Reid shook his head as he placed his helmet on the seat in front of him and then unzipped his leather jacket, hot after the long hard ride. And speaking of long hard rides . . . What he wouldn’t give to turn her around and hitch that skirt up her thighs.
The smile she was giving him was brighter than the flash of an arc welder.
“You need some help?” He got off his bike, ditched his jacket, and walked toward her.
“My Cherry broke and I don’t know why. If you know the name of a towing company or a local garage, I’d be really grateful. I’m Lia,” she said, holding out her hand toward him. Reid took it, savoring the way her slim fingers brushed against his. And so what if he held onto it for a moment longer than was probably polite before he released her?
Reid pointed to the logo for Kenny’s Auto Shop on his polo shirt. Technically, he hated polo shirts, but he wanted the garage to look professional, so uniforms it was. “I own this place. Did you just call your car Cherry?”
“Of course. Doesn’t she look like a Cherry to you?” She deadpanned the question, but her eyes sparkled with humor.
“I kinda wish the hood was down,” he said with a grin.
“And why’s that?” she asked, lifting off the car to stand up straight in front of him, and damn if those lips didn’t look even more kissable close up. She rested the umbrella on her shoulder.
“Because then I could ask if I could pop your Cherry.”
Lia laughed and smacked his arm. “Don’t make suggestive innuendoes about my baby.”
Reid laughed, rubbing his arm as if she’d actually hurt him. “If I can’t fix it here on the road, I can take you and Cherry back to the garage in Fort Pierce. Can I take a look?”
“Be my guest, Kenny,” Lia said, indicating the front of the car with her hand, although her eyes remained solidly locked on his pecs, and he stood a little taller in response. “You’re lucky I even knew how to pop the hood.”
Reid laughed and didn’t bother to correct her. Most people called him Kenny, unaware that it was really his surname. Kennedy. And it gave him distance from the person he used to be. “I’m sure you have other talents. Want to give me the keys and let me turn it over?”
Lia hesitated and bit her lower lip. “How about I turn it over, and you look under the hood?”
Smart girl. Cars often got stolen by people masquerading as Good Samaritans. “Whatever makes you most comfortable,” he said. He walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door for her, watching discreetly as she sat down on the seat with both feet still on the ground, before twisting in the seat while keeping her feet together. It was a classy move. His first observation was accurate: she had great legs.
Lia looked up, pinning him with those expressive eyes of hers, which clearly said she had him pegged. “Ready when you are.”
She turned the key, and the car made a knocking sound that told him all he needed to know. He mentally ran through a litany of tests he would need to do, none of which could be done roadside, since he only kept basic tools with the bike. If he wasn’t mistaken, the engine had a busted valve spring. Reid had a soft spot for Plymouths. A million years ago, he’d promised to fix one up for his sister, Taylor. But that was before . . .
“So what’s the verdict, doc? Will Cherry live?” Lia asked, surprising him as she appeared next to the car. Damn, she smelled good enough to eat. She stood close enough to him that her umbrella offered him some shade from the baking Florida sun. It was one of the things he actually missed about Chicago. The seasons actually changed. Fort Pierce was hot and dry, or hot and wet. He missed snow. Or at least the nostalgic thought of snow. He cleared his head of the melancholy thoughts.
“I can bring anything back to life,” he said, checking the connection to the alternator one last time. He looked up to find her staring at his hands, and she blushed. Wiping them on the back of his jeans, he stood up to face her, forcing her to lift the umbrella higher. Reid took a half-step closer to her. She didn’t step away, but she did arch a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. In her tall heels, she was likely five feet nine or ten, still inches shorter than his own six two, but he liked the way she was looking up at him right now. Until her nose crinkled a little across the bridge.
He stepped back with a grin. “Sorry, long day, hot ride, was heading home for a shower.”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry for holding you up. Look, I can call someone else to—”
“No,” Reid interrupted a little too hastily, reaching for her hand. “I was just explaining why I smell like day-old garbage.”
“I don’t know . . . there’s something very attractive about the smell of a man who knows how to work hard. And it was the sun behind you that made me squint, not the smell.” The corner of Lia’s mouth twitched with a smile, those perfectly made-up red lips making him think all kinds of thoughts he shouldn’t.
“I’ll have to remember that,” he said, studying her for a moment before pulling out his phone. She was flirting with him, and he found he liked that kind of confidence a lot. He stayed in place as he dialed the garage and studied her. “Jarod, can you bring the truck out to Ocean Drive, about a half mile north of Hutchinson Island? Look for the bike and a red Plymouth.” Reid gave Jarod the rest of the information and asked him to get Shaun to follow him in the loaner. He should have asked them to bring out tools, see if he couldn’t fix what was going on roadside first, but in truth, he wanted the lovely Lia to himself for a little while longer and he was pretty certain anyway that the knocking was a broken valve spring. It had been a while since he’d allowed himself the pleasure of a woman’s company, and he liked this one.
“Truck’s on its way,” he said, tucking his phone back in his pocket.
“So, what do we do now?” Lia asked, resting the umbrella on her shoulder and twirling it in what seemed a flirty yet almost mindless action.
“You want an honest answer to that?” he asked.
Lia looked up and him and nodded. “Always.”
“I figured we could take a walk to the beach while we wait . . . and chat.”
“Chat?”
“Yeah. Chat. It’s a euphemism for wanting to get to know you.”
* * *
Effervescent bubbles of excitement ran up and down Lia’s arms. Watching Kenny under the hood of her car was the sexiest thing she had ever seen. Actually, no. Watching him lower the kickstand, take of his helmet, and ease himself off his bike had been glorious. So what if his dark shaggy hair was wet with sweat? Or that his gray polo shirt was stained with grease and damp patches? Lia had always been attracted to hardworking men, guys who were ripped through manual labor rather than hours logged in an air-conditioned strip mall gym while standing around talking about gains.
Oh, the places she’d let his dirty hands go if he asked nicely.
He studied her with eyes the color of her favorite Americano, and she itched to run her fingertips along the short scruff that emphasized his strong jaw.
“It’s a euphemism for wanting to get to know you.”
His words reverberated through her like an invitation to let the bad-girl side of her take over. The impulsive side her father always tried to quash. She wondered if Kenny would think her rude for trying to clarify whether his definition of getting to know each other was the same as hers.
“Don’t overthink it, Lia,” he said, running the tip of his finger along the exposed skin of her shoulder. It made her shiver in a whole bunch of places she thoroughly enjoyed shivering in. “You’re safe with me, I promise. Lock the car up.”
Something about the confident, almost cocky way he told her what to do had her insides tingling, and when he held out his hand toward her, she took it and followed him. As they reached the sand, Lia bent forward to unfasten her shoes and Kenny steadied her. For the briefest moment, she had a flicker of panic. Nobody knew where she was. The detour hadn’t been in the plans she’d passed along to Trent, and it was ridiculously reckless to take a narrow footpath to a secluded beac
h with a man she didn’t know.
He started to walk again, but she stayed rooted to the hot, white sand. He tugged her arm and quickly stopped. “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
He didn’t strike her as crazy, but then again, women had been charmed by Ted Bundy. She slipped her hand from his. “Wait. Say cheese,” she said, taking a photo of him with her phone. Ignoring the two missed calls and three texts from her father, she quickly fired it off to her best friend and former roommate, Pixie, who was also manager of Second Circle, with a note stating his name and where he worked.
“What was that about?”
“Insurance,” she replied, a little embarrassed by what she’d just done.
“For what?”
“In case you are a mechanic serial killer.”
“A mechanic serial killer? Really?” Kenny laughed, and the deep rich tone resonated through her. “If I ever become a serial killer, I want a better name than that. Not that I am, of course. But that lacks all kinds of originality.”
“Most of the best names do. Like the BTK Killer. Bind, torture, kill was pretty literal,” she said.
“True . . . but maybe given I’m already doing a crappy job of trying to convince you to take a walk on the beach with me, we should can the serial killer talk. We can head back to your car if waiting up there makes you feel more comfortable,” he said.
Lia sensed nothing but sincerity behind his words. In fact, he’d probably be the one to feel uncomfortable if he knew how many times she’d already imagined him naked.
She made a living from assessing the people she tattooed . . . their tolerance for pain, the truths they wanted their tattoos to reveal. Sincerity radiated from Kenny. Nothing about him raised any flags, and Pixie now knew where she was and who she was with. She looked down at her phone.
Lucky bitch!
Lia laughed and looked back up to where Kenny was waiting patiently, his eyes focused on her intently. “Let’s go,” she said, ignoring the little shiver when he placed his hand on her lower back.
“So you know what I do, but what do you do, Lia?” he asked as they walked, his warm hand guiding her around the uneven ground. The shrubs began to thin as the pathway opened out onto the beach.
“I’m a tattoo artist in Miami. I’m on my way to an event in Orlando. I need to figure out how to get there once I know what is happening with my car.”
“What’s in Orlando?” he asked, finding a smooth log overlooking the water for them to sit on. With a steadfast grip on her hand, he helped her sit before joining her. “You off to see your boyfriend?” He grinned at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back.
“Subtle. And no. No boyfriend, anywhere.”
“Well, the guys in Miami are morons.”
“And the men in Fort Pierce are . . . ?”
Kenny raised his eyebrows. “You really want me to answer that, Red?”
Lia giggled, grateful that the narrow band of soft sand with a steep slope into the water that was a placid sea green was mostly desolate. They were very much alone, just how she liked it.
“Should I find an equally awkward-slash-obvious way to ask you if you have a girlfriend?”
“I can be many things, but subtle isn’t one of them. And the answer is no. But the prospects just looked up.”
His ran his eyes up and down her, resting a fraction too long on her breasts before he looked away, rubbing his hand over his chin.
“You asked what’s in Orlando . . . I’m heading to a tattoo expo where I am one of the speakers tomorrow.”
“Huh,” Kenny said in response, resting his hand behind him on the log and leaning back in such a way that his biceps and triceps stretched the band of his polo shirt.
Lia wondered what it would feel like to be hugged tightly in his arms. Or whether he’d be strong enough to hold both of her hands in one of his above her head while they were in bed together. She bit her lower lip at the thought. That kind of thing totally got her off.
“Is it important to you to get there?”
To get where? Orgasm? Did he just read her mind? It took Lia another moment to realize he was asking about the expo and she felt her cheeks heat. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever for this opportunity to come along.”
He looked at her from the corners of his eyes. “Are we talking about whatever just turned your cheeks pink or the expo?”
“What if I said both?” she asked and bit her lip.
“What time do you need to be there by?” Kenny asked, but his eyes were on her mouth.
She released her lip and grinned. “I’m speaking at noon tomorrow. Why?”
Kenny leaned forward and took hold of her hand, massaging her palm with his thumb. It was a bold move, and she liked it. His confidence was . . . refreshing.
“Well, if I’m gonna deliver on both, I want to know how long I have to get to know you, because women as confident and pretty as you don’t drive through Fort Pierce every day.”
Lia felt her cheeks warm a little at the compliment.
Kenny coughed and smiled at her. “So why tattooing, Lia?”
She hated that question and often answered it with a generic answer about using her art to help others, but the truth was painful, stemming from long periods of being ignored by her parents while growing up. As her mother had withdrawn from the social butterfly she’d once been, her father’s frustrations had increased. He knew how much Lia loved to draw, so as punishment for some minor infraction, he would take her art supplies away. But Lia had gotten smart, and had hidden a couple of pens in the gap between her mattress and bed frame. In the absence of paper, she had taken to drawing on herself, hiding the doodles under her clothes until it was time to shower. As an adult, it was something she still found comfort in, although she was embarrassed to share that detail with anybody else.
“I’m an artist first,” she explained, trying her best to ignore the way his strong hand on hers made her stomach flip. “But of all the canvases I’ve used, skin is just the most intimate. It’s so hard to explain, the connection you get when someone gives you permission to change their skin forever. That you get to touch them while you do it, for me, means there’s this moment when . . . sorry, I’m rambling.” She rarely shared her true feelings because they sounded totally out there, so it was odd she felt compelled to tell a man she’d barely known five minutes.
Kenny lifted her chin with his finger and ran his thumb along her lower lip. “No. You’re not. Please . . . finish what you were about to say.” He dropped his hand away.
She licked her lip where he’d touched her and sighed. Unsure whether the light-headedness she suddenly felt was his touch, or her over-sharing, she continued regardless. “There’s a moment where I feel like an extension of the person I’m tattooing, because I’m creating a piece that will become an extension of them for the rest of his or her life. Sounds weird, doesn’t it?”
Kenny rubbed his hand over the tattoo on his arm. “Not at all. Getting ink that matters is . . . well . . . it can be lots of things. Reminders of love, of loss, of recklessness,” he said with a sad laugh. “I guess it can be just as intimate for the recipient is all. Not sexual necessarily, although I have a suspicion getting one by you might be.”
She studied him for a moment, her pulse racing, the connection between them undeniable. “I have a feeling you might be right.”
They sat in comfortable silence, looking out over the water, listening to the soft swoosh of the waves as they folded onto the sand. The cloudless sky was a vivid blue, and the air rich with the scent of saline.
Gravel crunched under tires on the roadside and Kenny looked in the direction of her car. “Your knight in shining blue paint has arrived.”
They walked back up the path until they reached the road. Again, Kenny steadied her as she brushed off her feet and slipped her shoes back on. Sure enough, parked ahead of her car was a brilliant blue tow truck with the words KENNY’S AUTO SHOP in white on the cab. Ahead
of that was a beat-up minivan.
“Shaun, Jason, this is Lia. Lia, these guys are mechanics at the garage.”
“Hi,” she said. “Thanks so much for helping me out.”
“Need a hand getting this on board, Kenny?” Jason asked.
“Nah, I got this.”
Lia watched them do some weird fist-bump thing, then leave.
“Want to help?” Kenny asked, coming to stand right in front of her. His polo shirt clung to his pecs, stretching across the chest. It shouldn’t have been delicious. Polo shirts were dorky, conventional, staid. But after seeing how Kenny rocked his, she felt like buying stock in Fruit of the Loom.
“Do I look dressed for manual labor?” Lia looked down at her shoes and shrugged.
“Not one bit.” He laughed. “You look dressed for sunshine, sushi, and saki.”
“Any other S words?” she asked playfully, placing her hand on his side which was, Lord God, so freaking solid.
He leaned forward and slowly ran a finger down the length of one of her curls, watching the way it bounced back into place. It was a simple move, and shouldn’t have aroused her like it did. Kenny placed his lips next to her ear. “Slipping, sliding, seducing, sucking, screwing, and sexual.” He stepped back. “Will those do you, Red?” he asked gruffly.
She swallowed deeply and nodded.
“Good. Now hop in the truck, the AC is running.”
It was impossible to hide her pleasure at his words, and she grinned. Cool air would have to do for now . . . until she could make it to a cold shower.
* * *
Reid took a whiff of his polo shirt and cringed. His bike and Lia’s car were now secured on the tow truck, which was a good thing. But he smelled like his old hockey bag used to, which was most definitely a bad thing. For a moment, he considered removing it, but his body didn’t smell much better. Neither of which were conducive to persuading Lia to stick around a while longer. He’d seen her periodically watching him through the rearview mirror, and he liked having her eyes on him. Those gray eyes were like quicksilver, and such a contrast to all that sexy-as-hell hair. But man, he needed to cool the fuck down, because he’d had a freaking hard-on since those fucking wide eyes of hers had flared when he whispered in her ear. And it had taken every ounce of self-control not to kiss her.
The Darkest Link (Second Circle Tattoos) Page 2
