Pop The Clutch: A Second Gear Romance

by Kristin Harte

  “So, if you don’t know what kind you like and you don’t know if you can open it, why not grab something else? I seem to remember you liked coconut rum and pineapple juice back in the day.”

  Jesus, the man had a long memory. He was right—rum and pineapple was my drink of choice back in my underage years. But we hadn’t hung out in school, and our friends hadn’t been friends. How did he learn that?

  And why did the fact that he knew that make me want to jump his bones right there in the grocery store?

  EASTON

  Shit. I had to step away from her, but my God, the girl was so irresistible. A simple evening of grocery shopping was making me want to toss her ass on the floor so I could crawl between her legs and hear her moan in the middle of the store. What woman had the ability to do that? I wasn’t some teenage boy with a libido bigger than his brain. I had control over my dick…or at least I’d thought I did. But then Violet Foster had walked in and started talking about zombies and pesticides and marshmallow bars, and all bets were off.

  Strolling to the shelves with the hard liquor, I did my best to stop thinking about getting Violet naked. If I could just concentrate on food and not her, I’d be fine. But I could still smell her perfume, still feel her eyes on me. There was no way to avoid her, no way to hide from her while I dealt with my…problem. Not that attraction should be a problem, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t be thrilled if she were aware of how hard she made me without even trying.

  I took a deep breath and searched out a bottle I knew she’d appreciated once upon a time. Stalling, really. We both needed a minute or two. Me, to calm the fuck down, and her, to find the courage to stick around. Giving in to what I really wanted, I glanced at Violet out of the corner of my eye. She was staring at me, her teeth visible on that pink bottom lip of hers. Biting it. Looking like she wanted to bite me. Shit. I was going to have to jack off when I got home.

  “You still like sweet drinks?” I asked, trying my damnedest to concentrate on the bottles on the shelf instead of the image of her hand wrapped around my dick in place of my own.

  She shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  “Sometimes. Like you like wine sometimes.” I chuckled, taking a bottle of coconut rum from the shelf. Drinks, I could do. Drinks were easy and a good distraction. “So you like rum still?”

  “I think so.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  She frowned, her nose wrinkling in the most adorable way. “It’s been a while. Everyone I know drinks wine, so I haven’t had hard stuff in years.”

  I nodded, creeping closer, trying hard to keep my body in check. But her eyes were bright and watchful, her skin slightly flushed. And good goddamn, she was looking at me like…like how I was looking at her. “If you don’t always like wine, why drink it?”

  She shrugged. “Everyone I know—”

  “Everyone you know drinks it. I got that. But why do you?”

  Her head jerked back as if no one had ever asked her about herself. And maybe no one had. Or maybe she never gave them the chance. Because as much as this was Violet, the popular girl from high school, this was also Vee, the girl living with the ramifications of having been filmed having sex, of that video having been leaked all over the damn world. There had to be a few trust issues there.

  Slowly, Violet dropped her eyes to the bottle in my hand. Then she reached for it, every inch almost like a battle fought. A battle for her truth, maybe. Or a battle against her attraction to me, which was perhaps a little wishful thinking on my part.

  When she finally grabbed the bottle, when her little hand wrapped around the outside of mine, she shivered. “Are we friends, Easton?” she whispered, suddenly appearing shy.

  “Sure. Of course.”

  “Friends hang out together, right?”

  “Some do.”

  She took a deep breath as if preparing for something. “Would you like to have a drink with me? As my friend? I could use a break from…things.”

  As if there were any possible way I’d say no. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

  She nodded, smiling. Looking relieved. Looking as if she’d just bested some sort of beast or completed some sort of feat. And maybe she had. The girl was running on pure will, it seemed. Maybe asking me out had been a little beyond her comfort zone for the night. I was glad she had, though.

  “I should grab some pineapple juice.” She took the bottle of rum from my hand, smiling up at me. I liked it…too much. Brogan was going to be in full mother-hen mode when he found out about this, but I wasn’t about to put on the brakes when she was looking at me like I was something she yearned for. Something she craved. Trying for anything more than friendship with Violet Foster—again, so many years after I’d crashed and burned while asking for a date—was quite possibly the best worst idea I’d ever had, but I was going to follow it through. By starting out as friends.

  “We can go to my place,” I offered without thinking.

  My mistake was clear in the way Violet reacted. Back straight, muscles clenched, she turned her head to look over her shoulder, not quite meeting my eyes. Every single inch of her locked down and on the defensive. “I asked you if you wanted a drink. That wasn’t an invitation for anything else.”

  Shit. Cold voice and harsh words—she thought I was trying to get in her pants. Not that I’d be against it, but she wasn’t ready. I could tell that from a mile away.

  “I’m not asking or expecting anything, Violet.” I stepped closer, moving around her so I could look her in the eye. Her expression stayed closed and guarded, the pain and fear in her eyes screaming that those scars of hers ran deeper than I’d been prepared for. I hadn’t meant my offer the way she’d taken it, but I could see why she saw it as a come-on. “Your grandma is sleeping, and my house is empty except for Dolly. That’s the only reason I offered. If that makes you uncomfortable, we can go someplace more public.”

  She kept her eyes locked on mine, her face giving nothing away. But I felt it. I knew it. She was ready to run. Just offering what she thought was a proposition for more than friendship had been enough to set off those fight-or-flight instincts, and she was a woman who chose flight. Too bad for her, I always chose fight.

  “Violet, I swear to you, this is just a couple of old high school friends catching up. I’ve got no other intentions.”

  The look on her face gutted me, the distrust there warring with something akin to fear and making me want to destroy everyone who’d ever hurt her. “Honest?”

  “Honest.” I shrugged and offered up a smile. “At least not yet.”

  She chuckled, her shoulders relaxing. “Friends sounds good. I don’t have friends here anymore, and getting ground up in the rumor mill isn’t really what I’m looking for this summer.”

  “Understood. So how about we pay for these groceries and get rolling? I’ll drive us someplace public for a drink, and then bring you back here to grab your car.”

  If her sunny smile was any indication, she liked that idea. “Sounds perfect.”

  And it would be, once I figured out how to be just friends with the woman I’d dreamed about being mine for most of my life.

  CHAPTER SIX

  VIOLET

  “You are not taking me here.”

  “Why?” Easton asked, glancing at me as he turned his truck into the driveway of what was essentially our town’s lover’s lane. “It’s a public spot but sort of private in the back. No one will bother us.”

  “Right, because they’ll all be too busy making out.”

  “What?” He looked around the lot. “It’s the parking lot of the ice arena.”

  “Yeah, in the back. Where all the kids used to go to get a little privacy. Or were you not one of the many who fooled around back here?” I grinned as his eyes went wide, wondering what sort of memories that question brought up.

  “Shit. I forgot about all that.” He pulled to a stop, probably considering his options. “It seemed like a good idea when we left the gro
cery store. I promise I didn’t bring you here to make out with you.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, my voice a little sharper than I’d intended. I was with someone I wanted to be a friend, but that last comment of his sucker-punched me. Was he just not attracted to me? Had he seen the video and—

  Anger and humiliation shut off that thought quick. Of course, he’d seen the video. The whole town had watched it, even those without internet. He probably felt the same as all the others I’d run into over the years who’d seen it—either expecting more from me than I was ready to give simply because I’d given it before in a public way, or disgusted by my actions. Sometimes even a little of both.

  But Easton didn’t seem like one of those guys. He didn’t seem pushy or overbearing, and he certainly didn’t seem disgusted. Maybe, just maybe, he really was someone I could be friends with. If I could just keep those memories of the video locked away for an hour or so.

  “I haven’t been here in years,” Easton said as he pulled to a back spot facing the woods. There were only a handful of cars in the lot, probably high school kids who’d snagged some late-night ice time. In a town so close to Detroit, rentable hours in a rink were hard to come by. At least in my day. I had many a memory of steaming up the car windows with Jace in the wee hours of the morning after he’d finished an early-morning time slot for hockey practice.

  I shrugged, pushing thoughts of Jace out of my mind. “Yeah, though it hasn’t changed much.”

  Easton pulled out the cups and rum we’d brought with us, balancing the pineapple juice on his thigh. When he finished making my drink, he handed me the red plastic cup, pulled out a beer, and turned off the headlights. Darkness immediately blanketed us, making the cab of his truck feel much smaller. More intimate.

  “Did they take out the lights?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

  Easton laughed and unscrewed the cap of his beer. “Probably. Brogan’s cousin Tyler runs this place now. His grandpa retired and handed it down to him.”

  “Well, no wonder. Tyler was practically the make-out king, if I remember correctly.”

  “Pretty sure Colton would argue that the title was his.”

  I shook my head and swallowed a sip, nearly humming at the sweet-tart taste of my drink. “Colton was the make-out god.”

  “I didn’t know you and Colton—”

  “Oh, no. I was with Jace through most of high school.” Until the video, I thought but didn’t admit. “I just know the stories.”

  “There are plenty of those.”

  “He still wild?”

  “Not as much now.” Easton took a swig from his bottle before settling back against the seat. “He’s no wallflower, but he’s not going through women like Kleenex anymore.”

  “He left many a broken heart at old Downriver High.”

  “As did you, Miss Congeniality.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please.”

  “You always were so blind to how you drove the boys crazy. Pretty sure Brogan walked right into the doorframe in E hall every day for a month because you’d smile at him as you left chemistry class.”

  “Liar.”

  “Girl, you have no idea. You turned my head for years.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Now you’re just sweet-talking me.”

  He leaned forward, taking up so much room in the cab of his truck that I felt surrounded by him. “Not sweet-talking. Not exaggerating either. Just telling the truth.”

  “Liar,” I whispered again, staring into those bright blue eyes of his. Getting lost in his closeness.

  “Nope. Not lying.” He dropped his gaze to my lips, and my breath caught. Oh God, how I wanted him to kiss me. I knew it was a bad idea, knew it would cause problems I really wasn’t in the mood to deal with, but none of that mattered in that moment. It was dark, we were alone, he was close and so fucking handsome…and I wanted to feel his lips on mine.

  But he didn’t kiss me. He blinked then leaned back, giving me room to breathe instead. Room I no longer really wanted. Room I actually sort of hated.

  I took another drink of my cocktail, hoping my hands weren’t shaking. “This is good. I haven’t had it in forever. At least not since college.”

  “You went from Western straight to Chicago, right?”

  “Yeah.” I took another drink, the alcohol warming me from the inside out. Smoothing the rough edges of my thoughts once more. “Left WMU to go to the Culinary Institute, then got an offer at a restaurant downtown, so I stayed. My grandma warned me, but I totally didn’t think about things like starting salary and cost of living when I made my move.”

  “It’s expensive there?”

  “Expensive doesn’t begin to describe it.” I lolled my head to the side, smiling. “But I’m not without skills. Three restaurants later, and I’m in the kitchen every day making treats for a living and earning a decent salary.”

  “Do you like that kind of work?”

  “I do. I enjoy baking…probably more than anything else I’ve ever even thought about doing.” I slouched in the seat, kicking off my shoes and propping my feet on the dashboard. “Food doesn’t require me to be smiling and calm when I’m in front of it. I’m allowed to have a bad day in the kitchen, to curse and throw things and slam my hands into dough. I beat the shit out of bread twice a week and love it.”

  “Yeah, you might get in trouble for beating up a coworker,” Easton said, completely straight-faced. But then he grinned. “Though I’d sort of love to see you all mad and raging.”

  “I bet, so long as it wasn’t you I was mad at.”

  “Truth.” He held up his bottle in a mock salute. I smiled back, suddenly completely intrigued by his lips again. They looked so soft. So kissable. Positively bitable.

  Stop thinking about Easton’s lips. “So. I make desserts, and you’re a mechanic.”

  His hand brushed against mine, making me shiver. Instead of pulling away, he kept it there. The lightest of touches. The simplest of gestures. That move made me swoon hard.

  “Automotive Technician,” he said, his voice a little softer than before.

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Fuck if I know.”

  I coughed a laugh, nearly choking on my drink. “God, you’re such a smartass.”

  “Yeah, but it’s part of my charm.” He tugged on my hand. “C’mere, pretty girl. It’s too dark to see you all the way over there.”

  His words wrapped around me like a blanket, the feel of his hand pulling me closer, warming me from the inside. From everywhere. “I thought we were being friends.”

  “We are, but I like to actually see my friends’ faces when I talk to them.”

  I smiled and answered him with a shift closer. He tugged again, so I crept across the seat a little more. Two times, three. Four. Until we were close enough to touch. Close enough to do things other than hold hands. And I wanted those things. I’d drunk just enough to feel a little sleepy instead of buzzed. Just enough to truly relax. And Easton was looking at me as if he liked me being this close.

  “Why didn’t you become a teacher?” he asked, his breath ruffling my hair.

  “How do you remember that I wanted to be a teacher?”

  “Junior year career fair. You said you wanted to teach. Plus, you used to talk about the teaching program at WMU. I assumed that was why you were going there.”

  “You have a great memory.” I leaned against his chest with my head back, staring at the ceiling. Avoiding his eyes again. “I like your truck. It’s the same one from high school, right?”

  “Same one. It was my dad’s before it was mine, though.”

  “I think I remember that. He left town at some point, right?”

  “Yeah,” Easton said, his voice growing a little rougher. “Packed up and took off without a word senior year.”

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine.” And I couldn’t. I’d lost my mom when I was too young to have strong memories of her, but the idea of losing Dahlia? Losing
my grandma? Of one of them walking away from me? Just the thought killed me inside.

  “Most people can’t,” Easton said, sounding a bit stronger. “It was a rough time, but we made it through. Family pulls together in times like that, you know? Me, my mom, my little sister…we became an unstoppable team.” He took a deep breath, shifting me even closer. “The only thing my dad left behind was his cars. We all picked one, and then my mom sold the rest. My mom still drives his old Cadillac, my sister Gracie drives my dad’s Chevelle, and I got his truck.”

  “So it had good memories for you?”

  “Fuck no. My dad leaving town was the worst thing that ever happened to us, but I refuse to try to pretend it didn’t happen. Besides, it’s a good reminder that people aren’t always what they seem.”

  “Seems really brave, to face your past like that.”

  Easton hummed his approval. “That’s a definite truth. Now quit trying to avoid my question. Tell me why you’re not a teacher right now.”

  I’d never told anyone but Dahlia about the situation with my guidance counselor freshman year. Not even my grandma knew exactly why I’d dropped out of one school and rushed off to another. And I hadn’t ever expected to tell someone I barely knew, like Easton, but my guard was down, and my lips were loose because of the alcohol. Or maybe that was just an excuse and I wanted to tell someone, anyone, the truth. “The guidance counselor at Western made it very clear that parents wouldn’t want their kids taught by someone who’d starred in porn.”

  Easton’s body went stiff, and his hand clenched the steering wheel tight. “You didn’t star in porn.”

  My harsh laugh probably wasn’t the reaction he expected. “Try to make people see that distinction and let me know how you get on, because I’ve been failing at that for years.” I waved my hand, not wanting to continue down that conversational path. “What are you still doing here, Easton Cole?”

  “Chatting with you,” he replied, his voice deep and soft.