Motorhead_Maple Mills Book Five
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter One Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Motorhead
Kate Gilead
Motorhead
Kate Gilead
For anyone who likes their men a little dirty. :}
Copyright © 2017 by Kate Gilead
Cover by Vivian Monir Design
All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
kate@kategilead.com
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Also by Kate Gilead
Chapter One
Mark
I slide my truck up against the curb, put it in park and glance across the street at the house.
There’s my brother Rob, pacing inside his open garage, holding his phone to his ear.
I gotta laugh. With a physique nearly as big as mine, you’d think he’d want to show it off more.
But, no. He’s wearing a crisp, button-down shirt and chinos, dressed like it’s Monday morning at the office instead of Friday night.
The shirt’s at least two sizes too big for him. Heaven forbid, he might show off some of the hard-earned definition lurking under that preppy J. Crew number.
That’s Rob for ya. Always looking humble and nerdy as hell, as if he just walked out of a fifties sitcom. The guy won’t wear a muscle shirt or track pants in public, not even to spend the evening with me and our Mom so that his fiancée Brenda can have the house to herself for a Girl’s Night dinner with her friends.
I get out of the truck and walk up the driveway.
He spots me and lowers his phone.
He’s frowning.
“Why don’t you answer your phone, Meathead?”
“Oh…shit.” I pat the pockets of my overalls. “I think I left it at the shop. We’ll have to stop and grab it on the way.”
“Jesus, man. How can a guy whose brand-new business has twenty-four hour emergency service forget his phone?” Without giving me a chance to answer, he eyeballs my overalls, shaking his head. “Is that what you’re wearing? You couldn’t put on something decent for dinner at Mom’s?”
“Easy there, Slick,” I shoot back. “Abraham’s on call tonight, not that it’s any of your concern. Why don’t you skip inside and change out of your schoolboy shorts? Maybe that’d help you relax.”
I stand tall, shove my hands into my pockets, and give him the stink-eye. He stares at me for a second, and I see the glint of humor way back in his eyes.
I don’t let myself smile, though.
Neither does he. “Meh, whatever. Hey, could you take a look at my lawn mower? Damn thing keeps cutting out.”
“Sure. Fire it up.”
He wheels the mower out of the garage and pulls the cord repeatedly. When it finally catches, it runs for a few seconds, and then sputters to a stop.
I tell him to try it again and he does. Same result.
“You think it’s the carb?” He’s looking at the mower like it’s about to sprout horns.
“Nah. It’s too new still. Could be the spark plug…maybe it’s overheating. Or, maybe you got water in the gas. Is the cap on your gas can water-tight?”
“I…shit, I dunno. It’s right there, take a look.”
I examine his gas can. “Yeah, it’s fine,” I say. “I don’t suppose you have a spark plug wrench?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, okay. Never mind. I’ll grab mine from the shop and take a look at it later.”
“Cool. Thanks, Meat.”
“Any time, Slick.”
He pushes the mower back into the garage and then hits the switch to close the big garage door, ducking under it as it trundles down. “Alright, let’s get going before Brenda sends me to the store again. I’ve been twice so far and all of her guests aren’t even here yet.”
“Okay, muchacho.”
At that moment, the mellow purr of a finely-tuned engine reaches my ears.
Sounds like a V8.
A classic, midnight-blue Firebird pulls up, blasting an old Zeppelin tune.
What a sweet ride! Mid-to-early seventies, by the looks of it, an honest to God muscle car with the power to make heads turn.
The engine and the tunes cut out. Two girls climb out of the vehicle and come towards us.
Speaking of turning heads!
The driver’s a knock-out…a honey of a girl!
Dark-haired, lithe, with some very pretty, lacy-looking ink on her sculpted arms. The shorter of the two, she’s wearing retro sunglasses, a doo-rag on her head and a skin-tight muscle shirt.
Made of some kind of ribbed material, the shirt clings to her pert breasts, like it’s lovingly outlining their roundness.
Hmm, I think to myself, hot little bod on her. Those boobs look like a perfect mouthful.
The needle on my interest-meter bounces way upwards.
“Hey, ladies,” my brother says.
“Hey, Roberto,” the taller of the two calls out. “Managed to escape the duct tape and break out of the shed, huh?”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but she’s pretty hot too. And familiar-looking. I know I’ve met her somewhere.
Glancing at Rob, I see that he
has no clue what she’s talking about either. Must be a girl-joke.
I smile politely, waiting for the punch line.
Rob says, “Huh?” in such a baffled way, it makes both girls break out in giggles.
And…holy fuck!
The shorter girl’s smile hits me like lightning. Lovely white teeth framed by those bee-stung lips, her smile is sexy as hell…. inviting and erotic…it’s enough to make my dick twitch in my pants.
Shit!
Now I’m staring at her, wondering what her eyes are like behind those big old sunglasses.
“Never mind,” the smaller girl says, giving my brother a nod and then coming straight over to me, holding her tiny hand out. “I’m Marie,” she says, “an old friend of Brenda’s.” She points at the taller girl. “This is Jennifer, a frightfully ugly chick we hang out with to make us look better.“
Her voice is deep and mellow for someone so small. Sensuous; soft, feminine and smooth as butter.
We all laugh as I shake the tiny hand she’s holding out. “Mark,” I say, grinning right back at her. “Rob’s brother.” I’m bemused by my own reaction; which is to be instantly drawn to this girl.
She’s gorgeous, yeah, that’s Point Numero Uno.
But how many girls do you meet who drive an old muscle car? Or, who use the word ‘frightfully?’
Of course, she’s probably married or engaged or hooked up. And the car probably belongs to her man. She’s taken, I’m sure.
The interesting ones always are.
“We met briefly, at the engagement Adopt-A-Thon,” Jennifer says to me. “Nice to see you again.”
The Adopt-A-Thon was a dog-adoption-event-slash-engagement-party that Brenda’s mom threw for Rob and Brenda, who are both major Dog People.
“Right! I remember you. Nice to see you too,” I say, before looking back down at the petite brunette smiling up at me.
“Damn,” the brunette says. “Now I’m even sorrier that I missed that event. It’s very nice to meet you.”
The way she’s standing so close…smiling up into my face…this girl’s flirting with me.
She’s not being shy about it, either. Well…look at this, I think to myself, amused and flattered.
I guess I still got it.
“It sure is nice to meet you too,” I say, my grin getting wider. “Is that your car?”
“Yessir,” she says, and my interest-meter needle bounces upwards again.
Car or no car, though…? Her smile…Jesus Christ! Her smile’s really something to see. It’s dazzling, stunning…like sunshine dancing on the ocean or some damn thing.
My sex-deprived brain is starting to heat up, making it hard to think straight.
Luckily, my inner grease-monkey comes to my rescue. “Formula 400? V8? Three hundred thirty horses?”
“Yes, yes and yes,” she answers, nuking me again with that smile. “My dad got it for me for my sixteenth birthday. It took four years and a pile of money, but between my dad and my brothers, we restored it from scratch!”
So she’s at least twenty, then. I love a girl who tells me how old she is without me having to ask.
“Great job,” I say. “It looks mint and sounds like…”
“Pure testosterone?” she says.
We both laugh a little too loudly, like you do when you really like someone you just met.
What a doll she is!. I can’t stop looking at her.
“Yes! And that’s an interesting choice of music you were playing,” I add. “Having a retro moment, were you?”
She takes her sunglasses off and hangs them from the collar of her shirt. I catch a glimpse of the smooth white curve of her breast.
Immediately, I picture what it would feel like in my hand and my dick stirs again, just a bit.
Aw, man. I need to get a grip here. It’s not like I’ve never seen tits before.
“My whole life is a retro moment,” she says, lovely dark eyes sparkling. Of course, I’m a sucker for dark-eyed women.
And of course…I’m sworn off women for the foreseeable future.
Sort of.
At least, until I get my business off the ground.
I mean, that’s the plan, anyway.
But…
I’m digging this girl. She’s got a wholesome old-time vibe about her. Maybe it’s the doo-rag, maybe it’s the car and the music, maybe––no, it’s definitely that smile!
There’s something so appealing about this girl.
She has a cool name, too. Marie. I don’t know anyone else named Marie.
Not quite as old-fashioned as Mary, maybe, but it still has an old-time charm.
It’s dainty and feminine.
What’s that word people used to use to describe a certain kind of lovely young lady?
Vivacious, I think.
Yeah.
Marie.
A vivacious name for a vivacious young lady.
“Well, we were just heading out,” Rob says, cock-blocking me like a pro. “I knew this was girl’s night, but…since I’m apparently supposed to be duct-taped at the moment, I’m thinking, we better get the hell outta Dodge, while we still can.”
“Too bad,” I say, just as Marie says, “What a shame!” We laugh again, looking into each other’s eyes
“Ooohkay, Mark, lets get going,” Rob says…again. “Mom’s got dinner waiting, I don’t want to eat it cold.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say, still looking down at Marie. “We’re gonna watch a Star Wars movie after that. You like Star Wars?”
Sheesh, I’m babbling…what the hell?
“Love it,” she says, tilting her head and holding my gaze with those mesmerizing dark eyes of hers.
“Ahem,” Jennifer says now. “I’m going in. Brenda says we have to help her make dinner if we wanna eat. See you guys later!”
Right at that moment, Brenda opens the front door and calls the girls into the house. Marie smiles up at me once more, nodding good-bye before she walks up the drive to the house.
I’m pleasantly stunned and frankly, bedazzled. That was the cutest encounter I’ve had in a long time. Too bad it can’t go anywhere.
Ah,well.
It’s…yeah, it’s probably for the best. I have too much shit to do right now.
Too much to accomplish.
I don’t have time to deal with another relationship.
Nope.
But I can’t help watching as she sashays her lovely self into Rob’s house.
“So…that girl’s a fucking hottie,” I say, once we’re in my truck and on our way.
“Which one?” Rob says, with a smirk. As if he doesn’t know!
But I have to agree with his sentiment. “Yeah, they’re both nice-looking, aren’t they. Geez!”
“No shit! If Brenda has any ugly friends, I haven’t met them yet.”
“Not that you’d notice, seeing how you’re getting married in a few months and not allowed to look anymore.”
“Um, bro? I’m always allowed to look. In fact, Brenda points out hot chicks to me all the time.”
“What? To…for you to look at?” I’m not sure I heard him right.
“Yeah! She’s fun that way. Not a malicious bone in her body. Remember how my ex-wife showed up on my doorstep and stayed for weeks after her dad died? Brenda and I had literally just got together at that point.”
“I remember when the ex showed up but I didn’t know you and Brenda were even dating until later.”
“Well, that’s because it literally just happened, like, that week. What I’m saying is, that the ex showing up didn’t scare her off. She’s the most secure girl I’ve ever met.”
“Yeah? Huh. She is a pretty cool girl, isn’t she?”
“She sure is. I hope you get as lucky as I did.”
“Maybe I will. That girl Marie sure seems nice. Bangin’ bod, and a bangin’ car, too.” I shake my head and let out a low whistle.
“I could tell you were impressed. But I thought you were swearing off women for a while.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t look.”
He snorts. “Couldn’t look away, you mean.”
We travel along in companionable silence until we arrive at my shop, Mollenkamp Motors. Rob waits in the truck while I go in, grab my phone and a couple tools for his lawn mower, and we’re back on the road in no time.
“So…Markus? You didn’t tell me what the bank said about the loan.”
Ah, fuck. I can’t hold back a groan. I could tell by the way he keeps fidgeting in his seat that he has something on his mind. Now, he’s using my full name, too, which means, he’s serious.
I shouldn’t have told him I was applying for a business loan. I know he’s just concerned… but he still tries to play Big Bro a bit on the heavy side sometimes.
And that’s Rob for ya as well. Responsible and serious, always trying to take care of people.
But I’m thirty-five now, way too old for this shit.
“Mark? I asked…”
“They said no,” I interrupt, my fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “ ‘Auto repair shops have a high failure rate; you’re too new, not enough income yet; come back with a co-signer and we’ll see.’ ” I quote the loan officer, mimicking the pinched tone the bow-tied financial officer used with me. “What an officious little prick! The whole time I was in his office, he was looking at me like he could smell something rotten.”
“Damn. Yeah, I hate banks too. But why make it harder on yourself? Pick a day. I’ll clear some time. It’s only twenty-five grand, and it’s for equipment that’ll pay for itself inside a year. Call the bank, make another appointment and I’ll…”
“No! Look, I already said no. You’re not co-signing any loans for me. If I can’t do this for myself, then I can’t do it, period.”
“You’re being stupid! Lots of new businesses need financial…”
“Stupid? Really?” I glare at him, irritation flaring. “That’s your opinion. I’ll solve this on my own. Come on! It’s Friday night. Let’s talk about something fun. Like, that hot little babe I just met. What do you know about her?”
“What happened to focusing on your business and yourself for a change?”
“Just humor me.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “She’s too young for you, Meat.”
I look over at him to see if he’s joking.
He won’t look at me.
“Rob? You forgetting something?”
“No. But this is different. Brenda and I have a lot in common, and…”