by Tl Reeve
Ireland snatched her hand from mine. “Whatever, you’re still on strike two.” The steel in voice was tempered as she looked away. Pink tinged her cheeks and the tips of her ears. It was adorable and sexy as hell.
I smirked, taking another step closer to her. “About this strike system.” I had a reputation for getting what I wanted when I wanted it. Money wasn’t an object for me. In the years since I’d begun my luxury auto sales, I’d prided myself on being fair, honest, and ruthless when necessary. In a cutthroat auto industry, only the best rose to the top. I aimed for the number one spot every day.
She made an incredulous noise and changed the subject. “What’s wrong with the car?”
I glanced over at the shop and found Hunter and another man watching us. The other guy was a bit younger than Hunter but not by much. While Hunter had an amused look on his face, the other man appeared ready to snap. He didn’t scare me, though their presence only fueled my need to make her mine.
“Your bodyguards are watching over you.” Acid dripped from my tone. Again, jealousy ripped through me. Whoever the men were, they needed to keep their fucking noses out of our business. Of course, they’d never be competition for me. I’d win every time. However, the irrational gut churning protectiveness left me on edge. I didn’t like it.
“You mean my older brothers?” The droll stare she gave me along with her deadpanned words made her a tempting morsel. My palms itched to spank her ass for being sassy with me.
Then her words sunk in and some of the jealousy receded. “Oh.”
She laughed. The warm, sweet sound made my back teeth ache and my gut clench. “Let’s start over. I can admit I was distracted back there.” She held her hand out again. “Welcome to Banks Automotive. I’m Ireland Banks.”
“Mack Redman. I own Redman Auto Sales and Flame.” I hitched my thumb in the direction of the Aston Martin. “I need some work done.”
Her eyes flashed with excitement and anticipation. I bit back a groan as her smile widened. “It’s a ’65. A Bond car.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, it is. My client called it a Bond car too.”
“There are exactly one thousand and twenty-one 1965 Aston Martin DB5s in the world, and you brought me this antique.” She looked like she was about to jump out of her skin. Her slim body vibrated with energy as she continued to stare at the car on the rollback. “What’s wrong with it?”
I stared at the building again, worried Gareth could still be mistaken, even though she appeared eager. “Are you sure you can handle a vehicle like this one here?”
She huffed out a breath. “How about this?” I saw her wheels turning, like she tried to come up with a solution I’d agree to, so she could get her hands on the vehicle. “I’ll run a full diagnostic on the car, and if my assessment is agreeable to you, then I’ll start the repairs.”
“If you’re wrong?”
“We’ll go our separate ways,” she said. “Pretend this never happened.”
Bullshit. I’d never walk away. “I want the strikes against me cleared out.” I took another step closer to her. “Take walking away from each other off the table too, because that shit ain’t happening.”
She sucked in a breath. “You’re like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”
I smirked and leaned in. “More Hyde than Jekyll. Do we have a deal?”
She licked her bottom lip, and I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to do something stupid while her brothers watched us. “You’re on.”
“One week,” I said. “You have a week to figure out what’s wrong with the Aston Martin.”
“Fine.”
I pulled a card from my pocket and handed it to her. “Dinner. Tomorrow night. I’ll leave your name at the front desk of Flame. I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful partnership.” Before she could refute anything I’d said, I strode over to the rollback to pay the driver, then got into my vehicle and took off.
I needed to get out of there before I did something stupid. Like her fuck her in front of her waiting brothers.
Ireland
* * *
I stood there dumbfounded as Mack pulled out of the parking lot. My hand still tingled from where he touched me, and my heart continued to pound at a rapid tattoo. What have I gotten myself into? The man made my blood boil while simultaneously turning me on to the point I ached for him. He wasn’t my type either. He was all stuffy suit and pompous attitude. His cockiness bordered on conceit. Yet, I was drawn to him. He was attractive, hot in a businessman kind of way. His offer of dinner after our caustic introduction should’ve been a no-go for me, but I’d accepted. I’d never accepted a dinner invite from a stranger so quickly. I guess I’d chalk it up to being off my game today. It was the only thing that made sense.
The morning started shitty.
I woke up early, knowing I had a list of things to do when I arrived at the shop. So, I decided to head out before the two jerks, Hunter and Landon, got out of bed. When I stepped out of the house with my travel mug so I could stop by Starbucks for a triple shot of espresso, the front whitewall tires on my Mercury Custom were flat, slashed along the sidewall. Those weren’t cheap either. The tires were custom-made for my car. I ended up calling for a tow, since our truck was down for repairs.
Recently, I’d had the worst luck ever. A month ago, I went to get into my car and the whole driver side was scratched. Whatever the person had used cut a deep groove in the paint, forcing me to repaint it. Buffing it out would’ve made the mark worse. Then about three weeks ago, during a freak storm, the passenger window was blown out. The incident hadn’t been suspicious because straight-lined winds could lob objects all over the place. The tires though... I had a feeling one of Hunter’s cling-ons was pissed off again—seemed like part and parcel lately. However, in the back of my mind, I wondered if I’d been the target all along.
No, don’t think like that. Sure, Edgar liked to fuck with you before you moved, but how would he have found you? That was the million dollar question, I supposed.
Then there were the components for the ‘Cuda sitting in the first bay. They were supposed to arrive three days ago. Instead, they were delivered this morning, and one of the gaskets along with another item for the rear end had been missing. We were already behind due to the distributor dragging ass on sending the order, but this put us further behind. My brother Hunter needed at least five days to paint the car and another two or three days to grind the rust off the front end and fix the little body imperfections. We’d have to eat some of the labor costs all because the dicks at the supplier couldn’t get their heads out of their asses.
“Who was that?” Landon asked, joining me as the rollback backed up to the empty stall.
I handed him the card. “A pretentious asshole.”
He grunted. “What did he want? Wait. Mack Redman?”
I glanced at my brother. “You know him?”
“We’re not like best friends or anything, but I know of him.” Landon stepped into the bay and whistled. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a foreign beauty in here.”
Mack’s reputation preceded him. He was known for being honest and dedicated, and he always got what he wanted. He did a single interview before the opening of Flame, and I swore he flirted with every woman who had a beating heart while speaking with the interviewer. His enigmatic sex appeal dampened every woman’s panties in probably a thirty mile radius. I shouldn’t feel special about him throwing that charm my way, however, I couldn’t prevent the way my body responded to him. No. Stop it. You have work to do. This is no time to be fantasizing about Mack. I focused on the Aston. Excitement zinged through me as I tried to push all thoughts of Mack Redman out of my mind.
“I can’t wait to get my hands on her and make her purr.”
He chuckled. “You’re a nut.”
I shrugged. The interior of the car appeared pristine. Whoever owned it must have taken care of the vehicle. There weren’t even cracks in the dash. “It needs a few touch
ups.”
“The paint’s faded on the roof and hood. We’ll clean her up.” Hunter joined me. “Hey, about the guy who dropped it off, you okay?”
Again, the piercing heat and irrational anger from before reared its ugly head. Mack had brought out the unsightly she-devil within me, and I didn’t understand. There were plenty of dicks in this town. Most thought I was just a seat cover—a pretty face or body to look at. Others assumed I answered the phones or made coffee runs for my brothers while the rest believed I’d been Hunter’s—yes, my older brother’s—old lady and shouldn’t be in the shop, period. It was gross. Even though we didn’t look like siblings because I had our mother’s red hair, it didn’t mean we weren’t related. The first time someone assumed I was his girlfriend, Landon had to pull me off the asshole so I didn’t beat him too bloody. I gritted my teeth. “I’m good. Promise.” I touched his arm. Between Hunter and Landon, their protectiveness was suffocating. Jackson, on the other hand, was younger than all three of us, and we took care of him.
“Chris called while you were outside. He said he’ll have those tires mounted by this evening. Luckily his distributor had a set for you.” The strain on Landon’s face made me wince. I’d been blowing off each incident as though they were all a coincidence, but a worried niggle at the back of my neck warned I should take them more seriously than I was. Edgar, my ex, made it quite clear after I left him that he could find me whenever he wanted. But here? No, I wouldn’t entertain the idea.
“I bet it’s one of your little floozies, Hunter. They probably don’t like big sis living with all three of you.” I grinned, trying to lighten the situation. “I mean, I know I’m a huge cockblock.”
Landon and Hunter flinched as though my comment hit its mark. Since our parents died, Hunter had stepped up to be head of our family. “You don’t cockblock us.”
“Sure I don’t.” I sighed. “Anyway, I need to head to the parts store. The fucking distributor missed three gaskets along with the rear end gear ratio. Can’t go anywhere without that.”
“Again?” Hunter narrowed his eyes. “So, are you telling me I won’t get my hands on the ‘Cuda yet?”
“Sorry, buddy.” I patted his shoulder. “Unless a miracle happens, I won’t have it finished until tomorrow at the earliest.”
“Fine.” He grunted. “Want me to hook the Aston Martin up to the diagnostic?”
My palms itched to get under the hood of this bad girl. However, since Hunter finished his painting for the day, I shrugged. “Sure, why not. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone though. If you need any help, grab Landon.”
“Yes, Mom,” Hunter teased. Ever since we’d been kids, he’d called me mom. Our mom thought it was hilarious because I acted like her but roughhoused like the boys.
When Hunter then Landon started taking auto repair classes in high school, our father went out to the old junkyard and bought them some clunkers. In a span of two years, Hunter, hell, all three of us, had become proficient in fixing cars. We’d sell the ones worth the work so we could buy more to rebuild them. Once Hunter graduated high school, he went straight to the trade school not far from where we lived and took auto shop-painting because, according to him, ‘people were more likely to buy a car with a fresh paint job.’
He hadn’t been wrong either.
“Asshole.” I bit my lip to hold back the smile trying to form on my mouth.
“I calls them as I sees them.” He walked backward with a shrug before disappearing to the storage area of the shop where the portable diagnostic machine was kept. Of the three of us, Hunter had the most tattoos. He was covered from the head down, and he wore clothes that showed them off, unless it was winter. He’d pulled his hair back, exposing the small intricate designs on the sides of his head that he’d done as a drunken dare by some of his friends, including Landon. About the only thing that even remotely connected us as siblings were our eyes. His were light green while mine were emerald.
With a shake of my head, I went in search of Landon. I knew, like Hunter, he’d give me shit for the little display with Mack. When I stepped into his bay, he’d been under the Olds. Some cars were easy to tear down and put back together, Olds, on the other hand, not so much. A muffled thunk followed his curse of pain before he slid out from underneath the car, and I quickened my pace.
“Son of bitch, that hurt.” He had a grease rag over his knuckles. His wavy ash-blond hair obscured his features as he glanced at his hand. We’d all split ours more times than we wanted to count, yet he grimaced like it was more than some scraped skin or a bruise.
“Don’t be a pussy,” I chided.
His blue-green gaze collided with mine as he flipped me off, and I noticed the amount of blood on his rag. “I think I need a stitch and found the issue.”
“Fuck. Can this day get any worse?” I grumbled. “Let me see it.”
He removed the rag. I hissed. There right between the index and middle finger was the perfect punchout from a piece of metal. Landon was right—he’d need a stitch. “When it rains, it pours.”
“I’ll tell Hunter. You can come with me. I have to hit up the parts store anyway.” I started back to my bay. “Put a clean towel on that. Don’t need you dying from some weird infection.”
“Yes, Mom.” Landon stood and went over to his workstation. “Gonna charge them double for this bullshit. Knock in the engine my ass. More like throwing a rod through the block and fucked the whole transmission. How the fuck do you even put a hole through the catalytic converter?”
I frowned. “Write up the bill. Add in the clinic fee. You ready?”
He nodded. “We’ll take the truck.”
After letting Hunter know we were leaving, I grabbed the keys to Landon’s pickup off the peg in the office and hurried to the truck. Landon was already inside, waiting for me. By the time we pulled away, the rag covering his hand had begun staunching the blood. The hazards of being a mechanic with stupid clients. Since it would take longer for Landon to get patched up, I dropped him at the small clinic then headed for the parts store.
The drive gave me time to process what Mack had said. Join him for dinner tomorrow night at Flame? Bet he made that offer to everyone he tried to woo. He was hot—I’d give him that. The Tom Ford suit fit him perfectly. His trousers cupped his bite-worthy ass while the white button-down shirt strained against his muscular chest and tapered stomach. He was built like a swimmer. I’d be remiss if I didn’t want to see him without the shirt. His features were sharp and intimidating, especially when he stepped into my personal space. He also smelled of sandalwood and leather, two of my favorite scents. His eyes, fuck me running, his eyes. The cool steely hue bored into me, seizing my soul. I’d been lost in him.
Then he opened his mouth.
I shook my head. Pure, unadulterated dick. I ate men like him for breakfast. They were the type who thought their shit didn’t stink and made my job ten times harder. He was smooth too. He chased his harsh statements with soft words, tempting me with good food and what? I never crossed the line between professional and personal. It got sticky. I’d been a witness to Hunter and Landon’s mishaps. They weren’t fun to clean up after. If anyone looked at the rolldown doors on the garage, they’d see the red paint under three coats of gray to cover it. Hunter’s ex had written ‘small dick,’ along with a drawing of a little penis after being dumped, or whatever the fuck my brothers did with their fuck buddies when they were done with them.
Landon once had sugar poured into his gas tank by one of Hunter’s women because she assumed the ’55 Ford truck was his. Thankfully, after the incident with Hunter’s ex, we installed a better security system at the shop, including cameras. We caught the incident before the owner of the truck came in to pick up his vehicle, saving us thousands of dollars in repairs.
Even I learned the hard way.
Last year, I thought we’d been in the perfect position to set down roots. I was in love with my ex, Edgar. I had the perfect job, and my brothers were doing
well too. Until it all fell apart. I shivered at the memory. My mom used to say sudden shudders were from people walking over your grave. It was morbid to think about. Little did I know at the time, death had been closer to my doorstep than I’d been expecting. As it was, for the first couple of months since the move and after we opened the shop, I constantly looked over my shoulder, worried that Edgar would show up.
I pushed the thought aside as I paid for the items I needed then filled out the forms to start an account with the auto parts store. Since they specialized in the cars we worked on, it would make it easier if we could have a distributor close to us. Twenty minutes sometimes made all the difference in the world. On my way out, I texted Landon and Hunter to check on both. Then I headed to Starbucks to grab a frozen coffee, my second trip of the day. When Landon let me know he was ready, I picked him up and drove back to the shop. His hand was wrapped in a weird mesh glove covering the injury.
“Looks painful. Guess you’ll have to change hands to jack off with for a while.”
Landon snorted. “It’ll feel like someone else is doing it. Win-win for me.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. As the second eldest, he carried so much responsibility on his shoulders when it came to our family. Whatever Hunter didn’t cover, he did. “I can’t do anything for a week. I’m screwed.”
“Or you’re in luck,” I said, pulling into the shop parking lot. “I can put the rear end back together for the ‘Cuda this afternoon then start on the Olds in the morning. Besides, you need to call the owner, chew their ass out, and find out what they want done with the piece of shit.”
He peered at me with his left eye. “What about the Aston Martin?”
I shrugged, shutting off the truck. “I have a week to give Mack an answer.”
“You think he’s going to wait a week?” Landon popped his brow. “The man was practically drooling all over you.”
“That’s what happens with ill-mannered puppies. They tend to lift their legs peeing wherever they want and drool too much.” After parking in his spot, I opened the door and got out. “He’s not my type, anyway. He’s too pretty and entitled.”
