by Chloe Lane
“Grace Robins. I’m—” I let go of his hand, but I don’t want to. “I’m not from here.”
Another panty-soaking grin flits across Hunter’s face. “I can tell. Listen.” He looks back over his shoulder down the street to where light is spilling out the front of the auto repair garage I’m assuming he came from, based on his outfit. “Come back to the shop with me and I’ll give you a lift wherever you’re going.”
I’m too exhausted—and too attracted—to argue. “Okay. I’m going to the One Night Stand. I think you called it a shitty motel before.”
Hunter scoops the grocery bag out of my arms and cocks his head toward the shop, frowning. “It’s not a great place.” His gaze meets mine again. “You can see how you feel about it when we get there.”
Five minutes later, I’m sitting in the front of his truck as it cruises down the main street. The windows are down, and my hair is escaping from its bun, tendrils whisping gently across my face. I’m bone-tired, but being this close to Hunter in a small space is way more intoxicating than I thought it would be. When I’m not looking out the window, I steal glances at him from the corner of my eye. He shrugged off his coveralls and pulled on a clean t-shirt before we got into the truck, and I got a glimpse of washboard abs that I’d love to run my fingers down. His hands are positioned confidently on the steering wheel, and his muscles work beneath his shirt every time he adjusts it.
I want those hands driving me.
“There’s not much open during the night here, is there?” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, and Hunter’s eyes flick over to me.
“Not much.”
“But your repair shop is?”
“Nah,” he says, that grin knocking me over again. “Just finishing up some work for tomorrow.”
My stomach plunges into my feet. If it wasn’t for Hunter, I’d be walking alone. As we sail away from downtown and onto the highway, my hands prick with sweat. This road is darker than sin. I could have been roadkill.
“I’m glad you were there,” I whisper, even though I told myself over and over on the way here that I’d never depend on any man again.
Maybe I could make one exception.
“Me, too.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the road.
It’s not long before we pull up in front of the motel, and my stomach turns.
It’s the kind of seedy place that looks like it gets broken into every other week. The door on the room closest to the end looks like it was kicked in, a ragged hole where the doorknob used to be. A shout floats in through the open window of the truck, followed by a woman’s shrill scream. I tighten my grip on the straps of my backpack.
I’m not going to let my lip quiver in front of Hunter. Not again. So I turn to him with the biggest smile I can put on my face. “Thanks for the ride, Hunter. It was—it was great to meet you.”
He gives me a long look, and I tear my eyes away from his face and turn toward the door, my hand fumbling for the handle. Every nerve in my body is screaming for me not to get out of the truck, but what other choice do I have? I can’t stay with some stranger I just met in the middle of the night. One of those rooms has to have a working lock.
Hunter’s gentle touch is what stops me dead. He reaches out and puts his hand under my chin, turning my face back toward his. “You can go in there if that’s what you really want.” His voice is a low, sultry rumble, and it’s like being wrapped in a warm blanket. “But I think you should just come home with me.”
4
Jett
I hear the doors to one of the trucks we bought for the garage slam out front just as I’m stepping out of the shower and toweling off my hair. I had been so fucking glad to get home from that bachelor party that I hadn’t even noticed the truck was gone from the driveway
“This better be the last time that idiot gets married,” I grumble, wrapping a thick towel around my waist and stepping out into the hallway dividing the bathroom and my bedroom. I can’t wait to get dressed and head back out to the living room and sit on the couch with a cold beer, alone.
Well, alone except for Hunter, which barely counts as being with someone else. We’ve been friends since the fifth grade—good enough friends that it seemed like the natural thing to do to open up a repair shop together after we finished auto mechanic training. How long’s it been? Eight years? Ten? Yeah, he does shit that gets on my nerves, but far less than anybody else ever does. It’s not a bad life.
I don’t shut the door behind me because who the hell cares if Hunter sees me tossing on boxers and a t-shirt, and that’s when the outer door to the apartment opens and Hunter comes in.
Talking.
Which means he’s not alone.
His voice is low and gentle, like he’s trying not to scare an animal, and then there’s another voice that’s even softer. As they move into the living room, I can start to make out what he’s saying.
“This is the living room. You can sleep out here on the couch if you want, or you can have my bedroom. The bedroom’s probably more comfortable, though.”
Who the hell is in my apartment?
I want to know. I’m half-curious, half-irritated, and I step out of the bedroom without bothering to put on pants, immediately regretting that decision.
Because Hunter has brought home a fucking angel in the flesh.
“Who’s this?” I say, my voice cutting through the quiet of the room in a too loud, too awkward tone, but it’s only because I’m trying to cover up the fact that my heart is exploding in my chest at the very sight of her. The girl—she can’t be much older than eighteen—flinches a little at the sound of my voice, taking one involuntary step back. Shit. I want to go over to her and gather her up protectively in my arms, and whisper that it’s all going to be okay in her ear.
But that’s fucked up, because I’ve never felt that way about a woman before. Never. The big-titted women I meet in the bar are loud and brassy and obnoxious, and the feelings I have for them aren’t really feelings at all, at least not the heartfelt, emotional kind.
Hunter puts a hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture, and when she looks up at him with those huge, blue eyes, the jealousy in my chest almost combusts into an inferno. I want to be the one touching her. Hunter meets her eyes, giving her his most charming smile. “It’s okay.” Then he looks up at me. “This is Grace Robins,” he says. “She’s going to be staying with us tonight.”
Grace steps forward again, but still remaining close to his side. “You didn’t mention there were two of you.” Her voice is soft like a soothing caress, but she tries her best to sound confident, straightening her back and lifting her chin, eyes darting between me and Hunter.
He laughs, and she visibly relaxes. “I was getting to that part. I didn’t want you to think you were walking into a bad situation.” Hunter shoots me a warning look. “This is Jett Michaels. We own the shop together.”
“And live together?”
“Yeah, I’ve known him since elementary school. He’s a good guy. I promise.”
I clear my throat and step forward, holding out my hand to Grace. Her grip is firm, but she can’t keep her eyes on my face. They flick down to the front of my boxers for just an instant, and then they become even wider. She bites at her lip, blushing.
“I should put on some pants.” I drop her hand and race the hell back into the bedroom. When I come back out again, Grace and Hunter are sitting on the couch together, Grace on one end and Hunter on the other.
“So,” she’s saying, as I walk out and sit down in the recliner next to the couch. “You two went to school together?”
“Yeah,” Hunter says, his hand now wrapped around a beer. “After we graduated, we got certified as auto mechanics and opened the shop.” He takes a swig out of his bottle of beer. “Where’d you go to school?” He says it casually, but something in the back of my mind pricks up.
Grace looks down. “Just—just the high school in Springfield,” she says, the cute pink blush coming back to
her cheeks. “I graduated two years ago. I haven’t had a chance to enroll in college yet.”
Hunter laughs. “You’ve got plenty of time.”
I get up from the chair and go into the kitchen. “Do you want a beer, Grace?” I keep myself from shouting out like a dumbass this time. When she hesitates, I turn back and look through the double doors into the living room. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know if I should…” Her voice trails off. “I’m only twenty.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh, and at the sound of it, Grace cracks a big smile. It makes me harder than steel to see that dazzling grin brightening up her face, and I grab two beers from the fridge and crack them both open. Back in the living room, Grace takes it from me tentatively, but she doesn’t flinch when she takes her first couple of swallows from it.
“We won’t tell,” I say, giving her my most charming smile. The color in her cheeks turns to a deep red. “What brings you here in the middle of the night?”
Grace takes another swig of beer and presses her mouth into a hard line. “I had to…shake things up. Now seemed like the best time to make a break for it.” The way she says those last few words seems like it’s meant to be a joke, but her eyes are deadly serious, a little fearful even. My heart twists in my chest. She’s trying to be damn brave for someone who’s actually really terrified. I want to know what the hell she’s running away from, but now’s not the time to ask.
“You’re safe here.” It’s not the kind of thing I say to just anyone. I’m not that kind of guy.
Grace nods, once.
Then she bursts into tears.
5
Grace
Hunter is the first to react when I break out into wrenching sobs, reaching across the sofa and pulling me towards him, folding me into his arms and moving me into the center. More heat rushes to my face as I try frantically to wipe away the tears. It feels so good to be comforted in his strong embrace that I can’t force myself to pull away, even though I know I should. I didn’t come here to become attracted to an auto mechanic I just met.
Then the opposite end of the sofa sags as Jett sits down on the other side of me, silently wrapping his arm around me, as well.
They’re both built, muscled and solid, and I take a deep breath, Jett’s spicy body wash mixing in with the faint tinge of grease from Hunter’s hands. It should feel strange to be sandwiched in the center of two men like this, but it doesn’t—not at all. For the first time all night, I feel absolutely secure and completely safe. Nothing’s going to happen to me here.
I almost wish something would happen, and when the dirty thought crosses my mind, the heat in my face spreads down through my core and lands straight between my legs. I can’t stop crying—but underneath the tears, I’m filled with a kind of relief and it’s turning into a burning need that I can’t admit or explain.
The sobs settle a little, not quite tearing from the depths of my chest anymore, but their hands are still caressing me gently. Hunter’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Are you all right?”
I laugh half-heartedly, wiping at another wave of tears. “This is so embarrassing.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Jett says, his voice smooth and low. I glance up at him, at his light hair still damp from the shower, and I notice his green eyes boring into mine, but all I see there is concern.
And heat.
“I ran away because I thought I was strong enough to get away and be on my own,” I blurt out, my voice still quivering. I clear my throat in hopes of steadying my voice. This is not how I want to come off—as a weak woman. I’m not weak just because I’m not very tall and I’m on my own for the time being and first time ever. I might be weak for loving how it feels to be surrounded by Hunter and Jett this way, so close, but that’s—that’s not something I can ever say to them. “I just had to get away from…from Dale.”
I bite at my bottom lip and wait for them to react.
I can feel Hunter tense beside me. “Who’s Dale?”
I gesture nervously in the air, spilling a droplet of beer in the process. “My—my ex-boyfriend, I guess.”
Jett leans in, his eyes laser-focused on mine, and when he finally speaks, his voice comes out more like a growl. “Did he hurt you?”
I suck in a breath as more tears fall. “No.” I try to make my voice sound as firm as possible, but I know I’m failing miserably, and I realize I’m wringing my hands nervously. “No, he didn’t do that.” Jett is still looking at me with narrowed eyes, like he doesn’t quite believe me, and I’m so close to Hunter that I can hear his heart beating fast in his chest. “He was just—when he came home drunk earlier tonight, I thought he might…” I let my voice trail off. I don’t know what I thought Dale was going to do. I just knew I had to get out of there.
“If he touched you,” Hunter says in a warning and ominous tone, and his voice is so tense with anger that it sends a shiver down my spine, “we’ll go find him right now and make sure he never does it again.”
Jett nods.
“He didn’t, I swear.” I can feel another sob rising in my chest, and I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to keep crying in front of these men—these men who are so strong and powerful. They feel like they don’t have a single weakness, and sitting between them, I’m just a girl who had to run away from her idiot boyfriend just to get a break in life. And I couldn’t even pull that off. “But please…don’t go after him.” I can’t stop the words from falling from my lips.
As soon as they do, Hunter gathers me closer into his chest, Jett’s big hand resting comfortingly on my shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about that,” Hunter murmurs. “We’ll stay right here. You can stay right here with us.” Then he laughs, and the sound releases some of the tension in my chest. “But I don’t know what we’re doing right now. It’s almost one o’clock. You must be exhausted.”
I giggle in spite of myself. “I’m not usually such a crybaby. But yes, it’s been a long day.”
“We don’t think you’re a crybaby.” The way Jett says we sends a spark of heat down my spine. He feels completely comfortable speaking for both of them. Hunter wasn’t kidding about their friendship. For some reason, it makes me feel even better about being here…with both of them.
Now that I’ve admitted how tired I am, though, I can hardly keep my eyelids open. They keep falling heavily, weighted with all the things I went through today, and the next thing to come is a giant yawn. “I’m sorry, guys…”
“Don’t be sorry.” Hunter reaches under my arms as my eyes droop closed. I just can’t keep them open, and the next thing I know, I’m embraced in the safety of his arms, moving through the house, curling my head against his chest. I shouldn’t be acting like this, letting him do this, but I’m too tired to resist…and I don’t want to.
Too soon he’s placing me gently down onto a bed that smells like him, pulling up soft sheets and a comforter around me, and tucking me in.
“I’ll be out of here as soon as I can,” I murmur, and he strokes one hand over my hair. “My car…”
“There’s no rush,” he says softly. “We’ll deal with your car in the morning. Just get some sleep.” There’s a languid pause. “If you need anything, I’ll be out on the couch. Good night, Grace.”
Then I’m drifting off into dreams that involve both of them, dirty dreams, filthy dreams, but oh, such delicious dreams...
6
Hunter
I shut the bedroom door quietly behind me, blocking out the sound of Grace's already-even breathing, and move back out into the living room.
I'm not tired. Well, my body is tired from working all day in the shop, but my brain is buzzed on the sight of Grace, on the feel of holding her in my arms, on everything about her. I stop in the middle of the room and run my hands through my hair.
Jett looks up at me from where he’s still positioned on the couch, his hand curled around a beer that he's hardly touched. “Fuck, man,” he says,
and I don't have to ask what he means.
“I know.” I sink back down on the other end of the couch and grab my beer off the coffee table, taking a hefty swig. “Is there anything on TV?”
He shifts. “Probably just shit.”
I pick up the remote and flip through the channels until I find Fast & Furious 12, or whatever number they're up to now, and then we both sit there and pretend to watch it.
It's hanging in the air between us, how much we both want to go into that bedroom and crawl in beside Grace. I'm hard as a rock and doing my best to ignore it, but I want the length of my body pressed against hers. I want to feel every movement she makes under the sheets and be there when she stirs in her sleep. Even more than that, I want to be there when she wakes up, slowly realizing that I'm there with her, and turns toward me, her perfect pink lips parting in drowsy surprise, feeling my hardness...
“I'm going to bed.” Jett stands up abruptly, planting his feet heavily on the floor as he goes into the kitchen. There's the clatter of his beer bottle in the cardboard box we keep for returnables. Without another word, he heads off to his bedroom and shuts the door. If I know him—and I do—he's only acting so pissy because he wants something he can't have.
At least, he wants something that we both can’t have.
I slip Grace's bag of groceries into the fridge, then move around the apartment turning off the lights, checking the lock on the door, and pulling out a spare blanket and pillow from the hall closet.
The couch is old and lumpy as hell, but I'm tired enough to push those thoughts from my head and close my eyes.