Swinger Style: Hot Rods, Book 5

by Jayne Rylon

  She concentrated on not biting her lip. It was true. She could have emailed him or called the garage anytime to ask for forgiveness. His car-shaped business card—the one he’d slipped her in the park—had tattered edges from her endless fingering these past few weeks. Not all of the hours she’d spent flipping it between her knuckles had been spent thinking about her professional request.

  Plus, any investigator worth her salt could look up the Hot Rods website, including his contact info, courtesy of Google. She’d spent more time than she cared to admit surfing the About section of their page, memorizing each guy, his favorite car and nickname. A matching fangirl tattoo on her own ass might be the next step if she wasn’t careful.

  “Swinger.” Carver issued a low warning and touched Holden’s elbow.

  She figured she wouldn’t get a better opening.

  “I have a business proposition for you—” She paused and whipped her stare to Holden when he growled.

  He mumbled, “I knew it.”

  Then she stood straighter, put her shoulders back and blurted, “I’ve done some research. Since I’m currently unemployed, I have an idea. Something I think could be big. And it involves you guys.”

  “We’re not interested,” Holden barked.

  “Let the woman speak, Swinger.” Eli’s command silenced Holden, giving Sabra the chance she needed. It surprised her when the rest of the Hot Rods paid close attention.

  Carver slapped Holden on the back. “Come on, I bet this is going to be good.”

  She hoped he still thought so after she dropped her bomb. Nothing for it now other than to spit it out. “I want to produce a reality show, with you guys as the stars.”

  Kaige laughed so hard he choked. Blond dreads swirled around his handsome face as he broke into a coughing fit. His fiancée, Nola, slapped him on the back when she peered at Sabra. “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “Nope.” Though Super Nova’s response probably told her everything she needed to know.

  “What? People don’t give a shit about our daily lives.” Alanso spoke without flinging daggers at her with his tone, though he rubbed his bald head while thinking. Beside him, Sally nodded in agreement.

  Very unlike the animosity radiating from Holden in waves. He hated her idea as much as he disliked her. And he made no point of hiding it.

  “We’re simple people. Boring, really,” Bryce added.

  Someone—maybe Roman—snorted from behind the big man. Usually serious, his outburst drew smiles from several of his garagemates.

  “You know what I mean, asshole.” Bryce rolled his eyes.

  Then nearly all of the guys focused on her at once, as if thinking in tune with each other. She wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

  “What?” She put her hands up, palms out, then took a step back as the unrelenting force of their combined attention hit her.

  “What exactly would this show be about?” Eli asked.

  “Oh, you know, something where we focus on your customers and the cars they bring to you to fix up. Maybe we’d talk about the history of each automobile, the make and model, what’s significant about that piece. Hopefully there would be some interesting back story on where your customer got the beat-up car from. Then we could show you working your magic and the finished product. With some shop banter and personality pieces added to reel in the reality show junkies. Nothing too overdramatized, though. I can’t stand that crap.”

  Holden let out a long breath. He stepped toward her, narrowing her world to him and only him. Difficult to do in the presence of so much testosterone.

  “A girl like you doesn’t just come in here and throw out a suggestion like this. How much research have you done on Hot Rods?” He crowded her, his steadying fingers warm on her forearm when she jerked in response. “What do you know? You were grilling Bambi about us at the Bad News Bar. And I don’t think you give a shit about how good we are as mechanics, either.”

  “I still can’t believe you put your dick in her,” Roman mumbled as he shook his head and punched Alanso in the arm. A muscle ticked in Sally’s jaw. Okay, this wasn’t going in a productive direction.

  No sense in fucking around. Or lying.

  “Are you wondering if I’ve unearthed rumors about your sex lives?” Sabra shivered when she challenged him.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m asking.” Holden stared down at her with an impassive mask she didn’t buy for a second. If he waited for her to kick him in the nuts or belittle him for his sexual preferences, he’d be standing there a hell of a long time.

  “I’ve heard stuff.” She shrugged. “But I don’t see where it has anything to do with me. Or the show.”

  “I bet it could be very relevant to you, honey.” Carver winked at her, then glanced toward Holden, who’d started gnashing his teeth.

  Sabra tried not to react to his goading, refusing to let their antics distract her. Her shock and disbelief must have shown through regardless.

  “She’s obviously a prude.” Holden sneered. In that moment, she kind of hated him.

  “Screw you. You’re the one who shut down our kiss as if you were afraid I had cooties. Don’t you dare pretend otherwise or put words in my mouth.” She crossed her arms.

  “It ain’t words he wants to feed you,” Roman muttered, though loud enough for her to barely make out his smartassery.

  Meanwhile, several of the other people witnessing their meltdown flicked gazes at each other.

  Oops. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned making out with Holden. Too damn bad.

  Her sudden flush had nothing to do with outrage, and everything to do with desire, but they didn’t have to know that. Especially not if she wanted them to take her—and her project—seriously. “Look, what you do behind these rolling doors is your business. I’m not some judgmental conservative. And I’m not looking to exploit your sexuality either. So keep your thoughts about mine to your damn selves.”

  “Ouch.” Eli grinned as he thumped Holden on the back. “She’s kind of got a point there. Stop being an asshole.”

  Nola squeezed through the crowd to join Sabra and Kaelyn. Kind and welcome, her smile illuminated her face. “Thank you for the offer. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you to come here today. I appreciate a woman who grabs opportunity by the balls. A good idea is a good idea. And I think you could be on to something here.”

  “Are you nuts?” Holden’s slack jaw might have been amusing under other circumstances.

  “Maybe for hanging around the lot of you.” Nola ruffled his hair, disarming his fuming before angling toward Eli, the garage owner. “Think about it. This could be excellent advertising for the shop. I can’t buy this kind of exposure for us, Cobra.”

  “Exactly.” Sabra latched on to the lifeline. She waved to the public space around them and shrugged. “I’m talking about a documentary of industry-related, doors-open, stuff. Show off your best work to millions.”

  If our local station will take on the show and if the national network selects it as their mid-season replacement after I produce and pitch a kickass pilot. It was a lot of ifs.

  “Shit.” Eli scrubbed his hands through his hair. Both Alanso and Sally licked their lips when he did.

  A shiver ran through Sabra, but she chanted focus, focus, focus internally until she got her mind on professional matters. This impartial bullshit might be harder to fake than she’d imagined.

  “I can see your point, Nola.” Cobra rested a hand on Holden’s shoulder and squeezed. “And Swinger’s concerns. Not to mention that we bought Kaelyn’s and Bryce’s freedoms from their crazy families by promising to keep them out of the limelight. Tricky to get around that. I think this calls for a garage meeting. With Tom and Ms. Brown too. We shouldn’t do anything stupid. Or hasty.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Holden crossed his arms then relaxed, as di
d Nola.

  Who would win?

  “Can you give us a day or two to talk this over?” Eli asked.

  “Sure.” Sabra hadn’t dared to hope for that much. She winced as she realized how unprepared she’d been for success. Their timeline was tight if she was going to hit the deadline for the replacement search. “Let me give you my cell number since the email address Holden blasted me at is junk these days, now that I’m done at the station. Do you have something to write on?”

  She fished for a pen in her purse.

  “Here.” Holden held out his hand. “If I’m lucky, it’ll smudge next time I take a piss.”

  Terrific. Now she was thinking about him strangling his junk while she cupped his fingers in her palm. Thankfully, she didn’t have to deliver a witty comeback when someone smacked him upside the head for her.

  If she caressed his dinged knuckles a bit more than necessary, too fucking bad. It was his fault for being so sexy, even sullen.

  The sharp intake of his breath was only audible since she was so close to him. She might have thought she scratched him with the sharp tip of her pen, if she hadn’t gotten zapped by the corresponding jolt of electricity their connection generated. It had her hair standing on end as she finished marking her info on his calloused palm.

  “Are you going to tell her we’ll be in touch, Swinger?” Carver broke the tension as Holden and Sabra stepped away from each other, neither meeting the other’s gaze.

  “What he said.” Holden’s gruff reply proved he hadn’t been unaffected by their contact.

  “I appreciate you considering the show.” Sabra held her head high and scanned the gang of mechanics. She smiled at Kaelyn and Bryce, who nodded in return. “Have a good day.”

  Without surrendering to the urge to peek at Holden again, she pivoted on her kitten heels and headed for her car. The Hot Rods’ stares heated her straight spine as she crossed the lot.

  “Hey, Sabra.” Holden stopped her instantly with his shout.

  Holding her breath, she turned to face him as he jogged after her. Her head tipped as she asked, “Yes?”

  “Thank you for doing the decent thing. About the footage of Bryce and Kae, I mean.” His stare assessed her with something that touched her deeper than their attraction. Grudging respect. “I shouldn’t have been such a dick and assumed it was your fault.”

  No matter what happened when she left, she’d have won that, at least.

  It was something. Something big to her. Soon, it might be the only thing she had.

  Unsure of how to respond, she swallowed hard, then nodded before climbing into her car. He didn’t stop her again. But when she glanced in her rearview mirror, he was still standing there—boots planted on the pavement, legs spread, hands jammed in his torn pockets—watching her go, instead of rejoining the group of friends who waited for him inside.

  With her future in their hands.

  And the power to crush it.

  Chapter Three

  “You kids have to quit this baloney already.” Tom London’s scowl couldn’t hide his affection. “I mean, we just got rid of Senator Assmunch and his arch nemesis sidekick and you’re already calling another garage meeting? What now? Did someone discover a lost twin? Have a deep, dark secret they have to reveal? Succumb to an early mid-life crisis? Unearth buried treasure beneath the junk heap? Well, that last one wouldn’t be so terrible. I swear, we could practically have our own freaking TV show with all this drama lately.”

  “Funny you should say that.” Eli patted his dad on the back, then stepped away before he divulged the reason behind their gathering.

  Holden hated the tension in the room, between his friends and their quasi-parental-units—Eli’s dad and Nola’s mom.

  “Let the kids talk.” Ms. Brown snipped at Tom. No Tommy-this or Tommy-that from her today. No mushy stuff either. Holden wondered what his stand-in father had done to land himself in the doghouse. Whatever it was might account for his sudden crankypants act.

  When the Hot Rods turned as one and stared at Holden, he groaned.

  “What stunt did you pull, Swinger?” Tom crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “Try to prank someone who didn’t laugh at your antics this time?”

  “I didn’t do jack shit. It’s these morons who are trying to land us in a giant pile of steaming turds.” He pointed at his garagemates, who littered the sectional sofa and the other furniture in their enormous living area.

  “It’s not a bad suggestion, Holden.” Nola’s soft rebuke made it harder to argue. He had no desire to fight with her. “Come on. Tell him what Sabra wants to do.”

  “Sabra?” Tom tilted his head. His eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer, like a dog on the hunt. “Sabra Harp? Your crush from the local news?”

  “Yeah, her.” The gruffness to Holden’s tone had everything to do with the rapid rush of blood below his belt. No point in denying it. These people knew him too damn well. He shifted in his seat to cover his lap with his arms.

  Why had she looked extra fine when she’d allowed them to glimpse a side of her he’d bet no one else saw? A hint of vulnerability. She’d practically begged them to save her career.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help her. More like he wanted to give in too much. Too fast. Too easy. And that freaked him out. Just like it had the night he’d escorted her home then claimed his bonus.

  Damn, that had been the single best kiss he’d ever stolen from a woman. Or maybe she’d been the one to launch a sneak attack. Either way, he’d lost his mind for a moment, thinking only of memorizing her taste and fusing their bodies. Breaking away had been necessary to avoid tumbling into the paradise she offered, with no way out. Because while he usually preferred a sweaty bout of no-strings sex, something he didn’t want to acknowledge told him that might not be possible when it came to Sabra Harp. Weeks later, he couldn’t decide if he’d been wise or plain old stupid to reject her advance.

  His dick voted emphatically for checking the box next to “moronic”.

  Impulsive, Holden had spent a good deal of his life rushing into things he should know better than to do. As he matured, he was working on taking things more seriously and assessing the consequences of his actions before succumbing to kneejerk reactions. Even he could see that rescuing this damsel in distress had the potential to unleash a world of trouble. The thrill of being her hero would come at the price of putting his friends at risk, exposing them and their special bond to millions of prying eyes. Again.

  Especially because he was so damn attracted to her. He wouldn’t be able to remain guarded. It just wasn’t in his nature. Not with anyone, really, but definitely not around her. He was a sucker when it came to affection.

  Adorable, Sabra was tougher than her pert features and petite frame suggested. He’d felt the strength in her arms when they’d hugged him to her. Her body hadn’t been as pliant as he’d expected either. Instead of softness, he’d discovered toned muscle beneath his hands. The power in her had only riled him, not disappointed. That forcefulness wrapped in femininity drew him and gave him false hope that she might be able to handle the Hot Rods rowdy brand of loving.

  Worse, something about her made it difficult to lump her in with the rest of the random women he’d like to fuck—in a simple carnal exchange. A good time was one thing, something he indulged in regularly. A commitment, loyalty, a connection that went beyond a very satisfying night in the sack—well, those things were reserved for the only people who’d ever proved themselves worthy. His Hot Rods.

  Carver snapped Holden out of his wandering thoughts with a kick from his steel-toed boot. “Hurry up already. Tell him what your girlfriend wanted.”

  “She’s not—”

  “Don’t let him rile you, Swinger.” Tom shut them both up with a glare. “Stick to the facts. What did Sabra call about?”

  “Huh?” Holden shook his head as he
remembered the way her tight ass had looked in the sexy jeans that had hugged her perfect curves when she’d walked away. Petite yet fit. Hints of sinew had shown in her arms beneath her delicate blouse too. “She came in person.”

  “Must have been important, then,” Ms. Brown murmured, inadvertently edging closer to Tom as she listened intently. “Nobody does things properly anymore. Face-to-face.”

  “It was. She came to apologize for letting Bryce and Kaelyn show up in her report.” Holden grimaced as he remembered how frightened he’d been for his friends, knowing their fathers would easily track them down after they’d been broadcast to hundreds of thousands of living rooms. So probably he could admit that he’d overreacted, blasting Sabra when he didn’t know how to fight the real danger threatening them. Could he owe her an apology too? Fuck.

  “Decent of her.” Tom smiled, confirming Holden’s suspicions. “Everyone makes mistakes, Swinger. We ought to know that around here. So, did you ask her out after that?”

  “No.” He grimaced.

  Why hadn’t he? Any other time a woman revved him up like she had, he’d have sweet-talked her panties off in less time than it took to install a prefab bucket seat. With Sabra, he’d kept himself from doing exactly that. Even though his hand might be developing new calluses from the sheer number of jack-off sessions he’d held in her honor these past few weeks, he’d turned her down. None too gently either. Worse, he hadn’t fixed that temporary insanity when she’d given him a golden opportunity.

  Mustang Sally piped in. “She probably would have smacked him. I would have. You were so fucking rude to her. Asshole.”

  Holden winced. He had been kind of a shithead, but it was impossible to smother the reaction she caused to flare, burning him inside like the hellish indigestion he’d suffered after scarfing half a pizza with Carver the night he’d taken her home. He figured it served him right for denying them both. And since he hadn’t vented his sexual tension through seduction, his pissy mood had been the only other option.