When We Met Read online

  Carolina Shore

  Book 2

  When We Met

  CJ Marie

  Dedicated to Sam the Man. Do you miss the snow?

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  Prologue

  Josephine rubbed fatigue from her eyes. Her shoulder muscles prickled from sitting and slumping over tables all day. Tension was building, and if she had any sense she’d find a hotel and start the long drive back to Boston in the morning, but Emmitt needed his car tomorrow night. Fifteen hours—she could do it. Hopefully. Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin, finding a sense of pleasure in surprising her boyfriend by arriving earlier than planned.

  The roads were dark, and haunting trees coated in Spanish moss created an eerie feel she enjoyed. The way back to the interstate was dark, but quiet and almost peaceful. Flying would have been a better option. Emmitt had apologized for forgetting to book her a flight to the conference. She huffed, and tried to force a smile. At least he’d offered his more comfortable SUV rather than needing to drive her small hatchback the entire way. Since the man found the positive in any situation, he’d told her how nice it would be to have a car while they both attended the medical conference in Charleston. Now, she was turned around in a po-dunk town called Honeyville tucked somewhere near the highway. Jo didn’t mean to be so cynical about the south, but Emmitt and his tight knit clan of doctors had spent most of the weekend teasing the drawl in the voices and make snide stereotype remarks. Perhaps, since she was tired, some of their mocking was rubbing off on Jo too. Plus, bad memories of the Carolinas created a bad taste in her mouth.

  Jo had a ping of jealousy when she’d kissed Emmitt goodbye at the airport while she took their suitcases and pulled onto the roads. He was likely landing in Boston by now. Jo had offered to check out of the hotel, and had rushed back to the hospital to retrieve his forgotten bag filled with patient files. It was careless of Doctor Baron to leave private information for anyone to see, but Jo didn’t need to be the one to tell him—he knew. Working together had been a dream. She admired Emmitt and his charming bedside manner. As the physician assistant in the cardiac clinic, she found herself constantly barraged by knowledge from the man. He wasn’t one to shy away from teaching, and she appreciated that he valued her opinion—in most cases.

  Blinking as she rounded a tight bend, Jo groaned at the glowing orange fuel light bombarding her eyes. For the last ten minutes she’d been scanning the road for a gas station. It seemed this place didn’t believe in fuel. They probably still used horses and buggies. Jo snickered at the thought.

  She’d give Honeyville some credit—it was beautiful and unique, but she grew weary of every local resident and physician insisting they see the historic sites. Jo lived in Boston for heaven’s sake. She understood about historic sites. And it was so muggy, it felt as if she were locked in a small bathroom with a nonstop hot shower on full blast

  Blasting the air conditioning to prove her point, Jo could have whooped with joy when she caught sight of an ancient-looking gas station. There were dim lights on the old pumps, but the lot and lawn were well tended. That was all she needed. Roaring off her course she aimed the SUV toward the lot. But in a flash of fur, headlights, and screams Jo narrowly missed the creature, at least the size of the car, darting out in the center of the road.

  The car swerved. Dust and gravel pinged on the sides of the doors as she tried to steady out in the dim light. Panic blared in her head at the same instant clanging, shredding, cracking metal echoed in the calm night.

  Jo’s eyes widened and her heart lodged in the back of her throat. “Oh…” she gasped. The pole had come out of nowhere, and now bent at a dangerously odd angle over the top of Emmitt’s car—nearly blocking the entire expanse of a three car garage. Jo arched her face toward the building and cursed like a sailor a few times. The stupid sign read, Zac’s Auto Repair. This wasn’t even a gas station.

  “Calm down,” she soothed out loud. “It’s fine. It’s fine.” The damage couldn’t be too bad—the airbag hadn’t deployed, though the engine had shut off. It was fine. Although no matter how many times she repeated her assurances, Jo’s heart still throbbed in her chest.

  She scanned the area—no one was around. Swallowing the pang of guilt back to the pit of her stomach, Jo considered leaving. She could mail a check for damages. Crinkling her nose in arrogance, she brushed away her own shame by settling that the run-down place wouldn’t take too much to repair again.

  Not nice, Jo.

  After several breaths, Jo dared open the driver side door to inspect the damage. With a groan she caught sight of the crack in the cement from the broken pole. The dent in the front fender was obvious, and rippled beneath the lamppost light.

  “Lady!” A determined, gravelly voice broke through her inspection. Whipping her head over her shoulder, she caught sight of a man stomping toward the parking lot. “What are you doing?”

  The man wasn’t even wearing shoes. Maybe the taunts of the weekend were boiling her frustration about being stranded in the south instead of up north in the bustle of the city, because disgust reared its ugly head almost instantly. His buttoned down shirt was halfway opened, exposing a broad chest she found…intriguing. His dark eyes blazed like browned caramel beneath the light. She wasn’t one for beards, especially down in this forsaken place—facial hair added to her stereotypical opinion—but his trimmed scruff over a chiseled chin was endearing. But Jo made sure her scowl was in place. She didn’t need to deal with any redneck attitude right now, but then again she was the one who’d crashed into the building.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I was trying to get gas, but I swerved because there was a bear or something in the road.” He’d understand if she explained. This would be fine.

  Sexy redneck (don’t tell anyone) stared at her incredulously. He was tall, and seemed like he had a stubborn streak that could rival her own. “A bear?”

  With a sigh, Jo nodded and glanced cautiously toward the street. “Yes, something huge with fur was in the road, so I swerved.”

  His eyes glanced toward the road, and Jo’s cheeks instantly heated when a car drove by. The headlights cast a white light over the masked fiend scurrying toward the trees.

  “That’s a raccoon,” he muttered. “I’m surprised you escaped with your life.”

  She glared and folded her arms. “Look, I’m sorry, but it seemed bigger than that.”

  “And then naturally, you always smash into gas pumps,” he said as he folded his arms.

  Jo’s eyes shifted to sharp slits before she stepped out of the car. “The lighting here is a nightmare.” She glanced at the scrunched headlight at the front of the car. She didn’t need anything else taking her cash. There was a reason she didn’t buy a plane ticket after Emmitt forgot—ninety thousand reasons in the form of student loans. Emmitt was loving, but he would be one to shy away from payment for damage to his car when it wasn’t his doing. “Now I have to pay damages. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be on my way.”

  She offered the man a scathing look before turning back toward the car. His face was young, he was likely close to her own age,
but she still stared down her nose at him. With a tilt to his head, Jo was offered a peek at the definition hidden beneath his shirt, but any attractive qualities were put on hold when he dared smirk at her.

  “Uh, you’re just going to drive away after causing damage to a piece of property?”

  Guilt thudded in her blood. It was wrong to abandon the scene, but she needed to get home. She needed to escape this place, and her insecurity at being alone crept in like a tidal wave. Wishing Emmitt was there wasn’t going to change anything. Trying to hide her unease, she softened her tone.

  “I’ll send a check for the repairs.” That was all he needed, right? Maybe this guy wasn’t even the owner, but the way he raked his fingers through is thick, dark hair—she assumed the run-down shop meant something.

  Without another word she slipped into the seat, slammed the door in his face, and turned the ignition. Rattling and a hum. Then nothing. She tried again. Humming, clicking. Nothing. She slapped the steering wheel, hissing her curses to the fates working against her. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I don’t have time for this.”

  The arrogance written in the man’s face was aggravating as he inched around to the front of the car. Was he smiling? What a jerk.

  “It’s not starting?”

  “Very observant,” Jo snapped, her fury unleashed, and this ignorant southerner was about to get the brunt.

  He narrowed his gaze and took a deep breath, either to control his temper, or to try and find an insult.

  To add to her remorse, the—somewhat handsome—stranger popped the hood after a few tense moments. He seemed to be digging through the organs of the car, and Jo didn’t know if she should join him, or stay put. She stayed put when he slammed the hood and peered at her in the dim lighting. “I can guess the problem.”

  Her father would roll over in his grave if he heard her sharp tongue. Jo didn’t normally lose her cool, but her desperation to get home seemed to take hold of her mouth, and she attacked—without the stranger deserving any of it. “Impressive. A hick that has a brain.” If looks could kill, Jo would be splattered on the road. Biting her bottom lip, she wished she could take all her unfiltered rudeness back. “Sorry,” she said. “Can you fix it?”

  He stared at her, the pulse in his neck throbbing as she chided herself. After a few moments, the man cleared his throat, a silly grin passing his lips. “You know what, Miss? You just so happened to land right here in a car shop. And golly, wouldn’t you know, I own the place. You just hold tight, now—I reckon we could have you fixed on up in no time and sent on your way. We might talk slow, but ohhhweee, we sure work fast with our hands down here.”

  Jo didn’t know for certain if he was taunting her. His southern drawl had deepened, but his smile seemed genuine. Licking her lips she leaned out the window. “You’ll fix the car?”

  “Sure will, sugar.”

  Sugar?

  “Oh,” she muttered. He wasn’t vindictive, it would seem. The pompous walls cracked. Jo wasn’t an unkind person, and she didn’t need to be disrespectful. Swallowing the scratchy sand in her throat, she forced a small grin and met his eye. “Great. I will pay for the damage—and the labor.”

  “Bless your heart,” he insisted. That true southern drawl deepened as he drifted toward the building. He bent down and picked up what seemed to be a key. Okay, he was the owner—did that mean he was this…Zac? She didn’t think she cared enough to ask. He turned and might have winked; Jo couldn’t tell in the dark. “A purty thing like you—well, we’ll just call it even since you plopped into my shop.”

  There was a piece of her that was suspicious—the drawl seemed forced now. Jo tapped the steering wheel, waiting while he did whatever he’d gone inside to do. Her antsy limbs forced her out of her seat. She tugged Emmitt’s messenger bag out of the passenger seat, and stood out in the damp night. A few minutes later she breathed out a pent breath when he clomped out of the building and inched back toward the car..

  “Thanks for doing this,” she muttered after the man had studied her for half a heartbeat. He only made a rumbling noise in his throat, and returned his attention to the stalled engine.

  They were silent as he worked. He lowered to his haunches, the black slacks pulling tight over his strong legs enough that Jo’s mouth wasn’t dry anymore. She was about to ask for his name when a red flash burst in the corner of her eye. Her stomach plummeted when a white patrol car pulled into the parking lot. The siren was muted, but the lights were flashing. They were here on business.

  “What…” she gaped, her voice picking up in pitch as she glared at the stupid, traitorous stranger. “Did you…did you call the police?”

  The officer left his car, his thumbs tucked in his belt, at the same time the plotting mechanic rose back to standing—seeming quite pleased with himself. “Ma’am,” said the officer. “We got a call you were trying to flee the scene of an accident.”

  She raged her fury, and she hoped the beastly man squirmed before she addressed the cop. “No, officer, I offered to pay—”

  His chuckle was smooth and collected. Jo didn’t like this mechanic. He took a step closer, those dark eyes piercing her soul. “Sorry, but us hicks know when there’s a runner, and we don’t take well to dishonest people.”

  Who did he think he was? Okay, she shouldn’t have insulted him, but really—the police? “Dishonest? You lied to me.”

  “You destroyed my property.”

  “Ma’am, can I get your license and the registration for this vehicle?” The office asked, glancing at the bumper.

  “Fine,” she huffed, digging through the bag and handing him her ID before stalking toward the glove compartment. “It belongs to my boyfriend, Doctor Emmitt Baron.” She finished the thought with a look meant to kill at the bearded stranger.

  “Doctor, sounds mighty fancy,” he teased, adding more drawl to his accent, probably only to aggravate Jo a little more.

  She shot him a scathing gaze. The officer scanned the paperwork, and sighed again. “Ms. Graham?”

  “Yes, Josephine Graham,” she huffed. “I’m a physician assistant who is needed back home.” Far, far away from this place—for good. Remember when she said Honeyville was beautiful? She recanted that statement.

  The officer didn’t seem impressed by her credentials, but her new enemy stared at her with one brow cocked. He shouldn’t look at her like that, because she was half-tempted to step closer.

  Disgusting, Jo.

  She was taken, and loved by a real man up north. Tingling thoughts about a handsome betrayer were simply wrong.

  “Ma’am, do you know this vehicle is four months passed registration?” asked the officer.

  Now, her insides took a nosedive, most likely spilling out in waves all over the gravel parking lot. “What?” She glanced at the papers and imagined she could smack Emmitt for his slip. How she hadn’t been pulled over yet was a miracle. “I didn’t know, it’s not my car.”

  The officer seemed weary when he spoke again. “Alright, since there seems to be a few troubling things tonight, why don’t we go to the station and we’ll get this straightened out?”

  “No,” she shrieked, ripping her arm back from the police officer. This wasn’t happening. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m getting in this car and going home to Boston and getting as far away from this stupid, bumpkin place as possible.”

  Jo needed to cool the southern insults, because the way the officer narrowed his gaze now and spoke firmer proved she’d insulted the wrong person. She couldn’t help it though. Like a curse, the lower belt of the country seemed to steal things from her life.

  “Mr. Dawson, you say she tried to flee?”

  Mr. Dawson—well, Mr. Dawson had an opportunity to redeem himself and let her free. She could have killed him when he nodded, his eyes never leaving her gaze. “Yes, sir. As you can see, I now have a safety hazard and expense on my hands.”

  “Alright, come on, miss. You understand it’s illegal to flee the scene of an
accident, not to mention with an unregistered vehicle.”

  “Obviously, I didn’t flee,” she snapped, her blood turning to ice the longer time passed. “And as I said, this isn’t my car.”

  Jo was grasping at straws, and she knew it when the officer groaned and reached for her arm again.

  “Attempted to flee,” he corrected. “We’ll just go ask you a few questions about your business in Honeyville, and why you’re driving a car other than your own, as you say.”

  “If you’re insinuating I stole it, you are way off base, officer.” If she was a man would she be treated this way? Her feminist side demanded no, but her heart told her she was earning her treatment by the way she’d behaved. Still, it didn’t calm the panic taking hold inside. “I’ve been in this awful place for a medical conference. You can look it up.”

  “Well, we’re all impressed,” the cop blurted. Her cheeks flushed. “But even physician assistants can get questioned by the police, Ms. Graham. Now, you can come with me on your own volition, or I can cuff you.” He took out the silver cuffs for an added affect.

  She glared at handsome, terrible Mr. Dawson, and lowered her voice to a dangerous decibel. “This is your fault. I won’t forget.” She wouldn’t, and she’d make sure Emmitt knew just who tormented his girlfriend and impounded his car.

  The man chuckled. “Yeah, I won’t forget who messed up my place of business either, Jo—you don’t mind if I call you Jo, right? Go on now, welcome to your own piece of southern hospitality.”

  She straightened her shoulders—not willing to admit the way Jo slipped through his accent was delightful to hear. She turned on her heel, nose in the air, and stomped toward the patrol car where she plopped into the back seat, huffed loudly, and folded her arms without a word. The officer made his way back toward Mr. Dawson while Jo sat in the car that reeked with body odor.

  She hated this place. Hated Mr. Dawson. But as she tried to fight the burning tears in her eyes, mostly Jo hated how terrified she was—since she had no idea what was going to happen, and when this nightmare would be over.