Crashed (Entangled Indulgence)

by Sherilee Gray

  “Deacon,” she said in a deep mocking voice, mimicking him. “Well, did it work? Are you intimidated?”

  The woman was driving him insane. “Can you get in the car, so I can explain?” She didn’t move, just stared at him. “Alex?”

  “You didn’t use the magic word,” she said.

  “Please.”

  She strode toward the car. “Fine, but only because I need a ride home.”

  He climbed in after her, but she wouldn’t look at him. “So, Martin, how’s it going?”

  His poor frazzled driver looked stunned. “Ah, fine, thank you, Miss Franco.”

  “How’s the family?”

  “They’re well. Thanks for asking.”

  “No problem.”

  “So, how long—”

  “Alex,” Deacon barked.

  She stiffened and turned to him. “Well, that was rude. I was talking to Martin.”

  “Martin needs to concentrate on driving.” He grabbed her and slid her across the seat so she was plastered to his side. She didn’t struggle, she ignored him, and he realized that was so much worse. “Look at me.” She stared out the window, continuing to ignore him completely. “Well, at least you’ve shut up long enough to listen.”

  She tensed against him, her outrage blatant.

  “Yes, I did see Emily this morning. She came to my office uninvited, and when she confronted me about my interest in you, I told her the truth, that we were seeing each other. She didn’t take it very well.”

  Alex spun to face him. “So what? You’re telling me she attacked you like some wildcat because you’re seeing someone else? She has a boyfriend, doesn’t she? Why would she care who you’re seeing?”

  She didn’t trust him, not in the slightest, and that pissed him off more than it should under the circumstances, especially with his own issues in that department. “Yes, she attacked me, and it wouldn’t be the first time. The woman has a temper, and I’ve taken the brunt on more than one occasion.”

  “But why…” Alex turned more fully. “Deacon…”

  “Do you believe me?”

  She bit her lip and mulled over the simple question far too long for his liking. “I guess so.”

  “Either you do or you don’t.”

  “Fine.” She threw up her hands. “I believe you.”

  “Good.” He brushed her silky dark hair off her shoulder and cupped the side of her throat, letting the smooth heat of her skin soothe him, calm his pounding heart. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”

  “Fine with me.”

  He dragged her onto his lap and kissed her, slow and deep, letting her taste, her warmth calm him further. He pulled back, then kissed her once more because he had to. “I’m going to miss you while I’m away,” he said, lips touching hers. She made a small noncommittal sound in the back of her throat.

  She still didn’t get it, still hadn’t realized he didn’t plan on letting her go. Ever.

  But she would.

  “You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, you know that? And that’s saying something with the sisters I have.”

  She laughed, soft and sweet, and his heart squeezed in response. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  He rolled his eyes, purposely trying to bring back the fun from earlier in the day. “You would, you little tyrant.”

  “I take my job very seriously,” she said, attempting to sound serious, but the glint in her eyes gave her away.

  “Hmm, and what job is that?”

  She nipped his lower lip, then sucked and licked the abused flesh, making him groan. “Driving you crazy.”

  He slid his hand over her ass and gave it a squeeze. “You need a pay raise then, because you’re already a fucking expert.”

  She threw her head back and laughed, a full belly laugh that had him mesmerized. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  No, Alex Franco, I’m never letting you go.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alex watched the Ford Mustang roll out of the parking lot and emptied her lungs in a rush. “Holy. Shit.”

  Rusty planted her hands on her slim hips and grinned at her, green eyes bright with excitement. “Can you freaking believe that?”

  Alex shook her head, still stunned. “Nope. Maybe we’re on a hidden camera show and some dude with a microphone’s gonna jump out laughing his ass off and screaming, ‘Suckers! We’re only messing with you!’”

  “This is what we were hoping for, what we said all along would happen, but still…” Rusty brushed her auburn hair back from her face. “Poaching one of R.I.P. Classic’s customers? We get this one right…” She shook her head. “Shit, we’ll be jumping in the deep end with the big boys.”

  Alex rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms on the sides of her shorts. “I think that’s what it means, right?”

  Rusty’s spine straightened, determination transforming her entire face, making her even more stunning, if that was possible. “That’s exactly what it means. We screw this up, we might not get another chance. We have to kill it.”

  Alex bit her bit. “Right. No pressure then.”

  Rusty gave her a sharp nod. “Nope. None at all.”

  “Okay. Mr. Cannon’s Charger should be ready for the painters day after tomorrow. Then you and me can concentrate on the Mustang, and Pipe can pull on a pair of coveralls and do the small jobs already booked in.”

  “Sounds good.” Rusty looked down at her boots, and when she looked up her eyes were dancing, her grin barely contained. “We’ve so got this.”

  “We’ve more than got this. We fucking own it,” Alex said, trying to keep a straight face.

  “We’ll fucking own it and spank its ass for good measure.”

  Alex crossed her arms and nodded. “We’ll spank it till it purrs, force-feed it rocket fuel, then wheel spin that bitch into R.I.P. Classic’s workshop, screaming, ‘This is how we do it at West Restoration, bitches!’”

  They gave up trying to keep it together after that and doubled over in a fit of nervous, hysterical laughter. They were still giggling when Piper came back with lunch.

  She stopped in front of them, hands on hips, looking annoyed. “What did I miss this time?”

  Alex and Rusty just laughed harder.

  “Someone better tell me what’s going on. I always miss the good stuff stuck in that goddamn office.”

  Alex slung her arm around Piper’s shoulders. “Well, my friend, we’re gonna need you to dust off your coveralls. That quote you did for the Mustang…”

  “No,” she whispered. “R.I.P. Classic’s job. We didn’t?”

  “We did.”

  Piper’s face lit up. Out of the three of them, she was the one with the best head for business, and lately had only been used occasionally in the workshop. They planned to change that when the place got busier. They’d hire a part-timer for the office and have Piper back out with them full-time, but they weren’t there yet.

  Rusty quickly filled Piper in.

  “So I’m back in the workshop?” Pipe was beaming now.

  “Yep.”

  “About damn time.” She slid her arm around Alex’s waist and gave her a squeeze. “I was starting to worry if I didn’t get some grease on my hands again soon, I’d morph into Deacon.”

  Rusty tugged on her sister’s blond ponytail. “God, I hope not. One suited control freak in the family is enough, thank you very much. Besides, having to shave every day would seriously put the brakes on your love life.”

  At the mention of Deacon, a rush of guilt and longing moved through Alex at the speed of light. She hated keeping secrets from her friends, but what choice did she have? They wouldn’t understand—how could they? And if she was honest with herself, she knew this was the only way to work Deke out of her system. Their night together six months ago hadn’t let her go, no matter how hard she’d tried to forget it, forget him. At least this way, they both got what they wanted.

  Piper snorted as they headed to the office. “What love
life?”

  They took their seats around Piper’s desk while she handed out sandwiches. Rusty slumped back in her chair. “Yeah, the only one getting laid around here is Alex.” She waggled her eyebrows and took a massive bite of her ham and cheese on rye. “How is Jarrod?”

  Piper slapped her sister’s knee. “Gross. No wonder you’re not getting laid with table manners like that. Don’t talk with your damn mouth full.”

  Ah, crap. “Yeah, fine.”

  “Fine?” Piper shook her head. “Oh, no, you don’t. We want details. This is the first serious boyfriend you’ve had. So spill. And don’t skimp on the details. I have to live vicariously through you.” She scowled at her sister.

  Piper had a record for picking total losers, or assholes who decided they liked her big sister a whole lot more. So Deke and Rusty took it upon themselves to terrify the crap out of any man who showed an interest in their baby sister, testing them. They had to prove their worth if they wanted to date her. Poor, sweet-natured Piper didn’t stand a chance.

  They were both staring at her, waiting for her to spill her guts. Jesus. She had to give them something. “It’s just casual, you know? Just sex.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Rusty was wearing her I-see-all expression, which meant she was in serious trouble. “How good is the sex, then? Must be pretty spectacular to hook up as much as you and the suit have this last week. You’re hardly home.”

  She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly, stalling. “I guess.”

  Rusty grinned. “Well, is the dude hung or what?”

  Alex was in the middle of drinking her soda and sucked her mouthful down the wrong way. Piper jumped up and pounded on her back. Alex scowled at Rusty, who was now giggling her ass off.

  Her friend shrugged. “What? Piper wants to know as well.”

  “She does not.” Giving her friends intimate details of their brother’s anatomy did not sit well with her. Not at all. They’d be scarred for life if they ever found out.

  “Well, yeah, I kinda do,” Piper said as she took her seat again.

  Alex stood and stomped to the door. “Enough talk about my sex life. Go get one of your own.” She pulled the door open. “And if you ask me how hung he is one more time, I’ll stick dead rats in both your beds.”

  There. Ha! She spun around and slammed on the breaks, mouth dropping open. A customer stood there, eyes round as saucers. “Shit. Um…I mean…what I meant to say was…” She took a steadying breath. “Your car’s ready, Mr. Porter. Please follow me.”

  Her friends’ barely restrained laughter followed her as she went to grab the guy’s keys.

  The rest of the afternoon was thankfully busy and blessedly uneventful, so Alex wasn’t forced to endure any further questions. This was getting complicated already, and they hadn’t even reached the two-week mark.

  And it wasn’t only Piper and Rusty asking questions that had her second-guessing what she was doing. That confrontation with Emily and Tammy. Alex cringed inwardly, remembered humiliation heating her cheeks. They thought she was nothing but a gold-digging slut, and why not? She and Deacon were worlds apart now. They knew as well as she did that a man like Deacon would never want anything but a fling with someone like her.

  It had shaken her. The way they saw her, the way everyone would see her when she and Deke were together. She would never fit into his world, and she refused to change for any man. Even Deacon. Huffing out a breath, she shook her head. The point was moot anyway. That wasn’t what they were about.

  And why did she care what a couple of stuck-up Barbies thought of her, anyway?

  She dropped her wrench into the toolbox, wiped her hands off on a rag, and stuffed it in her back pocket. Then, closing the hood of the car she was working on, she walked around, reached through the driver’s side window, and twisted the key in the ignition, turning the engine over.

  The car roared to life. At least one thing was going right.

  She threw a cover over the driver’s seat to protect the upholstery and climbed in. The deep growl of the 1967 Plymouth ’Cuda’s V8 rumbled through the seat, right through her. Nothing beat it. As long as she had Rusty and Piper, the garage, she could handle anything. Even losing Deacon when their three months were up.

  She had to believe that.

  Putting the car in first, she rolled out of the garage and onto the street to take it for a test run. Window down, the wind tugged at her ponytail, the sun warming her skin. Yeah, this was all she needed.

  Then Emily’s nasty face entered her head again.

  Shit. She needed to stop second-guessing herself. But dammit, why did Deacon put up with his ex interfering in his life anyway? He and Emily were divorced. He promised there was nothing going on between them. So what was it? It was like Emily had some kind of hold over him. When she’d seen the scratches on Deke’s chest, she’d felt sick to her stomach, and yeah, she’d overreacted. But in that moment, the past had reared up and smacked her upside the head. Emily was a bitch, but she was also poised, beautiful, classy—and the woman Deacon had chosen over her. The woman he’d chosen to marry. The woman he still had a relationship with. Seeing them together, she’d felt like she had back then, when he’d left her behind to be with Emily. Not good enough.

  Never good enough.

  But in the end, she had no choice but to believe him. Why would he lie?

  Still, she couldn’t get her head around it. If it was truly over between them, then why let her insinuate herself in his life like she seemed to? Why not tell her to piss off and mind her own damn business? She hadn’t missed the way he held back around his ex-wife, treated her with kid gloves. It didn’t make any sense unless…

  She shook her head and turned up the stereo to flush out the thoughts bombarding her. She refused to waste another minute thinking about that woman.

  When she drove back twenty minutes later, she got a raised eyebrow from Rusty as she pulled to a stop in the workshop. “You get lost?”

  “Engine trouble,” she said, lying through her teeth.

  She’d needed longer than a spin around the block to clear her head. Deke would be back tonight, and she needed to get her shit together before she saw him again. She’d missed him more than she should. After only one night, a restless, lonely feeling had taken up residence in her chest. And when he’d called to say things were taking longer than he’d anticipated and he would be away another night, her disappointment had been acute.

  Those pale green eyes narrowed. “You got it sorted now?”

  “I hope so.” Pulling the keys from the ignition to lock in the safe for the night, she climbed out.

  Rusty stopped her before she’d taken two steps. “You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?”

  Alex swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah, Rust.” Jesus, she hated this. “You know I would.” Rusty gave her a small nod, then they both got busy cleaning up for the night.

  As guilty as she felt for lying to her best friends, and as much as she tried to fight it, she was helpless against the rush of excitement that moved through her when she realized in a few hours Deacon would be knocking on her front door.

  She was so screwed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was late when Deacon pulled in behind West Restoration. His meeting had run late. Usually he would have just stayed out of town another night, but it turned out, two days away from Alex was more than he could handle.

  He’d called, told her he wouldn’t make dinner, but she’d promised to wait up for him. The breathlessness to her voice when he spoke to her, that husky edge of hers, had near done him in. That alone had driven him to get in his car, to drive straight over here, despite the hour. He needed her. And he sure as hell wouldn’t leave her wanting.

  Going away, especially after what happened with Emily, had not been ideal. He’d wanted nothing more than to take Alex home and show her how much he cared, convince her to trust him, to forget their snide comments. Hell, he’d needed it for himself—t
he doubt on her face, the hurt she’d tried to hide had nearly killed him.

  Climbing out of his car, he walked around the side of the workshop, where he’d hidden his car, and looked over to his sisters’ cottage. The place was dark—both had turned in for the night. He glanced up and saw pale yellow light illuminated the front windows of Alex’s apartment. Thank God.

  Being Alex’s landlord meant he had a key to her place, and he’d told her to lock up, that he’d let himself in. He took the external stairs to her front door and used his key.

  “Alex?” He shut the door behind him and moved into the kitchen. No sign of her.

  But when he moved into the small adjoining living room, he saw her. On her side, hand tucked under her chin, asleep on the couch. Jesus, he’d missed her more than he thought possible. The more time they spent together, the more of herself she revealed, the deeper his already intense feelings became.

  She was wearing nothing but a baggy Guns N’ Roses tank top that skimmed the tops of her thighs and looked unbelievably sexy. Her smooth, bare legs were stretched out, toenails painted blue, and right then, he thought the cute silver toe ring she wore might be the hottest thing he’d ever seen. The woman was temptation and innocence all at the same time.

  She also looked utterly wiped out.

  As badly as he wanted her, he didn’t have the heart to wake her. He knew firsthand what a restless sleeper she could be. What those dreams did to her, how they shook her. She looked so peaceful. Cursing under his breath, he thrust his fingers through his hair. He could wait till tomorrow, right? One more night wouldn’t kill him.

  Fuck.

  Her scent, unique to Alex, spicy and exotic, filled the small apartment and hit him in the gut. The roar of need increased along with the swirl of emotion only Alex had managed to evoke in him. He needed to leave before he changed his mind and acted like the selfish bastard she already thought he was.

  Walking to the kitchen as quietly as he could, he grabbed a pen and jotted down a note so she knew he hadn’t stood her up, then took the blanket off the back of the couch and placed it over her. He took one last long look at his sleeping beauty and let himself out.