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  Finding Life

  Colorado Veterans: Book 4

  Tiffani Lynn

  Finding Life

  Copyright 2018 by Tiffani Lynn

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  For information contact Tiffani Lynn at www.tiffanilynn.com

  Cover Design by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

  Cover Photographer: JW

  Cover Models: Kristen Lazarus-Wood & Taras Timofeyenko

  Editor: Twin Tweaks Editing

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication

  For my cousin and friend, United States Air Force Major Joseph Michael Morrin. You went from a chubby cheeked little boy that I babysat to a full-grown fighter pilot that I admire, in the blink of an eye. I’m ridiculously proud of the man you’ve grown up to be. Your intelligence, loyalty and sarcastic wit make you one of my favorite people to spend time with. I’m excited for you and your beautiful wife, Bernadette, as you welcome a new life of your own into the world. I have no doubt I will love her as much as I love you.

  Thank you for your service to our country!

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  1. Victor

  2. Colby

  3. Victor

  4. Colby

  5. Victor

  6. Colby

  7. Victor

  8. Colby

  9. Victor

  10. Colby

  11. Victor

  12. Colby

  13. Victor

  14. Colby

  15. Victor

  16. Colby

  17. Victor

  18. Colby

  Epilogue: Victor

  Untitled

  Acknowledgments

  The first thank you always goes out to my husband and daughters. This time for encouraging me to keep going even through the major changes in our lives. I never would have finished this book if it weren’t for you guys. I love you four more than you could ever know.

  A HUGE thank you goes out to the beautiful and sweet monster truck driving Bailey Shea Musto and her husband, former Army Staff Sergeant Matthew Musto. Bailey, you are the inspiration for my heroine in this book. One look at you and Matthew together on social media and I knew I had to create a story. Thank you for the inspiration and for answering a ton of questions for me. Matthew, thank you for helping me with another book! I appreciate you both so much.

  A special thanks goes to Joni Johnston Wallace for suggesting the perfect last name for Colby and her Automotive shop.

  The support and love from my TLC family is irreplaceable. Much love and gratitude to all of you. As always, what you find is what you find!

  Judy Swinson, Kat Mizera, Katharina LeBoeuf and Lexi Post, my author support team. I appreciate your encouragement and assistance. You’ve helped me through the rough spots during this past year and shared opportunities with me I might never have had. I adore you ladies!

  Thank you to my Beta Babes, ARC readers and those of you who read and review my books. Every review means so much to me and I can’t thank you enough for taking time out of your busy lives to do it.

  Chapter One

  Victor

  The loud cursing just beyond the gate breaks the quiet of the cemetery. I lift my head and look around. At times, my hearing aids seem to be super sensitive and I pick up on things others don’t, but I don’t think that’s the case this time. Following the cursing is an even louder banging. Metal on metal, and then a shrill scream, one that could only come from a woman.

  Out of instinct I leap up from my crouched position and run toward the sound. Luckily, Carol’s grave is close enough I can access the outside road quickly by foot. When I turn the corner, I slow my sprint slightly, surprised by what I see, or rather, whom I see.

  A blond beauty queen of a woman, wearing tiny little jean shorts and a tight T-shirt is kicking the tire of a top-of-the-line Dodge pick-up truck with her Converse-clad foot. She’s not at all what I expected to find. I don’t know if I should stand and stare longer, laugh, or attempt to help. I’m a lawyer so it’s rare that people surprise me, but she’s managed to do that and I haven’t even met her yet.

  “Ma’am, you’re going to break your foot kicking that truck. Can I help you?”

  Instead of appearing instantly grateful that someone is there to help like I expected, she slaps her hand on her hip and cocks it out, full of attitude. Her eyes start at my feet and roam all the way up to my hair.

  It’s Friday, our casual day at work, and I’m headed to the office after this so I’m dressed in chinos, a pressed polo shirt and dress shoes.

  The blond beauty’s eyebrows pull together. “I’m not thinking you’re the best one for the job. You might get some grease on your perfect pants.” Before I react to her rude comment she continues, “Besides, if I can’t fix it, then my brother can do it. I just don’t have time to wait for that now. I’ve got to be somewhere and I can’t be late. Unless you’re a mechanical fairy with a magic wand, I’m shit out of luck.”

  I can’t decide if I’m offended or ready to bust up laughing so I stay quiet while I decide what to do. Should I turn around and head back to Carol’s grave? Should I offer her a ride or do I simply get in my car and leave this rude woman right where I found her?

  She obviously tires of waiting on me to decide and turns back to the vehicle, muttering something about useless men. She’s a fiery little thing and although I really should be pissed, I can’t help but laugh loud enough for her to hear me. She’s hilarious.

  With her phone in her hand now, she leans back against the truck and stares at me. “What’s your problem? I don’t find anything here funny.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry,” I tell her as I try to hold back my smile. “Listen, I’m finishing up and can take you where you need to go so you’re on time.”

  After a huge sigh, she says, “Hold on, let me check something before I turn you down.”

  I can’t help the bark of laughter that jumps out of me. She’s something. Cute in a seriously feisty way.

  She glares at me before starting to speak into her cell phone. “Marshall, I need you to come get me and drop me off to be with Shaunda. I’m going to be late. Please.” She’s pleading with whoever is on the other end of the call, her voice giving away her worry.

  “Marshall Joseph Averette, I never ask for anything.” The tone she’s taking now sounds like she’s talking to a child. There’s a pause and finally she pulls the phone away from her face and pokes the end button like she’s trying to crack the screen. When she turns to me she says, “My good-for-nothing brother can’t get here fast enough. Like he couldn’t afford to pay one little ticket if he gets caught speeding.” She shakes her pretty little head and holds my gaze. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  If I hadn’t seen the crack in her armor when she was on the phone with her brother, I’d probably give her some shit just to see her get riled up a little more. Her attitude is more than a little adorable. But the desperation I heard in her voice while she was on the phone registered familiar somewhere inside me.

  “Let me get my car and pull around.” I don’t wait for her to say anything else; I turn and stride back to my car, with one last glance at Carol’s grave as I pass it. A little ache laces through my heart, but I don’t dwell on it like usual. I slide in behind the wheel of my Jaguar F-TYPE sports car and pull around to pick her up.<
br />
  She whistles as she lowers herself in. “Nice wheels, pretty boy,” she comments as she looks around.

  I should be offended by the pretty-boy reference, but I’m more amused than anything. I bought this car last year after I made partner, and I love it. The power and the feeling of freedom are unparalleled when I get behind the wheel.

  “Thanks. Where am I taking you?” I ask.

  “Memorial Hospital.” She turns to look out the window. “Supposed to be there by eight. I knew I shouldn’t have gone to the cemetery, but sometimes I just feel like I need to. Ya know?”

  “Yeah, I know. Who do you have out there?”

  “My mom,” she answers quietly, and that crack in her armor shows again. This woman is tough, but the mere mention of her mom and she goes soft inside. “You?” she asks.

  “Carol, my wife,” I answer, offering no more. I never talk about her. Losing her was so painful that I avoid bringing that feeling to the forefront like the plague.

  “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” She trails off and I glance over to find her cheeks pink with a tinge of embarrassment.

  “It’s okay.” Time to turn the conversation back to her. “You have an appointment or visiting someone today at Memorial?”

  “Sitting with Jeff, my sister’s husband, while she gets a mastectomy today. Her husband’s a great guy, but he finds medical lingo difficult to understand and hospital-type people make him nervous.”

  “Your brother isn’t going to be there?”

  “Nah. He can’t handle it. Won’t even acknowledge it. Mom died of breast cancer and he’s never been the same. Anyhow, someone has to keep the business running while Shaunda, Jeff and I are all out.”

  “Business?” I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help it. I’d love to take the long way to the hospital just to hear more about her. It doesn’t hurt that she’s built like Daisy Duke and dressed similarly.

  “Averette Automotive. My pop opened it when we were young and as each of us graduated we joined the business. Although, my sister, Shaunda, didn’t join until she got her MBA. Accounting and clerical work are what she handles for us. She was never interested in the turning wrenches part of things, but she wanted to help keep the business going for when our pop is ready to retire. My brother, Marshall, and I went to trade school to be mechanics. Jeff too.”

  This keeps getting better and better. A woman who looks like her, bent over the engine of a car? Shit, that’s a fantasy come to life. We have one more light until we reach the hospital entrance and I again wish I could make a couple of detours to make this last longer.

  “I’ve never met a female mechanic,” I tell her honestly.

  Her demeanor changes again and she giggles a little as she replies, “You won’t find a better mechanic in town than me.”

  I can’t help but grin at her confidence and her quick change from angry to resigned to sad to arrogant. With mood swings that quick, she’s either really interesting or completely crazy. I wish I had more time to figure out which it is.

  “What? You don’t believe me? Ask around. Anyone who knows anything about cars knows me. Speaking of which, I owe you. Come by and I’ll change your oil. I’d love to get under the hood of this beauty.” She runs her hand along the dashboard reverently.

  “I usually go to the dealer.”

  “I figured. They probably gouge you to death with the cost though. Seriously, here’s my card. I owe you one. You come by when she’s ready.”

  “You won’t even remember me.”

  “It’ll be hard to forget the man in the pressed khakis who saved me from walking to the hospital.”

  “Pressed khakis? That’s all you’ll remember?”

  “Doin’ what I do, I don’t encounter too many dudes who iron creases into their pants. What’s your name?”

  “Victor Martinez.” I pull up to the curb at the hospital entrance and take the card she’s holding out for me and look at it.

  Averette Automotive

  Colby Averette - Co-owner/Mechanic

  719-555-0196

  “Your name’s Colby?” It fits her perfectly. It’s pretty and distinct and has the personality and edge that’s so clear in the woman herself, even with only a first impression.

  “Yeah, I know it’s weird, but it fits.”

  “Yeah, it does actually. Nice to meet you, Colby. Do you need a ride back to your truck later?”

  She tilts her head to the side like she’s trying to figure me out. “Get to your fancy job, pretty boy,” she says with a flirty smile. “Marshall’s gonna have it towed to the shop and Jeff can take me home later. Thanks again.” She climbs out, shuts the car door and struts her gorgeous ass through the sliding doors, disappearing from sight.

  I sit there for a second, unable to comprehend what just happened until a car horn jolts me back to the present. I press the gas and turn toward my office, thinking the whole way there about the beautiful blond mechanic who blew into my life like a tornado, jumbling everything around in my head.

  Chapter Two

  Colby

  What is it with me and the pretty boy? I can’t get his grin or those crazy hazel eyes out of my head. Those eyes of his are the most amazing I’ve ever seen, but they are just eyes. I should be able to block them out. The guy was wearing khakis and a polo shirt, totally not my thing. In fact, I’ve never even looked twice at someone wearing them, but he’s not your normal pretty boy. The wide shoulders and trim waist hint at someone who works out and probably has a more physical-type job, and he doesn’t have the usual male lawyerly air about him like most entitled, privileged rich guys. No, there’s something more down to earth under the L.L. Bean catalog clothing. One glance at his hands on the steering wheel and I knew he doesn’t spend all of his time behind a desk. They’re the hands of a man who’s not afraid of hard work, but again, his attire is throwing me off. And less than 10 minutes in the car with him wasn’t enough to figure out what it is about him that has my thoughts returning to him over and over again.

  I think it’ll be the last time I see him, but I’m secretly hoping he’ll be curious enough about me to drop by the shop. One thing I’m certain of, though, is car owners, and that one isn’t letting some girl grease monkey get under the hood of his $60,000 Jag. Dudes that own those kinds of cars only let the dealership manage mechanical and maintenance needs. They’re also the ones who usually end up parking their own car when there is valet service instead of passing it off to the valet.

  I can’t help but wonder what put his wife in that cemetery though. He can’t be much older than I am, which is 33, and is too young to have a wife he visits at the graveyard. Whatever it was couldn’t have been good.

  “Colby?” My sister’s raspy voice draws me back to the present and I quickly move closer to the bed. She’s been out of surgery for three hours and we’ve been waiting for her to wake back up. She did briefly, but they had her drugged well enough that she went back to sleep as soon as they had her in her room. Jeff went to the bathroom and to take a walk about 10 minutes ago and should be back anytime.

  “Hey, honey. How are you feeling?” I ask as I wrap my fingers around hers.

  “Rough. I hate the drugs and shit they give you. Although I’m glad I don’t hurt yet. I don’t like feeling so groggy.”

  “I know, babe, but it’s better than being in pain. Do you remember talkin’ to the doc?”

  “No.”

  “He said everything went well. He didn’t see any questionable tissue other than what we knew. Biopsy will be back in 10 days. It’s going to be okay.”

  I’ve never prayed as much as I have these last few weeks. I can’t imagine a life without my sister. She’s my best friend and the best person I know. I don’t know if it will be okay. Especially considering this is exactly how things went down with my mom and she was dead within three years, but I refuse to look at any of that as a possibility.

  “I’m still tired,” she mumbles.

  “I know, babe. Let
me buzz the nurse so they can do what they need to do while you’re awake. Otherwise, they’ll come bug you in about 15 minutes and no one likes to be woken up.”

  “Fine, but hurry. My eyes are heavy.”

  “Okay.” I press the nurses call button and wait, holding her cool hand in mine. I’ve always been a hands person. Not only do they say a lot about a person, they are also used to care for and comfort. They can be used in pleasure and pain. They’re useful to earn money and provide sustenance. Their purpose seems endless. I’ve always loved Shaunda’s hands. They’re soft and gentle and have been used to comfort me often.

  “Pop will be up to see you tomorrow. He didn’t want to bother you when you need your sleep, but he promised to come with noisemakers tomorrow.”

  “Our father is such a handful,” she grumbles with a half-smile.

  I nod, agreeing. Jeff and I both thought Pop would avoid visiting her at the hospital since this place holds such bad memories, but he told us he’ll be here. Pop has always been the foundation for our family. We all go to him for advice on everything from work projects to which household appliances to buy and even on dating and love. He’s let me cry on his shoulder more than once when I’ve had my heart broken and has taught me all his little tricks of the mechanical trade. Shaunda and I are both daddy’s girls so I know she’ll feel better when he comes to see her. If only Marshall would grow a pair and come too, everything would be perfect.