For some screwed-up reason, he hadn’t been able to drive away, to just leave her standing there. Not after the way that guy had freaked her out, and not after the way she’d looked at him, as if she wanted to press those abundant curves against him and…
“Where are we?”
She licked her full, sexy-as-hell lower lip as he signaled the turn into the garage.
Jesus. His cock, which was already trying to punch through his zipper, pulsed harder. “My garage. Gotta drop off the car then I’ll get you home.”
He was hard as hell, desperate to get under that costume, no doubt. And not only because he’d gone without for a few weeks. The lust hammering him involved more than just a desperate need to get his rocks off. Yeah, her curves were fucking awesome, but they weren’t the only thing he found attractive, although they had a fuck-of-a-lot to do with it. She was a combination of sweet and feisty. Sexy and innocent.
And he wanted a piece of that. Badly.
Jesus. Nope, he obviously wasn’t thinking straight. But with the stress over his sister Lucy nearly getting booted from college… Making sure her and his mom both stayed out of the line of fire. And with Al’s boys continually breathing down his and Joe’s necks about the cars they were owed, he was running on empty. Only a couple more shipments and they were free and clear. His old man’s debt would be paid off completely, and he could finally get on with his goddamn life. And at thirty-one, that was long overdue.
Al may be a criminal and a major asshole, willing to go to any lengths to make you bend to his will, but the guy also kept to his word. As long as Hugh and his brother Joe met the deadline for their deliveries, when the last shipment rolled out they’d be released from the debt.
Sleeping with a willing woman who could take it as hard as he could give it had always been his way to work off steam, de-stress from all the shit raining down on him. The lack of action lately was obviously messing with his head.
He pulled up out front, and the garage door slid up immediately. Adam, Hugh’s best friend, was waiting on the other side, hands in the pockets of his faded jeans. The guy did not look happy when he saw Hugh had company. No surprises there. It was a dumb fucking thing to do, bringing her here. Giving her a ride in the first place.
He and Adam had boosted cars together when they were teenagers. Shit had been messed up at home, for both of them. Hugh had desperately needed money, and they’d taken the wrong path. A path they’d both gotten the hell off as soon as they could. A path they thought they’d left behind years ago, but thanks to his father, they’d been sucked back in.
Adam didn’t need to be caught up in Hugh’s mess, but when everything had fallen to shit, Adam had stuck his neck out. Now Adam was all in, which made bringing her here a dick move and one that could get them a long stretch in a prison cell.
Shutting off the car, Hugh climbed out. The passenger door opened and closed behind him, and Adam’s blue gaze moved over Hugh’s shoulder, locking onto Poison Ivy.
“Who’s your friend?”
Yep, pissed.
She moved up, smiling brightly. “I’m Shay.”
Shay. The name suited her.
“Well, hey there, Shay. Nice costume.” Adam’s disbelieving and very unhappy gaze slid back to Hugh.
He ignored the guy and glanced down at his new friend, who was now blushing. God, so pretty. “Wait here a sec, babe. Just need a word.”
She gave him a little nod, turning that smile on him, big green eyes moving over his face then dropping to his mouth. His balls tightened. Goddammit. He gave Adam a shove in the other direction, and thankfully, he followed Hugh across the shop floor and waited until they were out of earshot before speaking up.
“What in the ever-loving fuck?”
Hugh rubbed the back of his neck. “I know I screwed up, so save it. Some guy was hassling her. I offered her a ride home. What else could I do?”
Yeah, judging by the way Adam’s brows hit his hairline, a vein popping behind the feather tattoo on the side of his neck, Hugh’s lame excuse sounded as stupid to his friend as it did to Hugh.
“I don’t know, how about calling her a cab? You gave her a ride in a goddamn stolen car?” Adam gritted out between clenched teeth.
Hugh planted his hands on his hips, feeling his anger rise, not that he had any right to it. “I’m taking her home now. She doesn’t know a damn thing.” He glanced around the workshop. “Where’s Joe? You’re gonna have to do this one without me.”
“He’ll be here in a few.” Adam shook his head, shoved a hand through his dark hair. “What in the hell were you thinking?”
He hadn’t been. Not at all. “Don’t have time for this conversation. You want her gone, right?”
Adam just stared at him. Hugh didn’t blame him. He wasn’t exactly acting like himself. He was the cautious one, the responsible one these days, weighing every option, every possible outcome. Every risk. He’d done none of that tonight.
“Go, by all means, have fun.” Sarcasm dripped from Adam’s voice, his eyes narrowed, pissed as hell. “You’ve already gone this far, may as well finish what you started.”
I intend to. He didn’t say that out loud, though; the situation was screwed enough without him starting a brawl with his best friend in the middle of their workshop.
He headed back to Shay, who was standing there in that barely there costume, showing off an abundance of soft, sexy curves and a sweet little smile that made his mouth go dry.
“Let’s get out of here.” Taking her hand, he led her out of the garage.
She followed him without hesitation, holding on as the roller door slid shut behind them with a loud rattle. He carried on around to the back of the building, where his truck was parked.
Adam would already be working on the car Hugh had brought in, switching out the VIN plates with ones cloned from other vehicles of the same make, model and year. They had it down to a fine art, were fast, too. One more car and they’d have enough to be picked up for export.
Couldn’t happen too damn soon.
Two more shipments after that and they’d finally be free and clear.
Hugh pulled the key fob from his pocket and aimed it at his truck.
“So this is your business?” Shay said beside him. The breathy note to her voice did nothing to ease his rock-hard cock.
“Yeah.”
“It’s…it’s very impressive.”
He grinned at the way she said it. Jesus, the woman was sweet, the way her eyes widened, lips parting slightly. Would she look like that when he pushed inside her, when he thrust into her again and again? Shit. He needed to get a handle on it. But now he’d delivered the car and was alone with Shay, could relax, every one of his senses had zeroed in on the woman beside him.
He let his gaze roam over her. “Thanks.”
“So you own this whole place?”
He shook his head. “Part owner.”
“You must be good. The garage was filled with cars.”
He shrugged. Moved closer. Screw it. You don’t get if you don’t ask, right? Then he got closer still, using the excuse of opening her door for her, testing the waters. She didn’t step away, stayed where she was so her side brushed his front.
Instead of opening up, he stayed where he was but kept his hands to himself. He didn’t want to freak her out if she wasn’t on-board. She looked up at him. Damn, she really was pretty. He studied her for any sign of fear, any signal that she wasn’t interested. Nothing. She was attracted to him. Shit, he’d bet everything he had that she was turned on—curiosity, heat, it was right there, written all over her face. Her color high, eyes shining, breath coming in little pants.
He rested his hip against the side of his truck, looked down at her. “I’m just going to lay this out for you, then the ball’s in your court.”
She blinked up at him. “Lay what out?”
“I’m really fucking attracted to you, Shay. I don’t do dates. Don’t like to waste time, either. You’re not i
nterested, I’ll drop you home then I’m gone, no problem. But if you are, say the word, and I’ll spend the night making you come so hard you’ll forget your own name.”
Her mouth opened then closed, opened again. “Um…” Color rose on her cheeks, and the pulse at the base of her creamy throat started to flutter rapidly. “You and me…? You’re, ah…you want to…?” She cut herself off abruptly, her color getting darker.
His abs tightened, so much so, he was surprised he didn’t get a goddamn cramp. “I want to spend the night with you, babe.”
Her expression could only be described as stunned, and it wasn’t changing. Shit. Had he called it wrong?
He pulled her forward gently and opened the passenger door. “What’s your address?”
She did some more blinking, rapidly. Mouth clamped shut, biting her lips together.
“Shay?” He tucked a loose strand of red hair behind her ear, couldn’t stop himself. It felt as soft as it looked. “I’m gonna need your address.”
She gave a little start, snapping out of it. “Right, my address. Yes, you’ll need that.”
She rattled it off, and he scowled. A few blocks, my ass. She lived miles away from where he’d found her cornered by that asshole. Her place was over in Santa Monica, near the beach. A good twenty, thirty-minute drive. Hand to her lower back, because he couldn’t stop touching her, he steered her toward the open door. She climbed up, and he closed it behind her.
The drive to her place was quiet. He wasn’t great with small talk or conversation in general. Never had been much of a talker. Right then, with Shay sitting tensely beside him, he wished otherwise. He glanced over at her again. She was sitting frozen in her seat, like a damn statue, hands clasped tight in her lap.
He’d been wrong. She wasn’t into him. And yeah, that more than sucked. He wanted in, badly. But going by her hands-off posture, he wasn’t going to get what he wanted. Story of his fucking life.
A short time later, he was pulling up to a trailer park. The Happy Armadillo, read the faded sign out front. Not what he’d expected, not at all, but the grounds were taken care of, the trailers well kept. There were also colorful lights strung up outside each one, rows of flowers along their fronts. “Which is yours, sweetheart?”
She pointed through the windshield, and he noted the way her hand trembled.
“Over there.”
Shit.
Shay’s trailer was painted pink, the lights strung across the front the same color with some blue thrown in. It was cute. Like a freaking Barbie accessory. He had no goddamn business spending time with a woman like Shay. Not even for one night. He pulled to a stop in the space out front and turned off the engine. She remained quiet, didn’t move to get out of his truck.
“Shay?”
She turned to him then, eyes wide, breathing unsteady. “Yes.”
He’d freaked her out, seriously messed up, came on too strong. A big, stupid ox, clumsily making a pass at her. His size alone probably scared the shit out of her. That totally sucked. This was why he was usually so cautious, weighed his options, his words. He’d learned to control his true impulsive nature. Going with his gut never worked out well for him. This time, going with his gut had screwed up his chances with the woman beside him, and that was a damn shame. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted a woman as much as he wanted this one.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry for scaring you back there.” He tilted his head toward her trailer. “You have a good night. Maybe I’ll catch you around sometime.”
The chances of that were minimal, at best, but still, a man could hope. He reached for the key and fired his truck back up.
“No,” she blurted.
He dropped his hand, turned back to her. “No?” He was gripping the steering wheel so tight it creaked. He wanted to reach out and touch her, and she more than likely thought he was the scum of the earth. “You saying if I see you again, you want me to walk the other way?”
“No,” she whispered.
“You don’t want me to walk the other way?” What she was trying to say, he had no idea, since all the blood had evacuated his brain and taken up residence in his throbbing cock.
She shook her head, and her shiny red hair moved around her face and shoulders. He wanted to wrap it around his fist while he fucked her from behind.
“No.” She bit her lip.
“I’m kind of confused here, babe.” And so hard, my balls are close to exploding.
“What I meant to say is…thank you for the ride. It was really nice of you. And you…you didn’t scare me. If I saw you again, I wouldn’t want you to walk the other way.” The light was muted, her face washed in a pink glow from the little lights on her trailer, but he didn’t miss the way she blushed.
He needed her to get out of his truck so he could blast the air-con all the way home, cool his blood, because right now, he was burning the hell up. “You got keys?”
She seemed to snap out of it, whatever it was. The dazed expression washed from her face. “No…I. Crap.” She turned to him. “I don’t have my keys. Kayla took them when she bailed on me. Edna, my neighbor, might have a spare set.” She glanced out the window toward the trailer next to hers. All the lights were out. Her brow scrunched.
He shoved open his door. “I got it.”
Reaching into the bed of his truck, he got what he needed to pick the lock from his tool box then joined her at the door. He had it open in ten seconds.
“How did you do that?”
“Tools of the trade.”
Her brow scrunched again. “I thought you were a mechanic?”
“People lock keys in their cars all the time. Every good mechanic has a set of lock picks.” So does every good car thief.
“Oh. Right.”
He turned the door handle and pushed it open. “Night, Shay.”
She glanced up at him, teeth sinking into her bottom lip again, before her tongue darted out to slide across it. “Do you want…?”
“I better get going.” Before he made things worse and kissed her, tasted her like he was desperate to.
“Okay,” she rasped in a way that set tingles off at the base of his spine.
“Later, babe.” Then he turned away, left her standing at her door, and got the hell out of there.
Knowing full well that later would never come.
* * *
Shay tugged at the front of her shirt. The uniform at Woody’s came in two sizes—tight or tighter. Even wearing a minimizing bra, her boobs looked like two overblown cantaloupes trying to jiggle out the top of her shirt. And don’t get her started on the required skinny jeans that hid nothing. She was all wobbly belly, boobs and butt, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Her disaster of a relationship with Travis meant she’d been forced to leave her job at TBS Design. Desperate for money, she’d taken whatever she could get. She’d loved what she did at TBS, but so far, she’d found no other fulltime position. So, in the meantime, she worked at Woody’s four nights a week. She also did three half days at Raggedy Janes, a pre-loved clothing shop, which was conveniently only a short walk from The Happy Armadillo Trailer Park. In between that, she did whatever graphic design work she could pick up from home.
Because of Travis—and her own naivety and lack of judgment—her career had taken a nosedive, not to mention her standard of living. As much as she loved the trailer park—it was home, after all, where she’d lived most of her life—she missed her old apartment. She missed the furniture she’d been forced to sell. She missed having space. The saying “couldn’t swing a cat” came to mind, though in her case, it was more like “couldn’t swing a gerbil.”
Vinnie filled her drinks order, and she loaded up her tray.
He looked beyond her shoulder. “It’s gonna be a busy night.”
Woody’s was always busy. The dive bar was a popular hangout for a large and varying crowd. College kids, business types, employees from the mall a short walk away, and m
ost nights they had at least ten guys from the construction firm down the road.
This was also where some of her ex-coworkers frequented, including Travis, which was not ideal but how she’d gotten the job in the first place. She knew a couple of the waitresses pretty well, and when she needed a job, they’d set her up with an interview. Thankfully, she didn’t work Fridays when the TBS staff came in for after-work drinks.
“I better deliver these before people start getting restless.” Sliding her tray off the bar, she weaved her way through the crowd toward her section. All her tables were full. Once again, she wished her trailer was big enough for a full-sized tub. A shower just didn’t cut it after a night on her feet.
She delivered the drinks and headed to the booth at the back to take their order. The corner was always dimly lit and after coming from the bar where the lights were a lot brighter, her eyes always needed a minute to adjust. Which was why she was standing, hip to table, leaning forward to hear her customer’s order over the music, before she saw who was sitting there.
Oh, dear God.
Her mountain man.
She blinked, then blinked again.
Only she wasn’t seeing things. He was sitting right there, big body lounged back, warm chocolate eyes locked on her.
Crap.
You’re not interested, I’ll drop you home then I’m gone, no problem. But if you are, say the word, and I’ll spend the night making you come so hard you’ll forget your own name.
His huskily spoken words had been stuck in a loop in her head since he said them three days ago. He’d shocked her with his frankness. He’d also turned her on beyond all reason. But he’d mistaken her warring emotions—the strong reaction she had to him, followed by her attempt at ignoring all commonsense, and her ever-present insecurities—for fear. She hadn’t been afraid; she just hadn’t known how to tell him what she wanted.
She’d actually convinced herself to go for it. Then he’d read her wrong, and she’d been too much of a coward to set him straight. She could almost see her grandmother jumping for joy when she climbed in the car with him—then shaking her head in disappointment when she let the opportunity pass, and he drove away.
Swerve: Boosted Hearts (Volume 1) Page 2