When We Met Read online

  Chapter 1

  Jo tied her long hair off her neck, the gold in her hair more vibrant in the summer sun. Her pale cheeks couldn’t say the same, but she’d been working extra hours to make up for the absence, so her time outdoors had been lacking.

  “Emmitt, have you seen my toiletry bag?” Jo called from the bedroom. No response. Rolling her eyes, Jo stalked toward the wide front room of their shared apartment. Emmitt was sitting on the white sofa, his cell phone in his hand, still dressed in his green scrubs for his late shift. “Emmitt,” she insisted, dragging his baby blues off the screen.

  “What’s up, babe?” he asked innocently. Emmitt wasn’t brawny, but he had a strong chin and it fit his lean body.

  “Have you seen my toiletry bag?”

  He glanced at his screen again. Jo rolled her eyes—she hated that stupid game. He shook his head. “Sorry, sweetie,” he muttered, as gunshots pinged from the phone and his tongue poked out in concentration. “I haven’t. Do you really need a separate bag?”

  She groaned and stalked toward the bathroom for a second search. “I need toiletries, Emmitt. You know, makeup, deodorant, toothpaste—I’m not going to slum it like those people the entire four weeks. Emmitt, can you please help me finish up if you’re driving me?”

  She heard him groan and drag his heavy footsteps toward the back room. Emmitt leaned his arms against the top of the bathroom doorframe and grinned. “Jo, put a smile on that face. It’s not going to be so bad.”

  She glared at the man. “Not that bad? Emmitt, I’m staying in a place where people hate me, and I will be required to work around dirty, sweaty, nasty men. Doesn’t that worry you at all?”

  Emmitt scoffed and kissed her forehead—it was almost businesslike more than affectionate. “No, I’m not worried. You can handle yourself. And I think you don’t want to go back for other reasons.”

  She sighed and knew a piece of that was true. Still, the day she stood before a judge in the muggy courtroom, boiling in the blistering South Carolina sun, was one of the worst in her memories. She’d spent thirty-six hours in a terrible cell; she’d been grungy and exhausted, and was almost grateful her case had been expedited. Until she’d seen the judge—a judge who grinned too friendly toward Mr. Zac Dawson—nemesis extraordinaire. Jo didn’t know much about the legal system, but she was heavily suspicious there had been a severe conflict of interest during her court appearance. At first she’d thought Emmitt had something to do with the rush on her sentencing, but after the grinning judge she was pretty sure Mr. Dawson had some pull in her humiliation.

  For her damage to Zac’s ugly building, the judge determined Jo wouldn’t pay a fine—no, instead she would work off her debt to the dirty auto shop. Yes, work off her fine. Emmitt’s father was a defense attorney, and Jo had queried for help. It ended up in a good laugh-fest between father and son. Mr. Baron thought it was hilarious the southern court wanted her to work in the shop for her community service. He encouraged her not to fight the order, or she could end up paying a hefty sum. After Emmitt’s firm agreement, Jo had bit back further protests, and relented to the sentence.

  So she was to work in a mechanic shop, doing whatever ridiculous tasks Zac Dawson asked her to do. She was an educated healthcare professional, not a maid to grimy, smelly males.

  Jo sighed, and settled for a Ziploc bag as her toiletry case. Emmitt was so cheerful about this entire ordeal, yet if Jo was honest, she had a sliver of resentment toward the man. He was the one who’d forgotten her plane ticket, forgotten to register his stupid car, and she’d paid the price. Emmitt apologized of course, and Jo only paid half the damage to his car. He covered the other part, and made sure she was given two weeks paid vacation instead of the allotted one week the clinic normally offered. This entire event was traumatizing and embarrassing to be degraded in such a way, and the fact that her boyfriend of three years was able to smile through it all wasn’t assuring.

  “Ready, babe?” he called out thirty minutes later.

  Jo nodded, dragging her suitcase toward the front door. It was a little earlier than she’d like to head to the airport, but Emmitt was due at the clinic, and he insisted on dropping her off on his way.

  “You’ll call me when you get settled in the motel?” Emmitt asked when he pulled toward the terminal twenty minutes later.

  Jo rolled her eyes. “I’ll probably catch a disease wherever they set me up, so I’m likely not coming back.”

  Emmitt laughed and kissed the top of her hand. “Jo, come on, they’re not a third world country. You’ll be fine. There’s a reason it’s called southern hospitality, right?”

  She winced. “Yeah, I got a great glimpse at their type of hospitality.”

  “Do you know who is supposed to pick you up?”

  Jo shook her head. “In the summons, I was told a court appointed pick-up would be waiting and if I was more than an hour late, a warrant would be issued. Like I’m some violent criminal.”

  Emmitt chuckled again, and Jo wished he’d recognize how upsetting this was, not funny. “Sweetie, if I can give you some advice, I’d keep your tongue lashings to a minimum. I think that’s what got you into this mess in the first place.”

  Jo’s jaw tightened. No, it was your unregistered car! Okay, maybe a little bit of her temper had played a part, but still.

  “I’ll behave,” she insisted. “You’ll keep an eye on my patients, right? Greta is good, but…” Jo didn’t finish the thought about the ditsy PA who would handle her caseload.

  Emmitt grinned. “Greta will do fine, but yes, of course I’ll check in while you’re gone.”

  “Emmitt, remember, I don’t want everyone at the office knowing the details, okay?”

  He scoffed. “It’s kind of funny, Jo.” He held up one hand when she glared at him. “Okay, I’ll keep the rumors toned down.”

  The SUV—her other nemesis—hugged the curb. Emmitt helped gather her suitcase before checking the time on his phone. He kissed her quickly, leaving her wanting more, before he waved. “Call me, sweetie. I’ve got to go.”

  She waved, watching him speed out of the terminal. “Love you,” she whispered to the breeze.

  Shaking off the hasty farewell, Jo tromped into the airport. Her determination switch turned on. Four weeks. She could survive four weeks. One thing was for sure, she’d make sure Zac Dawson never forgot the day he messed with Josephine Graham.

  ***

  Zac added more vigor to his scrubbing when the stubborn grease refused to leave his skin. Glancing at the clock, he muttered curses under his breath. He wasn’t going to be the one to be late.

  “I thought you were long gone.”

  Zac glanced over his shoulder, catching Rafe’s eye. “Trying to leave. How was the first day back?”

  Rafe Whitfield was his closest friend and best employee. It helped while he’d been gone the last two weeks to have Rafe’s twin brother, August, at the shop, but August was married and had a rowdy one-year-old little girl, so his time was taken. Though, things would change now that Rafe had tied the knot too—still, it was nice to have him back.

  Rafe sighed, leaning against the counter of the front desk that was neatly prepared for the new temp. “I’m jet-lagged,” he grinned. “But it’s good to be home.”

  Zac smirked. “Yeah? Still a fan of married life?”

  Rafe rolled his eyes. “You think after two weeks I’d be sick of it?”

  “No,” Zac insisted, drying his hands. “No, you and Ollie are nauseating.”

  Rafe smiled, the same grin the man had kept since the day he’d proposed to his new wife, Olive. “I’m glad I’m living up to my purpose in life and making you sick every day. I am a little disappointed I missed all the fun back here, though.”

  Zac grumbled, glancing at the recently repaired pole and vintage gas pump outside in the front parking lot. “It wasn’t all that exciting. More aggravating. Trust me, when you meet this woman, I think you’ll see we’re being punished. I’m not sure what Mc
Kinnon was thinking having her work it off at the shop. Why not pick up garbage on the roads or something?”

  “Who knows. Probably showing his good side to impress your mama,” Rafe sneered.

  Zac grumbled under his breath but didn’t disagree. Judge McKinnon needed to get a clue. Zac’s daddy had died when he was eleven—twelve years later, his mother still wasn’t interested in the plum-faced judge. But at least he’d expedited the court date for Zac and that meant the repairs were in place by the end of the next week after the accident, the bill going straight to Miss Josephine Graham’s insurance company. He supposed if they didn’t pay, she’d need to pick up the tab.

  “She’s awful, man. I’m telling you we’ll all be insane by the time it’s all over.”

  Rafe laughed. “You’ve said that about a hundred times today. I think she might have had a different sort of effect on you, man.”

  Zac stripped of the dirty jumpsuit he’d worn through the day and slugged Rafe’s broad shoulder. “Watch it. Not all women are like Ollie, fiery and kind, at the same time. This one will let us know how insignificant we are for living where we do, and for how we talk. Oh, and don’t forget she’s dating a doctor. She threw that in my face again when she got her sentence handed out—as if that would make some sort of difference in her being a pinched snob.”

  Rafe grinned. “Maybe she’s had time to cool down.”

  “Doubt that.”

  “You going to throw it back at her that you do just fine for a lowly southern mechanic?” Rafe questioned sarcastically.

  Though he was trying to keep his tone light, Zac knew Rafe had little patience for people who looked down on others based on money. His new bride came from old southern money, and it had been hard enough for Rafe to overcome prejudice and marry the girl. He wouldn’t take kindly to Jo Graham tossing careers and status in their faces. Rafe wasn’t wrong though, Zac did well owning the shop—he simply chose to live on the humble side of life.

  Zac shook his head. “Nah, man. Let her think what she wants. I’m just glad she’s going to get a chance to be knocked off her high horse. Maybe it is better than having her pay a fine.”

  Rafe shrugged. “We’ll see, I guess.”

  Zac ran some water through his hair, but gave up when it refused to settle how he wanted. His beard was still trimmed, though longer than it had been the night he’d first met Josephine Graham. He hadn’t volunteered to be the ordered pick-up, but when Judge McKinnon suggested it, he hadn’t refused. Jo would be fuming, and it brought a smile to his face.

  “Alright, I’m out of here,” Zac said. He had a few minutes, he could at least change his clothes if he ran home.

  Rafe nodded, grabbing a drink of water before making his way back toward the shop. “Don’t let her murder you. See you later.”

  The airport was busy with Friday travel. Zac glanced at his watch—she had twenty minutes until he was supposed to report a no-show to the court. Drumming his hands on his dark jeans, Zac drifted toward a pair of vending machines. She didn’t seem the type not to show, but then again, he didn’t know anything about the woman apart from her profession, her Boston residence, and the doctor boyfriend.

  His back was turned toward the baggage claim as he gathered the sports drink from the mouth of the machine when he heard the familiar voice, with a hint of Bostonian in the accent.

  “I’m supposed to be picked up. Do you know where assigned cars pick-up passengers?”

  Zac chuckled under his breath as he turned around. There she was—sassy Josephine. Last he’d seen her, she’d been slumped wearily in the defendant seat in the courtroom. Her hair had been braided, her cheeks almost sallow after her trying day and a half in jail. Zac took a moment to admire her in the new light of day. Her long hair was pulled into a curly ponytail, and her unique eyes were large and smoky. She clutched a thick novel in the crook of her arm, and tugged a roller suitcase behind her. He didn’t need to like the woman to admit she was beautiful. Those needle stilettos weren’t going to suit when she joined the shop though, that was for sure.

  The airport attendant she was speaking with pointed toward the doors toward the curbside pickup. Jo sighed and nodded. Zac cleared his throat and meandered through the crowds, tapping her elbow right before she slipped outside.

  Her eyes widened, and the pale amethyst tint stunned him for half a breath before her gaze narrowed into those heart-shredding daggers. “What are you doing here?”

  He smirked, turning on his pompous side he only pulled out for special occasions. “Heard there was a felon from Boston who needed to be taken to her post for a few days.”

  Jo ruffled at the nickname and pinched her glossy lips tight. “I am not a felon. I imagined someone from the station would drive me.”

  “Well, you get me, Your Highness. Now, let’s go.”

  “Aren’t you a gentleman, you didn’t even offer to take my bag.”

  Zac paused, studying the carry-on before looking up again. “What for? Are you afraid you’ll crumble this building too by crashing your suitcase?”

  Jo shook her head with purpose, her arms folding over her chest, she even popped one hip for good measure. “Is this how it’s going to be for four weeks? You being a complete jerk?”

  Zac smiled—it was genuine—she was holding back with jerk. “It’s up to you, Jo-Jo. If you lose some of your hoity-toity attitude maybe I’ll let you get a peek at the nice guy inside. Now, are you coming? According to my information you’ve got about nine minutes to be out of this airport and on the road or there will be a nasty warrant out for your arrest.”

  Jo’s face scrunched in frustration. “My name is Josephine, Mr. Dawson. Not Jo-Jo.”

  With a direct huff, she gripped the handle of her suitcase and stomped as fast as possible in those heels out of the airport.

  “Whatever you say, Jo-Jo,” he muttered.

  She cursed the humidity once before tugging thick sunglasses over her eyes. Zac pointed toward the parking garage ahead, opting to remain silent until they were at the side of his truck.

  “Just toss the bag in the back.”

  Jo gaped. “What? This is all I have—what if it bounces out?”

  “Bounces out? Is it packed with feathers? Or do you think the road is filled with potholes? It’ll be fine.”

  Zac was growing accustomed to her little huffs, and he detected Miss Graham might have a ripe mouth on her by the grumblings she muttered under her breath. She scurried along the sidewalk, balking at his black pickup before bending over to grab the bottom of her bag. His Uncle Kent would smack him upside the head for not helping, but he was too entertained to step in just yet. Jo wobbled a bit on her heels as she steading the bag in her hands. With a grunt she launched the bag in the back of the bed. She stumbled on the curb, but Zac had moved swift enough he caught her before she fell down.

  Josephine clasped her grip around his arms. Zac hadn’t intended for his palms to rest on the small of her back. Her hair brushed over his face, and he swallowed the stirring in his chest when sweet cherries filled his senses. Josephine’s sunglasses had slipped down so she met his eye—it was unnerving how a single glance could wipe his mind clean of thought. Zac had heard the saying eyes were the windows to the soul, but something about this woman—it was as if she carried a secret in those eyes. Something she held close and hidden behind her narrowed gazes and sneers.

  “You alright?” he chuckled.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted as she pulled away and straightened her billowy tank-top and sunglasses. “Would have been nice to have a little help before I nearly broke my ankle, but I figured I couldn’t expect as much from someone like you.”

  And just like that, Zac was over those dazzling eyes and back on the defensive.

  He stomped past the passenger door, wrenching it open before continuing to the driver’s side. “Get in,” he commanded. “I don’t plan to spend my entire night babysitting.”

  Jo complied without a word. She squished as close to
the passenger door as possible, her arms crossed tight over her chest, even her knees crossed. She despised him, and Zac wasn’t a fan himself. This served her right—if the woman would take a little accountability instead of blaming everyone else for the situation, he’d probably be a lot more willing to help out.

  Melting into traffic, Zac turned up the radio without consultation on her tastes, and found he was regretting pressing charges in the first place. The more tension that built in the cab of his truck, the more Zac felt he was the one who was being punished more than Josephine.

  Chapter 2

  Jo did not like Zac Dawson. He was cocky, rude, and ill-mannered. She prickled toward his personality, while her body had a chemical reaction to his rugged attractiveness. When they met again she hadn’t expected him to show up in a tight T-shirt that pulled against his strong arms and to smell as if he’d come straight from the forest at Christmastime. She’d expected him to be dirty—though she didn’t know why, it was simply the picture she kept in her mind. She expected his beard to have burs or dried food stuck in his dark whiskers, not be trimmed and groomed. His hair was tousled, but it suited—even if it wasn’t the neat, slicked look Emmitt boasted most days. It suited.

  This tug-of-war didn’t sit well in the pit of her stomach to have such a conflict between her rational emotions, and toes curling in her heels. He said nothing during the drive, the muscles in his arms pulsing as he gripped the steering wheel. He was like a marble, brooding statue.

  By the time silence shifted to borderline discomfort, Jo was more than ready to escape the truck, and it seemed the odds were in her favor when Zac turned the truck into the parking lot of a motel that popped right out of a retro magazine. The pool was drained, the bottom filled with dead leaves and twigs from the surrounding trees. Jo shrieked when a flying bug from hell buzzed past her face. Zac guffawed, and had the decency to retrieve her suitcase from the back of the truck.

  “Careful now, keep those windows closed, they feast on face flesh.”