Pop The Clutch: A Second Gear Romance

by Kristin Harte

  Looking away from the walls adorned with artistic efforts I almost envied, I walked to the counter and took another deep, shaky breath. I needed to calm down. This was no big deal. Just drop the car off and head home. It wasn’t as if I’d recognize anyone here. Not as if Grandma would send me to a place where I’d run into people I knew without warning me.

  A man walked through a door in the back, and I immediately began plotting how to seek my revenge on the neglectful old woman.

  Easton Cole. My middle school crush. The guy I’d almost fainted on when he’d asked me to dance at the eighth-grade graduation party. As a boy, Easton had sucked all the oxygen out of the room simply by walking into it. A trick that had apparently grown right along with him after high school, seeing as how my brain had forgotten to tell me how to breathe. He’d always had a presence—something about him had made girls turn, stare, or simply go brainless as they’d watched him walk by. Hell, even when I’d been completely, madly wrapped up in Jace, I’d noticed Easton. Not that I’d ever acted on that—he’d been the epitome of bad news to my teenage thoughts and assumptions. Or so I’d thought at the time. He’d even asked me out once before I’d been with Jace, but I’d said no.

  Stupid woman.

  “What can I do for…” Easton’s words trailed off and his eyes went wide when he looked up. When he spotted me standing in the colorful waiting room.

  I practically melted under that sky-blue gaze. He was one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen in real life. How did that happen? He’d been good-looking in high school, but the man had grown up into someone way taller, broader, and hotter than I remembered. Rougher, too, by the looks of him. And he was a mechanic, which meant he was good with his hands. He even had a grease smudge on his forearm. His muscled, tanned, ridiculously attractive forearm. He definitely hadn’t been sporting those muscles when we’d been in school.

  Thrown off-balance by his very presence, I waved in a completely awkward and absurd way. “Hi, Easton.”

  He glanced at my hand, his dark brows pulling together in what I could only guess was confusion. I quickly forced my arm down and gave him a smile, hoping he didn’t think I was an idiot for waving to someone fewer than five feet away.

  The pressure of needing to fill the silence grew, pushing me past my comfort level faster than I’d have thought possible. Why was he so quiet? What did I need to do to get him to speak? “Uh…I’m dropping off a car for my grandma.”

  Nothing.

  “Beverly Foster? Gold four-door sedan with a bobblehead cat in the back window?”

  The tick of the clock seemed way too loud. Was it supposed to be that loud?

  “She said she had an appointment. Though, I guess I should have asked her what she was getting done.” I pursed my lips and nodded, completely unsure of what the hell to do next. “I can…call her. To ask. If you need me to.”

  He stared for a moment, looking surprised, but then his lips turned down in a frown. Something that made him even more attractive, oddly enough. With his mop of curly, black hair and a constant smile that was near-deadly, the not-too-bad boy had been a secret star in just about every good girl’s fantasies. But this man in front of me was a little badder than the teenage version had been. And so much more dangerous.

  “We’re replacing the radiator and fixing a crack in the bumper from where she backed into a light pole,” he said, wiping his hands on a red rag he pulled from his pocket. “Let me get you the estimate.”

  “Sure.” I tried to take a step back but bumped into a small table. The abrupt stop caused me to stumble, and I nearly fell into a plastic chair.

  “Are you okay?” Easton grabbed my arm, his hold tight. His hand warm and rough around my elbow.

  But old habits died hard. Especially ones you fell into for self-preservation. I yanked my arm out of his hold, retreating until I felt there was enough of a safety zone between us. Until I could almost breathe again. “I’m fine. Sorry.”

  His pause was noticeable, his expression inscrutable. Something in that look, the way he almost examined me with his stare, made my throat feel tight. My neck ached and my heart pounded as I waited for him to yield. To leave me alone. When he didn’t—when he continued to watch me as if waiting for something I had no idea how to give—I crossed my arms over my chest and broke eye contact. Hiding in plain sight from that blue-eyed stare.

  “I’ll be right back.” His soft voice scratched at my senses, but I couldn’t say anything back. Instead, I waited silently for his retreating footsteps before I finally took a deep breath and forced my arms to relax. Way to humiliate yourself, Violet.

  “Here you go.” Easton appeared beside me, too quiet to break in to my thoughts before he was right there. He handed me an envelope, keeping his eyes down. Definitely not looking at me. Wonderful. “Tell your grandma it’ll be a couple of days. I’ll call her as soon as we’re done.”

  “Yeah, all right.” I floundered for a second before backing away. Carefully, this time. Pressing the envelope against my chest as if holding my heart in place. And maybe I was. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected from him, but it wasn’t this complete and utter dismissal without a glimpse of the kind soul who’d probably saved my life that day.

  Desperate to escape, I hit the door too hard. The bell smacked into the glass, tolling loudly before making a weird thunking sound. At least I didn’t break it, though. Still, I rushed outside in an effort to escape, then froze as the wall of humidity slammed into me. I’d thought being outside would ease the pressure in my chest, but I was wrong. So very wrong. The late-afternoon storm had finished blanketing the sky, and rain was just starting to darken the concrete. The air hung heavy—thick and hard to breathe through—as the first wave of water fell from the clouds.

  Hot, wet, and sticky…exactly like that day. When a young Easton, dealing with his own tragedies and without any knowledge of my actions, had given me permission to do what I’d needed to do to survive. The day I’d found myself slipping into a situation I hadn’t seen coming, one that had haunted me ever since.

  The walk to Grandma’s was going to suck.

  “You got a ride back?”

  I jumped at Easton’s voice, turning to see him holding the door open. “Ah, no. Grandma said—” I stopped, stuttered, unwilling to imply he should give me a ride home. “Never mind, I can walk.”

  He peered up at the sky. “It’s gonna storm.”

  I shrugged, playing casual, ignoring the way his blue eyes seemed to peer right inside me. “Not the first time I’ve had to walk in the rain.”

  And just like that, the energy between us went from tense to electric. Easton knew I’d gotten caught out in a storm before. He’d been the one to pick me up and take me home that horrible night. But not right away, not until after he’d taken me someplace to calm down. Not until we’d shared a moment. One that had apparently meant nothing to him, seeing as how he didn’t seem to remember it.

  Easton frowned, wrinkles forming around the corners of his eyes. Sexy wrinkles that hadn’t been there ten years ago. “Hang on,” he said before disappearing back inside. A few seconds later, he walked out the same door with a set of keys in his hand. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “I’m taking you home.”

  Easton rushed across the lot, his long legs taking strides twice the length of mine. I sighed, frustrated, but I followed him. I’d like to say he didn’t really give me much of a choice, but the truth was, I wanted to follow him. Wanted to see how he’d changed, if he remembered that night. Wanted to remind him of what he’d done to help me.

  Plus, I really, really wanted to get out of the rain.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said as we reached his car. Low-slung and wide, the thing screamed speed and power. Apparently, he was no longer driving the old truck I remembered. The one with the bench seat and the heater so strong, it had nearly burned my legs through my wet jeans when he’d flipped it to high. That fact shouldn’t have ma
de me as sad as it did.

  “I know I don’t have to.” He unlocked the big, black beast of a car with the tinted windows and the shiny rims. It reminded me of a wild thing, of some kind of predator made of steel. The epitome of sex and aggression on wheels that probably had cost more than some people’s homes. It didn’t look like something the Easton I’d known would drive. Which probably meant I knew nothing.

  Easton held the passenger’s side door open for me, an act that took me by surprise. That was the move of a gentleman. As if we were on a date or something. The boy with the badass car, charming me with his half smile and tempting me inside.

  “Get out of the storm, Vee.”

  I paused for just a moment, staring into those blue eyes of his. The same ones I’d secretly swooned over for years as a teenager. But I wasn’t a teenager anymore, and neither was he. He was a man. A handsome man who apparently had a bad memory but some serious manners. Who stood with his arm on the door, waiting for me to make my move. Giving me a choice.

  “Thanks,” I whispered as I slipped past him and lowered myself to the seat. My decision easier than it should have been. “But, please, don’t call me Vee.”

  Easton shut the door without a word to me, though I heard him yelling something toward the shop. When I looked up, Colton Bearn stood in an open garage bay, arms crossed, staring back at the car. He was Easton’s friend—both having grown up in the trailer park—and brother to Dahlia’s ex-boyfriend from high school. He’d been the playboy of the school by the time he’d graduated, screwing his way through the female student body, or as much of it as would accept his advances. Honestly, that was about half of them. Not bad odds. But at my lowest, when every guy in the school had been grabbing me in the halls, thinking they had the right to touch what they’d seen on their computer screens, he’d stayed away. Whether that was out of respect for our connection through Wyatt and Dahlia or because he’d been disgusted by what I’d done, I never knew for sure.

  As much as I’d once liked Colton—his wild hair and easy smile had always been hard to ignore—I’d ended up hating him a little bit, too. He’d screwed half the female student body but had been seen as nothing more than a teenage boy sowing his oats. I’d had sex one time that anyone knew about—and they all knew about it—and had been labeled the town whore. Not Colton’s fault, but maddening quite the same.

  Easton opened the driver’s door, which let me catch the last of what he was saying to Colton, who’d been joined by another man. One I didn’t recognize. “—right back. I need to finish that brake job before the end of the day. Keep Jude busy for me.” Easton slid into his seat, his eyes on the ignition. But Colton was still looking toward the car. Staring right at me, to be precise. But it was the other man, the one I couldn’t quite place, who stole my attention. The one with the slicked-back black hair. The one who smiled at me in a way that made my stomach sink.

  “Good to see you, Cowgirl,” the man who wasn’t Colton yelled, his smile turning more toward a smirk. And just like that, every day since I’d graduated high school disappeared. I was back in my senior year, being ridiculed by the people I’d thought were my friends. Humiliated again and again because of a stupid, reckless decision I’d made.

  I turned toward the door, ready to escape. Ready to run if I had to. But Easton’s warm hand settling on my bare thigh made me freeze.

  “Don’t,” he demanded.

  I sat back, still shaking, still breathing too hard as I watched him. Waiting for something more, some sort of direction. Some way to make my heart stop pounding.

  “Stay in here. I’ll take care of it,” Easton said as he threw his door open wide.

  He hopped out of the car and disappeared into the shop, following Colton, who was literally shoving the darker man through the large bay door. I took the few minutes Easton was gone to get a grasp on the tsunami of emotions swirling around me. Whoever that guy was had just given me a huge reminder of why I never came home. There was no way to grow here, no chance to restart or get a second chance. The world of Downriver was stagnant, forcing you to stay what you’d always been…or what those who lived there had decided you were. Even if that thing was the furthest from the truth.

  I lost track of time as I stared at the bowling alley through the windows. I’d experienced so much heartache from that one building, so much hate. I didn’t want to be near it. Hell, I’d never wanted to see those walls again. Yet there I was, sitting thirty feet away. Looking right at the door I’d used the night I’d killed the Vee everyone had thought they’d known.

  “C’mon. It’ll be okay. No one will find out.”

  I’d been so stupid.

  What could have been seconds or hours later, Easton slipped into his seat with a scowl on his face. I jumped and spun toward him, letting the bowling alley go. Breaking the spell it seemed to have on me. But I still couldn’t speak.

  Easton’s white T-shirt clung to him—wet and basically see-through. His hair and shoulders glistened in the dome light, the scruff on his jaw dark and shadowy. He looked pissed off, which only added to his attractiveness for some screwed-up reason. I never had liked to play it safe. “Sorry about that. Jude’s an idiot with a mouth bigger than his brain. It won’t happen again.”

  I knew better than that—once an asshole, always an asshole—but I let him lie.

  Easton slammed his door and turned the key in almost a single, smooth move. The car came to life, the engine rumbling in a way only true muscle cars could. Not waiting for a response, Easton pulled out of the lot, heading toward Grandma’s side of town without asking where he needed to go. Taking me away from the bowling alley at last.

  “So,” he said as he carefully passed the railroad tracks I’d flown over earlier. “How’ve you been?”

  “Fine. Good.” I nodded, staring at the road ahead, wishing I could teleport home. “Grandma said you guys opened the shop last year.”

  “Yeah, back in May.”

  “A mechanic and a business owner. Good. That’s good.” I bit my lip and looked out the side window, trying to think of anything to say that would break the awkwardness and make the ride seem faster.

  “And you?” he asked, sounding unsure.

  “Pastry chef.”

  “Really? You always did make the best treats for the bake sales, but I thought you wanted to be a teacher.”

  My shoulders curled in by habit, and I had to fight to keep my tone even. “That became impossible.”

  He hummed but didn’t push for more details, something I could appreciate. That topic wasn’t one I liked to remember, let alone discuss.

  “You look different,” he said as he turned into Grandma’s neighborhood. “The hair color and…stuff.”

  I shrugged, fighting to keep things casual, not wanting to go into all the details of why I was no longer a redhead. “I needed a change.”

  “I liked the red, but the brown is just as…nice.” He pulled into Grandma’s driveway, leaving the engine running as I sat staring at him.

  Did Easton Cole just compliment me? “Uh… I… Thanks for noticing. And thanks for the ride home.”

  “Yeah. No problem.” He nodded as he tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel. “I really am sorry for Jude’s mouth. It’s hard to control him some days.”

  “I seem to remember Dahlia saying the same thing about Colton once.”

  “It’s impossible to control Colton,” he said with a snort of a laugh. “Dahlia and Colton. Yeah, they had a…thing after Wyatt left.”

  “Yeah. ‘Thing’ is the polite way to describe it.” Rage-filled year of battle was a much less polite version. Those two hated one another.

  “Right.” Easton grew quiet, staring out the front windshield.

  “So…thanks for the ride. Again.” I opened the door and stepped outside. He looked up, his bright eyes meeting mine as I stood in the open door. The rain pelted me, soaking me in seconds, but that look held me captive. His expression piercing a piece of me and making me st
ay. But then he nodded.

  “See you around,” he said.

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  Desperate to escape the intensity of his stare, I slammed the door and hurried inside. Easton didn’t pull out of the driveway until I’d walked into the house, something that struck me as unusual. He was definitely a man with manners. A car-fixing, dirty-job-having, gorgeously broody man who held open doors and waited to make sure women were safely inside their homes before leaving. But with a bad memory. Damn him.

  “Was that Easton Cole’s car?” Mary asked from where she sat at the counter in front of Grandma’s laptop.

  “Yeah. He gave me a ride back.” I pushed my wet hair out of my face and kicked off my sodden shoes.

  “You should have called,” Mary said, pulling me from my own head. “I could have come and picked you up.”

  “He didn’t mind.”

  “Obviously.” Those four syllables dripped with sarcasm, and her soft smirk was positively wicked when I looked up.

  “Oh, Violet. You’re back.” Grandma hurried into the room with a big smile on her face. “Mary’s taking us to Fergie’s for the fish fry tonight. Go get changed out of those wet clothes. Those shorts are a little—” She frowned

  “What?” I glanced down at my shorts and tank top. They’d seemed fine when they’d been dry, but with as wet as they’d become, I could see why they were no longer appropriate. The fabric clung to my every curve, nearly see-through due to the light colors. Just like Easton’s shirt, but all over my body.

  “You have got to be kidding me.” I pulled one side of my shorts away from my hip, frowning when they smacked back into place with a wet, squelching sound. “I was practically naked in front of Easton Cole.”

  “Well…” Grandma started, looking me over. She seemed concerned at first, but then her lips twitched.

  “Don’t think I’m going to forget you sent me in there blind, old lady,” I warned, pointing her way. “You could have told me I’d know the owners from school. And don’t laugh at me.”