Mixed Signals Read online

  Mixed Signals

  Mia Heintzelman

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9990493-3-4

  Mixed Signals

  Copyright © 2019 by Mia Heintzelman

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this world in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Levi Lynn Books, Las Vegas, NV, United States of America.

  * * *

  Cover illustration by Colleen Reinhart

  Book design by Mia Heintzelman

  * * *

  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.

  * * *

  For questions and comments about the quality of this book, please contact us at miaheintzelman.com/contactmia/html.

  miaheintzelman.com

  Also by Mia Heintzelman

  Series

  Mixed Signals

  * * *

  Single Title

  It’s Got a Ring to It

  The Stacks (as Emmaline Zanthi)

  Contents

  MIXED SIGNALS

  Acknowledgments

  Untitled

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  MIXED MATCH

  MIXED MATCH

  For more by Mia Heintzelman

  About the Author

  MIXED SIGNALS

  THE ALL MIXED UP SERIES

  For Daniel. Thank you for believing in my dream.

  Acknowledgments

  All you have to do is check an author’s Google search history or listen as he or she talks to himself or herself while writing to know that creating a book is a crazy venture in and of itself. For this book to reach this form, it took a tribe and village.

  Thank you to my village, my family. Thank you to Mommy and Daddy, the tale-spinner and the bookworm. Since I was packed up on Daddy’s back while he pursued a college degree, you have instilled in me a love of reading, writing, and telling farfetched tales. Thank you to my husband, Daniel Heintzelman, for understanding, supporting, and loving me during my sleepless nights and endless writing days. For telling me I’m good enough to jump! Also, thanks for not thinking I’m crazy when you hear me talking to myself. To Nina and Brooke, you fuel my passion and dreams. Whatever dreams you decide to pursue, I’m behind you.

  And then there’s my tribe. Special thanks to my editor, friend, and BWP, Margo Hendricks. Glad to have you as my partner in this rat race. To the Thursday Night Therves, my awesome critique group, you guys get me and I get you, and that’s all that matters. Thank you to the Las Vegas chapter of Romance Writers of America. It’s amazing to be part of a team. Your support, education, challenges, and retreats are the best.

  To Colleen Reinhart, thank you for supporting an indie author. Your work is so beautiful and amazing. I love that your vision is vivid and bright. It makes me excited to read and proud to share my books with the world.

  Finally, but certainly not least, thank you to my family, friends, and readers. Taking you along with me on this journey is an honor. Thank you for helping me do what I love.

  Chapter 1

  Julie Laurich swooped into the right hand turning lane at the corner of Fourth Street off Casino Center. As usual, she was running late. And as her luck would have it, she’d caught every red light from the freeway to her current spot behind no less than ten other cars with drivers who apparently had nowhere to be.

  She on the other hand, had exactly five minutes to meet her best friend Liz at the Skyline Cafe. Two until her phone started ringing and she had to hear about being considerate of other people’s time.

  “Come on, damn it.” She cursed at the light and considered laying on the horn. She quickly decided against it for the mere fact that in this town, road rage was rampant. A yelling match wouldn’t exactly get her to the restaurant any faster.

  Instead, she gripped the steering wheel and inched closer to the red beemer in front of her. The same beemer, which had literally moved about a millimeter in the last ten minutes.

  Julie threw her head back and exhaled loudly just as a siren wailed on her left. She lowered her gaze just in time to see a cop car weave past a black pickup truck through to the far left lane and dart into the intersection.

  Don’t tell me it’s an accident. Great. Just great.

  According to the clock on the dash, it was now ten fifty seven. Three minutes to get to the restaurant. And that didn’t include finding parking in downtown Las Vegas. On a hot ass Sunday morning. In May. At the Container Park, no less.

  At this rate, she’d be lucky to be in her seat by eleven thirty.

  Rolling her window down, she careened her neck out and stretched to see what was going on up ahead. What kind of emergency they were dealing with determined exactly how long she could expect to keep Liz impatiently waiting.

  From the looks of it, a blue SUV had probably been tailgating the silver rice rocket and nicked the bumper, which likely belonged to the thin guy in all black who was currently yelling at someone in the crossover.

  The car was nice, but whatever the damage was, it was minimal from Julie’s vantage point. But, to guys like that, a scratch barely noticeable through a microscope was worth suing over. I guess cash remains king here.

  She flopped back into her seat, frustrated. Calling the police meant this was going to be a while—a hot sticky while, with her bare thighs melded together and her makeup streaked. So much for trying to be cute. Great.

  “It’s just an accident,” she yelled to no one in particular as she leaned against the headrest.

  This was Vegas. Auto accidents happened basically every second of every day. Pretty much, if the sirens weren’t coming from an ambulance or a fire truck, chances were, it wasn’t fatal, and therefore, it was just an inconvenience.

  In Julie’s case, this bootleg fender-bender was an annoyance, although a distraction she should welcome. But it was still only prolonging the inevitable: her standing weekly appointment with her best friend during which she stood to be reamed a new one about her failure to resuscitate her flat-lining love life.

  As another squad car zoomed by in a blur in the left lane, Julie looked over, but it wasn’t the emergency vehicle that caught her eye. Rather, she’d caught someone else’s eye.

  In the middle lane, in the
black truck, just low enough to see him looking down at her, was a gorgeous, fantasy-worthy man with come hither eyes.

  Hello.

  Good lord, this man was something like Superman meets Khal Drogo from Game of Thrones at a monster truck rally. Minus all the eyeliner and add in a head full of dark wavy curls and angel eyes. He was looking down at Julie with those molten brown eyes under a canopy of sweeping lashes. He might as well have been looking down from heaven for the way she couldn’t bring herself to close her mouth.

  On top of all that yummy goodness, his mouth was, for lack of functioning adult words, delicious. A full pouty bottom lip underscored a toothy grin. He was saying something, but she couldn’t make it out with the thundering sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

  The way he propped his arms up between the dash and the seat and flashed her that crooked panty-dropper smile, he could have been saying anything. He could have been telling her to go to hell, or that she had a flat tire. He could have been saying she’d left the gas cap door open, but Mr. Cutie Pants was basically a mute. Albeit, a gorgeous mute with the ability to make her lose both her breath and track of time.

  Julie freeze-framed him.

  She’d snapshotted him in her mind in that sexy position with his lovely lips and twinkle eyes. All other noise and movement had ceased along with the traffic. For that split second, it was Julie and hot truck guy, and his lashes.

  Heat settled low and tight in Julie’s belly as she rubbed her forefinger over her bottom lip.

  Come to mama.

  She breathed the words. But then her snapshot moved and she vaguely registered the sound of a car horn.

  Julie blinked a few times as the guy’s low bass-filled voice flooded into earshot. The words came out garbled and clunky.

  “What? What did you say?”

  He gave Julie an endearing smile before nodding and pointing toward the cars ahead in her lane. “It’s just an accident. Looks like you’re moving now.”

  Apparently while Julie was salivating over the guy, the cop in the intersection had begun ushering the traffic to open up the lanes.

  Already, most of the cars in front of her had turned. The people behind her were now slamming on their horns, and by the scowl plastered on the officer’s face, she was officially the holdup.

  She couldn’t very well ask the policeman and all the drivers who’d been sitting ducks for the last fifteen minutes to give her more time. Not even if it would just take two more minutes, three minutes tops, to exchange numbers with the hot guy a lane over in the black truck.

  She couldn’t do that could she?

  “Yeah, it’s really moving now,” she said, unblinking, biting her lips. Still her foot hovered over the accelerator, but she couldn’t bear to push down on it yet. Say something. Ask for his number.

  It was crazy. She was downright silly to think of getting a guy’s number in the middle of the road. But, that’s exactly what she was contemplating doing.

  Just as soon as she figured out how.

  The guy pulled forward and Julie rolled alongside him. “Um…”

  His gaze flickered between her and the road, but he was still smiling, which was a good sign. “Is everything okay?” he asked, all sparkly eyes and teeth glittering at her.

  “I, uh…I was hoping to get your phone—”

  At that exact moment, her phone rang on bluetooth, echoing through the car and drowning out her exchange with hot truck guy. Julie winced and checked the dash to see Liz’s name and number scroll across the screen in neon blue. Without thinking, she pressed the phone icon to connect the call.

  “Hold on a sec, Liz.” Julie whipped her gaze back out the window, but he was gone.

  She had taken her gaze off of him for a quick second, but that was just enough time for her to see the black truck drive through the intersection.

  “You still there, Jules?” Liz’s raspy voice bounced off the windshield.

  Julie slowly pulled forward to make her right turn toward the restaurant as she watched the black truck disappear into the distance. “I’m here,” she said flatly.

  “It sounds like you’re in a wind tunnel. Are you coming or what because I’m getting hungry? You know I’ll start without you.”

  She slouched down into the seat with her chin low and allowed her foot to rest on the gas. “I’m pulling into a spot now.”

  The Skyline Cafe was smack-dab in the middle of downtown. It was in between Fremont Street and the Container Park, which had become the go-to watering hole for the young and motivated social scene in Vegas. The place was teeming with people every day, but on Sundays, the size of the crowds was on another level.

  That was precisely the draw, Julie decided, aside from the fact that Liz’s on-again/off-again boyfriend, Derrick, worked there and kept the free drinks flowing.

  Julie weaved her way through the indoor tables and found Liz who was seated outside on the patio in the far corner near the street. She plopped down in the seat across from her and immediately picked up the mimosa she assumed Liz had ordered for her.

  As the cool bubbly liquid trailed down her throat, she felt her nerves finally begin to settle. “I’m here.” The words plumed from her as her posture deflated.

  “Well, I’ll be. Ladies and gentleman, she made it.”

  Liz’s left brow lifted as she pursed her full Russian Red lips. This wasn’t the first time Julie was late, and it undoubtedly wouldn’t be the last.

  “Accident on Fourth—as usual. Did you already order?” Julie asked, as she tugged at the hem of her Sunkist orange bandage dress and shifted against the plastic seat.

  “Nope, just sitting here baking,” she said, slurping from her flute. “I told Derrick not to send anyone by until eleven thirty since I knew you were going to be late anyway.”

  Liz crossed her legs and scooted back against the seat causing the chair to scrape backward into the large wooden planter. Their table was separated from the busy sidewalk by a row of ball-shaped boxwoods that perfumed the air along with a tantalizing mix of earthy florals, coppery sunscreen, and sweet pancakes.

  Julie loosed a huffy sigh.

  She could already feel her neck stiffen and the pull of her nostrils beginning to flare at the sight of Liz’s judgy gaze blazing a path over to her. “Can we skip all of the attitude and get to the bottomless mimosas and fun part? I’m really not in the mood right now.”

  As much as she wanted to believe that her dim mood was about Liz’s impatience, she couldn’t give her that much credit. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was looking for every time her gaze flickered over to the street at the sight of a dark colored truck. What kind of an idiot spent seconds open-mouthed staring at a guy in traffic and actually believed they’d ever have the kind of lottery luck needed to see him again?

  “I was just kind of hoping you would be here on time today because I wanted you to meet someone.” Liz pressed her lips together and her voice came out in a strained mix of milk and honey, as if she had to calm her nerves before she might explode with frustration.

  She sat up straight and cocked her head as she patted at her dress.

  “Who?” Now it was Julie’s turn to raise her brow at Liz.

  “He’s one of Derrick’s friends. No one you know,” she rushed to say before Julie could make any quick judgments. Liz had tried to fix her up with Derrick’s friends before, all of whom Julie had deemed losers and tools. Most were barely gainfully employed, lived with their parents, or had regular sidepieces. The remainder, well, they were basically factionless unmentionables.

  “He just moved back to Vegas from the East Coast. Hot. Nice body. If nothing else, perfect for a rebound.”

  Julie narrowed her gaze. “Okay?”

  “So, he was here and I was going to introduce you to him, but he had to go. You literally just missed him.” She took another sip from her glass, but she turned a determined stare on Julie. “I’m thinking you can use this guy to move on,” she said gently.
“Or, at least try.”

  Over the last two months, all the signs pointing in that direction could not have gotten any clearer. Julie had stooped low. Lower than low. But the heart wants what it wants. And at this point, it still wanted Patrick.

  “I’m not ready,” Julie eked out, her body instinctively drawing inward for the backlash.

  It took all of two seconds for Liz to uncross her legs, sit up, and lean in with bloodthirsty eyes. “You need to wake up. The dude has moved on and now you need to.” She sighed, as if it took the life from her to further broach the subject. Hints of her Puerto Rican roots flared with spice and attitude the way it always seemed to do when she smelled disaster. She’d made it clear how much she despised Patrick. Something as simple as a chance meeting, whether on accident or on purpose, seemed to have a way of grating on her nerves.

  That was the hazard of having a tried and true friend who loved and hated on your behalf.

  Julie didn’t even have a chance to get a word in edgewise before Liz pounced.

  “I don’t even know who you are anymore. You used to have fun. You used to go out and be spontaneous. You didn’t dodge my calls. You took care of yourself and had guys falling all over themselves for you. And now, you’re what? Feeling sorry for yourself?”