Braking Hard

By Gloria Joynt-Lang

Gage O'Neill is an all-around nice guy and an Adonis in coveralls. With a thriving automotive business, a gorgeous girlfriend, and his ADHD under control, life is pretty incredible. But when he loses a loved one, Gage's perfect world unravels. Prone to bad choices, he's desperate to quell his rash behavior. Thankfully, hiring a curvy mechanic is the one impulsive decision he's gotten right.

Eden Sampario is destitute as a result of a confrontation turned violent with her former employer. When Gage mistakenly offers her a job, she readily accepts. But soon she wonders if she made the right decision. Resisting her sexy boss proves more challenging than an engine rebuild. Her only other option? Give in to temptation and risk not only her career but also her heart.

Welcome to Big C's automotive shop, a place where more than cars overheat.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Feb 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781509228799

Gloria Joynt-Lang

Gloria Joynt-Lang was born in France and raised in various locales throughout Canada. Before she started writing contemporary romance, she worked in the criminal justice system – technically spending time behind bars. As a Canadian, she's fanatic about hockey, poutine, and apologizing. She currently resides in rural Alberta with her husband and their two dogs.

Book preview

Inc.

He relaxed as the woman came back into view. She hadn’t moved, other than to offer a forced smile at him. He didn’t mean to stare, invading the woman’s privacy, but he couldn’t look away. Her eyes, beseeching and beautiful, yet without any spark. Her vulnerability beyond raw, verging on potent.

The words grief and sorrow flashed at him like flipped over cue cards from childhood. He reminded himself of the circumstances. It was a wake after all. Not everyone got plastered and told ill-humored jokes to mask emotions. But this was a different kind of grief. It went beyond that which had emanated from the employees of Big C’s and others who knew Elroy. The woman’s sorrow so intense, so forceful, he felt her profound loneliness. There wasn’t a name or a way to describe what he witnessed in those big brown eyes of hers, but it existed in the same way the moon existed during the day. Her grief radiating from a place no armor could protect, from deep within, bursting directly from her soul.

He too experienced this level of pain, not only today but every day since Elroy left this world. Plenty of people missed the old mechanic, but until now, he hadn’t thought anyone ached like he did. Elroy’s life meant something extraordinary to this woman. Something which brought her here. To a hole in the wall bar, in a town so small, businesses shut down for funerals.

Braking Hard

by

Gloria Joynt-Lang

Storm Harbor, Book 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Braking Hard

COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Gloria Joynt-Lang

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Kristian Norris

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Champagne Rose Edition, 2020

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2878-2

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2879-9

Storm Harbor, Book 1

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To my beloved parents

for all their love and support

Chapter One

Rivulets of sweat trickled down Gage O’Neill’s forehead. Trapped by the humid August air inside Big C’s Automotive, he strode over to the side door. Propping it open, he stood in the doorframe, blocking the exit with his broad shoulders. He wiped his brow with his forearm and stretched his arms upward. Not surprisingly, his T-shirt remained in place, stuck to his skin. With an onslaught of rain the past few days, he readily welcomed today’s scorcher. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Salt air filled his lungs as a warm breeze washed over him.

Off in the distance, a low buzz echoed. He wasn’t alone. He stepped forward and caught a glimpse between the trees. A sizeable crowd hung around the town square as the sun descended beneath the horizon. He squinted. People positioned their folding chairs and blankets on the manicured lawn. Storm Harbor’s Movie Under the Stars was about to start. A long-standing summer tradition, the event drew in both locals and tourists. Born and raised in this community, he’d attended his fair share of these gatherings over the years. No big deal in missing yet another. Sitting for two hours to view some beach-themed flick wasn’t his thing. He preferred a few hours of solitude. It helped him recharge. He wasn’t exactly an introvert; but in order to keep it together, he removed himself from distractions.

Hours earlier, he had fixed the faulty electrical system of an old 2002 Chevy Impala. He loved the diagnostic part of being an auto mechanic but despised informing an elderly man of the cost. In the end, his customer unknowingly received a deep discount on the labor. As the co-owner of Big C’s Automotive Repair, Gage could afford an act of kindness from time to time. The key was to be discreet, to extend a discount without the person’s knowledge. If word leaked out, others would expect the same. Charity was for those who needed it, not those too damn cheap to pay a man his worth.

The garbled chatter of the townsfolk reached him. He listened for a few more minutes. Animated voices; a bit of yelling, some laughter, and then quieting to a low murmur. The movie had started. Welcoming the breeze one last time, he yawned before heading inside. Although twelve-hour workdays were the norm, he also spent a considerable amount of free time at the shop, modifying his own vehicles.

Standing in the bay, he smiled at his Jeep. Previously a heap of metal, the Wrangler was now a beast of a machine. Gage spent countless hours installing 38-inch tires, a lift kit, and overhauling the engine. Soon she’d be ready for off-roading, hitting the sand dunes along the magnificent Oregon coast.

If lucky, he’d score a couple more hours of work; perhaps start on the locking differential. Then he’d tidy up, leaving the place immaculate as always. When he woke this morning, he intended to finish the work tonight; but then Brittany called and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. She had purred in that sweet sexy voice, saying she’d swing by later, which meant she’d be staying over. And although he loved to tinker with cars, sex with Brittany was far better.

He set the digital timer. It was easy to lose track of time. He needed time to clean up before she arrived. If she showed up and saw him drenched with sweat and smelling of oil, she’d be pissed. The last thing he wanted was to get on her bad side. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, she was colder than the iceberg that took down the Titanic.

He hoped the relationship lasted. He liked being with Brittany. What red-blooded man wouldn’t love to date the goddess with gorgeous blonde hair flowing down to her voluptuous breasts? The woman oozed sex appeal, from the way she swayed her hips, to the way she accidently brushed against him. She constantly left his twenty-five year old body in a rock hard salute.

Although dating for months, there were still moments when he couldn’t believe he scored the hot girl. Back in high school, she shut him down, and now, seven years later, the former cheerleader was eager to warm his bed. He knew he was a damn lucky man, although it bothered him how guys sometimes looked at her. He never considered himself the jealous type, but it bugged the shit out of him when the former high school jocks damn near drooled as she walked by. Perhaps her reluctance to meet up at the garage during work hours wasn’t so bad. He preferred not to deal with his employees gawking at her perfect ass.

A piercing siren drew him away from the image of Brittany in her tight skimpy skirts and low cut shirts. Cole was working tonight. A deputy, his cousin had been with the police department for over four years. Gage hoped nothing serious had happened. Storm Harbor was a quiet community, but even sleepy towns had problems.

The hollering pitch of the siren grew louder, shattering the stillness. Ever since he was ten years old, he understood its meaning.

Total mayhem. Someone’s life turned upside down. Their ideal world replaced with agony, pain, and a shitload of guilt.

It happens fast. In a few minutes, the pieces are broken.

Irreversibly damaged.

He returned to the side door and kicked it open with his boot. Compelled by the commotion, he strode over to the chain link fence to get a better look. Adjusting to the dark, he followed the flashing lights of the police cruiser. It sped down Vista Drive before it moved east on Mystic Way. The siren now screamed, drowning out every other sound. The vehicle took another quick turn.

An eerie feeling came over him. He could make out the man behind the wheel—his cousin. Something major was going on and somehow it involved him.

The cruiser spun into the parking lot, shooting gravel. Within seconds, a tall broad shouldered man barreled out.

You turned your phone off, Gage, his cousin bellowed, sounding more irritated than inquisitive.

What’s wrong? He wasn’t patient at the best of times, and certainly not with his mind frantic.

God, please let it not be mom. He couldn’t stomach the thought of losing another parent.

It’s Elroy. He’s in the hospital.

Gage turned and looked at the garage. He knew he had to get to the hospital, but he felt compelled to put his tools away first. Stress was like a railroad switch. Once activated, he changed tracks and headed off into a different direction.

Come on, I’ll drive you to the hospital, Cole yelled, taking charge. Gage stood immobilized until a swift nudge made him climb into the front seat.

A five-minute drive, even less with flashing lights and blaring sirens; but those silent moments seemed long—way too long.

His brain misfired: jumbled and disjointed, the overall picture blurry. He hated it but focusing was futile. His leg and arm muscles sparred with each other—tiny twitches pulsating through his body, frustrating as hell.

He needed to find his voice. To ask questions, to wrap his head around the situation—to seek reassurance.

He opened his mouth. A swoosh of air squeezed his lungs.

Breathe, he reminded himself. Deep and relaxed.

Dammit. It didn’t work.

What happened? he sputtered.

Not sure other than Elroy’s neighbor found him unconscious next to the lawnmower.

Once again, Gage lost focus. His cousin mumbled, not explaining shit. Leaning forward, Gage shifted his body urging the already speeding vehicle. He closed his eyes. Thoughts and images pounded against his gray matter.

Cole turned a sharp left. Gage’s shoulders bounced against the passenger door. He grasped the roof handle while his free hand balled into a fist.

Arriving at the hospital, Cole slammed on the brakes. Gage jarred forward. An enormous no parking sign stood before them. He began to jabber, worried about a parking ticket for stopping at the front entrance of the emergency wing.

Go, Cole barked.

Gage halted his blathering mid-stream. His cousin had done everything to get him to Elroy, short of ramming the police cruiser through the front doors. And now he understood why. The elderly gentleman was in serious trouble.

Gage ran toward the automated door, nearly smashing into the large glass pane due to a slow and useless sensor. Hitting the reception desk, his gaze fell on Bobby Jo. The one woman he didn’t need to see tonight. A shitload of bad memories bullied their way into his thoughts. Dealing with his father’s former lover might just push him over the edge.

She handed him a pass. Intensive care, she said. I’ll let the nursing station know.

Residing in a close-knit community, everyone, including Bobby Jo, knew Gage O’Neill was the closest Elroy had to kinfolk. He nodded and hurried down the corridor, relieved not to converse with her.

Reaching the ICU, Gage recognized the nurse behind the desk, her name slipping his mind.

No news yet, the familiar woman with the kind face told him. Can I get you a coffee?

He shook his head and noticed her name tag. Sarah. Now he remembered. She was married to one of Cole’s police buddies.

What happened? Gage wasn’t sure if he had already asked.

Not sure, but it looks like a myocardial infarction, Sarah replied.

He scowled, not understanding.

Massive heart attack, she clarified.

It made no sense. He worked with Elroy all day. The man looked fine. Sure, the guy was pushing seventy, but he ate relatively healthy, never smoked, and had the patience of a saint. And when it came to drinking, he only consumed beer, cold dark ale. In all the years he’d known Elroy, he never once saw the man drunk.

His mom Francesca rushed down the hallway with Cole. Although shocked by the situation, her arrival was one of the few things he comprehended. She understood what Elroy meant to him.

Though he learned a long time ago not to hold his emotions in, he wasn’t a man who openly cried either. In fact, he hadn’t cried in public since childhood. But this moment, with Elroy’s life on the line, tears seemed inevitable. As moisture hovered on the edge of his dark lashes, he caught a glimpse of his mother’s eyes. Realizing he couldn’t lose it, Gage turned away and wiped his face with his sleeve. They had been at this juncture before. Fifteen years ago. This exact hospital. The same awful dread plunging into his chest, the same sickening fear.

Lifting his head, he met Cole’s stoic face. They were just boys when Brian O’Neill died. Although as close as brothers, he never told Cole about the guilt surrounding his father’s death. His cousin probably knew his acting out wasn’t solely attributed to his diagnosis, but Gage never admitted it. Grateful for Cole’s efforts to steer him away from self-destruction, it was Elroy who set him straight. The elderly man helped him at a crucial time in his life—channeling his pent-up emotions into a knack for fixing cars.

As soon as the man was up to it, he was going to cook the old guy a traditional Irish dinner. Hell, he’d even watch football with him—not the entire game, but the last half. And by football he meant the European kind with the round black and white ball.

Without warning, the doors to the ER swung open. A solemn faced man in scrubs emerged, his weary gaze scanned the waiting room. When the man centered on him, Gage knew his life would be altered, yet again.

****

She hated working in this shit hole, but it paid the bills. The only thing worse than the stench of the filthy garage was the man she worked for. Calling Joel Powers a sexist jerk was an understatement. Eden Sampario dealt with chauvinists her entire life: elderly men claiming to be protective, young men threatened by her skills, and men who had no idea they were even misogynists. But Joel went beyond this. His goal, ever since he hired her, was to get into her pants. He made inappropriate comments daily. Sexual innuendoes tumbled out of his mouth more than drool from a Bloodhound.

Of course, it grated on her. She had looked for another job, but no one called her for an interview. She either put up with Joel’s antics or quit and head back to Idaho to live with her mom in that rundown trailer in the middle of nowhere. She loved her mom, but Eden spent more than enough years living with chaos. Besides, it was a matter of time before her mother’s place grew crowded. Ana had a propensity for sheltering helpless losers. The woman sucked at relationships. She took in one broken soul after another, caring for others at the expense of her own well-being.

Eden wasn’t heartless, but rescuing a man wasn’t the path to happiness. At least Ana’s last boyfriend hadn’t knocked her around. Grateful the man stole from her mother, as opposed to breaking her mom’s jaw, was pretty messed up.

As she locked away her tools for the day, measured footsteps approached—an attempt to sneak up behind her, though futile with steel-toed boots on concrete.

Hey, wanna go for a drink? the man asked in a slow slur, making her skin crawl.

No. She hoped the clipped response would cause him to go back to his office and give up staring at her ass.

Last month she bought her own coveralls, a baggy pair two sizes too big. It infuriated Joel. He insisted she wear the ones he supplied as the name of the garage were on them. He even cited some made-up policy. Being clever, she went home and sewed the crest of One Stop Shop on her loose fitting pair. Frustrated and annoyed by his failure to sexualize her work attire, Joel ordered her to clean the restrooms. Then today, the crafty bastard announced his plans for new uniforms—pants and T-shirts. As anticipated, hers were form fitting with a plunging V-neck.

He claimed he wanted to modernize his garage.

Utter bullshit.

If he wanted to join the twenty-first century, he’d rid his office of naked women on calendars, or stop expecting her to fetch coffee. He never once asked his male mechanics to brew the beans.

Come on, sweetheart, have a drink with me, he pestered, refusing to take no for an answer.

Why don’t you go home and have a drink with Courtney? she responded.

Don’t want to have one with the old lady when I can have one with you.

She hated how he called his thirty-year-old wife old lady. Total disrespect. But unfortunately, she came to expect his vulgarity.

Finally, she turned around and caught him gawking below her waist. Not a tinge embarrassed, he shifted his gaze, roaming her body until he reached her breasts.

Look, I’m seeing someone. Sure, it was a lie, but she figured she’d give it a shot.

Boyfriend, huh?

She wasn’t sure if he expected her to respond, but when he continued to focus on her chest, she broke the silence. Yeah, I’m moving in with him. If she was going to create an imaginary boyfriend, she’d make him the commitment type.

Joel stepped closer, the smell of stale cigarettes and bitter coffee surrounded her.

How about that drink? See where things go from there. Moving in with some loser isn’t the way to go. You’re too much of a looker to be so desperate.

What he said should have shocked her, but his hungry gaze was more alarming than his offensive words. She took a step backward and scanned the garage.

Where are the guys?

She glanced at the clock on the wall. Her stomach rolled. Already past five, the other employees had left for the day. Engrossed in fixing a clogged radiator, she hadn’t noticed the time.

I just want to do my job and go home, she said, simultaneously protesting and pleading.

He stepped forward, causing her to stumble. Within a split second, she found herself pressed against the workbench, his hands trapping her. His eyes darkened while his face maneuvered within inches of hers. I don’t believe that’s all you want, Eden.

Men had come on to her before, but this time it was different. Joel moved beyond verbal innuendoes and lecherous looks. His advances unnerved her. When he shot her a smirk, her spine stiffened. Reaching down with her left hand, her fingers gripped the cold metal. Hard and fast, she swung. A single blow, affecting the rest of her life.

Chapter Two

Gage stood at the cemetery on the hill, his girlfriend at his side and his family nearby. The August sun beamed down, warming his skin, but still he shivered as he watched the lowering of Elroy Ezekiel Connell into the ground. Moments ago, he delivered the eulogy, emphasizing Elroy was more than just the old guy behind Big C’s Automotive; portraying his mentor as a humble and generous man. A real-life superhero.

Brittany squeezed his hand. When he failed to respond, she nuzzled in closer. He turned and forced a smile.

It’ll be okay, she whispered, as they walked back to his vehicle.

Yeah, I know. He said it for her sake. Nothing was okay, and he doubted it ever would be. He missed his chance to thank Elroy for all he had done. For making him into the man he was, and for rescuing a damaged kid.

Dammit. Elroy shouldn’t have died—passing away in a cold hospital room without a soul around. If only he kept his ringer on, he might have made it to the ER. He could have shouldered the fear brought on by imminent death. Assured Elroy he’d take care of Big C’s.

And why? he silently asked himself, staring at his polished shoes on the hardened pavement.

Why the hell hadn’t he told Elroy he loved him?

It’s what sons tell their fathers.

He blurted out all sorts of shit. He had no filter, even when sometimes he should. He wasn’t mean to people, but not everyone appreciated honesty. And it wasn’t stupid machoism preventing him from telling Elroy how he felt. Maybe as a surly teen, but certainly not as a man. Surrounded by strong women his entire life, he learned not to shut out his emotions. He talked about his feelings—too much at times. The women he dated never asked what he thought. His opinions flooded out—even though, plenty of times, it was wiser to shut up. He spent most of his