He opened the door to the cab, and propped his arms on the seat. “I’m going to give you two choices, neither of which is great.”
“Okay, hit me up.” The heat-induced pinkness had gone from her cheeks, her skin as close to perfection as he’d ever seen.
“I stink, the shirt stinks. I’m thinking me without it might be marginally bearable, but we get to keep the AC. Or, we wind down the windows and roll with it. Less stink, more breeze.”
Lia lifted her hand up to her hair. “There’s no easy way to answer that,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
“No?” He waited patiently for her to answer.
“Does it make me shallow and vain if I say ditch the shirt so my hair doesn’t get mussed up?”
Reid walked back to the bed of the truck and hopped up. He took his shirt off and threw it into the tool kit before returning to the cab to climb inside. “Better?” he asked.
Lia looked him up and down, and if he had to guess by the way her pupils flared again, and the way she bit down on her bottom lip, the answer was yes.
“Bearable,” she said primly and turned toward the window, but not before he saw the corner of her mouth turn up in a grin. “You look like a goddamn soda commercial.”
He tried not to stare at the way her blue dress had ridden up her thigh because, fuck, those were fine-looking legs, and started the truck.
“So, how long have you lived in Fort Pierce?” Lia asked once they were underway. “That accent doesn’t sound native.”
“I’ve been here for five years. Illinois originally.”
Lia shivered dramatically. “Anywhere north of Atlanta freaks me out. My boss’s fiancée, Harper, is from Chicago, and I always tease her about why anybody would live where it’s freezing half the year.”
Kenny laughed. “While I was looking at your car, I wondered why people choose to live in a place without seasons. You don’t know what you’re missing. Plus, saunas, snow, and sex go together perfectly.” Why had he never realized just how handy the letter S was?
Without thinking, he grabbed her hand and placed it flat on his thigh, his hand on top of hers.
“If you miss the seasons so much, why don’t you live somewhere that has them?”
“That, Lia, requires a long and complicated answer, but it’s good for business to build custom bikes in a state where it’s possible to ride them year-round.” Deflecting was a shitty thing to do, and his gut dropped a little at the thought, but today was for S words and flirting, not for reminiscing about the things that haunted him.
He raised her hand and kissed her knuckle. Her skin was perfectly soft against his lips. “I want you to stick around for a little bit longer. Can you do that?” Reid turned to look at her.
She paused for a moment, then smiled. “Sí.”
“I fucking love S words.”
The drive back to his garage took all of twenty minutes, and within another ten, he had the car up on the hydraulic lift.
Reid ran a number of checks on the car, and made some notes. He stood up and raised his hands in the air to stretch his spine out. Shaun had left for the evening and Jarod was just about to lock up for the day.
“You need a hand, boss?” he asked.
“Nah, I’ve got this,” Reid said. “I’m going to take a proper look at this in the morning. Gotta love these old classics, but life got a whole lot easier when they introduced engine management systems.”
“She’s a beauty,” Jarod said, looking from the car to over where Lia was standing in front of his tin poster of Betty Page on the cover of Modern Vixen.
“Yeah,” he answered, because it applied to both.
Jarod whipped his rag across Reid’s chest, and he was thankful he’d taken the time to pull on a clean polo shirt.
“Ow, motherfucker. What the hell was that for?”
“Lucky S.O.B.,” Jarod said, walking away, laughing.
Reid rubbed his chest. Asshole. Jarod was going to end up on call the following weekend in retaliation. Lia had waited, but it was hard to say she’d done it patiently. She’d picked things up, turned them over in her hand, and put them down before moving on to the next. He’d suggested sitting in the waiting room next door, even though he liked looking at her. Instead, she’d simply carried a stool out into the garage but never sat on it.
“I’m done for now,” he said, grabbing a towel and wiping his hands. “It’s none of the obvious things, so I’m going to have to dig deeper in the morning, see what needs doing. My gut tells me that it’s going to require new parts and we’ll need to special order them, given the age of the engine. Or see if we can find them online.”
“You can do that?” she asked, looking around the garage.
“Yeah.” ’Cause I’m a fucking auto wizard. “There’s no end to my talents.” He couldn’t resist touching the end of her curls.
“That’s . . . impressive,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
“I like to think so. Where do you need to be, and by when?” Reid asked.
Lia looked at the huge clock that hung on the far wall.
It was already six in the evening. Technically, he should be on his way to Shakey’s to join the guys for an after-work beer, but right now he was quite happy with his current view.
“I’m speaking at noon, but the expo opens at nine. I have a room booked for tonight, but I’d planned to head home straight after it was over. I guess I should start to make arrangements to get there.”
It was strange the way the deep feeling of dissatisfaction crept over him. It wasn’t immediate, but in the same way paint changed color as it dried, her words bothered him more as they settled. He wasn’t ready to let her go. He would eventually, of course. But this woman had potential, and he wanted to explore that for a little while longer before they said good-bye. To pretend for a moment that he wasn’t such a screwup, and that he actually stood a chance with the hot-as-hell woman standing before him.
He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to think about the past.
“I have a plan. It’s a ninety-minute drive to Orlando, plus or minus, depending on where you are staying. For both of our sakes, let me go shower. I live upstairs,” he said, motioning upward with his eyes and chin. “Then, I’ll drive you to wherever you need to go, buy you dinner”—he gripped her chin—“and perhaps kiss those pretty red lips of yours.” She smiled at that, which warmed him inside. “And after that I’ll deposit you safely at your hotel.”
“And what about my car?”
“I’ll figure out what needs fixing,” he said, reluctantly letting go of her. “I’ll work up a quote, e-mail it to you. You like it, I do the work. You don’t, then I’ll tow it wherever you want the car to go. If you’ve got a mechanic at home you really like, it’s no skin off my nose.” Except it was. He wanted to work on the car desperately. The chance to work on a classic Plymouth was too good an opportunity to miss. Missing out on working on Lia’s car would suck donkey balls, not least because he wanted to see her again once it was fixed.
“Okay.”
“Okay? Simple as that?” he asked.
“As long as you shower, because that’s a deal breaker.”
“Want to shower with me?” he asked, more out of curiosity than intent. Okay, well maybe there was intent, because fuck, he wanted to know if she looked as hot naked as she imagined.
“Not today,” she replied with a wink.
Gently, he took hold of her wrist, wrapping his thumb and forefinger all the way around it. “Does that imply someday?”
“That kinda depends on how good you smell when you get out.”
* * *
The idea that Kenny was somewhere above her head, allowing soapy suds of water to run down his naked body was almost more than she could handle. But as the queen of bad choices when it came to men, and the possessor of an uncanny knack for falling in love, Lia tried to hold firm to her self-imposed moratorium on hooking up. Watching her friends and co-workers, Trent, Cujo, and Pixie, all f
all in love over the last eighteen months had taught her a truly valuable lesson. Her idea of love was not the same as everyone else’s. She was starting to understand hers was born out of a desperation that was almost impossible to explain. Watching Pixie, and her boyfriend, Dred Zander, lead singer of Preload, grapple with a young baby and touring while growing as a couple had opened her eyes to the hard truth. She desperately wanted to be loved and needed by someone because she had been deprived of it for so long, and that had led her to accept any attention. Just the smallest hint of it set her world on fire, so certain that she was on the cusp of finding the person who was going to love her back, only to find she was alone in the strength of her feelings. There was a real difference between being wanted and being needed, and she craved the kind of love that left her breathless now that she understood what that was.
Sitting in the glass-walled garage waiting room, she pulled out her phone and faced the messages from her father. Apprehension settled as heavy as bad seafood in her stomach. Twelve months in therapy had taught her to stop micro-scrutinizing the thoughts she had. Thoughts her father had put there. She dialed voice mail first.
“Julianna. It’s your father. I was rather disappointed that you left before we had a chance to talk this morning. Please can you come to the house this evening?”
There was that word again. Disappointed. He used it often. Forever he had told her how disappointed he was with her grades, her attention span, her fashion sense, her choice of career, her choice in men. Well, screw him and his disappointment . . . she was disappointed, too. Disappointed that her father had had barely five minutes a day to spend with her when she’d been in school. Disappointed that when she’d struggled with math, he’d bought her a calculator, instead of helping her figure it out. Disappointed that he still blamed her for the death of her twin, a boy. A boy that should have followed her older brother into the military . . . perhaps to West Point, or some other place that would make her father proud. Disappointed when on her eleventh birthday he told her he wished she’d been the one to die in the womb instead.
“Julianna. I am getting tired of the radio silence. I am waiting for you to come to the house.”
Message two. As cold and impersonal as the first. Reluctant to call him and get drawn into a debate, she entered a text message. Had to leave. Speaking at a conference in Orlando in the morning. Back Sunday.
Lia waited the obligatory ten seconds and watched with sickening anticipation as the little dots next to her father’s name bounced. Of course he’d reply now. She was relieved it was the dots instead of a call.
Not good enough. Need to speak to you in person tonight.
Well. He could fucking wait. She’d rather eat a hive full of bees than face him.
Contractual obligation, she typed. Unable to change.
Her phone rang, and she threw it into the bottom of her purse. She knew what he wanted to talk to her about. The first step in gaining control of her. Her father wanted to be governor, and that was about to cause her a world of hurt. She desperately hoped her father wouldn’t be chosen to run for office, but the conversation she’d overheard suggested he was at least going to try. Her mom didn’t have it in her to be the First Lady of Florida, let alone the country. And the thought of becoming the First Daughter, or whatever the hell the title was for a grown-ass woman, made her want to puke.
She stood up and wandered back into the main garage. It smelled like a mixture of oil and coolant, and she breathed deeply. Somewhere deep inside her mind, her synapses must be firing wrong, because the scent excited her. An old red-and-white gas pump stood up against a brick wall that had been painted white. A giant sign stated MY GARAGE . . . MY RULES.
“Hopefully I smell as good as I feel,” Kenny said, walking back into the garage. Gone were the biker boots, black denim, and standard-issue polo shirt. Instead, he wore faded jeans that hung low on his hips, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and navy-blue Converse. His hair was messy and pointed straight up at the front, and a silver chunky watch adorned his wrist. He carried himself with the casual sophistication of an old-school Hollywood actor.
For once, Lia felt travel-weary. Perhaps she should have been the one who’d showered. Or at least changed into that pretty polka-dotted dress in red and white that she had packed away in her luggage.
“If you smell as good as you look, I am more than happy,” she said, ignoring the ping of her phone that indicated that her father had left another voice mail.
Kenny walked toward her, coming to a stop at her feet and offering her his hand. She took it, savoring the way his large hand made hers feel small and safe. He didn’t back up, but held his ground right in front of her, leaving very little space between their bodies. And damn . . . he smelled divine.
“Better?” he asked, running a finger along the curve of her chin.
“Much,” she breathed.
Kenny stood for a moment longer and smiled at her before taking her hand and leading her through the garage. “We should get your things, and I need to give you the rest of your keys back,” he said, taking the keys off the key ring and handing them to her. He unlocked her car and pulled out her suitcase and smaller vanity case. Somewhere along the way, women had stopped using them to travel, but Lia loved the ritual of opening up the vanity case to find all her favorite skin care products and beautiful makeup. It was as much a part of who she was as her tattoos.
Lia smiled as she watched Kenny tuck it under his arm so he could turn off the lights. They wandered back through the customer waiting area, where Kenny set the alarm, and left the garage. Outside, he led them over to a small building with a roller shutter door.
“Will my car be safe here?” she asked, looking around the neighborhood. It was run-down . . . no, neglected. Large potholes in the road, uneven pavement, tired homes. A group of teens stood on the street corner.
Kenny waved over to them, and a couple of them raised their hands in return. “I know those kids. They’ll look out for the garage. I employ two of their fathers,” he said confidently. “Want to see my baby?” he asked, raising the door.
Lia gasped when she saw exactly what his baby was. Because first . . . it was black, polished to within an inch of its life. Second . . . it was a convertible. And third . . . it was hot as all hell. “What is this?” she asked, running her hand over the elongated hood.
“A 1958 Ford Thunderbird. It was a shell when I bought it. Was found in an unused barn with a bunch of other old classics.”
The wheels were black with white faces, and the soft top was a creamy white. Reflections from the chrome cast light onto the white walls.
“I love it,” she said, excited to sit inside.
“Hood up or down?” Kenny asked, slipping her cases into the trunk.
“Oh, most definitely down,” Lia said. Screw the victory rolls, she could always put her hair into a high ponytail and add the red ribbon she had in her purse if her scarf failed. She reached into her bag to find it and tied it around her head.
“I like this,” Kenny said, fingering the knot under her chin gently. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners made her feel all kinds of gooey inside. Perhaps it was a good thing they lived a long drive away from each other. His very presence made it difficult to remember why she was taking some time off from men. But a little harmless flirtation was adding to the adventure of a few days off work. There couldn’t be any harm in that.
Once inside the car, Kenny took her hotel details and plugged them into his phone. “There are few downsides to the classics, but lack of sat-nav has to be one,” he said, turning the radio on. “Ready?”
“I feel like Thelma and Louise about to drive over the edge of the cliff,” she said with a laugh.
“Close. That was a 1966 Ford Thunderbird, eight years younger than this baby. Does that make me J.D.?”
“That depends. Are you planning on driving me to a motel, having your wicked way with me on the dresser, then stealing my life savings
?”
“I know a motel, don’t know if they have a dresser, but more than willing to do a drive-by to find out.”
Lia laughed. “I was joking.”
“I wasn’t. Say the word, Red.”
He revved the engine several times, the low growl sexy as all hell, and grinned as he roared out onto the street. Lia watched his hand as he shifted the stick. He caressed the gear stick. The more she stared, the more turned on she became until she had to cross her legs and look out of the window.
Damn him for getting her so hot and bothered. She spared a glance back toward him, just as he turned to face her. And he winked. Because he knew.
And that just turned her on even more.
* * *
Reid waited for Lia in the opulent lobby of her hotel. Giant chandeliers reflected warm light off gold accents but did little to distract him from the fact that Lia was in her room freshening up. Not that she’d asked him to go up with her, but it was better for both of them that he was down here while she was up there changing into some other outfit that he couldn’t wait to see. Because the very idea that she was currently naked wasn’t helping the semi hard-on he’d had since she’d crossed her legs in the car. Watching her fidget, he wondered what it would be like to still her. To fuck her so completely that she couldn’t focus on anything but him and the way he made her feel.
They’d made small talk as he tried to convince himself that sliding his hand up her knee was a really bad idea, and got to know one another a little better while he tried to bury thoughts of fucking her on random pieces of furniture. Plus, his dick was acting like a teenager faced with his first skin mag. As the questions touched on something personal, both of them had pulled back. In his mind, the less she knew about him as a person, the less personal this encounter would be, which would make it easier when she pulled her car off his lot for good. Or so he told himself. Repeatedly.
The Darkest Link (Second Circle Tattoos) Page 3
