“Here.” He put out a hand and found her arm. Her fingers wound around his hand and his lust-fest overload kicked back in. She didn’t let go.
“You okay?”
“Yes. Yes, thanks.” Her voice was softer. Close. And when he took a step toward it, his stomach pressed up against her body. He could feel her breath on his neck. “Well, bye.”
Bending, he went to kiss her good-bye on the cheek on impulse and found . . . soft lips. Soft, soft lips.
He was back in his brother’s room at Wilde’s the week before. Her hands on his body, her kisses opening his mouth, urging his tongue from his mouth. Her body anything but wholesome. His hands strayed from her shoulders down her arms and then he came into contact with her hands and he remembered. He remembered she’d mistaken him once, and she’d run. She’d spent the evening wanting information about his brother. Adrenaline and jealousy and frustration flooded through his body. She was going to realize she’d made the same mistake in the dark again, and she was going to run, but this time he couldn’t afford to let her go. He needed her for his pilot. No one had gotten fired up about it like she had, and seeing everything they’d shot today had made him clear that this had to happen. He took a step back. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, I’m sorry. I think I hear my ride.” And then she did it again. She ran. Ran out of his workshop and into the night.
But she kissed me. Again. Rusty shook his head. It didn’t mean anything. She was probably just lost in the emotion of talking about her past, about thinking of the life she was trying to build all on her own. But she kissed me. It was true. And more to the point, he kissed her. Rusty locked up, checking she’d gotten into the car safely, and then, lights still off, he went to have a cold shower.
CHAPTER SIX
All was quiet on the street when she’d arrived at the workshop a couple of days later, so Beth hadn’t expected to find Rusty and his brother almost at blows when she got to the door.
“What are you thinking? Putting this place on TV? What if the Reapers back home see you?” It was Grim’s voice. Angry, frustrated. Beth hung back and hugged the wall so the McKinley brothers wouldn’t see her.
“I’m square with them, that was the deal.” Rusty’s voice was low, dangerous.
“They don’t make deals like that.”
“Says the guy who was more than happy for me to clean up his shit with them. Was that the plan? That I would just quietly mop up your mess forever? The deal was that I’d pay off your debt so that we could both make a fresh start up here. And when I get here what do I find? A big brother who would rather I’d just disappeared.”
“That isn’t fair. I found this place. I lent you some money to get started.”
“And made sure you kept a slice of the pie from it. I found a way to make this place make more money so I can buy you out. What, now you don’t want me to? Tell me how I came out better off after dealing with your shit for you?”
Beth bit her lip. She should reveal herself, but it sounded like they needed this. To clear the air, to work through whatever was eating at Rusty. She hung back.
“You know nothing about TV. Give it up. Running a garage was Dad’s dream, not yours.”
“Who says it’s not mine too? Did you miss the part where I became a bike mechanic?”
“Not being on TV. You hate that sort of attention. You putting yourself out there like that, it’s dangerous.”
Rusty paused. “What is that supposed to mean?”
There was silence and Beth risked opening the door a crack to watch Rusty and Grim facing off.
Watching them, Beth couldn’t help compare the two brothers. Grim was the taller one by a slender fraction, but somehow Rusty dominated the conversation. And despite his old leather jacket and less sleek appearance, he didn’t look scruffy next to Grim. Just . . . more solid. Rusty had hinted at the tension between them, but it had either gotten bigger recently or Rusty was a better actor than she’d given him credit for.
“The Reapers down here have history with the Hell’s boys. They work out who you are, it gets messy.”
“But they’re not going to know I was in with the Reapers in Illinois, are they? Not unless someone says something.”
“Whatever. I have money tied up in the place too, remember.”
“Money that I’m trying to pay you back.”
“Should have never lent it to you in the first place, then you wouldn’t be in this position.”
“Fuck off. It was hardly anything. I paid for this place, you should never have gotten to have a say in it. I was just a stupid hick kid doing what you wanted. Again. Well, it stops now. This is my garage. You don’t get a say.”
“That’s not how it works in the real world. I’m an owner too. I could sell it if I wanted.”
“Fuck you.” Rusty started toward his brother and Beth wondered if she needed to intervene, although what effect she thought she would have against the two giant brothers she had no idea.
Grim waved a hand. “Sure. Leave it, okay, just leave it. I’m not going to sell your garage, for fuck’s sake. Chill.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because you don’t believe anyone. You don’t trust anyone with anything. No wonder you ended up back in a club and don’t have a woman in your life. You’re such an asshole.”
“You’re the asshole. Maybe you shouldn’t meet Beth, you’re just going to break the poor girl’s heart.”
Beth’s ears perked up. They’d been talking about her?
“Not your call. She’s the one who wants to hook up, right? So it’s done. Tell her I’ll pick her up at eight,” Grim said, but Beth couldn’t tell if he was happy to be meeting her or just doing it to spite his brother.
“Don’t pick her up. She’ll meet you at Wilde’s. In case she needs to make a getaway,” Rusty growled.
“Jesus, Rust.”
“And don’t be a prick to her.”
“Fuck off.”
Beth quickly hid behind the side of the building as Grim stormed out of the workshop, slammed into his car, and drove off. Only when he’d turned the corner did she venture back out, to find Rusty watching her.
“How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Sure,” she said. But her body ached with holding back the questions. Why would Grim think making a TV show was dangerous? Surely he’d want his brother to succeed. And why would Grim have a debt with the Reapers?
“So you told him about me?”
“Let’s get to work.”
* * *
Beth’s whole body was a mass of nerves. The shivery, cold kind that could slide into teeth chattering if she let them. Rusty was determined she was going to get back on a bike but her body wasn’t keen on cooperating. She sat back on her chair and stared at the pin-board that had their whole pilot mapped out in detail except for the one card she couldn’t bring herself to add.
“Suck it up, Ravens. It’s good for you.”
She’d been working nonstop at Rusty’s garage, the two of them planning the TV show around her dealing with office work and him under a bike. Had she known how much there was to know about bikes she might have told him to keep his job, but remarkably, the research part had turned out to be pretty fun. Rusty was remarkably patient and thorough, even to her control-freak level. He took her through the history of the bike engine, its evolution from clunky machine to streamlined bundle. From the first axle-based bone-breaker bike to the current smooth-riding suspension-laden beauties. From chopper to roadster and everything in between, when he said he was going to give her a crash course he meant it. But it was all interesting, and day by day, she found herself wanting to start their lessons earlier and earlier. Or at least wanting to start with Rusty earlier and earlier.
It was all very well getting up to speed about bikes for this show, but that was where she’d like it to end. She held up the card with the words BETH’S RIDE written
on it. “This whole idea you have of me turning up to work on a bike. I don’t think it’s going to fly.”
“You’re going to fly, and you’re going to like it. Promise.”
She couldn’t help the smile. “I guess getting all these skills is going to be a killer addition to take into auditions with me. But still, me, riding a bike on my own, even just for camera, it’s not going to happen.”
“That will be for the final episode. So there’s something to look forward to. This is just you getting a ride on our client’s bike ’cause you like it so much.” Rusty raised an eyebrow.
Every time he did that it made the shape of his face change, emphasizing the strong square of his jaw and bringing out the dark luster of his eyes.
And you learning all this has nothing to do with making him happy? No, of course not. This was just her side of the bargain. But every time he came over to her desk or upstairs to the apartment, and she showed him the latest idea for a segment she’d thought of and he turned his face to her, open with admiration for her organizational skills, her heart swelled.
“You can be chicken shit about getting on a bike all you like, but it’s going to happen. Now, if you want to wuss out on meeting my brother tonight, that’s another matter.”
She looked up at him sharply. How did he manage to fray her nerves like that? Her heart might have swelled under his praise, but now it was quavering and she was about to put it on the line. With Grim. With her future. What if Grim had left on purpose when she’d so obviously flirted with him? She might just not be his type. No point thinking like that. No one got anywhere with negative thinking. She had a plan and sticking to the plan always worked. She was going on a date with Grim, tonight.
The nerves started scratching at her skin again, making her want to tidy something to calm herself. Breathe in, breathe out, fill your cup to the brim with golden light and transformative energy. Beth rolled her eyes at herself. Her mom’s meditation tapes had played over and over in the car when she was a kid, but somehow the concept of cups full of light had never really rocked her world. Still, she had a plan. And the plan was the important thing. Just stick to the plan. “Does he remember me from Wilde’s?” she asked in a small voice, trying to sound casual.
“We got a bit distracted talking about other things. I’m sure he does. Who wouldn’t remember you?”
“Thanks.” She pulled on a strand of hair but before she could stuff it into her mouth Rusty took it from her and smoothed it down. “Stop fretting. He’s just a guy.”
“Easy for you to say.” She pushed a pin into the card and put it up on the board. The whole pilot was ready to go. She stood up, and grabbing a cloth from the counter behind her, wiped down the bench where Rusty’s coffee cup had left a dirty ring.
“You work here as an office manager. You know you don’t have to clean every day too, right?”
Beth looked behind her to where the spare room she’d moved into the night before was still much dirtier than she liked.
She’d moved her stuff into the spare room after giving it a giant once-over. “I’m going to find the actual floorboards underneath the grime in there.”
“Was cleaner than mine.”
She smirked. When she’d moved the bed away from the wall and seen the dust balls almost multiplying before her eyes she’d realized just how long it had been since the place had been swept or vacuumed, or, well, anything. “Sorry if I go a bit overboard. It’s just my thing. I like order.”
“I know.” He moved her pencil a little to the left and she couldn’t help herself, she moved it back again so it was in line with the notebook she’d been taking notes in. Looking up at him she saw he was smiling, a broad smile, teasing and toying with her.
“I can’t help it. But it makes me very efficient, you can’t argue with that.”
“No, I can’t. So, go. Have dinner with Grim. We’ll start work again in the morning.” He turned and went back downstairs and Beth was left wondering at how his tone had changed when he’d mentioned her date. Still—she looked at her watch—she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Forty-three minutes was plenty of time to shower and dress on an ordinary day but—she looked at her list—this was no ordinary day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Plucked, polished, and primed, Beth arrived at Wilde’s bistro two minutes late with her heart already racing. She was never late. Never. But she also never strode into a stranger’s room and threw herself into their bed, so if there was ever a month to try out new things, then this was it. She’d stood in the parking lot and counted down. Grim probably wasn’t even there yet and she didn’t want to seem too eager. One minute ticked into two and then she couldn’t stand there any longer. She pushed through the doors into the bistro.
He was there. Sitting at a table by himself, a glass of red wine already in his hand. Beth’s breath caught in the back of her throat like it did whenever she saw him and the cold nerves slid over her skin trying to turn her into a solid ice sculpture. One that would be dripping all over the carpet if she didn’t get her shit together. You got this. The princess always got the prince, right? WWMWD? Mae West would saunter over, run a finger down Grim’s neck, and make sure she got his attention and kept it. Okay. Grow a pair, girl. Time to grab your gorgeous future by its denim-clad balls. Beth pulled at the black-and-red fifties dress she hoped said sultry rather than slutty and straightened her shoulders.
And then five bikers walked over and surrounded him. Damn it.
“You said you had something to share?” It was the guy, Martinez, who had shown up at Rusty’s shop the other day.
Grim nodded. “I’ve heard things. About one of your guys coming from out of town with some links to another gang.”
Martinez sat down on the chair and leaned in. “What other gang?”
“The Reapers.”
Beth stiffened. Was Grim talking about Rusty? She turned slightly and tried to look like she was there to meet someone else. But she must have been more obvious than she realized as one of the other Hell’s boys noticed her and nudged Martinez. He stood. “Looks like you’ve got company.”
Beth closed the distance between then and Grim took her hand. “So you’re Beth.” He looked up at her and there they were, the deep dark pools of his eyes. The gaze that had ripped through her from the movie screen when she’d first realized that Grim was the one for her. The one who held her future in his hands. “We’ve missed you in the bar, haven’t we, boys?” His voice might not be as deep as Rusty’s but it was still bone-destroyingly intoxicating. On film, it was evened out, softer, but in real life it was rough, his consonants broken at the edges as if he smoked a couple of packs of cigarettes a day. Oh shit, Beth realized, he probably did. Cigarette smoke gave her a headache. People work through that stuff every day. Chill.
“Guess we’ll leave you alone, seeing as you’ve got company,” Martinez said. “We’ll talk later. But if what you’re saying is true, and anyone else knows about it, watch yourself.” They left.
Beth was still standing, so slid as gracefully as she could manage into her seat. “Everything okay?”
Grim waved a hand. “It’ll be fine. Sure. Fine.” But his eyes didn’t match his voice. He was worried, nervous, she realized. Time to put him at ease.
“I wasn’t sure if you knew who I was.”
“Of course. You worked in the bar, right?”
Beth beamed. “Yes. But only part time. I’m an actress.” Beth let her shoulders fall back and her girls take center stage.
His eyes traveled down her chest and lingered before heading back to her eyes. Round one to the girls.
“Right. Great. Another actor. Cool.” He sat back in his chair, finally focused on her. “Have I seen you in anything?”
This was good. This was polite conversation, right? So what if they hadn’t ever gotten to talk when she was at Wilde’s. He probably had to ration out what he remembered, given that he was working on scripts all day every day. “Oh, probably not. I only j
ust got to town and they don’t screen any of the stuff I shot in Australia over here.” A white lie but a small one. She’d hardly only just got to town, but telling him all the auditions she’d managed to get to in the last six months had turned to nothing was hardly a great way to start a relationship. The last part was true anyway, they certainly wouldn’t show any of the pet food and dishwasher powder commercials she’d shot in Australia in LA. She toyed with her wineglass, acutely aware that the other women in the restaurant would have sent poison-tipped darts into her back with their eyes if they could. Her skin was alive with the sensation of being watched, as if she was already on-screen.
“Australia. So like Home and Away? I’ve seen old episodes on cable.” He tipped his head to the side, giving her a full up and down and Beth felt the blush reaching up from the bottom of her feet to spread sticky fingers over every part of her. His pupils dilated, making his eyes even darker, and he licked his lips. Round two to the dress.
“They usually have blondes on that show, right? Ever thought of going blond? Have to admit I’ve got a thing for blondes.”
You got him. He was watching her closely, his handsome face open in a smile, his eyes trained on her, and only her. “I’ve thought about it. I could probably go more strawberry blond.” She tried her best sexy kitten purr but it didn’t quite come out right. Probably because what she was saying wasn’t true. She looked awful with blond hair. Her pale skin faded to practically nothing and she looked like a homeless ghost.
Plan A had been to chat with him, get advice, make him realize that she was serious about his world, and get him to invite her into it because of her wit and charm. Plan B had been to let the girls do most of the work and then reel him in with her wit and charm. Looks like plan B and the girls might win the day.
“I’ve just come off shooting a film with an amazing blonde. She’s not from here either. Maybe you know her. Where were you from again?”
“Australia.”
“Maybe that’s it. Started with an A, but she’s got a different accent. What else sounds like Australia?”
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