Tectonic (Double Blind Study Book 3)

by Heidi Hutchinson

  Greta avoided both sets of eyes and took the mugs back to the sink to wash.

  “I think she likes him,” Sugar whispered none too subtly to Laura.

  “Mm-hm,” Laura confirmed.

  Greta finally spun back around. “You guys! We're just friends. Yes, he's very handsome, but that doesn't always mean what you guys think it means.”

  “Listen to you, 'handsome.' That man is hot. And I know you always have guys hanging around you because you take issue with them bein' all busted up. But, woman, the dudes you tend to turn into projects are usually sad and pathetic. I have never once looked twice at one of those homely asses. But Shane Brookings?” He sucked air in through his teeth and let out a sigh. “You're finally connecting with someone that matches your level of hot. Let's not let this opportunity pass us by.”

  Laura nodded and offered the big man a fist-bump, which he gladly obliged. Neither one of them took their skeptical eyes off of Greta.

  “It's not like that. We barely know each other.” Even if it feels like I've known him forever. “Yes, he's one of my projects. The difference being that he knows it.”

  “Wait a minute,” Laura broke in, holding up a hand. “You told him he was a project?” Greta nodded the affirmative and frowned when Laura and Sugar exchanged a look. “And he went along with it?”

  “Yeah,” Greta said, and it sounded like “duh.”

  Laura's usually blank face turned into a smug smile and Sugar started giggling.

  “You're in trouble.” Laura shook her head slowly.

  “What? Why?”

  Sugar crossed his well-muscled arms over his broad chest and narrowed his eyes at her. “Why did he drop you off this morning? It's kind of early.”

  Greta felt her cheeks heat up and she turned back to the sink. Laura and Sugar chuckled behind her.

  Okay, new plan for the day. Ignore her co-workers, focus on coffee, and pretend like she knew what she was doing.

  Right.

  ***

  Shane stopped at his house for a quick shower and change of clothes. He'd be picking up Greta after work and planned on taking her out, but he noticed she hadn't brought anything to change into. Which meant one of two things: she either wasn't taking him seriously when he said he was going to take her to dinner, or she was hoping her lack of apparel would change his plans.

  He smiled to himself as he grabbed an extra long-sleeve tee, incidentally the same color as Greta's eyes, and threw it in the back of the Mercedes. It would do fine with her jeans. He paused in the garage, eyes flicking back and forth between the Mercedes and the Viper. Deciding quickly, he went back in the house, exchanged his keys, grabbed the shirt, and transferred it to the Viper.

  As he backed out of his long driveway, the car snarled beneath him and he grinned. He rarely took the Viper out, and always alone. But knowing that he was going to be out with Greta that night changed his perception on a lot of things.

  She was wild. Her ride should reflect that.

  Work was a frickin' breeze. The new guys and Lia had it handled, things were running smoothly, and he really couldn't be happier with the weekend they were having in sales. He tore apart his office briefly, trying to get rid of the stuff he no longer needed and reorganizing the stuff he couldn't get rid of yet. He also pulled open the blinds and let the sunshine in.

  He sat back in his chair, kicked his sneaker-clad feet up on his desk, and laced his fingers behind his head. It really was a fantastic location. The sun streaming in, the ocean in the distance. His business—his dream—living and breathing all around him.

  He took a deep, contented breath and felt the smile play on his lips. It had been a good day so far. His mind drifted to where it usually did these days. He spent a lot less time thinking about all he'd let slip away, and more time thinking about his business, its growth, his future, and the random girl who seemed to have settled haphazardly into his everyday life.

  Three times now, since they'd met, he'd seen the quiet side of her. At first, he hadn't been sure she had one. Then the night he'd taken her home from the bar showed him a whole new level of Greta. She was sweet and introspective. Deep, warm, gentle. Then he'd seen it again a couple nights ago while she was sketching quietly on her back patio. Again sweet, and again deep. Then last night, holding him, touching him, drawing out his inner thoughts and offering that sweet again. It was starting to make him think that maybe her regular energy came directly from the sunlight and the more delicate parts of her only felt safe in starlight.

  Since his plans that night would involve them spending more time together after dark, he was looking forward to seeing that delicate side again.

  ***

  “Did he tell you where he was taking you, at least?” Sugar hollered at Greta over the sound of the espresso grinder. She smiled at the customer she was helping as she handed over her mocha double dose of whip.

  “No. Can we please stop talking about this?” she asked nicely over her shoulder before facing the next customer in line. “What can I get for you?”

  “No way, baby cakes,” Sugar was adamant. “You cannot show up to work with a fine piece like Shane Brookings, and expect to get away without a full interrogation.”

  “Large coffee to go, black.” The customer, a regular, quirked an eyebrow up and asked, “You got yourself a man?”

  Greta rolled her eyes as Sugar chuckled and leaned over to answer for her. “Yeah, and he's all man, if you get my drift.”

  “Sugar!” Greta snapped but it was venom-free and he knew it. He flashed her a gleaming grin and moved away to fill the to-go cup. But he didn't let it go.

  “He's picking you up from work. I'll just ask him when he gets here.” He handed the cup over to the customer, who snickered at Greta's situation.

  Greta was considering in that moment whether she was strong enough to wrestle Sugar's head into a coffee bean canister when her vision was filled with the lean, muscular perfection that was Shane Brookings.

  He was wearing seriously faded blue jeans and a charcoal-colored long-sleeved tee that clung to his chest, shoulders and arms in a way that reminded her of all the muscle groups that she had beaten into submission. His dark hair was shaggy and covered by a black ball cap, the longer hairs curling out and around the edges. Those amber eyes were set off against all the dark colors he was wearing and they had a slight glow to them, the gold flecks more evident than usual. His angular jaw and straight chin hadn't seen a razor in at least two days, and she decided that that was the perfect amount of time to go without a shave. At least for him.

  And he was grinning. He'd heard the whole exchange.

  How she had missed him coming through the front door, she had no idea. But she obviously had.

  “Wow, you look good,” she whispered breathlessly. At first she thought she'd just said that in her head, until Shane's grin widened and a low chuckle accompanied it.

  “Where you taking our girl tonight, hot stuff?” Sugar loomed over Greta and she closed her eyes in embarrassment.

  “Your girl?” Shane asked instead of answering the question.

  Laura materialized beside them at the counter and smiled politely even as her eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Yeah, our girl.”

  Shane's lips twitched with amusement as he glanced from Sugar to Laura and then at Greta's humiliated expression. “It's a surprise.”

  “Is it a date?” Sugar asked, and Greta reflexively jerked her elbow backwards, connecting solidly with his solar plexus. “Oof!”

  Another low chuckle emanated from Shane and Greta ground her teeth together. She was going to kill Sugar later.

  “C'mon, handsome,” Laura urged, using her manager voice, which brooked no argument and had, on more than one occasion, caused an employee to admit to nefarious activities. “Date or not.”

  Greta couldn't hit her boss. At least not without being fired, and she was thinking it just might be worth it when Shane made it worse by answering the question with another question.

 
“What would make it a date?” He leaned on the counter with his forearms, ignoring Greta entirely and focusing on her co-workers.

  Time to shut it down.

  Greta placed one hand on the counter and one on her hip as she addressed all parties involved. “No. It's not a frickin' date. We're friends. We hang out. Stop being so damn nosy.” She focused on Shane. “I'm clocking out. I didn't bring anything to wear so if you could take me home first, that would great.”

  “I brought you one of my shirts, you can just wear that.”

  Greta heard Sugar's, “Oh, lawd,” from behind her and she threw him a scowl while at the same time Shane chuckled low. She didn't respond to Shane except to give him a tight-lipped smile and a warning with her eyes. She had no idea if he interpreted it correctly or not, seeing as his response was to grin again.

  Clocking out, she skirted around the edge of the counter and headed to the door. Shane's hand was feather light on the small of her back and she heard Sugar holler right as the door opened, “You kids have fun! Use protection!”

  Greta looked to the sky and then at Shane as he guided her across the parking lot. He seemed perfectly amused, as usual. She was about remark on this when she stopped short, her eyes settling on the car they were approaching. His hand pressed into her back when she stopped moving, and he paused to look down at her.

  “Where's the Mercedes?” she asked with a slight gasp, her heart flipping over in her chest.

  “Thought it would be more fun to take the Viper,” he replied, putting pressure on her back again to get her moving.

  The locks clicked and he opened the passenger side door for her.

  Greta was silent. She had a secret, not small, obsession with the SRT Viper. She took a slow breath as she gazed on the magnificent beauty before her.

  Gunmetal Pearl with black racing stripes.

  The Viper was the reason she had demanded that her dad teach her to drive stick. In every dream she had for her future, this car was involved one way or another. She'd been this close to a test drive once, but life interrupted and she'd never found herself in that position again. Besides, she probably would have melted into oblivion the moment her ass slid into the driver's seat.

  “Greta?” Shane asked cautiously. Her eyes swung to where the door was opened and waiting for her to enter.

  “I can't get in that car.” Her voice came out stiffly. She hated saying those words.

  Shane frowned immediately and his body tightened. “Why not?”

  “Because I smell like coffee. I need to go home, shower at least three times, and put on clothes made out of Egyptian cotton—”

  Shane's laughter cut her off and her eyes swept up to him. He had his head back and was laughing loudly. At her. It was a good look. He settled, aimed his smile at her and said, “Get in the car, babe.”

  She wanted to argue. Make a point that the moment she and her essence of espresso entered that magnificent machine, its value would plummet dramatically. But she really wanted to ride in that car. Bad. She sighed and stepped to the door, stopping close to Shane, then tipped her head back to look into his laughing eyes.

  “I just want you to know, I feel like I'm committing a crime against the laws of riding in beautiful cars. This makes you an accomplice.”

  He shook his head, still smiling, and she finally slid into the seat.

  The interior was black laguna leather with red stitching. Greta had to fight to keep from passing out in sheer bliss. Shane closed her door, came around, and got into the driver's seat. She hardly noticed, her hands were skimming over the armrest and door handle. She hadn't been wrong. The interior still smelled like fresh leather and excitement.

  “Buckle up, gorgeous.” Shane started the car and then chuckled at Greta's sharp intake of air. She slid the belt on and he smoothly guided the Viper out of the parking lot and into the street.

  “Don't forget to breathe, Greta,” Shane instructed with another grin.

  “Right,” she responded quietly, and Shane chuckled again.

  Her eyes slid over every inch of the interior and then to the driver beside her. If she thought he looked good in the coffee house, he looked a hundred times better behind the wheel.

  “You have a little bit of a dark side, Brookings,” she said, giving voice to her observations. He gave her a crooked grin as he downshifted.

  Yeah, he looked really good in the driver's seat.

  “What's Harrison doing tonight?” Shane asked casually, sliding his sunglasses into place. They looked like Oakleys. They probably were, but Greta couldn't be sure as she was trying not to look at him for too long. Having a normal conversation right now would undoubtedly be the smart choice, so that she didn't blurt out something stupid like her undying love and desire to have his children as long as she got to drive the Viper once.

  Yeah, that would be bad.

  “He is busy in the studio. He has some mixing he's trying to cram in while Mike and Clarke are off on an adventure.” Her eyes widened in exasperation as she looked out the window. “He never stops working.”

  “He loves his job, I can't really blame him,” Shane put in. He glanced over at her. “You enjoy your job too, so I'm sure you can understand a little bit.”

  “I do,” Greta replied hastily. “I wasn't trying to grumble, even though I know that's what it sounded like.” She reached up and took her hair tie out, running her fingers through the tangled mess a few times, getting it to smooth out. “I guess I just don't feel like myself right now.”

  That was a weird confession. Why she'd made it, she had no idea. But it was out there now. Blame the car.

  “Hopefully I can fix that,” Shane replied confidently.

  “Where are we going?” Greta questioned.

  “I hope you like pizza.” Shane threw her a grin. “And loud music.” He reached into the back and then handed her a royal blue long-sleeve tee. “You can put that on if you don't want to wear your Fresh Pots shirt.”

  Greta held it up in front of her. It had a white Soaring Bird logo along one sleeve and it was easily four sizes too large for her. It would look more like a dress, and not a flattering one at that.

  “This is enormous.”

  “You can do that thing that chicks do where they tie it in a knot in the back to make it fit better.” Shane was amused again.

  Greta let out a low growl that made him laugh out loud. Then he reached in to the back again. “Okay, okay. I brought a back-up, just in case.” He tossed her another shirt. She could see this one would definitely fit, and it still had the tag on it from his shop.

  “Did you steal this from yourself?” she accused teasingly.

  This one was a black, v-neck burnout short-sleeve woman's tee with his logo high up on the back of the left shoulder. Across the front in white scrawling script it read, “Livin' the Dream.” The burn out wasn't so extreme that it was see-through, just enough to make it look well-washed and worn a lot. It was very cool. She planned on keeping it.

  “I wanted to take away all your excuses for trying to back out on me tonight. You drove me to it, crazy girl.”

  Greta sat back in her seat. He knew her too well. She tugged the black tee over her head and shoved her arms through the holes. Then she yanked her arms all the way back in and, ever so tediously, removed her work shirt underneath. All without revealing her goods. She tossed the work shirt in the back and pulled her hair out of her collar.

  “So, where are we going that has pizza and loud music?”

  Shane looked at her too long as she straightened in her seat and the Viper did a little swerve as he over-corrected. He cleared his throat and focused on the road again. “I have never seen anyone change their shirt like that. That was... impressive.”

  “Don't try to change the subject with flattery, Brookings. Tell me where I'm being kidnapped to.”

  “Kidnapping,” Shane scoffed, “hardly. I just thought you'd like to get some pizza and maybe see Chevy Metal.”

  “Shut. Up.” G
reta's mouth fell open and she gaped at him.

  ***

  Shane chuckled and kept his eyes on the road. Especially after his near-accident when she changed her shirt in the seat next to him. He had to remind himself that Greta was a wild card and anything could happen with her along on an adventure.

  Was it weird that he already knew that about her? That her personality was so loud and in your face that even though they'd only known each other for a short time, he wasn't surprised that she was completely surprising?

  “Where are they playing?” Greta asked, the excitement in her voice making him smile.

  “The Rack.”

  “That's a two-hour drive!” she exclaimed, turning sideways in her seat to face him.

  “Yeah, it is. Which is why I didn't want to waste time by taking you home to change your clothes first.” He risked a glance her way and saw she was frowning while her arms were crossed over her chest.

  “First of all, Shane Brookings, you don't know me well enough to make jokes about how long it takes for me to get ready. I will have you know that I can be showered, dressed and out the door in under twenty minutes. That includes putting on my make-up.” She took a pointed pause. “Secondly, even if I have to get fancy, it only adds another ten minutes on to my time. But pizza and rock music do not constitute fancy status. However, in this case, there is the slightest possible chance I might meet Dave Grohl.” She leaned towards him threateningly. “When that chance exists, you always, and I mean always give a woman as much time as she needs to get ready. Am I making myself clear?”

  Shane wanted to laugh so badly. He actually wanted to pull the car over on the side of the road and let it all out freely. She was so damn adorable and yet completely serious. He felt his lips twitching as he fought back the grin that wanted to escape. “Absolutely,” he answered tightly, hoping she wouldn't do something shitty like— “OW!”

  Too late. She'd seen his failed attempt at hiding his smile, reached over and pinched the skin of his right inner thigh. That was definitely going to bruise. He rubbed the spot tenderly while still trying not to laugh.

  “I don't know whether to kill you or kiss you,” she grumbled, settling back in her seat.