Freight Trained

  Copyright © 2016 by Jeanine Grasso. All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without the prior written consent of the author/publisher or the terms relayed to you herein.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, alive or dead and events are coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover Image Rob Lang/roblangimages,com

  Cover Design Redbird Designs/Redbird-designs.net

  As always, this book is for my hubby. For the ear I drone on and on in, the arms that give me a tight squeeze when I need it, and the words that help me to continue on even when I feel like giving up. I love you.

  Other Book by Sarah Curtis

  The Alluring Series

  Alluring

  Engaging

  Pursuing

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty- Four Epilogue

  Authors Note

  Chapter One

  Prologue

  The girl slowly came awake, opening her eyes. She was disoriented, and her head pounded, making it difficult to concentrate. She lay, flat on her back, on something soft. A bed of some sort? Her body felt heavy, and her arms were raised above her head at a weird angle, but when she tried to move them, realized they were attached to something. She felt around, her fingers encountering cool metal bars. She gave her arms an experimental tug, the bite of something digging into her wrists. A rope?

  She raised her head, the throbbing grew stronger, but she ignored it to scan the room. Her bed was wedged into a corner, the wall it was up against made of logs and had a single small window covered with dirty curtains. An old grimy couch and an ancient TV complete with a set of antennae sat at the far end of the room where the only door was located. To her right was a wooden table surrounded by a couple of rickety chairs and a makeshift kitchenette. Nothing looked familiar, she didn't recognize where she was, and her mind was a total blank on how she'd gotten there.

  Her eyes flew back to the door as it opened, a man filling its space. Her heart sped upon recognition. What the hell was going on? She racked her brain, trying to recall the last thing she remembered. A party at Marcia Simmon's house. Her parents were away for the weekend. She remembered having a few beers, but she didn't get drunk, maybe a little tipsy at most. She'd gone out to her car to grab her iPod because she wanted to share the latest Linkin Park album she'd downloaded but after that, things were a blank and as much as she tried, she couldn't fill the void.

  Her heart rate picked up when the man stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. She struggled at her bonds, but all that did was hurt her wrists. The man chuckled, and a tingle slid down her spine. She'd never heard such an evil chuckle outside a scary movie, and she'd never expected to hear such a laugh ever come from him.

  She tracked his progress as he moved across the room, coming closer to the bed. Her mouth was dry, and she found it hard to swallow. She felt a trail of wetness trickle down her temple, getting lost in her hair and realized, she was crying, but they were silent tears, too afraid to make a sound.

  He sat at the end of the bed, making a tsking noise in the back of his throat as he reached for her bare foot. Her mind still jumbled with foggy emotions, she fleetingly wondered what happened to her shoes before she was quickly pulled back to the importance of the man, sitting at her feet, when he spoke. "Why the tears, my sweet Celine?" His finger swiped at her temple, sliding through the wetness before bringing his finger to his lips and tasting it with his tongue. "So sweet."

  Rachel couldn't prevent a small whimper from escaping. Why did he call her Celine? He knew what her name was. One look in his eyes, and she knew he was crazy. How had she never seen it before? How could a man she held so much respect for, a man she'd thought was there to protect her, do something like this? She licked her lips to moisten them, but her tongue was so dry, it didn't help. "W...why? Why are you doing this?"

  He surprised her by answering and after he'd finished, she was sorry she'd ever asked.

  Chapter Two

  Abby sat back in the booth, sipping her coffee, scanning the crowded diner, while trying to make herself appear small. The noise level was almost deafening, people chatting, dishes clanking, shouted good-mornings to people arriving, see-ya-laters to those departing. Abby took another sip of her coffee. The warm liquid coated her tongue, rich but not bitter. She could never get hers to taste this good at home and wondered whether she could buy a bag.

  Home. She had a new one now, in a new town. She hated the event that precipitated the acquiring of her new home but had to admit, it felt good to be on her own for the first time. The high cost of living in Los Angeles and able to land only a substitute teaching job after college, left her unable to afford to move out on her own even with a roommate. Add the fact she was painfully shy, and she saw no good reason to leave the security of her parents home. As it was, coming to Jasper Falls, New Mexico was an incredibly bold move for her. But a full-time teaching position at the local school had been too much an opportunity to pass up.

  Abby had been shocked to discover her grandmother had left her the property. She hadn't known her father's parents, and her father had rarely spoken of them. She did know he'd left his small town at eighteen against his parents' approval and never looked back. She loved her father but knew his faults. He was a hard man, strict father, and Abby was sure it had been his stubborn pride that caused the rift.

  And now his stubborn pride had extended to her, his only child. He was against her moving to Jasper Falls, said she would hate the small town life and if she went through with the move, she could expect no help from him. But Abby was an adult and could make grown-up decisions. With a house given to her free and clear and a full-time job, she figured she could stand on her own two feet just fine. And quite honestly, the peace and quiet of a small town sounded heavenly compared to the noisy, overcrowded, polluted city. Her father hadn't understood her decision. Didn't understand her, really, and he'd never made much of an effort to change that fact or get to know who she really was. But that was okay, they just saw the world through different eyes.

  Her mother hadn't understood Abby's decision either. The only difference between the two was instead of browbeating Abby into submission as her father did, her mother liked to nag. Sighs and looks of disappointment were her mother's forte until her victim crumbled under the weight of their guilt. But Abby had refused to listen this time. Refused to feel guilty for wanting to travel hundreds of miles from home to start li
ving her life.

  She'd had a bit of a painful childhood, too smart for her grade, she'd skipped two, so was a few years younger than her peers. Add frizzy, brown hair and buck teeth to the equation and school life was a social nightmare. She had one best friend while growing up, Trish, who'd been as equally shy as Abby, a little overweight, with orangish-red hair, and freckles. They could always be found, two against the world, huddled on the playground, trying to stay invisible lest they get picked on.

  High school was worse. Still younger than everyone, and a late bloomer to boot, she was a social outcast. She hadn't even qualified for the nerdy clicks. She'd never been so happy four years were finally over until she realized the end of high school also meant a separation from Trish, still her only friend. Graduating at sixteen, she had to attend college locally, while Trish had gotten accepted to a school back East.

  Again, she was a loner in college, never quite fitting in. Too young to attend frat parties and other social engagements, she never emerged from her cocoon of shyness. Those were the years she'd shed her baby fat, developing curves in all the right places, her braces were removed, producing perfectly straight teeth and her hair—with the discovery of keratin treatments—no longer frizzy, became a wavy, mink-brown cascade down her back. She'd barely noticed the changes, but the guys at school had, and a few even attempted to talk to her. Their attention made her uncomfortable, so she tucked herself away in the school library or at home and became lost in her own little world with her new best friends, her books.

  She became addicted to them, read at least one a day, romances, adventures, mysteries, sagas. She became the heroine in those stories, and her life became a little less lonely.

  Things got better after she graduated from college. She became a tad bit bolder—job interviews will do that to you—but with the job market at an all time low and not making the best impression at her job interviews, she found herself stuck in the world of substitute teaching with no parole in sight. She'd met some interesting people but jumping from school to school hadn't given her enough time to bridge the gap from acquaintance to friendship—which would normally take her months to accomplish—so was doubly glad for the move to make some new friendships and maybe put down some roots.

  She'd arrived in Jasper Falls late the night before, ahead of the moving company with only a few essentials packed in her car. Unfortunately, she hadn't thought far enough ahead, so her coffee maker hadn't made the "essentials" list. Unable to function without a morning cup of coffee was how she'd ended up at the Chuck Wagon Cafe, the town's only diner, at seven on her first morning in her new home.

  A waitress approached her table, coffeepot in hand. She was older, maybe late thirties, with dirty-blond hair pulled into a high ponytail. She was thin, too thin, really, making her appear slightly gaunt, but her smile was genuine, and she'd been more than pleasant when Abby had first arrived.

  Abby peeked into her cup, saw it was almost empty, and set it on the table for a refill. She had time for one more before she needed to leave to meet the movers.

  "Can I get you anything else, hon?"

  Abby quickly darted her eyes to the name tag on the waitress's chest before lowering them back to her cup. "No, thank you, Tammy, I'll be leaving after this." Tammy had a hard time hearing her softly spoken words. Abby knew this from the way her body leaned closer, her head bowing in Abby's direction.

  "Okay, I'll leave this here then." She laid the check face down on the table. "Just pay at the register before you go." Abby gave a slight nod and watched her walk away.

  As she berated herself for acting worse than the Socially Awkward Penguin, a loud chorus of, "Mornin' Coles," filled the air, drawing her attention to the newcomer walking through the door. The direction she sat, she caught only a glimpse of his profile before she had his back. He was tall and had broad shoulders that tapered into a trim waist covered by a white, form-fitting T-shirt that left nothing to the imagination. He walked with a swagger on long, powerful legs encased in a pair of faded, blue jeans with scuffed, brown cowboy boots sticking out their bottoms.

  By the time she finished her appraisal, he'd already reached the counter and was handed a cup of coffee to-go. Fascinated by him, she stared transfixed as he reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet, his arm muscles flexing, drawing her eyes to the powerful display.

  In a blink, he turned, facing her. He wore a cowboy hat pulled low, but their eyes still collided. He paused mid-step, and she felt her cheeks heat, knowing she'd been caught staring. She quickly lowered her eyes, looking sightlessly into her coffee cup. Her heartbeat picked up speed, his eyes feeling like a heavy weight on her shoulders. She refused to look up, barely breathing until she sensed his presence gone.

  Slowly, barely lifting her head, she scanned the room, letting out a long breath when she hadn't spotted him. Her hand shook as she raised her coffee to take a sip, and she placed the cup back down quickly before she spilled. She'd not had a lot of interaction with men. None had caught her eye for her to make the effort and the few times men had approached her, she'd made an awkward mess of things, making her and the interested party highly uncomfortable.

  But she'd never had a reaction like the one she'd just had. Her heart had literally stopped for a few beats before pounding again with a painful, rhythmic thump that increased in speed as their eyes remained locked. He was achingly handsome with strong features and a square jaw, sporting a few days worth of beard. His light-brown hair was on the longer side, curling around his ears and partway down his neck and was mostly concealed by his hat. But it was his eyes that had held her spellbound. Unsure of their exact color from so far away, all she could tell was they were light with an outer ring of something dark. Stunning.

  Just because she was shy, didn't mean she was blind, it simply meant she would never act on her feelings. As in never-ever. Her hands shook harder even thinking about it. But she did wonder what it would be like, acting as one of the heroines in her books, finding true love, and living happily ever after. Abby sighed, maybe someday. Just not today.

  Abby watched from her spot on the porch as the moving van drove off, picking up the dirt from the road with its tires and leaving a trail of dust it in its wake. The two men had been in and out surprisingly quick. Well, maybe not too surprisingly as they had only fourteen boxes to unload. Living with her parents, she hadn't acquired many belongings, and the belongings she did have were mostly books, clothes, and a small shoe store worth of shoes.

  She went back inside to take a tour of her new home. After spending nearly twelve hours in the car, she'd been too exhausted upon her arrival to do much more than pull her sleeping bag from the car and crash on the first available bed she'd encountered. Looking around now, she saw there was a lot to be done. Sheets covered the large pieces of furniture, but dust and grime had accumulated on all exposed surfaces from the ten years of vacancy.

  The lawyer that came to their home six months ago—to inform them of her grandmother's passing and Abby's subsequent inheritance—explained that her grandmother had been in a care facility the last years of her life. And while her grandmother had made sure the house received general maintenance in her absence, it was obvious no one had bothered to clean the inside.

  The house was relatively small compared to the amount of property it sat on. Two bedroom, one bath, open-plan living room, segueing into a decent sized kitchen, which was nice because Abby loved to cook. She didn't mind the small space, it would be just her living there, and she didn't take up much room. Besides, she found it rather cozy.

  First up, she needed to do a thorough inspection of the house. Namely, figure out how to turn the water on. She'd had a rude awakening this morning when she turned on the bathroom faucet in preparation of brushing her teeth only to find no water flowing forth. Fortunately, she had a few
bottles (okay a case) of water in the car, so she had enough to brush her teeth and partially fill the toilet tank enabling her to flush. Knowing that had been a one-shot deal, now spurred her incentive to find her water source.

  Twenty minutes later she admitted defeat. A) She knew nothing about well-water systems and how they worked so, B) she didn't know what the heck she was looking for. Something water-turn-on-ish, maybe?

  Not knowing who to call in a water crisis situation and not having any friends or acquaintances in town to ask, she decided her best bet of finding help would be to head back to the Chuck Wagon. She was sure the diner was the hub of the town, hosting a wealth of information.

  After making a few awkwardly polite inquiries at the diner, Abby was informed that Rich—no last name was given—was the go-to guy to call for all water repair needs. Armed with his phone number, she hoped like heck that he answered his phone on Sundays because the thought of going the rest of the weekend without water was not a happy one.

  Leaning against the fender of her car, Abby dialed Rich's number, keeping her fingers crossed as she listened to it ring. Just when she was about to lose hope, he answered and after a few minutes of babbling her woes, he agreed to meet her at her place in an hour. Perfect, just enough time to get some groceries and cleaning supplies.

  "Okay, I've got you up and running," Rich said, as he stomped up her porch steps. He was a big guy, big everywhere, and she was sure his stomping was his usual gait and not that he was upset. He was almost as wide as he was tall, wearing a pair of overalls that stretched tightly across his stomach. Abby gave the overalls her seal of approval, glad they prevented her from experiencing the whole "plumber's crack" phenomenon.

  When he'd first arrived, she'd instantly felt comfortable in his presence, which was rather surprising. He reminded her of a big teddy bear, and none of her usual "meeting new people" jitters had risen to the surface.