Throttle: A Dirty Mechanic Romance

by Kira Blakely

  I motioned for the girl to precede me from the room, and I followed her into the primary suite, where we joined the others for breakfast.

  Ripley was reading a paper. No Kindle addict there, I realized. I watched him from the corner of my eye and noticed he wasn’t the least bit interested in what he was reading. It was all a performance that made him feel like the head of the family. It also allowed him to shield his face from the others as he ogled my chest. My face was burning with anger.

  “Excuse me, Ripley, Bernadette mentioned that you were interested in getting to know Brayden Campbell?” I threw out the bait and sat back to wait. It didn’t take long.

  The paper dropped, and I saw an older version of Dougie’s face on Ripley. His lower lip opened, and he reminded me of Pavlov’s dog, waiting for his reward. “Why, yes! I would very much like that!” he blurted, much to my satisfaction. He’d given himself away. He was no more an old friend of Brayden’s than the man in the moon. He lacked the intelligence and initiative to do anything other than cling to people he thought were successful. It was pitiful to see, but I enjoyed it nevertheless.

  Bernadette almost dropped her cup of coffee as her mouth opened to protest, but a look from him silenced her immediately. Oh, my god! She was worse than him! She was wearing some awful green caftan and it had the effect of making her look like a black-haired bullfrog humped up on a rock, waiting for a fly. But I hadn’t finished with Ripley quite yet.

  “I had drinks with Brayden last evening,” I continued as I picked up a slice of toast and slowly spread butter on it. “In fact, he asked me about you.”

  “Oh? Really? What did he say?” Ripley was ready to wet his pants.

  I pursed my lips and frowned slightly, if dramatically. “Oh, Brayden doesn’t talk business to me. He holds his cards close to his chest.”

  Ripley’s face flashed toward Bernadette, a look of I told you so all over it.

  She smiled with encouragement and pride. “Of course, Brayden wouldn’t discuss business with a nanny,” she threw in, her tone condescending. If I’d been hot before that, she’d just lit the match.

  “Well, that may be so.” I threw her a weakened fly. “But I’ve known him long enough to say that when Brayden is intrigued by something or someone, he begins to ask around—you know, sort of see what others think of them? I’ve seen that before, just before he made a major move.”

  “Oh, really?” Ripley was beside himself.

  “Yes. If you’re interested at all, I’d stay close to him. Really close. He’s always been one to include his friends in a spontaneous moment, and they’ve always come out the better for it.” I took a small bite of my toast and leaned forward conspiratorially. “He’s a genius, you know. Has an IQ over 165.”

  Ripley nodded with enthusiasm. “Oh, I wouldn’t doubt that. I could tell immediately he was one of us.”

  I almost blew my bite of toast across the table at that comment but I forced myself to nod in agreement and even make my eyes adoringly large.

  Bernadette’s arrogance was in full swing. With delicate arches of her wrists, she reached outward to shake the folds of her caftan sleeves as though she wore a royal robe. Her chin went up and she lifted her coffee mug with her pinkie arched outward. The mug handle wasn’t designed for that and she dropped it, the coffee cascading over her caftan. She hastily reached for her napkin, as well as Ripley’s. There was no power on the planet that could have forced her from the table during that self-adoring, self-important conversation.

  I couldn’t stand it another second. I had to escape before I burst out laughing. “Well, I’m taking the children to the beach,” I announced, pushing back my chair as I stood. I motioned to the brats. “As I said, Brayden doesn’t ask about people casually. If you can spare the time, I’d make the most of it. He could learn a lot from you, you know.”

  Ripley’s head was nodding like a bobble-head doll and I left the room, having sealed the deal for the arrogant Mr. Campbell. He needed a lesson in what it meant to underestimate me.

  * * *

  Wearing the red bathing suit I’d had since high school and with my laptop in the case flung over my shoulder, I shooed the Bonham brats onto the beach. Each had been tasked with carrying their life jackets; Dougie with my beach chair and Katie, the small cooler that held juice boxes. I chose my moments of revenge.

  I’d finally decided on a spot when Dougie threw down my chair. “If you want it somewhere else, move it yourself.”

  I narrowed my eyes in my best imitation of a prison matron and pointed to the chair. “Open it out and put on your life jacket.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but the call of the water was too strong. He decided to do as I said, but I suspected he’d get back at me sometime later. Katie set the cooler next to the chair as she obediently put on her life jacket.

  “Don’t go in above your waist,” I told them both and settled into the sand to set up my laptop and prop myself up into the beach chair. Naturally, Dougie immediately went in the water neck high. I set my laptop into the case to avoid blowing sand and went after him. Having grown up in Florida, I was a pretty fair swimmer and he recognized he was out of his league. I dragged him ashore by the back of his lifejacket and plopped him down onto the hot sand. “Sit there until you can learn to follow orders.”

  “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” he shot back. “Too bad you’re so pathetic that your bathing suit has a hole in the butt.”

  I stopped and fought the impulse to run my hand over my bottom, but I knew he was lying.

  “Geez, when did you get that? 1960?”

  The kid had a talent for making me hate him, I had to give him that. He read me well and went on. “Yeah, right over your asshole. You probably farted too hard and it blew right through.”

  I tried to ignore him but he kept his eyes on my butt and it was making me crazy. I opened the cooler and took out a juice box, slowly looking at the back label so the colorful pictures of fresh fruit were in his direction. I poked the little straw through the foil spout and sipped it slowly, watching Katie as she scooped holes at the water’s edge and then watched the waves wash them away.

  “I want one of those,” Dougie finally said.

  I ignored him.

  He stood up and came toward me. “I said, you stupid nanny, I want one!” he shouted. There was no one within hearing. I had almost finished mine and now held it out to him.

  “Here you go.”

  He slapped it out of my hand and the juice made a red stain as it drained onto the hot sand. “I want my own.”

  “You will apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything you’ve done that was rude, mean or lying since breakfast.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “Then I will heave these two remaining juices into the ocean,” I threatened, picking them up and cocking back my arm.

  He tilted his head, calculating whether I was mean enough to do just that. He must have decided I was, and I let out a small sigh of relief. He hadn’t called my bluff.

  “I’m sorry.” He hung his head with drama.

  “Be more specific,” I ordered, still in my matron’s persona.

  “I’m sorry for punching Katie in the hallway and for calling you pathetic.”

  “That’s it? Haven’t you forgotten another little detail?”

  “Like what?” He was being stubborn.

  “Like what you said about my bathing suit bottom?”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t lying.”

  My hand flew to the back of my suit as I frantically felt for a hole in my bottoms. He grinned and while I was off guard, he ran toward me and grabbed the remaining two juice boxes out of my hand. He ran toward Katie, holding one out to her.

  “Dougie!” I shouted, angry with myself for being duped.

  “Yes?” he called out in a sing-song as he hurled one of the boxes into the ocean and quickly popped the spout on the other and drank it down. He dropped th
e empty carton at his feet and, with a smirk, headed toward me.

  Katie had stood up as she watched the juice box sail over her head into the waves. She walked toward me now and looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. I couldn’t argue with her. She peeled off her life jacket, let it fall to the sand and began walking back toward Utopia. Dougie dropped his jacket and followed her.

  “You two come back here and carry your life jackets, cooler and chair!” I shouted after them.

  Dougie kept walking but held up his middle finger over his head at me. There was nothing left for me to do but run and collect everything, including my laptop, and follow them like a pack mule.

  As we came closer to Utopia, I noticed a crowd of people in front of the entrance. They’d gathered around a limousine. The door of the resort opened and Brayden sailed out, motioning to his security detail to hold back the crowd. He personally opened the limousine door and handed out a gorgeous woman in a black dress, her Louis Vuitton shoes making her legs appear like a ballerina’s. I could hear her bell-like laughter at whatever Brayden said as he ushered her inside on his arm.

  Dougie stopped long enough to turn and look at me. “I’ll bet she doesn’t have a hole in her ass,” he pronounced and continued inside.

  God, I hated my life.

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  About the Author

  Want a FREE book? Join my newsletter and receive a free sexy short story, Big Daddy! https://dl.bookfunnel.com/55xwbees2o

  All I’ve ever wanted to do for years is write my own books. I spent an ungodly amount of time ghostwriting a few bestsellers for other authors before realizing it was time to start taking credit for my own work.

  My personal struggles in life, love, and money have driven me to start doing what I love most: Writing full time.

  I started writing when I was a teenager. I fell in love with a boy who didn’t quite love me back--admittedly, I was terribly insecure and slightly overweight--and the entire experience drove me to start practicing my craft. Writing helped me to escape, to reimagine a world where happy endings actually existed. If I couldn’t have the love of my life, I’d just create Mr. Right in my romance novels… with maybe a few embellishments.

  I’ve found my calling. Having the experience of doing what I love most as a full time job has given me happiness and confidence galore. And, soon after I found those, I was able to find companionship. Shout out to my guy and my kitty!

  I so hope you enjoy my books! I wish you the very best in this crazy thing called life.

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