter. The smile that disarmed the judge when he or she was ready to overrule her.
Asher, I appreciate your kindness. But really. You can’t afford this.
She smiled as if joking as she swooped her hand around her body.
He nodded and sucked in his cheeks again.
Alrighty then. Have a ball. Bring her back in one piece, will ya?
He gestured toward a rusty old pickup truck parked in the shade in the back corner.
"That one’s