The Closer You Get (Fidelity #1) Read online

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Other Works

  Dedication

  Blank 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

  About The Author

  The Closer You Get

  A Fidelity Novel

  Carter Ashby

  Copyright © 2015 Carter Ashby

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Digital Edition. Personal use rights only. No part of this publication may be sold, copied, distributed, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means mechanical or digital, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Cover Design by Quirky Bird

  http://quirky-bird.com

  Connect with the author

  www.carterashby.com

  ISBN: 1511726245

  ISBN-13: 978-1511726245

  Carter Ashby is the author of small town, contemporary romance novels. The Closer You Get is her sixth novel. For more information or to connect with the author, visit any of these media sites:

  www.carterashby.com

  https://www.facebook.com/CarterAshbyRomanceAuthor

  https://twitter.com/CarterAshby

  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7059335.Carter_Ashby

  Or sign up for the New Release Newsletter:

  www.eepurl.com/5Gri1

  Other works by Carter Ashby:

  Not A Chance

  Without You Here

  Zoey And The Nice Guy

  Maya And The Tough Guy

  Addy And The Smart Guy

  To my husband, my greatest supporter.

  Thank you for believing in me!

  CHAPTER ONE

  THIS WAS FIDELITY, Arkansas—solid, traditional values; sweet, little old ladies in hats holding quilting meetings; church picnics, community fundraisers, family, faith, fellowship. Who wouldn’t want to live in such a town?

  Rye sat in his truck at the flashing light at the four way stop in the middle of town. To his left was a small pub. To his right, a bakery. Each of the businesses along Main Street featured hand-painted wooden signs hanging over the sidewalk. Walking in front of his truck was a young man helping an elderly woman across the street. Rye glared in disgust.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t approve of aiding the elderly. He was, in fact, very much in favor of the behavior. He just happened to hate small towns. This one seemed even worse than most. Sure, they had their tight-knit community and their sense of self-sufficiency, nestled here in the Ozarks away from the rest of the world. They had their high moral fiber and their town pride. But the flip side of that coin was something quite ugly. Something Rye and his brother had encountered too many times before. Prejudice. Exclusivity. A general hostility to all newcomers.

  Yeah, Rye could spot it without even stepping out of his truck. He might get this job, but he wouldn’t be here for long. His brother would never last in a town like this.

  Finally, the old woman made it across the street. Rye drove on through town, turning down a highway toward McKay construction, which he could see just at the top of the next hill. He parked outside the two-story building and went inside.

  The lobby was shiny and clean. There was a cute, chubby receptionist at the front desk. Rye smiled. He always had a smile for anyone female. This one looked quite yummy. “May I help you?” she asked sweetly.

  “I have an interview with Mrs. McKay, so if I could just get your name and phone number.”

  She giggled sweetly and held up her left hand, showcasing a ring. “I’m married.”

  Rye mimicked a stabbing motion against his chest. “Damn. This is just not my day.”

  “You are an absolute doll,” she said. “Mrs. McKay’s office is on the second floor at the very end of the hall.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He winked at her and headed for the stairs. He followed the directions and knocked on the door at the end.

  “Come in,” a female voice called.

  Rye went in, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

  “Have a seat,” Mrs. McKay said without looking up from her computer.

  Rye sat in a chair across from her desk. He was surprised by her youth. She couldn’t be more than thirty if that. But he wasn’t particularly impressed with her looks. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t do her. He’d totally do her. She had breasts, and she was under sixty, that was pretty much all he required. She simply didn’t have anything special about her.

  Mrs. McKay was obviously one of those plain women who hid behind professionalism in order to feel validated. Her glasses sat high on her nose as she read over his resumé. “So you talked to Sam already?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He seemed to think I’d fit in here just fine.”

  She looked up at him, arching her brows over her plain, brown eyes. “Really? Did he call your past employers?”

  Rye blinked at the skepticism in her voice. Clearly she’d already formed an opinion about him. “I have no idea. I took a tour of the building. We talked business. You got a problem with me?”

  She leaned back in her chair and sighed. Her dirty-blond hair was falling out of its bun and into her face. She shoved it aside. “I called Mr. Derrington from Pleasant Valley,” she said. “He told me you have an impeccable work ethic, but that you don’t work well with others.”

  “I work very well with others,” Rye said, barely holding back the urge to tell her to shove the resumé up her ass. “The problems I’ve had with other employees have occurred after work hours.”

  “You understand that that’s a problem for me?”

  “You know, the way I see it, I’m great at what I do. I love my work. And that’s all you need to know.”

  “It’s only two-thirds of what I need to know, Mr. Holcomb because businesses only work if people work together. And it looks to me like you’re a bit of a trouble maker. I don’t need that in my company. This is a small town with a closely knit community…”

  “Yeah, which means if there’s any trouble, then it’s going to be laid at the outsider’s feet. I get that. I’ll risk it. What’s it to you? Your city so overrun with qualified structural engineers that you can just toss me aside based on some biased, out-of-context stories about bar fights?”

  She sat up, lifted her chin, and removed her glasses. “I don’t care for your attitude, Mr. Holcomb.”

  He gritted his teeth. Hard. He breathed in deep and focused on his brother. For his brother’s sake, he needed to make this work. They wanted to live close to home, but they couldn’t go back there. Nor could they go back to Pleasant Valley, and certainly not Henderson. They were running out of options, and they were tired of moving. He blew out his breath. “My brother, Cash, just got hired on h
ere. He’s an electrician. Have you met him?”

  “One of my managers, Tim Spradley, hired him. I haven’t met him yet.”

  “Well, he’s a good guy. A hard worker. For his sake, I’m committed to making this work, here in Fidelity. I’ve had issues with coworkers in the past, but it’s not going to happen again.”

  “I’m supposed to just take your word for it?”

  “What else can I give you?”

  For a moment, her eyes went wide, and she blushed. But she recovered quickly. “You could explain to me why you’ve been driven out of three other towns.”

  Rye studied her, knowing he couldn’t share that information. “It’s personal.”

  “I don’t see how I can hire you with a record like this…hell, you were even arrested.”

  “And found innocent.”

  She pressed her lips together. “The fact is, Rye, no…we don’t see a wealth of structural engineers. Certainly not ones with your project history. I want to hire you, but you’ve got to give me something more. Something to explain this behavior. Because from the looks of it, you’re just a typical bar thug, and I don’t want that in my workplace.”

  Rye ground his teeth together. He fought the resentment that was building in him, making him want to tell her to fuck off. He took a moment to breathe and study his surroundings. She had framed photos of buildings on her walls, probably projects completed by her company. There was a photo of an older man on her desk. “Husband?” he asked, nodding to the photo.

  “Father. He passed a year ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  She nodded politely but then stared at him, waiting.

  At last, Rye managed to relax. “Listen, the fights weren’t mine, so I can’t give you details. They aren’t my secrets, you know?” He looked at her, hoping she would understand that he couldn’t go around talking about someone else’s business. It wasn’t right. Especially when that somebody was his brother.

  “So you’re saying you fought in defense of someone else?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her brow furrowed as she considered the situation.

  Rye decided to try a little harder. “You got anyone in your life who’s maybe…different? Maybe someone that other folks might want to make fun of or hurt for no good reason?”

  Mrs. McKay blinked, then, her brow softening. “Yes.”

  “Wouldn’t you fight for that person if it came down to it? Wouldn’t you defend them with your life if you had to?”

  Slowly, her lips quirked up at the corner. She sat back in her chair. “Why Fidelity?”

  Rye blinked at the sudden change of subject. “You’re hiring. And it’s close to home.”

  “Home is…?”

  “Apple Creek. We’ve got family there.”

  She sighed and closed the file that held his resumé. “Well, you won’t find Fidelity, as a whole, to be the most open place for newcomers, especially if one of them is…different. We’re rather a prudish community. There’s some startling class division, which you don’t expect to find in these rural small towns. And almost everyone goes to Pastor Steele’s church, which is hard-core fundamentalist. There is also a rather bad element…the Dunigans. You can ask anyone and they’ll tell you the Dunigans are a bad lot. They are old hill folk. And the family has spread far and wide. I can’t remember the other surnames that have branched off.”

  He wasn’t sure why she was telling him all of this, but he thought it boded well for his job prospects.

  “But I have a friend,” she continued. “He’s a lawyer, he’s gay, and he has the unusual distinction, in this town, of being well-respected. He knows all about being different. He also knows how to handle problems involving discrimination. So please, if you find yourself with conflict here in town, come to me. I can help.”

  “This mean I’ve got the job?”

  “As you’ve pointed out, there aren’t an abundant quantity of qualified structural engineers in the area. Before you came in, I searched some of your past projects. I’d hire you based on the children’s hospital alone.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said.

  Her expression went stony again. “I’m trusting you, Mr. Holcomb. I’m taking your word over the words of your past employers. I won’t hesitate to let you go at the first sign of trouble.”

  “Of course not,” he said, trying not to snarl.

  She stood. He stood. They shook hands. “Welcome to Fidelity.”

  “Thanks. See you Monday.”

  He left, glad to be out of the interrogation room.

  “You got the job?” Cash Holcomb was driving down the highway that ran between Pleasant Valley, Arkansas, where he used to live, to Fidelity, Arkansas, where he was going to live. He was hauling the last of his and Rye’s boxes.

  “Best I can tell.” Rye’s voice came from the speakerphone of Cash’s cell.

  “Great.” Cash tried to sound enthusiastic. He loved his brother. They got along great. But working at the same company didn’t seem like such a good idea.

  “Don’t sound so excited,” Rye said.

  “I’m not. I mean I am. I just…”

  “It’ll be fine, Cash. We’ll just keep our heads down and do our jobs. It’ll be fine.”

  Cash sighed. “I know, I know. I just don’t want to be the cause of you losing another job; that’s all. If I fuck things up and get fired, maybe they’ll think they have to fire you too. Just seems like a bad idea putting all our eggs in this basket.”

  “Don’t go borrowing trouble. Let’s just enjoy the fact that we’re both gainfully employed and have a roof over our heads tonight.”

  “You’re right. This is good. We’ll be fine.”

  “That’s right. And I’ll pick up dinner.”

  “Great.”

  Cash hung up and continued driving. He tried not to feel guilty about the life he’d cost his brother. But if it weren’t for him, Rye would still be working for their father’s company back home in Apple Creek, Missouri. He’d lost three jobs since then, and there was no reason for it. Cash was an electrician. He understood that jobs for him might come and go, but Rye had a structural engineering degree. He should be able to settle in somewhere for the long haul.

  Cash tried to push the thoughts aside. Rye refused to discuss the matter, and he wouldn’t want Cash wasting time pondering it.

  A flash of motion in the rearview mirror caught his eye. There was another pickup behind him, a few car lengths back swerving in and out of view of the mirror. The highway was only two lanes, and there weren’t many other cars around. Cash wondered if he should speed to put some distance between him and the crazy driver, or if he should pull over and wait for him to pass. The guy was coming up fast and didn’t look like he was planning on switching lanes. Cash slid over to the left even though he was going slower than the other guy.

  Turned out to be a good move. The other guy sped past, nearly knocking into him. Cash tried to get a glimpse of him. It looked like he was yelling into his cell phone. Probably drunk, too. He passed, and Cash breathed a sigh of relief. He was only five miles from his exit. The crazy driver would be long gone by then.

  There was a red sports car ahead of Cash. Time slowed as he saw the truck swerve perilously close to the red car. It swerved the opposite direction, hit the shoulder, overcorrected, and slammed into the side of the red sports car.

  “Shit!” Cash grabbed the wheel in both hands and braced himself. The red car hit the median and flipped. Cash thought he might make it around the truck by swinging to the right, but the truck went sideways, and he had a split second of realization before he slammed into the side of the truck. The next thing he knew he was on the side of the road, his truck turned the wrong direction. It was quiet after the wrenching sound of metal on metal.

  Across the highway in the median, the red car had landed right side up, and a man in a suit was getting out, holding his head. The truck that had wrecked them was upside down in the median. The man
was rushing to the driver’s side.

  Cash hopped out and ran across the highway. “He alive?” he asked.

  “I think so,” said the man who, upon a closer look, turned out to be gorgeous. Cash forced the thought away. “The door’s jammed.”

  Cash banged on the intact window. “Hey! You okay?”

  The guy inside was hanging upside down, his seatbelt holding him down. Or up. He muttered and moved a bit. Cash braced his boot against the side of the truck and wrenched the door open.

  “Wow,” said the man in the suit.

  Cash looked up and caught admiration in his eyes. And maybe…lust. Once again, he shut out the thought. The two of them worked together to unstrap the barely conscious man. Once they got him laid out on the ground, Cash knelt next to him and checked him for injuries while the man in the suit called 911 on his cell phone.

  He had a nice voice. Very calm while he told the operator the circumstances and their location. Cash stood as the man ended his call. “You all right?” Cash asked.

  “Yeah,” the man said. He held out his arms and laughed. “It flipped twice. I don’t have a scratch on me. It’s pretty amazing.” His blue eyes sparkled with excitement. But then he frowned. “Looks like you hit your head pretty bad, though.”

  Cash reached up and found a bump at his hairline, and his fingers came back with blood on them. “Not bad,” he said.

  “A tough guy,” he said, grinning. “I like that. I’m Adam Fisk,” he said.

  Cash glanced around wondering how long the ambulance would take and whether he needed to be there when it arrived. But no sirens came. He shook hands with Adam. “Cash. Holcomb.”

  Adam nodded towards his truck, piled high with boxes. “You moving somewhere?”

  Cash nodded.

  Adam grinned a little bigger. “Don’t want to tell me where?”