The blue one. Is he fucking joking? “Thanks for pointing that out. I never would’ve figured out which one was the Toyota.”
“There’s no need to be rude, man. I was just trying to jog your memory. She was here yesterday.”
“Wow, really? Must have slipped my mind.” My face tightens with a smirk as panic starts to crack through Mark’s cool composure.
His indignant voice breaks the brief silence. “Your coworker admitted that she was here yesterday.”
I’m just a dumb mechanic, remember? “Hmm. I guess he remembers her and I don’t.”
An ugly red flush crawls up his neck. “Don’t play me for a fool, Carter—”
“—Mister Carter.”
A dangerous glint appears in his eyes. “Mister Carter, then. Are you aware of who I am? You did hear my last name correctly, right? I’m a Cranbury.”
I know who he is. His daddy is a real estate mogul. You can hardly go anywhere in America without bumping into a Cranbury property. They’ve got a hotel chain that puts Hilton to shame, fleets of private jets, and I’m sure they’ve got powerful friends. There’s nothing in the world that money can’t buy, and these people have plenty of it.
I’m sure he could make my life a living hell.
“I’m sorry, did you just call yourself a cranberry?”
It’s worth it just to see his nostrils flare out into little wings. Mark takes a furious step forward, his chest bumping against my ribs. If he thinks he can intimidate me, but one swat of my hand would send him soaring across the room. He doesn’t seem to realize that I’ve got at least eighty pounds on him.
“It’s Cran-bury, not Cran-berry!”
“Sure. Cranberry. Whatever.”
“You think this is funny?” he screams, spittle flying from his mouth.
Yeah. Kind of.
“She’s my fiancée! You have no idea what I could do to you! I’ll ask you one more time: Where is she?”
My heart pounds like a drum, every instinct inside me screaming to grab this asshole by his belt and hurl him out. Even though he’s done nothing wrong except park in my goddamn spot and sit in my chair. Bad vibes. That’s all I’m getting from this prick.
“You know where she is, Cranberry.”
Smirking, I walk past him and shove open the door, walking into the sunlight. He’s not far behind, screaming.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I turn around. Mark’s whole face is red with apoplectic rage, every movement livid with fear.
“You know what it means.”
Let him think I fucked his fiancée.
“You piece of shit! You bastard! How dare—why are you laughing?”
I laugh even harder when his delicate hands curl.
Just try me.
“I’m laughing because I don’t respect you. You come in here like a tone-deaf asshole demanding to know where your fiancée is, and you expect me to tell you. Now you’re raising your fists at me. Are you fucking kidding?”
He unflexes his spider-like hands. There are deep marks where his rings cut into his palm. “She’s my fiancée!”
“Yeah. You’ve said that about fifty times.”
“You don’t even know why I’m looking for her!”
“I can take a pretty good guess.” I turn my back on him, walking toward the garage as my employees anxiously watch us.
Olivia’s engine needs to be ripped out. I want to be elbow deep in metal and grease, tearing shit apart. Right now, I can’t think of anything more appealing, aside from smashing my fist against Mark’s face.
The man keeps screaming at my back, every syllable grating on my ears. “What do you want? Money? I’ll pay you!”
I whirl around, and a drop of amusement gets swallowed by the flames in my chest as he jumps back a mile.
“Fuck you and your money!”
Judging by the way he flinches, I might as well have told God to fuck off.
“I don’t need it, and I don’t want it. Now get the hell off my property before I throw you out.”
The blues of his eyes flare out like a flash of lightning. “I will not forget this.”
All right, bro.
I give him a sarcastic wave and a smile as he stalks back to his Benz.
“Ouch!”
Olivia sticks her thumb in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. She’s standing on the porch in the backyard, frowning at the grill in front of her. There’s a plate of uncooked, seasoned steaks beside her, corn, and a glass of red wine rimmed with her lipstick.
My chest tightens and releases, remembering how many times I used to see her cooking behind that grill, an ice-cold beer in her hand.
Olivia’s sharp yell punctures the bittersweet bubble. “Jesus!”
Orange light flashes over her face as flames suddenly jump up high, illuminating her skin. A laugh escapes from my throat as she grabs one of the tools and beats at the fire.
I can’t take this anymore.
The wooden gate swings inward as I push it open, and she looks up at the creaking noise, a slight frown settling over her delicate features as she recognizes me. She’s wearing her dark hair up in a loose bun, and my gaze wanders along her jaw to the silver earrings dangling from her ears. High, arching eyebrows give her a haughty look that would be unappealing on any other woman. On her, it’s downright sexy. She’s goddamn beautiful, even when her lips are pursed in a little frown. I imagine myself creeping up behind and wrapping an arm around her waist as my mouth finds her neck.
Fuck, even the way she sucks on that thumb is sinful.
I keep watching it slide in and out almost as though in slow motion. It’s mesmerizing. The longer I stare, the more aware I am of the dry patch in my mouth that refuses to moisten. Heat swirls in a lazy circle into my chest, growing and expanding. My cock pulses as I walk closer, taking in her appearance: the daisy dukes and a creamy orange t-shirt. I want to slip my hands up those white thighs and grope her firm ass. I part my lips as she raises one of those haughty eyebrows even higher and looks at me. I want to tell her to get the fuck inside and take off her clothes.
“What are you doing to my barbecue?”
“Cooking.” She scowls.
“Not like that, you’re not. Move aside. Let me show you how the pros do it.”
“I can do it myself!”
She huffs as I step onto the porch and approach her, but doesn’t protest when I grab the spatula. Our fingers graze when I take it, and her cheeks color with the slightest blush.
She wants me.
The realization of it hits me like a sledgehammer in the chest. She parts her lips, the glow in her face brightening the longer she meets my gaze.
Kiss me, she seems to say. Fucking kiss me.
Then she breaks eye contact, letting out a shaky sigh. “What am I doing wrong?”
Chuckling, I glance at the grill. “First of all, you’ve got this way too fucking high. Do you want to char the steaks to death? No, you don’t. Lower the temperature a little and then close the hood to let it heat up. But first you should clear off all the grease.”
“All right. Fine.”
She reaches for the tools, and then a stab of pity hits me. I haven’t told her about her jackass fiancé.
“Drink your glass of wine and relax. I’ll cook us lunch.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do. There’s no way I’m letting you ruin sixty dollars worth of steak.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “I know how to grill a filet mignon.”
I point the spatula at her. “Sit your ass down and drink.”
“You know what? You’re not the boss of me. I’ve spent all afternoon picking those damn weeds—”
“Yeah, I saw you throw them in the neighbor’s garden. Naughty.”
Busted.
“Fine. I’m a jerk. But you’re a jerk for making a paying customer do this.”
“Why don’t you just admit that you like getting d
own and dirty?”
Her eyes roll up and then fall to the side as she takes a deep drink from her glass. “Is everything about sex to you?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. It seems like it’s everything to you, since you’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”
“Good God. Maybe I should just answer work emails.”
The grill hisses with wonderful steak steam as I drop the first one onto the grates.
“Wait,” I tell her, sighing. “Mark showed up at the garage looking for you.”
A red flush crawls up her chest, her eyes going wide with fear. Nausea grips my stomach at the sight of it.
Her hand flies to her neck. “Mark is here?”
“Yeah. Your fiancé a piece of work.”
“He’s not my fiancé anymore,” she continues in the same high-pitched tone. “We’re done. Why the hell did he come here?”
Suddenly, I’m curious about what he did to earn the wrath of a beautiful woman like her. None of your goddamn business, Gage.
“I may have lost my temper with him.”
“What?” she says, her voice almost shrill.
“I fucked with his head a little and implied that we…”
Her eyes round with understanding. “Oh my God! Are you insane?”
“He was being a total asshole.”
“So that gives you the right to tell him that? He could get me fired!”
Oh, shit. “Shit. Really?”
“Yes, really,” she says in a miserable tone. “Damn it, Gage!”
“I’m sorry! I was trying to get him to fuck off.”
“I didn’t ask you to swoop in my life and save me from my stupid ex. I’m perfectly capable of handling him.”
Yeah, well. “When he comes into my auto shop, screaming his head off, it becomes my business.”
The grip around her wine glass turns white. “I didn’t think he’d have the nerve to show up after what he did.”
I close the lid on the grill after pushing the corn to the back, and then I glance at her. Her lips are pale, almost shaking with fury, and her eyes glaze with hurt. I don’t even know this woman, but I want to find that prick and rip him in half for that look on her face.
“What happened?”
She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.
“It was before we were going to drive here for the wedding, I came home early from work. I wasn’t supposed to be home. There were—clothes on the stairs. I heard a woman’s voice, a giggle, and I just remember my whole body going cold. I knew what he’d done—what they were doing upstairs. But I still followed the trail of clothing anyway. Then…”
And then she saw her fiancé balls deep in another woman. She doesn’t have to say anything else. The truth is all over her face. What a fucking moron. A fresh wave of hatred for Mark rises inside me.
“Fuck him. Imagine being called Mrs. Cranberry for the rest of your life.”
Her lips curve into a small smile, the first one she’s given me. “It—it wasn’t working for a long time, but I never thought he’d do something like this. I don’t know what to do. He’s going to find where I’m staying.” She closes her eyes, suppressing a shudder. “He’ll demand we go to the wedding together.”
“I’ve got the perfect solution for that.”
Curious, she looks at me. “What?”
“Tell him you’re going with me.”
* * *
Read the rest of The Mechanic by clicking HERE!
Also by Vanessa Waltz
Romantic Comedy
The Mechanic (Fair Oaks #1)
The Detective (Fair Oaks #2)
Royal Romance
Dirty Prince
Contemporary Romance
The Cinderella Arrangement
Vittorio Crime Family
High Stakes (Vittorio Crime Family #1)
Double Blind (Vittorio Crime Family #2)
End Game (Vittorio Crime Family #3)
His Witness (Vittorio Crime Family #4)
Cravotta Crime Family
Married to the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #1)
Knocked Up by the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #2)
Property of the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #3)
Owned by the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #4)
Tied Down
Bad Boy Empire
Hitman’s Bride
His Secret Baby
About the Author
Vanessa Waltz loves to write steamy bad boy romances. She lives in Seattle with two crazy cats. To be the first to know about her new releases, please join her newsletter (no spam, ever).
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The Roommate Arrangement Page 53