by Riley Murphy
Cat shrugged. “It’s only a car.”
Charlie reached across the table and took her sister’s hand, squeezing it. “It’s something you worked hard for. Five long years of saving.”
Cat dropped her chin and gave her an “oh really” look. “What about you? You shook your tightly, over-conservative ass in a bikini contest and then became a drug dealing felon.”
Charlie smiled until she realized most of that was the truth. This was a big deal, and her sister didn’t even know the other half of it…but then it wasn’t like Wilde could have her arrested for either of the things she’d done without implicating himself.
Charlie threw her shoulders back in a stretch. “Yeah, well, I better get out of here before Prince Charming shows up to examine your ass.”
Cat took her cue. “Can’t wait. You sending the cash today? The sooner the better.”
“I have a few things to pack with it. Then it’s going direct by courier.”
“That’ll work, but afterwards you better do something about that.” She pointed to Charlie’s perpetual ponytail. “Let it down, and get some groove going on.”
She watched Cat fluff her own crazy mass of curls, and said, “You too.”
“Aw, man, are you telling me you wore your hair up last night? Like that?”
“Through all the auditions and the contest itself. If I have to put it all out there to be you, then you have to pull it back in to be me. Those are the rules of the twin swap.”
“You broke the fucking rules when you maimed yourself the first year in college.”
Charlie stood. “I had to. You were ruining my reputation.”
Cat didn’t miss a beat. “I was earning you one.”
When they were face to face Charlie tilted her head and reminded, “That’s not how your boyfriend saw it when he found out. Did you really think you could sleep with those guys as me and get away with it?”
“I would have if you didn’t get the tattoo. Why did it have to be that?”
“Because you fear needles as much as I fear the water, so I never had to worry you’d copy it,” she called over her shoulder on her way to the door.
“And ink a duck on my ass? Never.”
Charlie gripped the door knob and took a deep breath. After she slowly exhaled, she said, “It’s a dove. It represents personal freedom…from you.”
“It’s stupid, but whatever. Is there anything I have to worry about besides Prince Charming? By the way, how charming was he last night?”
Charlie glanced over her shoulder. “Not a bit. The pills kicked in fast. He passed out before I joined him on the bed.”
“He was awake enough to see the tattoo.”
“Yup.” She turned the knob, but before she could pull on it Cat’s hand landed on the door right by her cheek.
“Wait, where did you get the drugs?”
Charlie had been hoping to escape without having to tell her. Crap. She let go of the door knob and turned around. “I never took the stuff Mom gave me to help me sleep the last time we were home to visit her. I still had the pills in my purse and the idea just kind of morphed when Wilde was being a misogynistic asshole.”
Her sister scrunched her nose. “Huh. Another misogynist according to you. How many does that make this year? Ten?”
“Not funny.”
“Not cool. When are you going to have the broomstickectomy so you can start having fun?”
She stared at her. “When all this over.”
“All right. I’m holding you to it. Now when the mechanic shows up, make sure he wipes my baby down. The last guy who came to work on her had to be spanked for leaving marks.”
When she saw the grin that accompanied Cat’s words, she pulled the formal first name tactic. “Catherine?”
“What? He deserved it. And you almost forgot these.” Charlie accepted the cash bundles, while her sister continued, “Maxie was pissed when he found out about the mechanics. I had to apologize to their boss. Turns out the guy’s a respected leader in the club circles.”
Charlie was nearly done stuffing the cash in her purse, when she halted. “Mechanics? How many of them were there? And? Ha! You apologize. That’ll be the day.” She glanced over, seeing her sister’s joy-filled expression and she knew something was up. “What?”
“Maxie told me I had to write it out. So I did. I wrote ‘I’m sorry your grease monkeys can’t clean up after themselves’ on a piece of brown hand-towel. Then I mailed it to him in a crisp white envelope stamped with a set of black paw prints all over it. I figured a Dom like him would appreciate the irony.”
“You didn’t.”
“Sure I did. I felt bad about it in the end because the guy wasn’t the one who told Maxie in the first place. In fact, even after I sent that to him, he never ratted me out. There’s a reason why some Doms are highly respected.”
“Normal guys can be respectable too.”
“Yeah.” Cat reached around, and pulled open the door. “But according to you there aren’t any. Every guy’s a misogynistic pig.”
Charlie wasn’t going to argue with that. “Speaking of women haters, don’t fall for Prince Charming. He’s right up your alley. Bossy, mean, tattooed, and gorgeous.”
“Yay!” Cat beamed and clapped her hands. “I always have fun when I’m playing you.”
“This isn’t college, and the last I heard, he wasn’t amused. Let him do his thing. No more and no less, got it?”
“I hear you.” Charlie was halfway down the front steps when her sister called, “After you stop by the courier’s—it’s going to take you a good two hours to get to my place—make sure you’re there by noon. Oh, and don’t forget the hair. I can’t be seen looking like that.”
Charlie went down the last few steps. When she reached the bottom she didn’t turn around. All she did was flip her sister the bird as she headed to the car.
“That’s the spirit. You’re nailing me.”
As she slipped into the driver’s seat of the Vette she wished she had some of Cat’s good-natured enthusiasm. Just once it would be nice not having to worry.
The second the engine purred, she worked hard to let the tension ease out of her. It was game on. Two days. For two short days she had to lay low and play Cat. What could go wrong?
Chapter Two
The fury of a man scorned leads to quiet determination…
“Mr. Cannon?”
Neil looked up. When he saw it was one of his guys, he slipped the latest report from his investigator under the blueprints of the street racer he was currently engineering and called, “Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, but you asked us to tell you if that woman, Catherine Woods, called to book a service.”
For this Neil would put aside the concerns he had about what he’d just read. He’d deal with those later. “Did she?”
“Yeah. I caught Jason heading out to go over there. That Porsche filter on back order that came in first of the week? It’s hers.”
“You don’t say.” Clearly primates didn’t bother her if she was looking for one of his “grease monkeys” to service her precious car again. “Tell Jason I’ll take care of it.”
The kid nodded. “Will do.”
“Oh, and Tommy?” The young apprentice swung around. “Good catch. Thanks.”
Neil checked the schedule. He’d have to hurry if he wanted to be on time. And he did want to be on time. He’d been waiting months for this opportunity. For no other reason than to end her flirty little antics. He knew her type. Bratty with a side of brazen. From what he’d gathered from Max when he casually asked about her, she hadn’t found a suitable Dom to keep her in check, so she was on her own. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but according to the club owner the woman was mischief personified. He’d described her as wildly entertaining, clever, and smart. When Neil had accused the old guy of being in love with her, he didn’t deny it. He swore if he were twenty-five years younger and had a healthy heart he’d enjoy the pleasure of
reining her in.
Neil wasn’t impressed. To him she was a cockteaser with an over-reaching ego. To his guys she was the forbidden fruit. They found her irresistible and she knew it. In fact, she had used that power over the last year to toy with his crew. Last time she was booked for a repair call, he discovered his guys had flipped a coin under one of the lifts to see who got to do her service. Now, to normal vanilla guys, getting one’s balls stepped on by a gorgeous babe might seem like a privilege, but she wasn’t vanilla, she wasn’t even a Domme. Therefore she should have known better. A sub pulling this kind of shit on a regular Joe was unconscionable. She was getting a “belonging to the lifestyle discount” on labor, for fuck sake’s, so there was no excuse for her taking this kind of advantage of it. Unfortunately, he hadn’t learned about what she was doing until the last time, four months ago, when his boys finally came clean.
There would be no titillating ball busting this time. He was going to make sure of it.
When he pulled into her driveway, he was mystified. Far from the rich-bitch mansion he was expecting, the sassy sub’s home was modest bordering on poor. Maybe he was at the wrong place? He double checked the address. It was her house, no doubt about it. So he got out of his truck and that’s when his first appearance got a facelift. She must have seen him in the drive because the garage door opened revealing a gleaming expanse of floor, pristine walls, and soft showcase lighting glowing within. When his eyes landed on the 1955 356 speedster, matte gray with sexy high polished chrome everywhere, he was speechless. Damn it was a beauty. He whistled and then stopped when the interior house door opened and a different kind of beauty stepped into the space.
A fucking redhead. A soft and sensual one. No hard lines and no freckles. No wonder his guys were drowning in their own drool, salivating to get near her. She had all the makings of a handful. How much of a handful? That was yet to be seen.
She took stock of him and then asked, “Where’s your uniform? How do I know you’re the mechanic from the garage?”
He made his way in, putting the filter down on the workbench to the right of the car, and said, “I highly doubt a robber or rapist would show up to your house at precisely the scheduled appointment time, with a specially ordered filter, driving in a huge tow truck with the logo Cannon’s Custom Motors painted on the side just to snatch your purse or get into your panties.”
Her chin lifted a notch or two. “Wow, we haven’t been in the same room for more than a minute and you’re already talking about my underwear? Maybe I should tell your boss.”
“Maybe you should write him another letter on bathroom tissue. I’m sure he’s already used the last one for what it was intended.”
She gasped. He took that as a good sign and then he walked over to the tail end of the car to release the rear latch.
“Hey, what are you checking the trunk for?”
Neil lifted the lid and eyed her over it. “Don’t play with me, little girl. I’m not in the mood.”
She blushed, but then why wouldn’t she? Women usually did when he deepened his tone to admonish them. She’d learn soon enough who she was dealing with.
“I will—” She seemed to catch herself and then said, “Fuck you. I’m going to get the toilet paper.”
Neil stared at the closed door for a full thirty seconds before he realized he’d been dismissed. It had been a long, long time, as in never during his adult life had a woman slammed a door in his face, so to speak. The experience was unnerving and exhilarating in the same turn. A sub who behaves like she just did was in sore need of proper training. You already knew that. A firm hand. It’s not going to be yours. Hell, she needed guidance and discipline if this was how she normally conducted herself with men. Maybe he should have told Max about what she’d done to his guys? At the very least he should have mentioned the insulting note she’d sent him all those months ago.
He thought about that as he changed the filter and ignored her stomping around. When he heard her behind him on the driveway talking in hushed tones to someone on her cell, he assumed she’d called his shop.
Too bad the boss was out.
For some reason he wanted to let her know he was the boss, but as tempting as that was, he fought the urge. She had personality problems and he wasn’t going to get involved in them. She was Max’s liability not his. After today, her discount privileges were going to be revoked. Hell, for swearing at him, she could find another garage to do house calls for services like this. That’ll fix her.
With the filter installed and the car back to the way he’d found it—without a fingerprint on it, he pulled the invoice and a pen out of his pocket. The second he exited the garage the huge paneled door came down and closed. Good to know she was still watching him.
After he put the paper up against the house to write, adding fifty bucks to the total, he was going to shove it in the mailbox so she could pay it later, but it was snatched out of his hand when she sailed by him.
“I’ll take that.”
He watched her head to the sleek black Vette parked on the street, and shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She opened the door and then held up the invoice and waved it at him. “Hey, what’s the extra fifty for?”
“Burning my sensitive ears with your potty mouth.”
She made a face he didn’t like one bit, and then she laughed. “You big baby. If you’re bothered by a little word like fuck, you need to get a life. And while you’re getting that maybe you should see if someone can remove the chip weighing down your shoulder. You came here and started a fight and when I did nothing more than answer you on it, you whine over it? Typical male behavior. Have a nice day!”
As she drove off all he did was stare after her until the Vette hit one of the potholes in the road. At that point he cringed, and then blinked coming out of his shock. Not over her abruptly leaving. That in itself was astonishing. But, no, his surprise came more from what he was feeling at the moment.
Challenged.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to be drawn into taking her in hand. He’d promised himself the next time he took on a submissive she was going to be a lamb. A bunny. A sweet little pet who adored him.
“Keep telling yourself that, Cannon,” he said out loud before he mentally added, You’ve successfully faded into the background, so stay the course. The last thing he needed at this point was renewed notoriety. He was sure taming a brat like her would make him famous all over again. Yeah, that’s why he was going to stay the hell away from her.
He probably would have if he didn’t open his truck door and see the note she must have tossed through his open window when she was talking on the phone.
He picked up the four sheets of plain white semi-transparent toilet paper and read the bold script that was written in bright pink lipstick.
If I wanted to play a game it wouldn’t be with you. Neanderthal!
And that was the equivalent of a strike three.
He was totally drawn in. Fuck his promise. Screw the lamb, bunny, and pet idea. Was he up for taming a shrew? In a heartbeat.
The first thing he did was call the shop. “Hey, Tommy, can you check the client files for Max Kaber’s cell number? I only have his work one, but he won’t be there until tonight.”
“Sure. How did the install go?”
“Great. We’ve moved up in the world. From grease monkeys to Neanderthals.”
“Oh boy.”
“The number?”
“Once I find it, I’ll text it to you.”
While Neil waited for that to arrive, he took a moment to think about what he was doing. How this could be perceived. Hell, it wasn’t like he was stepping back into the limelight he’d walked away from. He’d made a promise, there was a plan, and after reading that report this morning, he needed to stick to both now more than ever.
He eyed her little note, hoping it would dissuade him from making the call, but it didn’t. It only solidified in his mind that the woman n
eeded to be set straight. She was courting danger, behaving the way she did. In the circles she travelled, he knew only too well what would happen to her if she crossed the wrong man.
The longer he stared at her note, the more convinced he became. Especially when he realized the last time he felt this strongly about intervening on a sub’s behalf was when he ignored his own instincts, that were later proven to be correct.
An image of that tragedy flashed in his mind so clearly he swore, before he worked to push it away like he always did. He buried it, and then refocused on a similar sub courting disaster.
If I wanted to play a game it wouldn’t be with you. Neanderthal!
He read that line a few times until it resonated. She definitely needed some guidance. Some? He mentally scoffed. In terms of requiring supervision she’d probably be a fulltime job. Trouble-in-the-making always was.
He loved trouble
No wonder he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.
Damn. Was that excitement he was feeling?
He’d missed the sensation for so long it took him a second to identify it. He’d also missed the rush of expectation that came from a daunting challenge ahead. One that would put his power and authority to the test.
He glanced at the toilet paper, thought about her, and smiled.
Nothing like ending a dry spell with a deluge.
When the number lit his cell screen he tapped it. “Max? Hey, it’s Neil Cannon. I’m calling to collect on the ‘I owe you’. It involves a sub…”
Chapter Three
Charlie couldn’t believe what just happened. There she was trying so hard to behave like Cat that she’d overdone it. Would her sister have insulted a guy who looked like that mechanic did? Well over six feet of brooding handsomeness? Normally she didn’t like beards, even tightly clipped ones, but on him the rugged stubble lent something more to his appeal. It made him seem dark and mysterious. Of course it didn’t hurt that he was built like Wilde only he didn’t have any tattoos as far as she could see. What he did have though was a chip on his shoulder. Why else would he have been so condescending?