Getting Dirty: A Second Chance Menage Romance (Hard n' Dirty Book 1)

by Aubrey Cara

  “The ice cream brothers called in. Jerry said he has pneumonia, and Ben has herpes.” In other words, they have the bottle flu.

  “Why can’t they puke their guts out and then come in and work on some cars like real men?” I grumble. Those two idiots are the best mechanics but the worse employees.

  “I told them they have till eleven to drag their sorry asses in or they’re fired.”

  “You’re too soft on them.”

  “Yeah, well, outside of Tony, there’s no one else on staff who knows more about cars than those two. I can’t fire them unless I’ve got someone who can replace them.”

  “What, someone like me?” I drop my spoon so it clatters in the bowl and scrape my chair back from the table. “I refuse to feel guilty for focusing on my bike business.”

  “Whoa.” Jess raises his hands in genuine surprise. “I didn’t say shit about your bikes. I think you should focus on building your business.”

  I walk my bowl over to the sink and give my brother a suspicious side-eye. Maybe I’m being a touchy bastard, but up until this moment Jess has been giving me shit for my lack of involvement in the family business this year.

  “You high on rich-girl pussy?” I guess. A stupid grin stretches from ear to ear. “Fuck. You are.”

  He laughs. “Jealous?”

  Before last night, I would have said hell no, and mostly meant it. My outlook on his new fancy piece of princess ass has gotten complicated. I hope his involvement with her is short lived.

  Jess looks at the time on his phone and curses. “Look, I really do want to talk to you about some shit later.”

  Talk? “Like what?” I fucking hate talks.

  “Mostly your business and expanding the garage. Good stuff. And I promise to make it as painless as possible.” He grabs a piece of bread and doesn’t even bother toasting it before shoving it into his mouth. “I got to run, but I didn’t want to wake Madeline. I kept her up all night.” The bragging bastard winks at me. “If she wakes up before I get back, can you take her to get her car?”

  I cross my arms over my chest.

  He sighs in exasperation. “Come on, man, don’t be a dick.”

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  He tosses the keys to the Mustang at me. I catch them and frown at him. “What are these for?”

  “So you can drive Maddie back to her car.”

  Maddie? I toss the keys right back at him. “If I have to take Maddie back to her car, her prissy ass can ride on the back of my bike.”

  Jess’s brows pull down in annoyance. He looks like he wants to argue but instead sets the keys down on the little table by the door. “The keys are here. Try not to be a bigger dick than usual.”

  I roll my eyes. He’s so fucking dramatic. And if he thinks I’m going to kowtow to his new girlfriend’s every spoiled little demand, he can get bent.

  I stand in the kitchen and stare at the door to Jess’s bedroom. I can fucking smell her from here—some light flowery perfume that makes my dick twitch. She’s only been here one night and our entire house smells like her.

  I hope Jess had fun last night, because I’m going to make sure Madeline Fitzpatrick doesn’t get her parasitic talons into my brother.

  Madeline

  Metal spikes of shrapnel have been lodged into my skull. That is the only explanation for why my head hurts this bad. I roll to my back, my arm going wide. I’m alone but on flannel sheets…which prompts me to recall where I am, who I was with, and why there’s a dull throb between my sticky thighs.

  I peek open my gritty eyes to see my phone next to a bottle of headache medicine and a glass of water on the nightstand. As one-night stands go, Jess Wallace is knocking it out of the park.

  I sit up and reach for the meds and suck down the entire glass of water like I’ve been wandering the desert. This hangover is nothing a hot shower and electrolytes can’t fix. And maybe more painkillers.

  From the corner of my eye, I see a note. I pick it up.

  M,

  Had to go in to work. Will be back before noon. If you need to leave before that, Jace can give you a ride.

  -J

  PS I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. If you leave before I get back, text me.

  PPS I programed my number into your phone so you have no excuse.

  My heart gives a little girlish flutter at the same time my mind reasons I need to squash whatever this thing is between Jess and I before he gets the wrong impression. One should not have further contact with one-night stands who leave considerate flirty notes, headache medicine, and want you to text them. The first two are fine, but the last…that can only lead to something messy. I don’t need any more messy.

  I snatched up my phone and sure enough, it’s powered on and I have forty-three missed text messages. Five voicemails and seven emails. Only one of them is from Jess who texted himself from my phone and replied got it.

  I roll my eyes but smile, too. He replied to his own message. I shouldn’t find that cute.

  I throw back the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed while scrolling through my phone. I bypass all the texts from Cynthia and Tristan and go right to the one and only from Dave.

  Dave: Call me ASAP

  The time clock on the text is 2:30 a.m. Shit. That’s not good. I’m a little irritated as I snatch Jess’s flannel shirt off the floor and put it on. Dave has no reason to be angry. If anything, he should be thanking me, not sending me terse texts at two thirty in the morning.

  I creep into the narrow hall, peeking into the kitchen before tiptoeing over the cold tile floor to the back door. It’s only eight o’clock, and I’m assuming Jace is still passed out somewhere. I’d rather not wake him up if this phone call I’m about to make gets heated.

  As quietly as I can, I turn the knob and ease outside into the crisp chill of morning. Pulling up the contact list on my phone, I find Dave and hit call. It only rings once before he picks up. That’s not great.

  “Madeline.” The way he draws out my name in a monotone lets me know he’s definitely not pleased. That’s too bad.

  “Good morning, Dave,” I level back at him as I step off the cold concrete steps onto the equally chilly grass. “How are you this morning?”

  “Cyn quit, which saved me having to fire her.”

  Supreme satisfaction pumps through my veins in a heady rush. “You’re welcome.”

  Dave heaves a sigh on the other end of the phone. “We’re moving Euan and Tristan to the chief risk analyst position.”

  “What?” I reach out to grab onto something and there’s nothing there. “I saved our asses.”

  “Actually, Tristan saved our asses.”

  “Tristan? Nagasawa—”

  “Gave us false information,” Dave finishes. “I know. Tristan informed us on it the second he discovered it. He was also the one who found out Cynthia took money from them under the table.”

  My mind reels. Why did Celia send me that email then? “Okay fine. Tristan knew. That’s great. It doesn’t explain why you’re firing me. And I am assuming you are firing me.”

  “We are. You went behind Franklin’s and my back to dissolve our dealing with Nagasawa—”

  “It’s my job—” I interject.

  “And if you had talked to us, you’d know we were deciding how best to handle it. Furthermore, you went against our direct order to take time off. That wasn’t a suggestion, Madeline. You were suspended because you lost your shit and destroyed your office. That little assistant of yours is suing for emotional stress in our work environment.”

  I narrow my eyes and grit my teeth. Of course he was suing, the little shit. “I can’t help noticing it’s going to take two men to do the job I did alone.”

  “We should have never let you take that much on. For fucksakes, Madeline, you’re a wreck.”

  “Fuck you, Dave. I can go to any other company tomorrow and get hired in a second.”

  “You know you signed a no-compete clause that lasts for
a year after you leave Dominus.”

  “Dammit, Dave, that’s not the point and you know it. This is bullshit. You know this is bullshit.”

  Dave heaves another heavy breath into the phone, and I can practically see him scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration. That’s how I know this is real. He’s not fucking around or going to let me talk my way back into the office. Dave doesn’t drop his poker face until all business dealings are said and done. And he’s done.

  “There’s nobody better than you, Madeline. I’ll admit that, but you’ve lost your edge. You’re not a team player, you’re shit at delegating, and you don’t know when to step back and take a fucking break. You’ve turned yourself into a head case and a liability to our company.” His words hit me like acid and burn up my throat. Especially since I recognize the truth.

  “I’m sorry,” he says softer. And I’m not sure which is worse, the scathing review of why I’m being let go, or Dave’s fucking show of compassion. “When you’re ready, Frank and I will be happy to give you a good recommendation.” Only Dave could get away with referring to Franklin as Frank.

  “Thank you. That’s generous,” I say because my brain has gone on autopilot, and at least my subconscious knows how to handle this while the rest of me is frozen.

  “No one has to know you were fired. We’re going to tell people you elected to step down.”

  I dumbly nod into the phone like he can see me. On some level I recognize I really should be grateful they’re at least sparing me that humiliation. I’ve been humiliating myself enough lately as is.

  “You’ll receive six months’ salary and the return of all your vested interest…” He keeps going over details, but the roaring in my ears drowns him out.

  “I’ve got to go, Dave. I’ve got a call on the other line.” I hang up before he says anything else. There’s nothing left to say. For me, there’s nothing left, but burnt out flames turned to ash.

  Fuck. Fuck everything for going wrong. So fucking wrong. Everything is falling the fuck apart. I am Madeline Elaine Fitzpatrick. My life does not fall the fuck apart!

  I chuck my phone as hard as I can. It hits the driveway with a crack and slides to the other side of the yard and then I scream. Hands balled into fists, I scream as hard as I can then start punching the air. Panting I scream in rage again. It feels cathartic to let all it all out this way.

  Tears sting the back of my eyes, and I start to hyperventilate.

  I can’t cry now. Not over this. I refuse. Hands on my knees I struggle for breath.

  “You ’bout done losing your shit over there?”

  I jerk around and find Jace leaning on one arm in the wide entryway of the pole barn, watching me. He’s shirtless in the cool morning, wearing low-slung jeans and black work boots. Jace is a bit leaner than Jess but just as hard bodied. There’s smears of grease on his perfectly chiseled abs and chest, and I have to wonder what the hell these Wallace brothers are eating. Maybe they have a home gym.

  He pushes off the doorframe and walks two steps forward, drawing a rag out of his back pocket to wipe off a dirty wrench. “I’m trying to get some work done, and your obnoxious tantrum is kind of distracting.”

  I square my shoulders and wipe away the stray tear that manage to escape.

  This day just keeps getting better and better.

  Jace

  Princess No Pants pulls herself together in a snap. Shoulders back. Chin up. Her eyes still shine with tears but also snap with fire.

  Which is a relief. I kind of like seeing her screaming and punching the air. Wild and unhinged. It made me want to strip away that shirt that’s hiding less than it’s covering, and see how uninhibited her prissy ass can get.

  But then she crumpled. I saw the moment all the fight left her.

  For two point two seconds, I thought she may fall to the ground in a blubbering heap, and I don’t have time to deal with that shit.

  “I thought you were still sleeping.” Her statement is more accusation.

  “Nope.” I wish I was, but every time I close my eyes, I see her coming. Hear her breathy mewls of pleasure.

  Her wailing last night had woken me out of a drunken stupor. I’m not sure what I thought I’d find when I stumbled across the kitchen to my brother’s door, but it wasn’t Madeline’s gorgeous flushed body spread out, thighs strapped open as she writhed on the bed.

  And I definitely wasn’t prepared for the wave of jealousy and fucking want that nearly knocked me on my ass when she looked me straight in the eyes and came on my brother’s face.

  “How long have you been standing there?” she asks in a haughty tone, like she’s in some boardroom instead of half-naked in my backyard, rocking “just fucked” bedhead, stubble burn on her creamy thighs.

  I shrug at her question. “A bit.” Since she stepped her half-naked ass out the door and crept down the stairs.

  Her eyes spark.

  Yep, she knows I’ve been here the whole time.

  “That’s great. Did you enjoy the show?”

  Truth is, when she first came out, I was curious. Then annoyed she was having some secret conversation with a guy when she had been here last night fucking around with my brother. But then she said she was fired.

  Seeing the devastation skating across her face in that moment wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I thought something like that would be. Not that I feel bad for her. Madeline is a she-devil. I’m sure she deserves whatever she gets.

  A little voice inside me whispers, no, she doesn’t, but I ignore it.

  “So, you ready to go get your car?” I ask.

  Her brow scrunches. “I don’t have any pants on. What do you think?

  “You look fine to me.” If she looked any finer, I’d have to bend her over one of my bikes and—

  Her eyes narrow like she knows where my thoughts have gone. “Let me go get my stuff. I need to be at the lawyer’s office in—” She looks down, and her gaze jerks to the remnants of her phone on the other side of the driveway like she’d momentarily forgotten she went apeshit. If anything, her back gets a little straighter. “Well, I need to get there by noon.”

  She marches up the narrow porch steps as regal as fucking royalty and disappears into the house. I turn and eye my bikes. I have four on one side in different levels of completion, but those are for clients. I keep three for my personal use and decide to pull out my pride and joy.

  She’s a mix of black matte and black chrome finishes, her sleek body is an amalgamation of a Harley Fat Boy, Softail, and an Indian Scout, but the engine is all me. She’s the first bike I designed myself, and the only bike I will never sell.

  Surprisingly, less than five minutes later, Ms. High Society trots back outside wearing the loose blouse from last night that somehow highlights every jiggle and sway of her tits and jeans that might as well be tights.

  She stops dead in her tracks when she sees the bike. “What’s that?” she asks, giving it a pointed stare.

  “Your ride.” My smile in the face of her displeasure is genuine. I toss her a helmet she deftly catches and swing my leg over my baby. I turn her on and rev the engine, letting her purr fill my ears and soothe my tired soul before I pat the seat behind me. “Come on, princess. Get on.”

  She holds the helmet limply at her side, her lips pursed.

  Oh yeah. She’s not happy at all. I’m a bastard because that knowledge makes my grin widen. “You need help putting that on?”

  Her eyes narrow. “Don’t you have a car?”

  That question wipes off my smile. It’s a sore subject. “The only car I own is in your father’s garage. Actually, now, it’s in my family’s garage.”

  Her eyebrows scrunch. “What? The Pontiac?”

  I bite out a curse. Why did I have to say that? I blame my hangover and lack of sleep.

  “Never mind. Put the helmet on, and let’s go.” I rev the engine to make my point.

  She puts a hand on her hip and tilts her chin up. “Really? You’re not going to
explain?”

  With a growl, I reach out and grab the waist of her pants. She squeals as I pull her to me. I yank the helmet out of her hand and shove it down over her head then fasten the strap under her chin.

  Touching her is a mistake. An electric current goes through me the second my hands are on her.

  “There,” I grumble the second I’m finished. “Get your princess ass on the bike.”

  Her expression goes from surprised to fiery. She tucks some stray hairs into the helmet and out of her face before slinging a long leg over the seat.

  “We’re not done talking about this,” she shouts in my ear as I rev the engine again.

  I grind my teeth. Not if I can help it.

  I don’t reply. I can’t.

  Her hands dive under my jacket and fist the front of my waistband as she pulls herself so tightly to me, I swear I feel the heat of her pussy against my ass.

  Her breasts press my back as she molds to me, her grip tight on my waist like she was made to be there. Fucking hell.

  “Have you ridden before?” I call over my shoulder.

  “Yeah. But it’s been a while.”

  I grunt, something hot and irrational burning my gut. The fact some other nameless faceless guy knows how she feels curled around him like this should not matter to me.

  “Hold on,” I bite out and burn out of the driveway with a little more aggression than is wise, but I need to get away from that image. Away from her.

  She clings to me tighter, as if she wants to crawl under my skin, but she’s already there.

  The ten-minute ride to the bar has never been so long.

  We pull into the deserted gravel parking lot of The Den and park next to Madeline’s blue rental sedan. It’s a full minute before she pries herself off me and my bike, and fuck me if I don’t sit here savoring that shit like some lovesick sap.

  She wobbles unsteadily and before I know what I’m doing, I have the kickstand up, the engine off, and I’m standing behind her with my helmet under my arm like I’m going to walk her to her door or some shit.