Molten Steel, page 1
MOLTEN STEEL
ALEX MOON
CONTENTS
1. Lola
2. Taylor
3. Lola
4. Taylor
5. Lola
6. Lola
7. Taylor
8. Taylor
9. Lola
10. Lola
11. Taylor
12. Lola
LOLA
"This deal could really help the company, Tina." Lola gripped the steering wheel tightly in an effort to control the car. "Make sure you have all the information ready for--"
The engine started making strange noises, and the car jerked violently. "What the..."
The sleek sports car stopped on the empty road, leaving Lola stranded. She glanced around; there were only fields and trees in every direction.
"Tina, I'll have to call you back." She ended the call and put her phone in her purse. With a frustrated sigh, she unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out onto the gravel.
When she opened the hood, smoke came out. Lola coughed and waved her hand in front of her face, stepping back from the strong fumes.
She spotted a faded green signpost up ahead. Squinting, she made out the words "Harper's Mill" and a phone number for a tow service. She dialed the number and tapped her foot quickly as it rang.
"Harper's Towing, how can I help you?" a rough voice answered.
"Hi, my car broke down and I'm... not sure where I am." Lola turned in a slow circle, looking around. "I see a sign for Harper's Mill. I'm on an empty road surrounded by fields."
"Ah, got it. You're on Old County Road, about five miles east of town. Don't worry, ma'am, I'll come get you. Just wait in your car and I'll be there soon."
"Thank you." Lola nodded, even though he couldn't see her.
She leaned back against the car, arms folded across her chest as she waited. The late morning sun beat down, making her wish she'd worn something lighter than her navy pantsuit. Sweat trickled down her temple.
Sooner than expected, she heard an engine. A rusty tow truck came into view, kicking up a trail of dust. The vehicle slowed to a stop beside Lola's car.
The driver's side door creaked open, and a heavyset man in faded overalls hopped out. He walked over, removing his baseball cap to wipe sweat from his brow. "You must be the one who called about the breakdown."
Lola straightened and extended her hand. "Lola Martinez. Thank you for coming so quickly."
His grip was firm but gentle. "Joe Harper, ma'am. Let's get your car loaded up."
Within minutes, Joe had winched Lola's car onto the flatbed of the tow truck. "Hop on in," he said, pointing to the cab. "I'll take you to Hank's garage in town."
The ride was quiet, with Joe focused on the winding country roads. Lola gazed out the window, mesmerized by the peaceful scenery. Vast fields rolled by, interrupted by the occasional barn or farmhouse.
Soon, they entered the edge of Harper's Mill. Lola's eyes widened as they passed a small cluster of shops and businesses lining Main Street. Potted plants and hanging baskets overflowed with vibrant flowers, giving the town a cozy, welcoming feel.
"Here we are," Joe said, guiding the truck into a gravel lot beside a weathered building with two service bays.
Hank, a thin man with a greying beard, emerged from the garage wiping his hands on a rag. "What do we have here, Joe?"
"Engine trouble," Joe nodded towards Lola's car. "Figured you'd want to take a look."
Once the vehicle was unloaded, Hank popped the hood and spent several minutes inspecting the engine with a flashlight. He straightened, shaking his head. "Bad news, miss. Looks like you need a new catalytic converter. I don't have one in stock for your make and model."
Lola's shoulders slumped. "How long until you can get the part?"
Hank scratched his chin. "Gotta order it from the city. Probably a week, give or take."
Lola's stomach churned at the thought of being stuck for a whole week in this small town. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off the coming headache.
"I'm afraid there aren't any hotels around here," Hank said, almost apologetically. "But my buddy Taylor runs a little bed and breakfast over at her farm. Real nice place."
Lola's brow furrowed. A bed and breakfast on a farm? The mere idea made her cringe inwardly. Still, she had little choice unless she wanted to sleep in her car for the next seven days.
"I... suppose that will have to do," she replied, forcing a tight smile.
Hank gave her an understanding nod. "No need to worry, Miss Martinez. Taylor's place is real comfortable. I'll give her a call and let her know you're coming."
Within the hour, Lola found herself squeezed into the cab of Hank's old pickup truck, her designer luggage stowed in the truck bed. They rumbled down a narrow dirt road, flanked by endless fields and patches of forest.
Lola gazed out the truck's dusty window as they bumped along the gravel driveway, her manicured nails tapping against the door handle. The farmhouse loomed ahead, a stark contrast to her sleek city condo. A few loose strands of hair fell across her face as she shook her head slightly, unable to understand how she'd ended up in this situation.
Hank brought the truck to a stop and hopped out, giving Lola's door a creak as he pulled it open for her. She emerged cautiously, the gravel crunching beneath the soles of her high heels. A light breeze carried the earthy scent of freshly tilled soil, making her wrinkle her nose.
"Taylor!" Hank called out, cupping a hand around his mouth. "Got a guest for ya!"
The farmhouse's front door swung open and a woman stepped out onto the porch. Lola's eyes widened as she took in the newcomer's appearance - faded jeans, worn work boots, and a plaid shirt rolled up to the elbows, revealing toned forearms. Strands of dark hair whipped across her face in the breeze as she looked at them with a cautious expression.
"This here's Ms. Lola Martinez," Hank gestured towards Lola. "Her car's laid up at the garage for a week, so she'll be needin' a place to stay."
Taylor nodded, descending the porch steps. "Welcome to the farm, Miss Martinez." Her voice was soft yet carried a subtle strength. "I'm Taylor Lawson."
Lola forced a tight smile, extending her hand. "A pleasure, I'm sure." She hoped her firm handshake showed more confidence than she felt.
Taylor's calloused palm enveloped Lola's manicured one, her grip gentle yet steady. "Let me grab your bags," she said, brushing past Lola towards the truck bed.
Lola watched, transfixed, as the other woman easily lifted her designer suitcases, the defined muscles in her arms rippling beneath the thin fabric of her shirt. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Taylor's face as she carried the luggage up to the porch, her brow furrowed in focus.
"I'll leave you ladies to get settled," Hank said with a tip of his cap. He climbed back into the truck, giving Lola a reassuring smile before driving off in a cloud of dust.
Lola turned her attention back to Taylor, who was waiting patiently on the porch. "Shall we?" Taylor gestured towards the front door, her hazel eyes locking with Lola's.
With a resigned sigh, Lola followed the other woman inside, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The living room was cozy, with well-worn furniture arranged around a stone fireplace. Lola ran her fingers along the back of the sofa, surprised by the softness of the fabric despite its age.
"Let me show you to your room." Taylor's boots clunked against the hardwood floors as she led the way down a hallway.
The guest room was simple yet clean, with a patchwork quilt on the bed and lace curtains letting in the afternoon sunlight. Lola set her purse down on the nightstand, feeling a pang of unease settle in her chest.
Taylor lingered in the doorway, her shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. "I'll leave you to get settled. Dinner's at six if you'd like to join me." She offered Lola a faint smile before retreating, leaving the city woman alone to think about her unexpected change of scenery.
The smell of something savory drifted through the farmhouse, drawing Lola from her room. She followed the scent to the kitchen, where Taylor stood at the stove, stirring a pot of bubbling stew. A wicker basket filled with freshly baked bread sat on the counter, the crusty loaves giving off an enticing smell.
Taylor glanced over her shoulder as Lola entered. "Perfect timing. Dinner's just about ready." She pointed to the wooden table in the center of the room. "Have a seat."
Lola settled gingerly onto one of the mismatched chairs, smoothing her skirt. She watched as Taylor moved about the kitchen with practiced ease, ladling steaming portions of stew into simple bowls before setting them on the table.
"I hope you like beef and vegetable stew." Taylor took the seat across from Lola and tore off a piece of bread from one of the loaves, the motion casual yet elegant.
Lola eyed the simple meal with hidden disdain. Back in the city, she dined at the trendiest restaurants, savoring dishes made by world-class chefs. This simple fare was a stark contrast.
Still, she was a guest, so Lola forced a polite smile. "It looks lovely, thank you." She picked up her spoon, dipping it into the thick stew. The first few bites were bland, the flavors muddled and underwhelming.
An awkward silence settled over the table, broken only by the occasional scrape of utensils against bowls. Lola searched for something to say. "So, uh... you've lived here your whole life?"
Taylor gave a slight nod, her eyes downcast. "Born and raised on this property. It's been in my family for generations." She broke off another piece of bread, dipping it into the stew.
"I see." Lola's brow furrowed as she struggled to relate to such a deep-rooted connection to this rural life. "It must be... nice. To have that sense of history and tradition."
Taylor's gaze flickered up, meeting Lola's for a moment before sliding away. "It is," she said simply, offering no further elaboration.
The weight of the quiet bore down on Lola, making her miss the constant noise of the city - car horns, pedestrians talking, distant music. Here, there was only the occasional creak of the old farmhouse.
As the meal ended, Lola felt like an outsider in this place. She excused herself, claimed she was tired, and went to the guest room.
Lola sat on the edge of the bed, slipped off her high heels, and massaged her aching feet. The hand-stitched quilt contrasted with the stark minimalism of her bedding at home. She ran her fingers along the raised embroidery and marveled at the craftsmanship.
A plaintive hoot from outside startled Lola and made her heart race. She peered out the window and saw only the dark night covering the fields and forest.
Lola sighed wearily and crawled under the covers. She tried to calm her mind, but sleep eluded her for hours. Every creak and groan of the old house made her flinch. When she finally slept, her dreams were restless and vague. She found herself lost in an endless maze of corn stalks, with the wind whispering voices she couldn't understand.
TAYLOR
Taylor stood by the kitchen counter, arranging breakfast on a tray. She had prepared toast, butter, and a pot of tea. As she worked, she glanced at the staircase leading up to the guest rooms.
Lola, her current guest, was a city woman through and through. Taylor could tell from the moment she arrived, with her sleek clothes and sophisticated air. The country bed and breakfast was likely very different from what Lola was used to.
Taylor's lips curved into a wry smile. She knew Lola looked down on the rustic setting, but Taylor didn't care. This was her life, her sanctuary, and she wouldn't change it for anyone.
Taylor smoothed the wrinkles from her favorite flannel shirt, appreciating the soft, worn fabric. It was a simple garment, but it held a certain comfort for her. With a deep breath, she gathered the tray and made her way to the dining area.
As she entered, Lola looked up from her phone. Taylor felt a flutter in her chest. The city woman's beauty was undeniable, even with her hair slightly messy from sleep. Taylor quickly looked away, willing her heart to settle.
"Good morning." Taylor set the tray on the table. "I hope you're hungry."
Lola took a bite of the toast. Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. She chewed slowly, savoring the flavors.
"It's delicious," Lola said softly. "The butter is so creamy, and the toast has a perfect crunch."
Pride swelled in Taylor's chest. She knew the value of simple, homemade food, but it was rare for someone like Lola to appreciate it. A warm smile spread across her face.
"I'm glad you like it. Everything is made fresh from ingredients grown right here on the farm."
As they ate, Taylor stole glances at her guest. Lola's posture had relaxed, the tension from the previous day melting away. In the warm morning light, her hazel eyes shone with a newfound warmth.
Taylor watched Lola's slender fingers curl around the teacup, captivated by the delicate movements that contrasted with her usual confident demeanor. A faint blush crept up Taylor's neck as she realized she was staring.
Lola finished the last bite of her toast, a small crumb clinging to the corner of her mouth. Taylor fought the urge to reach out and brush it away, her fingers twitching slightly at her side.
"That was wonderful," Lola said, setting down her napkin. "Please, let me take care of the dishes."
Taylor shook her head, already gathering the plates. "There's no need. I've got it."
But Lola was already on her feet, gently taking the dishes from Taylor's hands. Their fingers brushed, and Taylor felt a jolt of electricity course through her. She stepped back, cheeks flushing.
"I insist," Lola said, her voice low and sincere. "It's the least I can do."
Taylor nodded, unable to find the words to protest further. She watched as Lola carried the dishes to the sink, her movements graceful and assured. The sound of running water soon filled the kitchen, and Taylor found herself mesmerized by the simple act of Lola washing the dishes.
Needing a distraction, Taylor slipped out the back door and into the garden. The fresh air helped clear her head, and she focused on the familiar task of weeding. The rich soil yielded easily as she dug her fingers into the earth, uprooting the unwanted plants with practiced motions.
She had just finished a row when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she found Lola standing there, a hesitant smile on her face.
"Mind if I join you?" Lola asked, already sinking to her knees beside Taylor.
Taylor shrugged, unsure of how to respond. She watched as Lola began pulling at the weeds, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"This is harder than it looks," Lola huffed, struggling with a particularly stubborn weed.
Taylor smiled at Lola's efforts. "You have to get the roots," she said, showing the proper technique.
Lola nodded, her tongue poking out slightly as she tried again. Taylor found herself captivated by the way Lola's hair fell across her face, the morning sun highlighting the streaks in her dark hair.
"So," Lola said, breaking the silence. "How long have you been running this place?"
Taylor hesitated, unsure of how much she wanted to share. "A long time," she finally replied.
Lola sensed her reluctance and fell silent. They worked side by side, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the occasional grunt of effort from Lola.
As Taylor glanced over at her guest, and guilt washed over her. Lola was trying, reaching out in her own way, and Taylor was shutting her down. But old habits were hard to break, and Taylor found it easier to retreat into her protective shell than to open up to this beautiful stranger.
Lola struggled with a particularly stubborn weed, her brow furrowed in concentration. She tugged and pulled, but the plant refused to budge.
"Curse this thing!" Lola muttered
A soft chuckle escaped Taylor's lips before she could stop herself. Lola looked up, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Something funny?" Lola asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
Taylor nodded, scooting closer. "Here, let me show you." She wrapped her calloused fingers around the weed's stem. With a firm twist and a gentle pull, she pulled out the entire plant, roots and all.
Lola's mouth formed a small 'o' as she watched Taylor's deft movements. "How did you do that?"
"It's all in the technique," Taylor explained, holding up the uprooted weed. "You have to get a good grip and twist it before pulling. That way, you get the whole root system."
Lola nodded, her eyes shining with determination. She turned back to her own patch of weeds, her tongue poking out slightly as she focused on the task at hand.
Taylor smiled at the sight. Lola's usual poise and confidence had given way to a childlike earnestness as she tackled the gardening task. It was endearing, in a way Taylor hadn't expected.
After a few more attempts, Lola finally managed to extract a weed, roots and all. She held it up triumphantly, beaming at Taylor.
"I did it!" she exclaimed, her face alight with joy.
Warmth spread through Taylor's chest at Lola's enthusiasm. "Well done," she said, her voice gentle.
Lola's smile faltered slightly as she studied Taylor's expression. "You should smile more often," she said, her tone sincere.
The words caught Taylor off guard, and she felt her own smile slip away. It had been a long time since anyone had commented on her demeanor, and the sudden observation felt like an intrusion.
Sensing Taylor's discomfort, Lola quickly backtracked. "No, no, I didn't mean anything by it," she said, her hands held up in a placating gesture. "It's just... you have a lovely smile, that's all."
Taylor felt her cheeks flush at the compliment. She ducked her head, suddenly self-conscious.
Lola returned her attention to the weeds, a hint of a smile playing on her own lips as she worked.
Taylor watched her for a moment, her heart still fluttering from the unexpected exchange. Slowly, she felt the tension ease from her shoulders, and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly.
