Dirty Thoughts (22 page)
Authors: Megan Erickson
Tags: #New Adult & College, #Contemporary, #Romance, #Adult
Two months later
C
AL STARED AT
the young woman sitting across from him in the back room of the garage. He’d interviewed ten mechanics. Nine men. One woman. And the woman Delilah knew had the best references and the best résumé.
But change was good. He could do this, welcome a woman into the inner workings of the testosterone-fueled Payton and Sons.
In fact, if anything, maybe she’d keep Brent in line.
Alex Dawn was short. Cal wondered if she even hit five feet. She was pretty, if not a little severe-looking, with a sharp nose and chin. Her eyes were strikingly blue, and she lined them heavily with black eyeliner, which made them stand out even more, like glittering sapphires in her pale face.
For this interview, she’d dressed casual, as he’d told her to on the phone. He didn’t need to interview someone all dressed up. This was a fucking garage.
So she wore a pair of oversized jeans, black boots, and a faded AC/DC shirt. She looked at him with her chin tilted. The chip on her shoulder probably weighed more than she did.
Cal liked her. A lot.
He reached across the table. “Congratulations, Alex, you’re the newest employee of Payton and Sons.”
A grin he hadn’t seen before cracked her face, splitting her red-painted lips. “Cool” was all she said in response. And then she cracked her gum.
“Come on out, and I’ll introduce you to everyone,” he said.
It was a Friday afternoon, so everyone was a little punchy and ready for the weekend.
He took one look at Brent and Jenna standing at the front of a bay and knew Brent was being a pain in the ass.
“Come on,” Brent was saying, “just, like, writhe around on the hood a little.”
Jenna stood with her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her sandaled foot. Cal marveled that she hadn’t kicked his brother in the junk yet. “I’m not recreating a Whitesnake music video for you.”
Brent pressed his lips together. “I think you’re being a little uptight about this. All I’m asking is for a couple hip thrusts, a split or two, and maybe one hair flip.”
She glared at him.
Brent appeared unfazed. “I’m sure Cal would be with me on this.”
Cal guided the new hire forward and narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Will you shut up and behave yourself?”
Brent’s eyes immediately found the other vagina in the room, as expected, and his eyes widened as he took in Alex at Cal’s side. “Hey, honey. You’re a little short and, uh, not blonde for Tawny Kitaen, but I’m still not opposed to watching you dance on a car.”
Alex said nothing; she just stared at Brent like he was an insect. It was glorious, and Cal could barely contain himself. He glanced at Jenna and could tell right away by the grin on her face that she shared his glee.
Cal gestured to Alex. “This is our newest employee, Alex Dawn, so keep your mouth shut, Brent, or she’ll sue you for sexual harassment.”
Brent’s jaw dropped. And Cal nearly cheered. But Brent recovered quickly and maintained some level of maturity when he stuck out his hand. “Welcome.”
Alex eyed his hand, shook it, and then shoved her hands back in her pockets. Brent rubbed his palm, mouthing
ouch.
Cal was happy to see Alex was already showing Brent she could handle him.
He introduced Alex to everyone else, including Asher and Julian, who’d just gotten there from school, as well as Gabe and of course, Jenna. Alex thawed a little with Jenna and talked a little about herself, so Cal learned Alex had moved to Tory recently with her sister.
As Alex left, she eyed Brent one last time before walking out to her truck. “See you Monday, boss!” Alex called over her shoulder.
When Cal looked at his brother, Brent was watching her go, shaking his head.
Cal stared at Jenna; she stared back, and then they both burst into laughter.
“So that’s going to be amazing,” Jenna said when she caught her breath.
“God, that woman probably weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet,” Cal said, “but she’s a force, huh? I wonder what her sister’s like.”
“If either has a sharper tongue than Brent,” Jenna responded, “then I would pay money to see them go toe-to-toe.”
Cal chuckled and grabbed her around the waist, tugging her to him.
“Hey, you’re going to get me dirty!” she protested but only with words, because she plastered herself to Cal and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Clean is overrated,” he said against her lips.
She kissed him back. “I always did love you dirty.”
Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next sizzling book in Megan Erickson’s
Mechanics of Love series,
Brent Payton has a reputation for wanting to have fun all the time. It’s well earned, after years of ribbing his brothers and flirting with every girl he meets, but he’s more than just a good time, even though nobody takes the time to see it. When a new girl walks into his family’s garage with big thoughtful eyes and a body to die for, this mechanic wants something serious for the first time.
Ivy Dawn is done with men, all of them. She and her sister uprooted their lives for men too many times, and she’s not willing to do it again. Avoiding the opposite sex at all costs seems easy enough, until the sexy mechanic with the dirty mind bursts into her life.
Brent can’t resist the one woman who sees past his devil-may-care façade, and Ivy finds it harder and harder to deny how happy he makes her. But Ivy has secrets she hasn’t shared, and when the truth comes out, she must decide if she’s willing to take one more chance on love or let him go forever.
Available Fall 2015
An Excerpt from
DIRTY TALK
A
THROAT CLEARED
. And Brent looked over to see a woman standing beside them, one hand on her hip, the other dangling at her side, holding a paper bag. Her dark eyebrows were raised, her full red lips pursed.
And Brent blinked, hoping this wasn’t a mirage.
Tory, Maryland, wasn’t big, and he’d made it his mission to know every available female within the town limits and about a ten-mile radius outside of that.
This woman? He’d never seen her. He’d remember if he had.
Gorgeous. Long hair so dark brown, it was almost black. Perfect face. It was September and still warm, so she wore a tight striped sundress that ended mid-thigh. She was tiny, probably over a foot smaller than him. Fuck, the things that little body made him dream about. He wondered if she did yoga. Tiny and limber was his kryptonite.
Narrow waist, round hips, big tits.
No ring.
Bingo.
He smiled. Sure, she was probably a customer, but this wouldn’t be the first time he’d managed to use the garage to his advantage. Usually, he just had to toss around a tire or two, rev an engine, whatever, and they were more than eager to hand over a phone number and address. No one thought he was a consummate professional anyway, so why bother trying to be one.
He turned to her and leaned his ass against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I help you?”
She blinked, long lashes fluttering over her big blue eyes. “Can you help me?”
“Yeah, we’re full service here.” He resisted winking. That was kinda sleazy.
Her eyes widened for a fraction before they shifted to Alex at his side and then back to him. Her eyes darkened for a minute, her tongue peeked out between those red lips, and then she straightened. “No, you can’t help me.”
He leaned forward. “Really? You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Like, how positive?
“I’m 100 percent positive that I do not need help from you, Brent Payton.”
That made him pause. She knew his name. He knew he’d never met her, so that could only mean that she heard about him somehow, and by the look on her face, it was nothing good.
Well, shit.
He opened his mouth, not sure what to say but hoping it would come to him, when Alex began cracking up next to him, slapping her thighs and snorting.
Brent glared at her. “And what’s your problem?”
Alex stepped forward, threw her arm around the shoulder of the prickly but hot-as-hell woman in front of them, and smiled ear to ear. “Brent, meet my sister, Ivy. Ivy, thanks for making me proud.”
They were both smiling now, that same full-lipped, white-teethed smile. He surveyed Alex’s face, then Ivy’s, and holy fuck, how had he not noticed this right away? They almost looked like twins.
And the sisters were looking at him now, wearing matching smug grins, and wasn’t that a total cock-block. He pointed at Alex. “What did you tell your sister about me?”
“That the day I interviewed, you asked me to recreate a Whitesnake music video on the hood of a car.”
He threw up his hands. “Can you let that go? You weren’t even my first choice. I wanted Cal’s girlfriend to do it.”
“Because that’s more appropriate,” Alex said drily.
“Excuse me for trying to liven it up around here.”
Ivy turned to her sister, skirt swirling around those thighs he might sell his soul to touch. She held up the paper bag. “I brought lunch. Hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” Alex said. “Thanks a lot, since someone stole my breakfast.” She narrowed her eyes at Brent. Ivy turned to him slowly in disbelief, like she couldn’t believe he was that evil.
Brent had had a lot of bad first impressions in his life. A dad of one of his high school girlfriend’s had seen Brent’s bare ass—while Brent was lying on top of his daughter—before the dad ever saw Brent’s face. That had not gone over well. And yet
this
first impression might be even worse.
Because he didn’t care about what that girl’s dad thought of him. Not really.
And he didn’t
want
to care about what Ivy thought of him, but dammit, he did. It bothered the hell out of him that she’d written him off before even meeting him. Did Alex tell her any of his good qualities? Like . . . Brent racked his brain for good qualities.
By the time he thought of one, the girls had already disappeared to the back room for lunch.
MEGAN ERICKSON
grew up in a family that averages five foot five on a good day and started writing to create characters who could reach the top kitchen shelf.
She’s got a couple of tattoos, has a thing for gladiators, and has been called a crazy cat-lady. After working as a journalist for years, she decided she liked creating her own endings better and switched back to fiction.
She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, two kids, and two cats. And no, she still can’t reach the stupid top shelf.
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By Darcy Burke
An Excerpt from
by T.J. Kline
Jessie Hart has a soft spot for healing the broken, especially horses and children, but her business is failing. The one man who can save Heart Fire Ranch is the last man she wants to see, the man who broke her heart eight years ago . . .
J
essie heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway and stepped onto the porch of the enormous log home. Her parents had raised their family here, in the house her father had built just before her brother was born. The scent of pine surrounded her, warming her insides. Even after her brother and sister had built houses of their own on either end of the property, she’d remained here with her parents, helping them operate the dude ranch and training their horses. She inhaled deeply, wishing again that circumstances hadn’t been so cruel as to leave her to figure out how to make the transition from dude ranch to horse rescue alone.
Leaning against the porch railing, she sipped her coffee and enjoyed the quiet of the morning. When a teen girl walked toward the barn to feed the horses, she lifted her hand in a wave. The poor girl was spending more time at the ranch than away from it these days, since her mother had violated parole again, but Jessie loved having her here. Aleta’s foster mother, June, had been close friends with Jessie’s own mother, and she understood the healing power horses had on kids who needed someone, or something, just to listen. Now that Aleta was living with June again, she was spending a lot of time at the ranch.
Jessie looked down the driveway as Bailey drove her truck closer to the house. She could just make out Nathan through the glare on the windshield. The resentment in her belly grew with each ticking second at the sight of him. Clenching her jaw and squaring her shoulders for the battle ahead, Jessie walked down the stairs to meet Justin’s former best friend and the man who’d broken her heart.
The truck pulled to a stop in front of her, and Bailey jumped from the driver’s seat wearing a shit-eating grin. Jessie narrowed her eyes, knowing exactly what that meant—she was in for a week of hell from this pain-in-the-ass, penny-pinching bean counter.
She didn’t understand why he’d insisted on returning to the ranch. If Justin hadn’t begged her to give Nathan a chance to help, she would have been perfectly content never to speak to his lying ass again.
She watched him turn his broad shoulders to her as he removed his luggage from the back seat. When he faced her, Jessie was barely able to contain her gasp of surprise. After he left, she’d avoided any mention of Nathan Kerrington like the plague, going as far as changing the channel when his name was mentioned on the news. She’d been praying that the past eight years had been cruel, that he’d gained a potbelly, or that he’d developed a receding hairline. She pictured him turning into a stereotypical computer geek.
This guy was perfection. Well, if she was into muscular men who looked like Hollywood actors and wore suits that cost several thousand dollars. Every strand of his dark brown hair was combed into place, even at six in the morning, after a flight from New York. There wasn’t a wrinkle in his stiffly starched shirt.
His green eyes slid over her dirty jeans and T-shirt before climbing back up to focus on her face. Memories of stolen kisses and lingering caresses filled her mind before she could cast them aside. His slow perusal sent heat curling in her belly, spreading through her veins, making her feel uncomfortable. Was he just trying to be an ass? If so, it was working. She felt on edge immediately, but she wasn’t about to let him know it. She crossed her arms over her chest and kicked her hip to the side.
“Nathan Kerrington. You’ve got some brass ones showing up here.”