Opening Up

by Lauren Dane

Julie spoke up. “Just to let you both know, as of an hour ago, you’ve been removed from all accounts. You can keep your parking spots. Why don’t you go on vacation? Golf. Relax and think about how it is you might manage to salvage your relationship with your family.” She went to the door and opened it.

  “He spent more time on you than he ever did his own children,” Howard said suddenly into the silence.

  PJ looked to her father. “What?”

  “My father, your precious grandpa. He took you to the track instead of me or Fee. Took you to car shows. Left you the Z28.”

  “You’re talking about stuff I did with Grandpa when I was a kid and you never could be bothered to spend time with me? Then? This is some sort of tantrum from a fifty-five-year-old man aimed at his daughter because he has daddy issues? You gave me daddy issues because you had them? Good lord. Go. Take your brother and go golfing for a few months. Maybe think about how if you showed even half the courage and compassion your father did, you could have been a decent parent.”

  He and Fee both tried more bluster. Jay showed them the paperwork and in the end, after a lot of arguing, they finally left.

  “Okay, kids, get to work. I’m not paying you all to lollygag.” Jay waved a hand at the door and PJ headed out to her shop, where they’d set up her office.

  She put on her overalls and painted her own logo on the doors. Because it was hers now.

  And then she worked for nine more hours, managing to text Asa here and there about what had happened. PJ was still stunned from watching her mother tell her father she was going on a trip for six weeks and that she planned to have her things moved into storage until her return, when she’d set up her own home.

  But as she got into her car, she knew the other end of her journey was a place she could call home because of the man inside it. He made her safe.

  Her brawling, ink-covered, motorcycle-riding, race-car-driving badass, who protected just as fiercely as he fought. Through all the turmoil and drama, he’d been there. Letting her work it all through. Helping when he could, listening. Always her number one fan.

  That was something good to hold on to.

  He heard the garage door open and went downstairs to meet her.

  “I stopped by my apartment and brought some stuff. I mean, like I said, I can’t move in for good until my lease is up. But it’ll be nice to have more stuff here in the meantime.”

  “Come here.” He took the suitcase, set it aside, and pulled her close. “Hi. Have a glass of wine while I get dinner made. Tell me about it at whatever pace you want to.”

  EPILOGUE

  So really, I’m saying that when it comes to King, I like to see the movie adaptations as sort of a tribute to the work rather than an outright copy of the book. Scary stuff is internal. It’s hard to make something so personal appeal universally, you know?”

  He moved her leg to get at the bowl of chips. “I don’t know. How can you read The Shining and then think Kubrick did it justice?”

  “You’re going to hell for that blasphemy, Asa.”

  She crawled from their very large hotel bed in their very swanky borrowed digs overlooking the beauty that was Vancouver’s huge skyline. “I need more water. Want some?”

  “I want more champagne.”

  She brought the bucket and glasses over and got back into bed. “Kubrick’s version is fantastic. It’s his take on King’s material. An homage. Like I was just saying. Don’t expect it to be what it can’t be. You’ll be happier.”

  “King wasn’t happy.”

  “If you wrote the book, you get to be pissed it’s not what you expected.”

  “You have a very detailed set of rules about life, Penelope Jean. I don’t know how you remember them all.”

  “Basically, it’s be nice to people, don’t show your butt in public, and don’t complain your sack of gold is too heavy. Everything in the rules is based on that.”

  He laughed, putting the chips aside again and getting her under him. “You should start your own calendar series. PJ’s Rules for Life. I’d buy it.”

  He slid into her pussy easily, like he was meant to be there. Which he believed he was. And because they’d already had sex multiple times, so she was slick and hot.

  A year ago he’d had no idea she existed; now he was sure he couldn’t live without her. Funny how the world worked.

  His PJ was unexpected. Loud. Funny. A pain in his ass. Uppity. Resourceful. Sexy. So much stronger than she gave herself credit for.

  “There is nothing more beautiful than you,” he said, kissing her as he began a slow thrust. He’d seen the youth and the beauty and had overlooked the person inside at first. It scared him sometimes, the idea that he could have missed her and made different choices and he’d be alone, or with some random person he didn’t want to breathe in.

  But she got in his face and made him see. Made him understand. Changed him to his very bones. He could race and fight and get grease under his nails and she didn’t care. If he was happy, she was happy. Which seemed so deceptively simple, when really it was that she worked really hard to love him.

  She wrapped her legs around him, arching up into each press he made into her body.

  “Except being seen as beautiful by you.”

  “Damn, we’re sickening.”

  She laughed. “So Duke says all the time. I think we’re awesome.”

  “Okay then. We’ll go with that.”

  He made her come again before he joined her and they napped, still wrapped around each other.

  Two days and they’d go back to Seattle. They’d break ground on the new building that would house the Twisted Steel showroom and expand the shop space into the old showroom area. They’d signed the papers to buy the land the week before.

  They’d go back and he’d open his eyes to see her next to him every morning. Come home to her every night. In just a year, everything had changed. She’d blown into his life and held on, and he’d been surprised and then oh-so-fucking-grateful for her.

  About the Author

  The story goes like this: While on pregnancy bed rest, Lauren Dane had plenty of downtime, so her husband took her comments about “giving that writing thing a serious go” to heart and brought home a secondhand laptop. She wrote her first book on it. Today Lauren is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than sixty novels and novellas across several genres.

  You can learn more at:

  LaurenDane.com

  Twitter @LaurenDane

  Facebook.com/LaurenDane

  Carmella Rossi has been secretly lusting after her hot, tattooed neighbor Duke Bradshaw for the last three years. His rumbly voice combined with the throaty purr of his custom bike never fail to send thrills down her spine. But when he comes to her with an amazing offer, will she be willing to put herself at risk for a guy who has heartbreaker written all over him?

  Please see the next page for a preview of

  FALLING UNDER.

  Carmella Rossi held the door open for Georgie, who hopped down with a happy look. Carmella understood; she wanted to dance around for joy too now that they weren’t at her mother’s house.

  Medication delivered for the next three days—it wouldn’t do to let her mom have any more than that; she’d just use it all and then not have enough and eventually end up in an ER somewhere trying to get pain scrips to get her through.

  Carmella had learned the hard way that it was easier to simply dole out a few days’ worth, which kept her mom from overdosing or getting herself arrested trying to hustle pills.

  “Some people’s mothers make pies,” Carmella told the dog as they headed up the steps to the front porch.

  Her key was in the lock when she and Georgie both paused at the throaty growl of a motorcycle approaching.

  Duke Bradshaw. The hottest neighbor in the history of hot neighbors.

  Considering the morning she’d just had with her mother, it was a nice treat to see all that long, hot, inked man get off a motorc
ycle and amble to his front door.

  “Totally the best thing about this entire neighborhood,” Carmella told the dog.

  Georgie got in front of Carmella and sat. Ever protective and also sort of hot for Bradshaw, just like her human was.

  Carmella looked to the front door. “We should go in. Come on. It’s weird to wait out here like he’s coming home for dinner at our house or something.” Not like it wasn’t weird to have a full conversation with a dog.

  Georgie gave a doggie snort but shook, her tags jingling merrily as she followed Carmella up to the front door.

  And that’s when Duke Bradshaw pulled not into his driveway, but into Carmella’s. That caught her attention as she unlocked the door to let Georgie inside. But the man brought Georgie bones from time to time, so the dog had no intention of leaving Carmella alone to greet the big, bad, tattooed biker who lived next door.

  “Jeez, dog, he’s on his motorcycle. He’s not carrying bones in his pocket.” Not that she was unaware that he quite frequently appeared to have something pretty hefty behind that zipper of his.

  His bike was beyond gorgeous and the sight of it never failed to make her heart beat faster. Flat, matte black. No chrome at all. It was a custom rebuild of a 1963 BMW. It was understated and classic while still being really sexy and super masculine. It also sounded like sex—low and throaty, the bass of it settled into her belly in much the same way his voice did.

  He keyed the bike off and pulled it back on the stand before sliding one long leg over. He wore a half helmet bearing the logo of his shop, the T and the S swirling together, looking sharp and badass.

  His attention seemed to settle on her like a physical thing, freezing her to the spot.

  And then he smiled and every erogenous zone—including a few she hadn’t known existed until that moment—did the wave.

  “Just the person I was looking for.” Duke hung his helmet on a handlebar and headed up the steps toward her, still wearing black wraparound sunglasses and his jacket.

  She wondered—not for the first time—if he ever wore the sunglasses while he had sex. Would you be able to see your own reflection as he fucked you?

  Proud at the calm in her voice, Carmella smiled like she hadn’t just been imagining riding his cock while he wore sunglasses so she could watch herself. “Me? Did Georgie get into something?” She gave a look toward the dog, whose normally erect ears were even perkier at the approach of the guy with the bones.

  Duke bent to give Georgie a scratch behind the ears. “Nah. She’s a sweetheart. It’s her owner I’d like to talk about.”

  There was honey and lazy afternoons in his voice that day. Charming. He tucked his sunglasses into his shirt pocket and pale green eyes took her in. Laugh lines only made him more attractive.

  He had a tiny smattering of salt-and-pepper at his temples, but it worked with the gold and caramel tones of hair that was long enough to touch his collar with just a little curl. Closely trimmed at the sides, long and thick at the top. He had some sort of nouveau rockabilly thing happening.

  Her fingers itched to reach out and touch.

  “Um.” She shook her head, disgusted with how flustered he always seemed to make her. He’d been her neighbor for going on two years, so there was no reason to get fluttery, but every single time she spoke to him he seemed to turn her into a twit.

  Georgie barked and Carmella pushed the storm door open. “Sorry, where are my manners? Come in.”

  She let the familiarity of her front entryway calm her a little as she bent to free Georgie from the harness and leash.

  Duke’s hand landed on her shoulder when she stood again. “Here, let me help you with your coat.”

  She shrugged free, suppressing a shiver as his fingers brushed the side of her neck. Carmella thanked him as he hung the coat on the peg next to his.

  Removing herself from the temptation to touch him or his leather jacket, Carmella stepped back with a smile. “You have excellent manners. Your parents did a good job.”

  “The army gets most of the credit for that.” Again the grin.

  “Want some tea? I was just going to make a pot.” Of course, she’d been pondering whether or not to add a big dollop of whiskey to hers, but those were easily changed plans.

  “Sure.”

  He placed his hand at the small of her back as he followed her through the house and into her kitchen. Which really threw a wrench into her plan of trying not to think about this big, tall, broad-shouldered man right behind her.

  He took up a lot of space, his scent seemed to push itself ahead of everything else, and the electricity of his body seemed to hum from him at a frequency she wanted a lot more of.

  Duke was a toucher. Not in a creepy way at all, but he frequently touched her when they spoke. In another man she’d have said something or made enough of a movement away that her Don’t touch me would have been clear. But she liked it when he did it, so she allowed herself that sensual treat.

  She pointed to a stool at the kitchen island. “Have a seat and tell me what brings you here at eleven in the morning.”

  Georgie kept staring at Duke lovingly until Carmella sighed. “George, leave the man alone.” So easy. Give her a bone and she’d love you forever.

  “Aw, she just wants some love. It’s okay, I’ve got some.” Duke leaned down and gave Georgie scratches and pets until she made a groaning sound of joy and fell over on her side.

  Carmella wanted him to do something to her to make her create that sound too. And she bet he could. With any combination of his hands, his mouth, and that roll of quarters he carried around in his pocket that was probably a cock that got shit done.

  And as if he’d heard her thoughts, he flicked his gaze up from the dog to her and smiled, bringing a blush to heat her cheeks and neck.

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  She blinked, clearing her throat as she kept her hands busy putting tea bags in the mugs. “You do?” If it had anything to do with his penis, she was ready to accept.

  He touched her hand briefly. “Our accounts payable person just quit. As in she’s-moving-across-the-country-in-a-few-days-and-leaving-us-high-and-dry quit. I know you did books before for a few years and I hope you don’t mind, but I called your old boss and he had nothing but great things to say about you. Asa and I would really love it if you took over as soon as possible. It could be a win-win for us both. You need a job. We need an employee. We pay well. We have good benefits. The hours are pretty flexible. The only time you have to be there is when we do inventory, but that’s only once every six months and it’s pretty easy.”

  Georgie growl-barked and Duke’s attention shifted for a moment. “Oh, and we’re dog friendly, so you could bring her with you if you wanted to.”

  “You called my old boss? He’s my uncle. You know that, right?”

  Duke laughed. “I did, yes. He told me several times, along with a few dire warnings that you were a good girl not to be messed with. He still had nothing but nice things to say about you. You have the experience we need. Our shop is bigger, but you understand the basics.”

  Her uncle’s auto repair business had been a mainstay in North Seattle for thirty-five years. When the economy took a hit, he did too. And though things had begun to recover, he hadn’t ever been the same. It’d been hard to compete with the quick-serve corporate repair places and in the end, he’d taken it as a sign to close up and retire.

  “He’s family, so he has to say nice things about me.” He was her mother’s brother, and more of a parent to her than her mother had ever been.

  A job would be really good. She’d been unemployed about five months and it was wearing on her. Her unemployment was enough to keep the lights on, but not much more.

  Duke’s smile was one of the sexiest things about him, she realized as she nearly poured boiling water on her hand instead of in the mug.

  “You know the industry. We’re nice guys, I promise. We bring in food every Friday. Free soda in the frid
ge and ice cream bars in the freezer. I did mean it about the dog friendly thing. One of our guys has a Jack Russell terrier. Xena, as in the warrior princess? She hangs out a few days a week. She’ll love Georgie. What do you say?”

  Carmella should say that routinely being in close quarters with Duke Bradshaw was bad for all her promises to stay away from bikers and grease monkeys and the like.

  It wasn’t that she couldn’t see his appeal. No, it was the opposite. He was pretty much a total package. He stood well over six feet. He was handsome. Like really handsome in that rugged, works-with-his-hands way, which in her opinion was the best kind of man. Duke wouldn’t be thrown off by hard work. If something broke, he got it fixed. Broad shoulders, work-strong muscled arms and legs. She’d seen him in enough T-shirts to know he had detailed ink on his arms and belly. A really flat belly too. He moved with confidence, like he always knew exactly where he was going and how to get there.

  Duke was at ease with himself. That sort of confidence was a sensual punch to the gut. She knew she wasn’t alone in liking him. Friends were often at his house on the weekends and in the evenings. Never so rowdy that she considered calling the cops. Always cleaned up afterward.

  He owned his business. Owned his home and a number of vehicles. At times he had a slow-as-molasses delivery with a hint of New England. And then he’d say Right on like some sort of Zen surfer.

  No matter what he said, when he said it he made her hot and wet and tingly.

  On top of all those things? He had an amazing ass.

  She was beyond any ability to deny his appeal. If she could have ticked a bunch of her favorite man-type things and the result was rendered human, it would look a hell of a lot like the guy in her kitchen just then.

  And none of that erased the fact that she couldn’t afford a man like him. Her mother would love him, which was Carmella’s general meter for unacceptability in a gentleman companion.

  But he wasn’t there asking her to nail him. He was offering her a job. And damn if she didn’t need one of those. The number he rattled off as a starting salary was higher than her old one. She needed the benefits and the income and he was right, she was familiar with the industry, so it would probably be pretty easy to get started.