Sexton Brothers Box Set

by Lauren Runow

  We’ve been talking for so long, I almost forgot we came here to actually eat. When she walks away, I notice Austin is taking another drink, as if he didn’t just declare we’d be going on another date.

  “Fourth date?” I ask again.

  His eyes crinkle at the sides when he sees my slack-jawed expression. He slightly leans in and states clearly, “Dating is like racing a car. First, you have to see the track, feel it. In this case, taste it, like I already have.”

  My mind drifts back to that kiss, and a tingle runs up my spine.

  “On the second date, you do what’s called tracking the curb. You commit every delicate detail to memory. You want to feel every curve, so you can ride it with your eyes closed,” he says. “When it comes to us, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you another one of my secrets and you’ll let me explore every peak and valley of your smooth skin.”

  I let out a tiny gasp as I imagine what it would feel like to have his hands on my breasts.

  He continues, “The final lap is called the cooldown because the brakes are hot enough to melt rubber. The key is to use all of your fingers, gripping the wheel to get the best response. That’s what happens on the third date.” He pauses as he comes even closer to me. “Do you want me to tell you what it feels like when you cross the finish line on the fourth date?”

  Yes.

  I swallow hard and barely whisper, “No.”

  I’m sitting here with my nipples hard as rocks and my breaths coming out in tiny pants as the food comes out and I sit back in my chair, needing the breather and distraction from the moment.

  I’ve never been so turned on by words, but the way his voice turned deeper, I could feel my body craving the wild rush of the ride he was offering.

  11

  AUSTIN

  My suspicions were right. There’s something different about this girl.

  When our lunch came, I watched as her eyes lit up at the sight of her meal. The burger I’d ordered was the biggest, messiest piece of heaven on earth, and I’d wondered how she would react to it.

  I hate a girl who can’t eat in front of a guy, but she didn’t seem to care one bit. After cutting it in half, she picked it up and devoured every last bite. The little sounds she made once the grease explosion hit her mouth were some of the sexiest noises I’d ever heard over food.

  Afterward, I played it cool, and we walked back to the office, saying good-bye in the hallway and heading in our different directions. I wanted to kiss her again. Hell, I wanted to take her back to my place and strip her bare, but I know I’m fucked for going as far as I did. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’d be wise to stop it before it goes any further.

  Unfortunately, I’m not wise.

  To blow some steam, I head to my personal auto showroom, attached to the garage of the Sexton building. It was part of the loading dock that I had converted to a sanctuary for my babies. And by babies, I mean, cars.

  “Thought I’d find you here,” Gregg says as he opens the steel door.

  “Wouldn’t exactly call you Sherlock Holmes,” I say, running a cloth along the red paint of my Corvette ZR1.

  Even though this beauty is the fastest horsepower you can get in a manual transmission from a production car—actually shooting flames out the tailpipes—her wheels have never met a race.

  Gregg laughs as he snakes a pack of smokes out of his shirt pocket and pulls a cigarette with his lips. “Not the worst thing I’ve been called today.”

  “Fight with Julie?”

  He lights it and takes a deep inhale. “She kicked me out.”

  I’m not surprised. Gregg and Julie have been going out for three years, and they have yet to go three months without Gregg landing on my couch for a night.

  “What did you do this time?” I ask as I buff out a smudge I see on the taillight.

  The smoke billows out of his mouth as he answers, “Asked her to marry me.”

  I look up at him. “You monster.”

  He shrugs. “It probably didn’t help that I asked after she threw a shoe at me for coming home at four in the morning.”

  I rise, cross my arms over my chest, and appraise him. “You proposed to your girl to win an argument?”

  He takes another drag. “No. I was gonna do it eventually. She just has this wild look in her eyes when she’s mad. I fucking love it.”

  With a laugh, I shake my head at my friend, who is a goner for a girl who is as less likely to be tamed as he is. Kind of reminds me of my own pain in the ass. When Jalynn gets mad, she gets this cocky stance with her shoulders back, and her chin held high, as if her five-foot-five frame is going to measure up to me at six foot two. She’s a spitfire, all right. One whose mouth I want to taste over and over again.

  Gregg walks around the car and appraises the detail. “Missed a spot.”

  I flick him the finger. “What brings you here, to the illustrious Sexton building?”

  Gregg is the only non-Sexton employee or tenant who can enter the building. I had an ID badge made for him last year, so he could have access to my cars.

  “Paying a visit to my best friend. I just got off the phone with some of the guys. They were with Tyler’s mom. And would you believe that an anonymous donor paid off her mortgage?” His tone is sarcastic, but his face is serious.

  “Good for her. I know Tyler was helping her out. Now, she doesn’t have to worry about the bills.”

  Gregg leans forward, placing his two hands on top of the hood of my car. “You don’t have to pay a penance, man.”

  I toss him the rag. “Wipe your grubby paw prints off my car.”

  He takes it and runs it over the hood, smoothing out the marks his fingers left on the freshly waxed roof. “I mean it, Austin. Paying for the funeral was awesome, but this just reads like you’re guilty. We ran a race. Tyler was there and crashed on the way home. I hate what happened, too, but if this is some sort of personal—”

  “I didn’t do it because I felt guilty,” I stop him before he continues his diatribe. “I just happen to know how much it fucking sucks to lose someone suddenly like that. Grieving is hard enough. How she’s gonna pay the bills should be the least of her worries right now.”

  He flicks his finished cigarette out the open garage door. “I didn’t think about your mom.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not your job to.”

  His hands are now in his pockets as he solemnly nods at me. I catch his eyes wandering over to the other four cars in the garage—Porsche 911 GT3 RS, McLaren 570S, Jeep Grand Cherokee Trackhawk, and Beckett’s 1964 ½ Mustang, which Jalynn still hasn’t picked up and I haven’t asked why. Each has been buffed and shone even though some haven’t hit the streets in weeks.

  “You okay, man? I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”

  I lean my hip against the car and wipe my hands on the T-shirt I changed into when I first entered the garage. “Keeping tabs on me?”

  “Usually, you get the itch by now. Surprised I didn’t see you at Sonoma raceway last night.”

  Gregg’s right. Since I got home from the Marines, I’ve found myself as a constant fixture on the racing circuit. If I’m not behind the wheel, I am at the gate, watching every turn and hard brake, scouting the next recruit for the underground drag races Gregg and I have been hosting. Aside from racing Beckett for pinks, I haven’t had the desire.

  A stupid grin crooks his face as he asks, “What’s her name?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The girl whose got you thinking with your cock and not your head?”

  I clench my fist at that statement. “Watch your mouth, asshole.”

  He laughs like he’s proud of himself for getting me all riled up. “Damn. She must be pretty special.” There’s still a big-ass smile on his face as he points a finger at me. “For the record, your head is so messed up; thinking with your cock is actually a good thing. What’s her name?”

  My jaw is still clenched even though I know he’s kidding. “None
of your business.”

  He stops laughing and stands still, looking back at me like I just told him I sold my Corvette for a dollar, and then he slightly shakes his head. “I never thought I’d see the day you fell hard for a girl.”

  “No one’s falling over here. The only girl in my life is a pain in the ass who can’t keep her mouth shut.”

  “What color eyes does she have?”

  “Hazel,” I answer too quickly.

  I grab another rag off a nearby shelf and toss it at him to wipe the smug expression off his face. He’s laughing now, and I can’t help but find myself smiling.

  “This is why no one wants to bet against you. You cheat.”

  His palms go up in defense. “I can’t help it if I’m clever.”

  I open the door to the car and climb into the driver’s seat, wanting to feel the steering wheel in my hands, hoping it will take my mind off what I really want in my hands. “If you were so fucking clever, you wouldn’t be here with me. Instead, you’d be sucking up to your fiancée.”

  “Have you seen the size of my girl’s shoes? It was like getting clobbered with a sledgehammer. I’d better have a ring before I go back there.”

  “So, you gonna tell me what you were doing out last night until four in the morning?”

  He takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it to me. “There’s a new driver hitting the circuit. You should check him out.”

  I step out of the car, frustrated, before I look at the license plate number that he jotted down. “I will when I’ve got time.”

  “He’ll be at the Dunnes tonight.”

  Shoving the paper into my back pocket, I raise my chin to him. “I said I’ll check him out when I have time.”

  Gregg’s grin is still plastered on his face as he walks himself out the steel door and closes it behind him.

  Usually, when he comes around with the name of a new driver, I get an adrenaline rush. The need to scout out our next race is part of the excitement. The races are always announced in a rush and are over before the night is through.

  Tonight is different. I don’t have that same feeling, and I don’t know if I should be relieved or annoyed.

  I’m putting my supplies away in a locker I keep in the back when I hear the steel door open again.

  “What’s the matter? Julie won’t let you back in?” I ask as I turn around to bust Gregg’s balls for returning so soon, but my smile fades when I see the figure who has entered my showroom is not my best friend. It’s my archenemy.

  “Smoking in a public building is against the law,” Missy says as she appears in the doorway in red from head to toe.

  I’m sure it’s meant to make her look classy. To me, she looks like the devil.

  I slam the locker shut, causing it to ricochet a little off the hinge. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was on my way home for the night when I saw Gregg leave. It’s a shame he hasn’t amounted to much since high school.”

  “He’s a longshoreman. The guy’s got better benefits than all of us.”

  She tsks with pity. “A dock worker is hardly something to be envious of.”

  “An honest day’s work is quite the turnoff for you, isn’t it?”

  “Poor men are a turnoff for me,” she states as her tongue runs along the front of her perfectly white teeth.

  “Yeah, well, gold-digging bitches are a turnoff for most men, so there’s no hurt there.”

  She smiles. “So much hostility.” Her heels clack with each controlled step as she walks further into the room and stops a few feet from me. “There was a time when you used to like me.”

  I clench my jaw. “I was fifteen and a walking sack of hormones. It’s pretty sick if you think about it—an eighteen-year-old girl sleeping with a child like me. What would my father think?”

  Let this go down in history as my one major regret. I was a sophomore in high school when I slept with Missy once during spring break. I just wanted to get my dick wet, and she was smoking hot.

  While she was a great lay, it was clear she was only after one thing—bedding a Sexton. The girl knew from a young age that she wanted to be one of us. It just took her a few beds to figure out who was willing to take her.

  She lets out a cackle, which has me pinching my eardrums closed. “You think your daddy cares that I slept with you when I was a teenager?” Her laugh dissipates, and she levels her gaze at me as she says seriously, “It’s a big fucking joke in our house.”

  Her eyes roam over my black T-shirt and down the front of my jeans. I grind my teeth, not liking the way she’s appraising me, almost undressing me with her eyes.

  “Then again,” she adds, “you weren’t a man back then. I bet you’ve put a lot of miles on those tires. I’d be interested in taking a test drive.”

  “I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

  She inches closer. “Come on. What better way to piss off your dad than to take his hot young wife to bed?”

  “You’ve got a lot of balls, coming in here and talking like that. My father would divorce your ass so fast, you’d be right back in Salinas before the prenup was in effect.”

  My threat doesn’t seem to thwart her as she steps back with a laugh. “I already own a quarter of the company, Austin. There isn’t an attorney in the world who can take that from me.”

  I punch the wall at the thought of my fucking father and his stupid, goddamn lack of willpower. It’s one thing that he had to go out and marry the town slut, but to hand over half of everything he owns? Hand over what my mother worked twenty years to create? He’s a fucking disaster.

  And, to think, my mother put stipulations on her children’s shares to keep us out of trouble. Little did she know that her husband was going to be the one to blow up the entire business.

  “I’ll buy you out,” I bite.

  “You have money, Austin, but you don’t have enough to buy me out. Not with the offers we’re getting.”

  “Then, keep the shares and live the high life. You don’t even have to work. Bryce, Tanner, and I will make sure you have everything you need. Go to Saint-Tropez or St. Barts. Rent a yacht and go sail away for a few years. Just leave us the fuck alone.”

  “I don’t want the yacht!” Her tone is deadly. “I don’t want to be some housewife living on a million dollars a year. I want my fair share.”

  “Fair, my ass. You’ve done nothing to deserve a payout!”

  “I’ve done plenty!” she shouts back as her pupils dilate, and her cheeks turn ravenous red. She looks wild and unhinged, and it makes me wonder just what exactly she’s done to feel she deserves it all.

  My chest is heaving with anger, but my breaths come out controlled. “Get out of my garage.”

  “What are you gonna do about it”—she takes a step back and raises her chin—“Falcon?”

  I knew it. I knew she was aware of my involvement in the races. How? I have no idea. But Missy has a vendetta against my brothers and I that is far greater than anything I can imagine.

  I tear my gaze away from hers, knowing that she can see just how fucked I am. She has me by the balls. Why she hasn’t tried to get me arrested is beyond me. Maybe she doesn’t have anything of substance. Maybe she’s waiting for me to fuck up so bad, there won’t be any way for me to get out of it. Whatever it is, it’s unnerving, to say the least.

  “Good night, Missy.” I dismiss her with the simple phrase.

  She seems disappointed to end the sparring session. If there’s one thing about Missy, it’s that she’s a fighter. Her morals might be fucked up, but she won’t back down until she wins.

  Her mouth curls on the sides as she turns around and heads toward the steel door. When she’s gone, I close it behind her and lock the dead bolt. This is why I like to go on the roof. There are no distractions when people don’t even know it exists.

  I run my hand inside my back pocket and pull out the license plate number. Next, I pull up my phone and text the only person I can deal w
ith tonight.

  12

  JALYNN

  When I see Beckett’s name flash across my phone, I drop my head against the couch, not sure if I’m ready to deal with him yet. We haven’t spoken since I left him standing on the sidewalk. Feeling guilty about our last interaction, I sigh and swipe the phone to answer.

  “Hi,” I say, trying to act nonchalant.

  “Are you still mad at me?”

  “I’m not mad at you. I’m disappointed in you. There’s a difference.”

  “Then, are you going to help me?”

  “Help you what?”

  “Tell me who he is, so I can get my car back. I’ve tried to get a name on my own, but I can’t find anything on him. I signed the pink slip over to Gregg. He seems to be the only person who knows who he is. I’ve even followed Gregg a few times to see if he might meet with him, but he’s only been at work and with his girlfriend.”

  “Do you understand how psycho you sound right now? You’re following him?” I ask in both shock and fear.

  I have no clue if Gregg and Austin hang out outside of the races.

  “Only a few times,” he says, trying to defend himself.

  “That’s a few times too many, Beckett. You lost your car. Fair and square. You’re not going to get it back.”

  Guilt runs through my stomach. I know I should tell him I have his keys, but I’m not ready to give in yet. He needs to learn his lesson, and if he gets it back right away, I have a feeling he won’t.

  “I will, Jalynn. With or without your help!”

  To my surprise, he ends our conversation, and I’m shocked when I look at my screen to see Call Ended written across the top before my home page comes into view. I drop my phone and give my attention back to the television when Eva walks into my room.

  “Hey, girl. Where were you tonight? You missed spin class,” Eva says from my doorway. She’s got a lavender workout outfit on against her gorgeous skin with caramel undertones. Her toned arms are flexed as she rests them on her hips.

  “Why would I work out when I can watch Deadpool and eat my year’s allotment of popcorn in one sitting?”