Wrecked (Axle Alley Vipers)

by Sherilee Gray

  Her belly had been full of nervous excitement when she’d walked out of her house this morning, desperate for a glimpse of him, but his car had been gone. And as much as she wanted to call him, to hear his voice, to make arrangements for later that night, she hadn’t.

  Pushing too hard, too fast would be the worst thing she could do. Luckily, and unluckily, Alex had called her to come by for lunch. It was certainly a way to distract her from chasing Cole down and dragging him back to her bed. It also meant that if her meager acting skills, from her one and only role as Frenchy in her junior high’s production of Grease, hadn’t stuck, she was royally screwed.

  When she knocked on the apartment door, Alex answered. She was wearing one of Deacon’s shirts, the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of cutoffs. She was glowing.

  Grinning, she grabbed Piper’s hand and dragged her in. “Finally. Rusty and I are starving. Come on, we’re out on the balcony.”

  Piper walked through the living room and smiled to herself. Her friend had made her mark on her brother’s once minimalist, impersonal apartment. Bright picture frames lined the big marble mantle above the fireplace, filled with pictures of all of them, as well as several beautiful shots of the wedding and honeymoon. Car magazines were stacked on the coffee table. The leather couch and chairs were adorned with big purple throw pillows, and there was now a gorgeous area rug on the floor.

  “The place looks great,” Piper said as they walked out onto the balcony.

  Alex snorted. “Mausoleums aren’t really my style. I got sick of hearing my own echo every time I spoke.”

  Rusty, with a mouthful of custard Danish, smiled and waved her to the seat beside her. Taking a slug of coffee, she swallowed. “Sorry, couldn’t wait another second. My stomach started eating itself.”

  Her sister had the metabolism of a racehorse and could eat whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and never get fat. Unfortunately, Piper hadn’t taken after their father’s side of the family. She was the odd one out with her shorter, rounder body. One look at a cream bun and her ass knew all about it.

  Piper grabbed one anyway. She’d burned more than a few calories during the night, right? One wouldn’t hurt. An image of Cole, the way he’d looked at her when he’d walked into her bathroom, pinning her to the counter, moved through her mind. God, the man was beautiful. The scars he’d been left with from his accident did nothing to detract from how magnificent he was. Not. At. All.

  Rusty licked her fingers. “Did that carburetor come in for the Dodge yet, Pipe?”

  Piper took a sip of the coffee Alex had put in front of her and decided to throw herself out on a limb. “Yep. Just after you left Friday.” She sat back, eyes on her sister. “I can get started on it this afternoon if you like? I’ve got nothing better to do. May as well put in some overtime.”

  Rusty grabbed a Danish and put it on her plate, then shook her head. “Nah, I’ll do it Monday. Thanks, though.”

  Brushing the crumbs off her shirt, Alex turned to her. “Sunday’s not for work, Pipe. Chill out, read one of your romance books.”

  Read one of your romance books.

  Ouch.

  She’d love to believe their refusal had nothing to do with doubting her skill when it came to classic cars, but she couldn’t. Not anymore. She knew just as much as they did, she just hadn’t had the opportunity to flex her restoration muscles in the last few months stuck in that blasted office. “Right.”

  Rusty nodded. “You’ve got a busy afternoon booked for Monday, take a day to relax. There’s a tune-up on the Nissan, and an oil change after that, and that Toyota’s coming in. Owner said it’s making a knocking sound.”

  Fun.

  All jobs she could do blindfolded. Zero challenge. Boring as hell. “You’re right. I think I’ll do some reading later.”

  She should tell them how she felt, lay it all out, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Couldn’t bear to hear them admit they didn’t think she could handle the restoration jobs.

  No. Her only option was to show them. To make the Chevy purr, then roll it out and surprise them.

  She lifted her bun, and it was halfway to her mouth when Alex jabbed her with her pointy elbow. Piper turned to her. “What? I can’t have a cream bun?”

  “What the hell is that?”

  Piper frowned. “What?”

  Alex turned to Rusty. “Have you had a good look at your sister?”

  Piper froze. Oh shit. They were onto her. But how? She hadn’t done anything, had she? “What are you talking about?”

  Rusty stopped shoveling food in her mouth, which definitely meant something was way wrong, and stared at her across the table, head tilted to the side like a bird of prey sizing up a mouse before it struck. “Jesus,” her sister muttered.

  “What’s wrong?” she said louder, a little hysterically.

  Alex wiped her hands on her napkin and sat back. “Your face is what’s wrong.” She shook her head. “You better lose the I’ve-recently-had-my-brains-fucked-out expression before Deacon gets home, or he’ll blow a gasket.”

  Piper felt heat climb up her neck. “I do not. I look nothing like that.” It wasn’t possible. Because technically, they hadn’t…fucked. Granted, they’d done everything but, but still. She was admitting to nothing.

  “No?” Rusty said from beside her, leaning closer.

  She twisted to face her sister. “No. And would you back the hell up?”

  Rusty moved fast, grabbing the collar of Piper’s shirt, and yanked it down past her shoulder. “Then what the hell’s this, Miss Innocent.” She stabbed a pointy finger into the side of her neck.

  “Ouch!” She tried to slap Rusty’s hand away, but the redheaded she-devil jumped her, wrestling her hands behind her back.

  Alex moved in, brushing her hair out of the way, and while Rusty held her down they both inspected her neck. It was like the last fifteen years hadn’t happened at all. She almost expected to hear her father’s voice booming from the other room, telling the pair of them to stop picking on Piper.

  “You’ve got a hickey,” Alex said, giving it a poke as well.

  “No. I can’t have.” How had she missed it?

  “I know a hickey when I see one. Seems you’ve been holding out on us, girl.”

  Sweet girl.

  God, the way he’d said it in that deep, coarse voice filled with longing, with heat. She’d loved it.

  Alex’s eyes narrowed on her.

  Crap.

  She tried to think fast. A successful lie usually held a thread of truth, that’s what everyone said. “Let me go, and I’ll tell you.”

  “We want all the details,” Alex said.

  “Fine.” Like hell.

  Rusty let her go, and they both took their seats again, neither one taking their eyes off her the whole time, like they expected her to make a break for it. The idea held definite appeal.

  She straightened her shirt and sat back, out of Rusty’s reach. “Okay, so I…I went on a date. Well, two actually, this week, and this”—she pointed to her neck—“is what happened after I was dropped home.” Ha! All true. She’d just omitted a few teeny tiny facts.

  They both stared at her like she was nuts. “Two dates?” Alex repeated.

  “Yep.”

  Her friend’s eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”

  Here we go. “Did you tell us when you were secretly humping our brother?” Piper fired back. Alex’s mouth opened, then snapped closed. “No, no you did not.” Piper spun to Rusty. “And you can’t talk. You snuck off to see Reid without letting either of us know. So don’t go lecturing me.”

  Rusty sat forward. “But that’s different.”

  Piper scowled at her sister. “How? Please enlighten me.”

  “Piper.” Alex was using The Voice, the wake-the-hell-up-Piper voice.
She hated that voice. “You took some random guy home to your place? Anything could have happened. That’s not smart.”

  Piper shot to her feet, shoving back her chair, the scrape of metal on tiles loud enough to make her wince. “You two are unbelievable.” As usual, everyone assumed she was some idiot, incapable of taking care of herself. The last thing she wanted was to sit through another lecture, not from these two. “And for your information, I went through a dating site. Everyone’s vetted thoroughly. If the guy was a psycho, he wouldn’t be allowed a profile on Perfect Match.”

  “Online dating?” Alex said, incredulous.

  Piper stiffened. “Everyone does it.”

  Alex frowned. “There’s no safeguard for online dating, no matter what the site says. Wise up, Piper.”

  “The guy is an assistant at a shoe store, for crying out loud. He lives with his mother. I think I was pretty safe.” She turned to Rusty. “And the one before him was a vet. He had a laugh like a chipmunk on acid and was at least four inches shorter than me. I probably outweighed him by fifty pounds. If he got frisky, all I had to do was sit on him.” She crossed her arms and scowled. “Happy?”

  Rusty shook her head. “Well, no, actually.”

  Piper threw up her hands. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “Pipe, if what you’re telling us is true, you either made out with an Oompa Loompa or some mamma’s boy with a foot fetish. Can’t say I’m happy about either scenario.”

  “You’re nuts.” Piper dragged her seat back and sat heavily, waiting for them to get it over with. The last thing she wanted was either of them ratting her out to Deacon, and if she took off and didn’t reassure them, that’s exactly what they’d do.

  Rusty arched a brow. “So which one did you suck face with?”

  She slumped back in her seat. “The mamma’s boy with the foot fetish,” she lied, again, and chalked this up to the most humiliating day of her life.

  “You seeing him again?” Alex asked.

  “No. I decided we weren’t a good match.”

  Rusty snorted. “Go figure.”

  Alex gave her foot a nudge under the table. “You going on any more of these dates? ’Cause I have to tell you, it’s the worst idea you’ve ever had. It’s like some twisted lottery. Only instead of hitting the jackpot, you got stuck with the booby prize. It’s dangerous.”

  Piper shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “We’ll change the subject, once you tell us you won’t do it again,” Rusty said, giving her arm a squeeze.

  “Fine.” She had no trouble agreeing, since she’d no intention of going on any more dates, at least not through Perfect Match. “And you have nothing to worry about. Cole’s right next door now, remember? All I have to do is call…or scream…and he’ll come running.” She definitely hadn’t planned on bringing Cole’s name up, but right then she’d use whatever weapons she had at her disposal to calm things down. “I must remember to thank my big brother for that.” She tried to put some venom behind her words but was pretty sure she failed.

  Alex had the decency to look sheepish. “You know he worries.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. You’ve gone to the dark side. Next thing you’ll sound just like him, like you’ve got a carrot lodged up your butt.”

  Alex’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “I will not.”

  “You will, too. You’re not going to be one of those married couples that morph together like some weird androgynous clone, are you? Spouting the same crap and wearing the same clothes.” She shuddered and gave the shirt Alex was wearing a pointed stare. “It’s happening already.”

  Alex opened her mouth to fire something back, but Rusty got in first. “Enough, you two. And we know you’re not growing a penis, Alex. Chill out.” Her sister turned to her. “We’re just happy you’ve decided not to date any more freaks.” Rusty patted her on the head, and Piper slapped her hand away. “So how is it living next door to Cole?”

  They both knew she’d had a huge crush on him, and Rusty had picked up on her renewed interest when he moved back. She thought she’d deflected it, but going by the look on her face, she hadn’t done shit. Which was more than a little worrying.

  “It’s fine. I barely see him.” She picked up her bun and took a healthy bite, halting the conversation for a few seconds while she chewed.

  Alex lifted her feet, sliding them under herself. “Deke says he’s had it pretty tough. I mean, we all know the car accident had to have been awful, but apparently he hasn’t dealt with losing his job all that well. Deke said he’s been seeing a shrink for months to come to terms with everything.”

  Piper ached for him. She’d seen it, the pain. He hadn’t been able to hide it from her. All she wanted was to make it better. Take some of that burden from him. If only he’d let her. The man had an invisible shield around him. Impenetrable.

  “Losing the job of your dreams, having to move, suffering permanent physical damage. It’s a lot to take for anyone,” Rusty said.

  Alex nodded. “I don’t know, Deacon didn’t elaborate, but I got the feeling there was more to it.” She shrugged. “If that’s the case, counseling’s the best thing for him.”

  “Been a long time since I’ve seen him smile, you know, really smile. He used to be so outgoing.” Rusty snorted. “Jesus, and the jokes.” She looked at Piper. “And the way he teased you all the time, Pipe, remember? He’d make us laugh so hard we’d nearly pee our pants.”

  Oh yes. She remembered. Piper nodded, all she could manage with her heart in her throat.

  Alex frowned. “It’s weird to think how similar Cole and Deke used to be. He had so much confidence, was always there with Deke to get us out of scrapes. I hate seeing how he’s closed himself off. How that light that used to always be there in his eyes, has just…it’s gone.”

  She’d seen a glimpse of the old Cole, of that light, last night. Just a glimpse.

  And she’d do anything to see it again.

  The conversation shifted to the honeymoon, but Piper struggled to focus. All she could think about was the wounded man she’d had in her bed a few short hours ago. How he’d set her body alight. The way he’d talked to her, the dirty, sweet things he’d said, like he’d been unable to stop himself, like when he was with her everything else slipped away.

  How he made her feel like she was the sexiest woman on the planet.

  And how, more than anything, she wanted him to let her in.

  Chapter Twelve

  The leather under Cole’s ass was cold, and the seat creaked as he bounced his knee, waiting for his shrink to fucking say something.

  The office was all dark wood, brown leather, and deep reds. The decor choice seemed odd for central Miami. Most offices went for light and airy, the ones he’d seen anyway, but not this guy. It felt like he’d walked into some Gothic horror movie, especially with the deer antlers, low lighting, and slight musty smell that always seemed to linger.

  Dr. Cumberland…John. The guy had told him to use his first name, because despite the ancient feel of his office, he was heavily into all that New Agey crap. He was also younger than Cole. It had definitely felt weird at first, talking to someone who looked like he still ate Froot Loops for breakfast. But he’d gotten over it. Wasn’t like he had much choice. After he’d finished his mandatory trauma counseling through the force in New York and it became clear he’d need ongoing help, they’d referred him here since he was moving back to Miami.

  The thought of finding someone else on his own hadn’t been high on his list of priorities. He may be stubborn, but he knew, for now at least, he needed this.

  “How has your week been, Cole?” John finally asked, sitting forward on his pink exercise ball and staring at him over the top of his thick, black hipster glasses. The ball made Cole think of Piper. She liked pink. Her room was full of the color.
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  “Unsettling.” Did he want to talk about Piper? He got the feeling saying what happened out loud, admitting to what he did, would make it all too real.

  “Do you want to expand on that?”

  “Not really.”

  John rested his elbows on his knees. “How’s the job going?”

  “There are still a few teething problems, but it’s going good.”

  “I know you were worried about working for your friend. Have any issues come up?”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Not…yet.”

  John scratched something down in his notebook. “You sound like you expect issues to arise. Is there something in particular you’re concerned about?”

  He didn’t know why, but suddenly he couldn’t hold it in, he needed to get what happened with Piper off his chest. And yeah, if he was honest, he wanted someone to tell him not to go there with her. To tell him to stop this now, before it was too late. Maybe if this guy, with all his degrees and shit, told him what he was doing was wrong, he could find the strength to walk away. If anyone knew how fucked up he was, it was his shrink. “Yeah, there is something.”

  “Okay.” John sat poised on that stupid pink ball, gaze fixed on him, waiting for him to spill his guts.

  Fuck.

  “My friend?” He released a harsh breath. “I slept with his sister.”

  The guy nodded, didn’t flinch, didn’t bat a goddamn eyelash. “And does your friend know about your relationship with his sister?”

  “No. And it’s not a relationship. It was sex. End of story.” He wasn’t even fooling himself with that shit. Did he really think he was fooling a professional?

  John arched a brow. “You don’t have feelings for this woman, beyond sexual?”

  “I’ve known her since we were kids. Of course I have feelings for her.”

  “Can you tell me about those feelings? Friendship, affection?”

  “Yeah, all of that.” And more, so much goddamn more.

  “I don’t see the problem. You’re both consenting adults, and you obviously care for each other.” He shrugged. “Your friend gave you a job, has supported you in many ways during your recovery. Why do you think he wouldn’t approve of you and his sister getting together?”