Stripped Down

by Erin McCarthy

  Desperate to get home to her new tiny apartment and pull herself together, she put the car in reverse and took her foot off the brake. Unfortunately, what she didn’t see was there a motorcycle squeezed in beside her car. There was a crash and she stomped on the brakes, her head jerking forward. “Oh, shit,” she whispered. In her side mirror she could see she had knocked the bike over.

  This was the most fitting ending to the strangest birthday ever.

  With a sigh she turned the engine off, afraid to get out and see what damage her car had done. Biting her lip, she called her dad. He answered right away but she could barely hear him over the hooting inside the bar.

  “Never mind, I’ll text you.” Resigned, she got out of the car and winced at the shiny, but now very much dented motorcycle.

  Sloane sent her father a text.

  Tell the owner of motorcycle with the license plate 162GHF to meet me in the parking lot. There’s been a slight accident.

  “This is so stupid,” she seethed out loud. “I should have stayed home and watched Netflix.”

  Especially when a few minutes later the door to the bar flew open and Rick was standing there, illuminated by the parking lot lights, wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a look of alarm.

  Oh. My. God. She had nailed Rick’s bike.

  Could this night get any worse?

  She glanced at his crotch, without meaning to. She swallowed hard. That was… interesting.

  When she looked up, he was watching her ogling him.

  He grinned. “Is this a ploy for a private dance?”

  Oh yeah. The night could absolutely get worse.

  * * *

  Rick wasn’t sure what prompted him to mention Sloane over the mic, except that he wanted her attention. It was kind of a dick move, but an impulsive one, and he had really meant it to be more funny than anything else. That clearly wasn’t the way she took it. He hadn’t expected her to react the way she had. She’d jumped up out of her seat and fled the bar, which made him feel like total shit.

  He was listening to Brandon brag about himself over the mic and debating whether he should follow Sloane and apologize when Mr. O’Toole came over and handed a note to Lilly.

  She took the mic back from Brandon. “The owner of the motorcycle with the license plate 162GHF needs to go in the parking lot. There has been a slight accident.”

  He was so distracted thinking about Sloane it took him a second. Fuck. That was his bike. Damn it. He’d known he should have taken his truck tonight but the weather was just so gorgeous he hadn’t been able to resist. Summer did not last long in Northern Minnesota. He had to take advantage of it while he could.

  “That’s my bike,” he told Lilly, feeling a twitch in his jaw. Cars and motorcycles were his hobby and his livelihood. They were his passion and his pride. He wasn’t going to like this.

  “Oh, crap,” was Lilly’s response over the mic.

  Everyone knew how he felt about his bikes.

  He stormed off the stage ready to cuss out whatever drunk twenty-one-year-old had pulled out without looking and nailed his pride and joy.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t a giggling co-ed.

  It was Sloane, looking beautiful and annoyed.

  She was standing under the sign for the bar. Spelled out over her in fluorescent lighting was Tap That. And the arrow was pointing directly to her.

  Rick didn’t even want to think about the irony of that and how much he absolutely would like to take Sloane to his bed for about twenty-four hours straight. Tap That? Hell, he wanted to kiss her, lick her, and then take her hard. Repeatedly. He wanted her to grab his tap and make it pour. Fuck and fuck she was hot.

  He had a rock solid cock. And he was in his underwear. He’d shed the mechanic’s jumpsuit on a dare from Axl and how here he was standing on the front walk to the bar, in fucking bare feet and tight boxer briefs. Which Sloane was staring at wide-eyed. He couldn’t tell if she was blushing or if it was the artificial lighting but she did appear flustered. Her hand fluttered up to her throat.

  “Is this a ploy for a private dance?” he asked her with a grin, partly from guilt and partly from satisfaction that she seemed stunned at his physical transformation over the last decade.

  “No! I didn’t see your bike. You shouldn’t have parked it so close to my car.”

  That was the worst apology ever. “I always park it there. It’s my spot. Everyone knows that.”

  Sloane looked exasperated, her hands dropping to her hips. “How would I know that? I just moved back three days ago.”

  “Yeah, I heard that. Welcome back. Sorry for the divorce.” The minute the words were out of his mouth he mentally kicked himself. Who the fuck said that? Sorry for the divorce?

  But hell, he was distracted. Sloane was even more beautiful than he had remembered. In high school she had thin eyebrows and exaggerated makeup with blonde streaks in her dark hair. She’d been fond of wearing velvet track suits that had cupped her teen ass to perfection. Now she looked more natural, less pink in her style, wearing jeans and a tank top. Her hair was dark and wavy and her face was mostly free of makeup. Her mouth was turned down in a frown at his words.

  “How do you know about my divorce?”

  Lilly. Teasing him. But he didn’t know if that would tick her off or not so he just shrugged. “I don’t know, why wouldn’t I? Guess I heard something. Probably from Sullivan. He is your brother, you know.”

  “Yeah. My very stubborn brother.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” Rick went over to his bike and inspected it, righting it. He loved this bike. The chrome was dented but otherwise nothing was damaged.

  “It was an accident,” Sloane said, begrudgingly.

  “I think stubborn runs in your family,” he said, standing back up. “You could maybe just admit it was your fault.”

  She looked outraged. “I can give you my insurance information.”

  “You could just apologize.” Like she would never admit that before she had realized it was him in that dark bathroom, she had been just as much into the kiss as he had back in high school.

  “Sorry. Like I said, it was an accident. I’ll pay for the damage, seriously.”

  Rick studied Sloane, who looked like she had not been enjoying her evening. “You don’t have to do that. I’m just going to fix it myself. I don’t trust anyone else to touch it.”

  She was biting her lip and wrinkling her nose simultaneously. “Well, at least let me do something.”

  God if she only knew what he wanted. Watching her, nothing had changed. He still felt attracted to Sloane. She was wearing a tank top that showed off her tits in a way that made his mouth water. He wanted to tug down that neckline and suck the swell of her soft skin into his mouth while she moaned in his ear. Getting hard just thinking about it, he debated his next move. “You are divorced, right?”

  “Yes.” She looked bewildered by the question. “Why?”

  “So that I don’t have to feel like an asshole with my request.”

  “What request?” Sloane ran her fingers through her hair and looked at him with total suspicion.

  “That you admit you liked that bathroom kiss we shared.”

  Her jaw dropped. “That’s your request? That was twelve years ago! What difference does it make?”

  Rick smiled at her. The smile he knew made women swoon.

  That moment, when Sloane had been horrified to see she had been kissing him and loudly protested to everyone that she had not enjoyed it, had been a social turning point for him. He had, after the initial humiliation, gotten status with the guys as having the balls to do what he had done. Sneaking in a window and going for it when Sloane thought he was Nick. It was a bold move. One he had not regretted.

  He’d spend the years immediately after studying girls and women and gauging their responses to other, more attractive guys. Then when he had started to pick up some height and muscle, he’d made it his life’s mission to make women feel fantastic. For a brief
moment in the store giving them a compliment, or all night long in his bed, depending on the woman. It was something of a personal calling.

  Make the ladies happy.

  But right now he just wanted Sloane to give him something.

  “You told everyone at that party you would rather die than kiss me. But you were just as into it as I was, I know that for a fact. I just want you to admit it.” He’d known it then. She had sighed and rubbed on him and had made sounds that indicated she was shocked by how good it all felt. He may have been inexperienced but he had read enthusiasm, no question about it.

  Sloane glanced away, then said, “Look. If you really want to go there, looking back now, obviously I’m very sorry I was such a bitch about it. I just freaked out because I didn’t want Nick to think I was intentionally cheating on him. I didn’t mean to embarrass you and I feel really bad about that.”

  Fair enough. “I get that you were in a tough spot. I understood then and I do now. But that’s not the point. Did you like it or not?”

  “I thought you were Nick, so of course I enjoyed it.”

  She was still dancing around the subject. “So, you never would have kissed me?” He was pushing too much, he knew it.

  “No. You were like my little brother.”

  “Not in my eyes. I enjoyed it.” It was the truth but he also knew it would push her buttons. “And I owe you a thank you because you gave me the confidence to start dating.”

  She snorted. “I hear you date a lot.”

  Rick raised an eyebrow. Was Sloane jealous? He hoped so. “I’m very friendly.”

  “Well, you’re welcome then.” Though she looked more put out than pleased. “What were you doing in that bathroom anyway?”

  “After you turned me away at the front door because I wasn’t cool enough to be at your party, I climbed in the bathroom window.” It had been a moment of total defiance on his part. He had figured he could sneak in and Sloane would never see him. The goal had been to take a crack at the Jack Daniels her dad had stashed in the basement bar and to creep on Sloane. He could fully admit that. He’d had a first class crush on her. It wasn’t a foolproof plan but hell, he’d been fifteen and lacking in common sense.

  “I didn’t say you weren’t cool enough to be at my party. I just said it was seniors only.”

  That wasn’t the way he remembered it exactly, but he wasn’t going to argue. “Okay, sure. I climbed in the window and I was waiting to sneak down the hallway when you came in and kissed me.”

  “I did not kiss you. You kissed me.” Sloane looked outraged. She pointed her hand between his chest and hers.

  Rick grinned. “Wrong. You said, and I quote, ‘Lock the door and let’s do it.’”

  He was completely lying about that last part but her outrage was amusing. She had told him to lock the door though but there wasn’t time for more before her mouth was on his and he was living out every fantasy he’d ever had.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Stop messing with me. I know I did not say that. But you could have let me know I was kissing the wrong guy.”

  That made him scoff. “Are you insane? I was Little Dickie, the guy everyone thought of as a little brother. Do you think I was going to pass up the chance to make out with a hot cheerleader two years older than me? But, I recognize ethically that might not have been fair to you and I apologize for that. In my defense, I was fifteen with zero chance of getting action so I wasn’t thinking straight. And it was already happening before I even realized I should stop it.”

  “Damn right it wasn’t ethical.”

  He grinned at her. “Yeah, but did you like it?”

  “No!”

  “Liar.”

  Sloane looked exasperated but she also looked amused. She was trying to fight a smile. “We could argue about this all night or you could take my insurance information and return to your hip thrusting on stage in the world’s most narcissist act for charity.”

  Hip thrusting he was positive she had been watching closely. He’d felt her eyes on him all night. “Or you could kiss me now and we can lay the issue to rest once and for all.”

  Unfortunately, the door to the bar opened right then and a couple of women came out, giggling and chatting. They glanced over in their direction.

  “Two thumbs up, Mr. Mechanic!” the one said. “Love your tool belt.”

  The other let out a raucous whistle.

  Sloane snorted.

  He was more amused than anything else. He gave a wave. “Thanks, ladies. I appreciate the love.”

  The one sidled up to him. She was blonde, attractive, probably a few years older than him. Around Sloane’s age. She pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “If you’re single and you want some company, give me a call.”

  He took the card and glanced down at it. Nicole Bynes. Personal Finance. “Thanks, I’ll do that. Pleasure to meet you, Nicole.” He reached out and shook first her hand, then her friend’s. “I’m Rick.”

  “Liz,” the friend said, a smirk playing across her lips.

  “This is Sloane,” he said, gesturing to where his best friend’s sister was standing stone-faced and skeptical.

  But Sloane did pull a smile and say, “Nice to meet you.”

  Nicole laughed. “Actually, we went to high school together. I was a year ahead of you. But totally not in the popular crowd. I ran with the math nerds.”

  “Oh wow, I didn’t realize it was you, Nicole, you changed your hair color. You look great. Good to see you again.”

  Rick actually thought Sloane didn’t remember who the woman was but she covered it pretty well.

  Sloane turned to him. “So, give me your number and I’ll text my insurance information to you. I’m heading home for the night.”

  “We just came outside for a bit of fresh air,” Nicole said. “We’ll leave you two to whatever.” She gave Rick a smile. “Call me.”

  When the women retreated back into the bar, Rick turned to Sloane. “Where were we?”

  “Me leaving.”

  With that, she burst into tears.

  Oh, shit. Hell fucking no. Rick glanced around, making sure no one else was witnessing this. Had he done that? Made her cry? “Come here. What’s going on?” Rick reached out and pulled Sloane into his arms.

  She went willingly, draping herself over his chest and winding her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry,” she said. “These are angry tears. Not at you.”

  “Good to know. Then what’s wrong?”

  “I’m just pissed that Kendra died. Like, I’m furious. Sullivan is a mess and I feel helpless and I hate feeling helpless.”

  His heart clenched. Everyone had liked Kendra. She had been a ray of sunshine. “You’re right, it’s not fair.” Rick ran his hand over her back, attempting to soothe her.

  “It’s my birthday,” she said. “I’m thirty years old today and I feel like I wasted the last decade of my life. I was so determined to leave this town and for what? I could have been here with family. Instead of chasing the idea of having a family with someone who didn’t want it.”

  There it was. The secondary reason behind the tears. “Whoa, hold up. Don’t feel guilty for making a life for yourself. You were entitled to leave if you wanted to.”

  “I made a stupid life, that’s the problem. I was so damn arrogant. Ugh. I didn’t know anything.”

  “That is the paradox of youth. We think we know everything and we don’t know jack shit.” Rick tried to focus on how she was feeling and not the fact that she felt amazing in his arms. Which she did. “Happy Birthday, Sloane. Maybe this next year will be better for you.”

  She pulled back and sniffled. Sloane had rich, expressive eyes, the color of deep murky water. The tears were still clinging to her long lashes, but she had stopped crying. “It will be. I know it will be. I’m here with my family and that’s what matters.”

  “Exactly. Screw marriage.” He meant it as a joke, but the minute he said it he realized it was probably in poor taste. Why did he
keep sticking his fucking foot in his mouth with her?

  She frowned at him and stepped back, out of his arms. “What do you know about marriage?”

  “Nothing. Not a goddamn thing.” With good reason. His parents’ marriage had been a full-blown disaster. As had his father’s second marriage. And his third.

  She wiped her cheeks. “This is weird. I haven’t seen you in ten years and I just cried all over you while you’re in your underwear.”

  Sloane reached out and tried to dry off his chest. Her hands were lithe and warm. There weren’t actually any tears on him, or if there were they had evaporated. But he let her touch him because it felt good to have her hands on his flesh. “Don’t think of this as underwear, but more like performance gear.”

  She let out a laugh. “Thinking of switching careers?”

  “Not a snowball’s chance in hell. But I am enjoying myself, I’m not going to lie.” He gave her a grin. “Come back inside with me. You can sit right up front.”

  He laced his fingers through hers and stepped back, tugging her with him.

  “I don’t know.” She dragged her heels. “Maybe I should just go home.”

  “It’s your birthday. You need to celebrate.” Rick was very aware, as they all were, that they were just a few days past the anniversary of Kendra’s passing. He hadn’t realized before today Sloane had lost her sister-in-law so close to her birthday. Plus, clearly she had some feelings about the end of her marriage. So, while he really wanted his high school fantasy of Sloane naked in his bed to come to life, it was pretty damn obvious Sloane needed a friend tonight more than she needed to satisfy his teen desire to bang a cheerleader.

  Not to mention Sullivan probably would kill him. Or attempt to, anyway.

  Besides, she was back home and she was living over his shop. He had all the time in the world to get to know Sloane again. A friendship with her was appealing. A naked, dirty friendship in which he made her feel helpless for all the right reasons.

  No. He wasn’t going to do it. He owed Sullivan his loyalty.

  Unless Sloane made the first move. Then he wasn’t sure he could stop himself.