by Rie Warren
LOVE
In The Fast Lane
Carolina Bad Boys, #2
RIE WARREN
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Love, In the Fast Lane
Copyright © 2014 by Rie Warren
Excerpt from Steele, Into Your Heart copyright © 2014 by Rie Warren
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations.
https://www.riewarren.com
Warren, Rie.
Love, In the Fast Lane / Rie Warren – 1st ed
1.Contemporary Romance—Fiction. 2. Alpha Male—Fiction. 3. Bikers—Fiction. 4. Erotica—Fiction. I. Title
ASIN: B00NIB9MU2
Cover Design
By Jada D’Lee Designs https://www.facebook.com/JadaDLeeDesigns
Editing
By Gilly Wright http://www.gillywright.com
Chapter One
Potluck, No Luck
I ARRIVED AT GIGI’S house on the last Sunday in August carting along my mimi, my Rottie, and a piping hot dish of homemade mac ’n’ cheese. Mimi had made it. Top Chef I was not. Neither was I Queer Eye/Straight Guy material after the failure of my fake relationship with Josh at the LitLuv convention in May. I blamed our bust-up on Josh’s inability to keep his cock in his pants. He’d defected after no more than three days, switching to the other team to be with a woman he just couldn’t get out of his system—Leelee Childes, known to the reading and writing masses as Leelee Songchild.
Shee-it. I hadn’t been any better, bedding the first piece of fluff I could find right after him. Pandora had been no more than a receptacle for my erection that night in Atlanta, but she was one seriously determined, slightly freakish stalker. Even living half a country away didn’t keep her from sending me all sorts of pictures of her . . . well . . . Pandora’s box.
Cut loose from my boyfriend, I was back in the game, no gay cover story to keep the chick-fans at bay. Not that it mattered. I was about as far from relationship material as any man could get. Case in point, Cat Steele’s open palm to the side of my face a month ago. Now that woman, she had some spark.
My cheek still burned. She sure packed power behind her punch, I’d give her that. And screw my cheek, every time I thought about Wildcat and how she’d gone off on me at Stone’s garage, my cock fired to life. She was nothing like the revolving bed of babes I used to partake of whenever the mood hit me.
These past few years, my octogenarian grandmother had been all the woman I could handle. Not that she needed handling, she let me know. With her health on the decline and me the only relation nearby, I did my best to provide for her. She’d done the same for me when no one else had cared enough, not even my parents. I kept her comfortable without making her think she was incapable of doing for herself. One thing my mimi still had was an impish grin to go with her mean ear-pinching move if I stepped out of line or made her feel like a doddering old lady.
Gripping Mimi’s elbow, I guided her over to Gigi Stone who was holding court just like she used to at Stone’s Auto Service back when her husband—Josh’s dad—was still around. Gigi used to call James her silver fox, but she was still the foxy one. She and Mimi hugged. They’d both weathered well the marks of age and the losses of life, even if it showed sometimes in the sadness of their eyes.
Gigi wheeled around to me after I set the casserole on the long table overflowing with potluck fare. She took my cheeks in her hands and pulled me down for a kiss on my forehead. She’d done the same thing when Josh brought me home with him during my first days as the new kid at Wando High. Gigi’s welcoming kiss that day had caused a thick lump in my throat. It still did, every damn time, but fourteen years later I was better at covering up the emotions tugging at me.
Draping my arm around her shoulders, I planted a kiss on top of her head. “Hey, Gigi. Have the bozos eaten you out of house and home yet?”
I scanned the crowd of folks consisting mainly of Stone’s garage crew—old and new—and their wives, partners, and kids.
She wrangled from beneath my arm and patted her hair where I’d mussed it up. “I figured you and Joshy would take care of that. You been keepin’ each other out of trouble, now? ’Cause you know I don’t like to hear about my boys behaving badly, ’specially not when it comes secondhand from my church ladies.”
She accused me before the fact of any wrongdoing with a withering glare. She’d done the same when Josh and I had made detention-bound plans during high school.
“Ain’t up to nothing, ma’am. Just writing and riding, enjoying this fine southern weather, and your fine southern charm.”
“Oh, you always were the sweet talker. Don’t know how Joshy managed to hook that Leelee. If she ain’t a prize, I don’t know who is.”
I glanced around until I saw the pair . . . Gigi’s son and his ladylove.
“Reckon I don’t wanna know what you’re ridin’, either.” She sniped with a hint of a smile.
I barked a laugh so loud it startled a tiny baby in the arms of a woman across the table. Ray’s wife hushed and rocked the pink-faced infant before popping a bottle between her lips.
“And I reckon Josh won’t be getting into any more messes now Leelee’s here to stay. Besides, I was talking about riding my Jeep. The bog’s been good this summer—”
“Sssht. You can just save that mud-runnin’ nonsense for the boys. Tell me about your writing instead.” Gigi’s eyes gleamed.
I slipped the leather tie from my ponytail and ran my fingers through my hair. “I signed that three-book contract in June for the witches series. Beating my head over a title for it, but I’m about to finish the first edits—”
“That’s enough now, Nicky. Leave Miss Myra and me to it. We gotta catch up, and you don’t need to listen to no more woman’s stuff. You get enough of that in your books.” Gigi nudged my mimi like they were schoolgirls about to steal kisses with the boys behind the bleachers.
“But you just told me to—”
“Sonny, don’t tell me what I just told you to do. Haven’t you learned anything yet? No wonder you haven’t managed to snag the right woman.” Gigi cut me off.
“You know you’re the only woman for me.”
“Oh, hush that now. I’m likely to get the heart palpitations. Anyway, I still remember that time you and Josh decided your first box of rubbers would be better put to use as water balloons, so don’t you even try to flash that lady-killer grin at me.”
I was sent packing with a final laugh from Gigi and an in-cahoots grin from my mimi, Miss Myra. I sauntered away, whistling for Viper to keep up at my heels.
“They’re probably comparing notes on sex scenes from the latest New Adult releases,” I muttered as I ambled off.
They were part of the same old-dames book club that met once a month to read and discuss every single sex-riddled book under the sun, including mine. Gigi and Mimi had once convinced me to give a talk to the group. It was a frighteningly funny affair during which I felt like a retailer for Pure Romance. Except I wasn’t selling sex, I was selling romance . . . with a side of smut.
Far enough away from the food to give Viper free run, I let her loose and sent her in the direction of the little dude-man, JJ, the kid. Might as well give Josh a few gray hairs while I was at it. He was living large with the love of his life and too smug for his own fucking good. A little scare wouldn’t hurt him none, and my dog would never hurt the kid. They’d practically grown up t
ogether, sharing dog beds, baby beds, and chewtoys during the teething stage.
That hadn’t gone down well with Josh.
Ray, Javier, Gerald, Mick, and all the other guys were in attendance, as were the old coots who shored up the checkerboards and headed up the gossip outside of the garage on 17 North. Their kids, grandkids, and all the hangers-on always showed at the Stone homestead for potluck every last Sunday of the month. Directly after one’s church service of choice.
I listened to the laughter, the murmurs and chatter. The sun beat down, spreading the smell of the giant white magnolia blooms. Inhaling the heady fragrance, I started toward Josh who was half laughing, half telling off JJ about sharing Popsicles with Viper. Again.
Ever the shit-stirrer, Gerald held out an unwrapped orange icy treat to JJ, replacing the one Viper had licked down to the wooden stick. Gerald flipped Josh off behind his back.
Yay me. I’d get to clean up bright orange dog puke tonight. No matter. The kid would have a tummy ache; Viper would have a tummy ache. Josh and I would commiserate in the morning.
I watched Leelee nuzzle Josh’s neck and him smile down at her. I smiled myself when he leaned over to kiss her.
Man, he finally got it all.
I couldn’t have been happier if he truly were my brother.
I shifted my aviators with one finger to brush beneath them, ducking my head while I blinked back the emotion filling my eyes.
Pressing through the beer-drinking, loud-talking crowd, I drew up short when I saw the sexy, black-haired vision of my dreams. Wildcat aka Catarina goddamn Steele. She got the steel part down, all right. She’d gone off like a powder keg at me, but she was back to her cool, untouchable self today. I could see that from several yards away.
She wore a dress as befitted a lady who had recently sung her Sunday psalms. But everything about Cat screamed hellfire more than O Heavenly Father to me. The white sheath stopped above her knees, snug on her willowy frame. The lightweight cardigan hid her arms to the wrists, but neither the dress nor the sweater could cover up the goddess body beneath. Ripe curves, long legs. Fiery as fuck, cold as ice.
The sight of her shot an arrow of heat to my cock. My jeans became snug at the crotch as I took in her high cheekbones and the tightly pulled back hair, her eyes hidden once more behind mirrored shades.
I wanted to see her hair down. I wanted to tear off her sunglasses. Goddammit, I wanted to know what color her eyes were.
Her fingers flirted into JJ’s hair when he dashed passed, her low laughter following the boy who had a whole gang of kids gunning at his heels for a game of tag.
When Cat looked up, her gaze swung to me. I didn’t shift, breath, swallow. I didn’t move. Neither did she. Take the shades off, darlin’. Mick from the garage careened past her, chasing after the kids, and our look was broken.
I was free to move on. But did I? Hell, no. I stood stock still, taking in my fill of her. Cat didn’t have a problem ignoring me though. She turned to crouch down and scratch Viper’s ears when my dog nuzzled against her legs.
“Got it bad, huh?” Ray asked, handing me a beer.
I snorted. “Not.”
The burly blond guy took several long gulps of his beer then swiped a hand across his moustache and mouth. “Yeah, right. Listen, Nicky, you don’t wanna tangle with that.” He pointed the beer bottle at Cat.
“She’s pleasant enough with you.”
“’Cause I ain’t tryin’ to get into her pants.”
Unfortunately the grease monkeys—or assholes, as Josh affectionately called them—were more perceptive than a room full of shrinks, and I’d had my fair share of those, too.
“Hey, I was being friendly to her that day.” I avoided his shrewd look by inspecting the label on my brewskie.
“Yeah, I don’t think the woman does the friends thing. I heard she had some trouble in her past, so you’re best leavin’ her alone. Also, if you fuck up Josh’s new partnership with Chrome and Steele, he’s gonna get all pissy like he was after the Leelee/Atlanta fiasco.”
He had a point. Josh did excel at being a first rate dickhead when he was down in the dumps. And a woman with a troubled past was a headache I didn’t need. I had too many skeletons in my own closet. I didn’t have any room for anybody else’s.
Ray cocked his head to the side when someone called his name. “Aw hell, the old lady’s hollerin’ for me. Probably wants me to change another one of Emma Jane’s diapers. The girl’s so goddamn tiny, man, how can she dump such a huge load? And the smell? I’d rather put up with Gerald’s BO.” He complained, but the twinkle in his eyes and the way he stepped-to on command gave him away as a proud papa.
I strolled around, drank more beer, and shot the breeze. I maintained a safe distance from Wildcat. My fingers started getting itchy when I hadn’t checked my phone for texts or emails or Facebook updates after the first hour. I didn’t always like the fact I had to run around like Viper chasing her tail on the social media loop to keep my author presence alive, but I still suffered from withdrawals from the Internet. Stone Sunday was a wifi-free zone, as anyone running the risk of Gigi’s formidable wrath found out. One good thing: it meant my con stalker-chicky couldn’t reach me via any outlet from Twitter to Facebook to G+ for at least one day.
Josh found me drumming my fingers on a table as I watched Javier court danger. He hunkered over his phone, tapping away with speed.
“Watcha doin’?” Josh slung a hefty arm around my neck.
“Waiting for Javier’s imminent execution by your mom.” I peered at the black-eyed, black-haired boy. Then I knocked Josh’s arm off my shoulder, standing up straighter as Javier furiously typed on the screen of his iPhone. He giggled quietly to himself. “Holy shit, he’s like—”
“Janice.”
“Yeah, man, if she was a Hispanic homosexual.”
Beer spewed out of Josh’s mouth, landing on me. Oh well, no worse than Viper’s slobber. We continued to laugh our asses off while Javier imparted two middle fingers in our direction without even looking up. He better be careful, Gigi was liable to snap them off. A young dude with surfer blond hair approached Javier. Surfer guy leaned in to kiss his neck.
“So that’s his guy?” I took an appreciative look.
“Yeah, Tate.”
“How come we didn’t know about this?”
Josh shrugged. “’Cause we’re dumbasses?”
He was probably right about that.
“They make a cute couple.” I nodded over to Javier and his All-American jock. “They make a better couple than you and I did anyway.”
“We sucked at that, huh? And not in the way we were supposed to.” Winking at me, Josh asked, “Which one do you think is the bottom?”
I squinted at the pair. It was hard to tell. Tate had some muscle on Javier, but maybe that just meant he was the tight-end receiver. Javier was the youngest of the garage crew at twenty-three, and his boyfriend couldn’t be much older. “Maybe they’re switches?”
“The only switches I know are the ones Ma used to brand our behinds with when we misbehaved. Missy Peachtree would know all about that.” There was a fond smile on his face when he mentioned the Domme/grand dame from my writing group, the women we referred to as the Hens.
“Hey, Stone!” Javier was no longer giggling. He was outright guffawing.
“What up, ace?”
Just then, the rest of the Stone’s crew surrounded us, each brandishing his cell phone to show us . . . Oh, fuckin’ hell. Lookee there, a do-over of the infamous “Stone’s Roses” photo the guys had cobbled together while Josh and I were away in Atlanta. This time it was titled “Ring Around the Rosy”, their hairy assholes and all in close-up. Now I knew what Javier had been working away on; he’d emailed it to all the gathered gang.
And that shit was funny.
“Y’all, it’s gonna be your puckers full of posies if that bullshit ends up anywhere near Twitter,” Josh boomed.
We all laughed at his expense until
Gigi yelled, “Chow’s on! Now put them damn gadgets away and get your grub on.”
One large table crowded onto, Gigi held everyone at bay with a nod to Josh. “Say grace, son.”
His deep voice began to rumble, and I held his hand on one side and Mimi’s on the other. “We thank the Lord for the bounty he provided, for the family and friends we’re given, for the life and love granted us. For those missing, and those we will always miss, we take this time to remember.”
“Oh, Josh,” Leelee sighed from the other side of him, knowing as I did he was thinking about his dad.
I squeezed his hand and released it so he could embrace his woman, pretending I wasn’t blinking too fast when I kissed Mimi’s wrinkly cheek.
Stuffing her hankie away, Gigi started sending platters around. “Eat up, y’all.”
There was a saying from Gigi, from way back. The Stone family is everyone’s family. I looked around the table bursting with people. She had that right.
Everyone tucked in and talk turned to Leelee’s book Ride. Copies of it were everywhere in the lowcountry. The whole town of Mt. Pleasant was enamored with her. All the boys had read it, their wives, girlfriends, lovers, too. I could just imagine all the jealous broads who had bought that book simply for a hint about how Leelee had snagged the long-elusive Josh Stone.
“How do you feel about sharin’ the limelight, Nicky?” one of the jackasses asked.
“Yeah, you ain’t the only romance writer in town now.” Someone else chimed in.
I chewed a mouthful of slaw. Slowly. My writing and Leelee’s were about as far apart as you could get, apart from the gasping-for-breath sex. She was New Adult. I was Paranormal. Never the twain did meet.
I tipped my head toward Leelee. “Y’all can ask me that question when Miss Songchild has another five years under her belt.”
“Booyah!”
“Snap.”
“Oh, it’s on,” Leelee said as she reached for me. Grabbing the collar of my shirt, she growled, “Romance wars.”