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Chapter One
Sloane
The sun was high in the sky as I unlocked the gate that would allow the first riders into the Ember Island Boardwalk amusement park. I was working the rollercoaster solo today and I preferred it that way. When I worked alone, there was always less to fix.
The coaster was finicky, but daily, I made sure it was safe for the people who visited the boardwalk. Mechanic was my official title, and knowing the machine was what they paid me for. My job was the sort that seemed trivial, but was life and death important.
I guess you could say I worked my dream job. And in paradise, no less. I was made for this, since that description was me in a nutshell: nonchalant at first glance, mega intense at my core.
It was also the reason my love life was, at best, a twinkle in the night. There’d been flashes a’many, but what I really wanted was something solid. Deeper. A bright fucking ray of light that never dimmed.
As visitors filed in, filling the row of cars one by one, I walked to the control panel to adjust the settings for the first run. When I turned back to the crowd, I saw her…
The light I’d been looking for.
And damn, she was brighter than the sunshine.
Flanked by two friends, she strolled onto the platform like the thing was a runway, wide hips swishing in her short jean shorts. Dark hair to her waist that the sun shone off like glass. A face that reminded me of a heart, complete with round cheeks, perfect nose, and lips like a sweet dream. Eyes that were pale enough to be blue, but warm enough to be brown. I could only know the true color by getting closer.
Which I planned to do. At my earliest convenience.
For the first time ever, I found myself thanking my lucky stars that the coaster’s cars were only big enough for single riders. Because the idea of her sharing that small space with anyone besides me did weird things to my gut.
Whoa, Sloane. Slow down.
I started heading over, but before I could reach her, an elderly lady needed help buckling into a car. It wasn’t necessarily in my job description, but when I was working a solo shift, it was part of the gig. Besides, I loved it when badass seniors chose the coaster for their thrills. Watching their faces light up with wild expressions when the ride was over always made my day.
By the time Madam Badass was nestled in tight and cozy, my curvy bombshell was already in a car of her own.
Damn. I’d missed my chance to talk to her.
I’d get her name after the ride. Maybe.
Then again, maybe not.
I’d walked this path before, half-falling for a tourist who was only looking for a temporary tryst. Nice as that may be, I know better. I know.
I shook my head, stalking over to the control panel to set the ride in motion. But a blinking light told me that someone wasn’t buckled. A quick glance at the seating grid showed it was car number nine.
A smirk twisted my lips when I saw the passenger was in fact, my sweet little missed opportunity. She was frowning, messing with the seatbelt, tugging as if it was stuck. I watched her cheeks turn a heavy pink when the belt wouldn’t stretch around her to buckle.
Ah, yes. Car number nine was toward the back so it was smaller. And the seatbelt was notorious for jamming. Still, fully stretched, sometimes it didn’t fit around even children. No chance it was fitting around that curvy beauty.
I made my way across the platform and bent over the car. “Having trouble?”
“Yes,” she said, irritation lacing her voice. “The seatbelt is… well…”
“Too tight?”
Her gaze snapped to me, those pale eyes feeling like both a slap and a caress. Her breath caught on whatever she was about to say and her mouth fell open. Just slightly. Just enough that I got a peek of her tongue.
“What’s your name, darling?”
One perfect eyebrow quirked upward letting me know she wasn’t going to swoon over my use of an endearment.
Yet, that is.
“It’s Gia, hot stuff,” she quipped, “and is there any way you can fix this… thing?” She glared at the seat belt like she found it offensive.
