Unrefined (Monroe Series Book 3)

by Nicole Dykes

  I study her, it’s like she’s never out on her own or something. “It’s no problem, just tell me what you want and I’ll go get it. It’s kinda my job.”

  “Why don’t you just get me what you like.”

  Is this girl for real? “I just drink black coffee. They have all kinds of choices here though.” I point up to the large menu, written out in colorful chalk on a large blackboard.

  Charlotte turns to read the large list of choices, “Hmm…well the Mocha Latte sounds good.”

  I nod, okay got her to make one decision on her own, now getting her to customize an entire car should be a cake walk right? “Great. I’ll be right back.”

  I walk up to the counter and order her coffee. I need to remember to be polite, Dylan reminded me of that again this morning. Be polite, but distant.

  Yeah distant I can do. Polite, that’s gonna be a bitch. Not that Charlotte is hard to be nice too. But when it comes to women, polite comes off as flirtatious with me. Because I’m usually flirting.

  This is just business though. Do not get too close.

  The cute and petite barista has been eye-fucking me since I got here this morning. After she hands over Charlotte’s coffee, I give her a quick wink and head back to the table.

  Charlotte has removed her long black coat. She is sitting, stiff as a board, in the chair across from mine. I hand her the cup of coffee, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I sit back down in my chair. Okay, down to business, my fucking head is pounding. I know I need to make this brief. I pick up my coffee and look Charlotte in the eyes. Mistake. Fuck what shade of green is that?

  I clear my throat, “Okay, so what’s your dream car Charlotte?”

  She looks flustered, maybe a little embarrassed when she says, “I honestly don’t know. I don’t know very much about cars, Jackson.”

  I want to tell her to call me Jax. I only go by Jackson in my professional life, but that’s the part of life she’s included in. I do like the way she says my damn name though, it’s slow and drawn out with a sexy southern twang that drives me fucking wild.

  She takes a sip of coffee using her left hand, the huge rock on her ring finger glistening before me. That’s right, she’s married shithead.

  “That’s no problem. I’m here to walk you through it.” I don’t want to choose for her. It seems like that’s all this woman has had in her life, people making decisions for her. “Have you ever seen a car and thought, ‘Damn that’s sexy?’”

  She giggles at that and puts the coffee back down on the table. “No. Do people really get turned on by cars?”

  Hell yeah. Don’t say anything inappropriate. “Sure, but I don’t mean necessarily turned on, just something that evokes emotion. Cars have the power to provide freedom to the trapped.”

  Her eyes widen at that, maybe that was a poor choice of words. “Wow, I’ve never thought about that before. I don’t know though, I’m happy with my simple BMW.”

  Come on, Charlotte, there’s more to you than that. “You’ll have that car to go grocery shopping or yoga or whatever daily activity you want, but this car, it’ll be for when you need a break from all of that. So don’t be afraid just tell me what you want.”

  My words seem to have excited her, “Alright, well can I at least have a few options.”

  “Sure, you want something like your husband had made, a foreign car, or maybe more American Muscle.”

  “What’s that?”

  Really? She’s from the South. “Fast. Really fast and sleek. Camaros, Mustangs, GTO.”

  Her eyes light up, “Hmm…I like that, maybe a Mustang.”

  A little boring, but still a nice choice compared to her husband’s grandpa car. “Okay, I can do that for sure.”

  I pull up pictures from different years of the Mustang on my phone and point them out to Charlotte. She leans in closer to me to get a better look and the close proximity to her body is fucking with my brain. Couldn’t she smell awful or something, suffer from dandruff, I don’t know just anything to make her less attractive.

  Of course she smells like fresh flowers and has no imperfection whatsoever. She points to the picture of a ’68 Mustang, “I really like this one.”

  “Nice choice and it shouldn’t be hard to track down.”

  She sits back in her chair, “Track down?”

  “Yeah, I’ll make some calls and find a Mustang body this year. I’ll try to find a couple and then we will go and look at them.”

  For some reason she looks surprised by that too, “I’m going to go with you to look at a car?”

  “Well the beginning of your car and yeah. Your husband is a very hands on person. He went with me to find everything for his ride, I’m assuming he wants the same thing this time around.”

  It was the most irritating three months of my life, the fucker even went with me to pick up the custom grill for his car because he didn’t trust them to ship it. Control freak galore.

  She just nods, “Yes, he probably does, but he knows a lot more about this sort of thing than I do.”

  I finish my coffee, “Well if you ever have a question, just ask.”

  I stand up from the table, I need to leave. “Okay, so I’ll give ya a call when I find suitable candidates and we will find a time that works for you to go see ‘em.”

  She stands as well, still holding her coffee, “Thank you for your time, Jackson.”

  I nod my head, “Sure, see ya soon, Charlotte.”

  With that I high tail it out of there and head back to the garage.

  When I get back to the shop I meander my way into my office, sitting down at my desk and propping my legs up.

  Ah silence.

  Which is fucking rudely interrupted when Dylan walks in, plopping down in the chair in front of my desk, “How did it go? The senator there?”

  I shake my head, “Nope, he really is letting her takeover on this one.”

  “That’s fucking weird man.”

  Luke strides into my office, “How did it go? You already fuck her?”

  Dylan chuckles, “What Luke? Do you have day one in the poll?”

  I glare, “You assholes better not bet on me. You all are going to lose if you do.”

  Dylan laughs again and slaps my boot, “Don’t worry buddy, I bet that you wouldn’t.”

  Luke laughs, “Well I’m not that stupid, I got a glimpse of Mrs. Warner and holy shit there is no way that you won’t at least try to go there.”

  I look in his direction, “Don’t you need to get home and disappoint your poor girlfriend in bed soon?”

  He raises his middle finger, “That’s where I’m headed.”

  Dylan turns to him, “Not right now, you aren’t. You have shit to do.”

  “Bullshit, I have my guys on it and I’ve been here since six this morning. Hannah is leaving in twelve days, I’m heading home.”

  Luke will forever be sixteen around Dylan, but he is a good kid who has really stepped up around here.

  I look at him, “You don’t work for us, you work with us. If you need to go, get the fuck out of here.”

  He gives a cocky nod before exiting the shop.

  Dylan shakes his head and laughs, “So, it went good then.”

  “Yeah, it went fine. She picked out a ’68 Mustang. Won’t be a challenge at all.”

  Dylan stands up, “Nice and easy. Sounds good.”

  After spending more time with Charlotte today part of me thinks this might be the biggest challenge of my adult life.

  Chapter 5

  Jax

  Shit the road is slick tonight, why the hell does it have to be raining.

  The car stops, why the fuck is he stopping. “Don’t fucking stop. Keep going, we have to find her.”

  He doesn’t say anything, just turns pale and stares forward. What the fuck is he looking at?

  I look to the front and a little off to the right.

  Right then my whole world stops.

  Please no
.

  This isn’t happening.

  I jump out of the car and run like hell to that red Toyota.

  I can hear her screaming my name. She’s begging me to help her.

  And then I hear a buzzing sound, what the hell is that…

  I sit straight up in bed, drenched in sweat. I’m fucking panting and my throat is throbbing, probably from screaming. I look around, I’m in my room. Not out on an abandoned country road.

  It was a dream, Jax. Wake the fuck up. Just another dream.

  God dammit I hate those fucking dreams. I hear the buzzing sound that woke me up. It’s just my buzzer. I live in a gated community and someone is trying to get me to open the gate.

  I run a shaky hand through my short hair.

  Okay, move your body out of this bed and man the fuck up.

  I sleep naked so I slip on a pair of gym shorts lying by my bed and find my way downstairs and hit the buzzer, “Yeah?”

  A nervous voice comes over the speaker, “Um, it’s Charlotte Warner.”

  Charlotte? What the fuck is she doing at my house?

  I look over at the clock on the wall, oh shit we were supposed to meet at the shop to go look at cars. I called her yesterday because I found three options to check out. It only took me three days to find them because there are a lot of Mustangs available.

  “I’ll buzz you in.”

  I do that and massage my aching temples. I don’t think I slept for even one-minute last night, and now I’m going to spend the entire day with Charlotte.

  It’s not long before I hear a timid knock on my front door. Damn that was fast.

  I answer it, not bothering to find a shirt. Modesty isn’t something I possess.

  Charlotte Warner is standing at my door, dressed up as usual. Her hair is braided down today and she’s wearing black slacks and another silk blouse, a light blue today.

  Does this girl know how to dress casually? She always looks fresh out of a Macy’s catalog.

  Charlotte’s eyes dart to my bare chest and then quickly back up to my face, like she did something inappropriate again. Her eyes are wide and she looks a little freaked out. I can’t figure her out, “Um, Jackson, good morning. I’m so sorry to come to your home, but I spoke to the secretary at your shop. And she gave me this address.”

  That makes sense. “No problem. Come on in.”

  Her eyes move downward again, slowly.

  Fuck, a girl’s eyes exploring my body has never turned me on like this before, if she weren’t married I would swear she’s never seen a naked man before. “Oh, I can wait out here while you get ready.”

  I can’t help but to laugh, I’m not naked. Jesus. This girl must have been raised “right”. Most of the women I know wouldn’t even be bothered if I were standing here completely stark ass naked. “Please, just come inside.”

  I move back from the doorway and she walks in cautiously, glancing around my living room.

  “This is really nice.”

  I close the door, “Surprised?”

  She shakes her head, “No of course not, it’s just more…. homey than I pictured.”

  I chuckle at that, yeah that’s Brooke’s fault. Before I met her, I lived in a very simple town home. Couple of pieces of furniture, no big deal. Just a place to crash.

  Well when Brooke and I finally became close and she moved in with Dylan I encouraged her to add all of her frilly girly shit to his house, simply to fuck with Dylan. He then got me back by encouraging her to hire a decorator when I was on vacation for a week.

  This fucking guy added the most comfortable suede couch I have ever sat on, two matching recliners, a coffee table and side tables. He moved in a dining room table with four wooden chairs, replaced my old full sized bed that was seated on the floor, with a huge King sized bed with a cozy mattress and headboard with matching bedroom furniture. I now have curtains and rugs.

  When I first saw it all I was pissed that my functional house was turned into a home, but I was too busy at the time to fix it and now it’s actually grown on me.

  I will get that asshole back though.

  “Yeah, the decorator went a little overboard.” I point to my super comfy couch, “Please make yourself at home and I’ll be right back.”

  She carefully walks over to take a seat, like she’s afraid to be here.

  I walk up the stairs to my bedroom and take a quick shower, there is no way I can be alone in my truck all day with Charlotte still soaked in my sweat from my sleepless night.

  After my shower, I hop out to dry off and dress in jeans and t-shirt. Our trip is going to consist of visiting junkyards, absolutely no reason to dress up.

  I grab my wallet and keys and walk downstairs to where Charlotte is perched on my couch, just waiting patiently for me.

  “Ready?”

  She stands, gracefully, “Yes.”

  I lead her outside to where my truck is parked in the driveway and hit the automatic lock as I pull the passenger side open, “Hop in.”

  Charlotte looks around, nervously, she’s like a spooked cat, “We are riding together?”

  “Yeah, of course. The first car is in Topeka and the other two are in Wamego. That’s a two-hour drive, might as well ride in the same vehicle.”

  She reluctantly climbs into my truck and I close the door. She acts like I’m going to jump out and bite her.

  This is going to be one long trip.

  I get behind the wheel and back out of my driveway, glancing over at Charlotte, I see that her hands are folded in her lap as she stares straight ahead.

  “What kind of music do you like, Charlotte?”

  Her eyes move to the radio, “Oh anything is fine.”

  She’s too fucking nice. “Hmm, let’s see you’re from the South, so… Country?”

  She smiles at that, “I do like Country music, but I like classic rock too and the new stuff.” She shrugs her shoulders, “I’m easy to please.”

  I flip it to a local country station trying not to think about “pleasing” Charlotte. I would love to fucking please her.

  “So you picked up on me being Southern, huh?”

  What’s this? She’s actually trying to engage me in conversation? “Yeah, wasn’t tough. I’ve got it narrowed down to Georgia or Alabama.”

  She grins from ear to ear, “You are good. Georgia.”

  I knew it, that’s where that sexy drawl is from, “Born and raised?”

  “Yes, until my sophomore year of college.”

  I nod as I merge onto I-70, “When you met the Senator.”

  “Yes, how did you know that? Has he talked about me?”

  She seems almost hopeful that he has, I don’t want to flat out crush her and tell her that her husband barely spoke a word about her during the time we spent on his car, “Well, I kind of guessed that, I mean you’ve been married for seven years and you don’t seem like you can be that old.”

  She nods, “Well you guessed right, I met him and we had a whirlwind courtship before I married him and moved here.” She then asks, “So where are you from? You have an accent too.”

  I laugh, “Guess.”

  “Just a little south of here, maybe Oklahoma or Texas.”

  I nod my head, “Oklahoma, born and raised.”

  “Wow, so what made you move to Kansas.”

  I’m actually surprised she is asking so many questions, talking about where she is from seems to have opened her up for the moment. “Dylan, my business partner. He had a family emergency here so I moved up to help and just stayed.”

  “You just picked up and moved for your partner?”

  “Well, Dylan is like a brother to me, he’s really the only family I have left.”

  She stares out the windshield, “That was nice of you, I don’t think I have blood relatives that would just pick up and rearrange their entire life for me.”

  Wow, this turned personal quick. I fucking hate talking about my life, especially the past.

  How did we get here and so fast
?

  Chapter 6

  Charlotte

  When we finally reach our first destination we have both been semi-silent for over half an hour.

  The first part of our trip was actually really nice. We talked about where we were both from and how we both ended up here, but then the conversation dropped off.

  Now there is a definite tension in the air, maybe we crossed the line by talking about our personal lives.

  He turns off his truck and we both climb out. I close the door and look at the run down building in front of me.

  Jackson is back to business as he starts to walk up to the building, I follow closely behind. It can’t be that surprising that I’ve never been to a salvage yard before.

  He opens the door to the small grungy office and I stay near him, not sure what to expect. Standing this close to Jackson’s large body, isn’t the best idea I’ve had though. His fresh male scent is invading all of my senses, making me dizzy. Especially after seeing him half naked this morning.

  Good Lord I felt like an idiot, my eyes trying to take in everything all at once. His chest and arms are solid, chiseled muscle and although I have seen the tattoos on his arms, hands, and neck before I didn’t realize that had them on his chest, abs, and back. There are a few bare spots, but each tattoo is intricate and looks like there was a great deal of detail that went into them all.

  An older man, probably in his fifties, walks out from the back. He’s wearing a greasy jumpsuit, “How can I help you?”

  Jackson holds out his hand, confidently, “I’m Jackson Garrett, we spoke on the phone about the Mustang body.”

  He nods and looks in my direction, examining me, probably trying to figure out how I fit into this equation. He then addresses Jackson, “Alright, it’s out back. Just follow me.”

  Jackson opens the door for me and allows me to go first, followed by both men. We walk to the back of the building and the man shows us what is literally just a hunk of metal. There is nothing to it, no tires, no engine, nothing.