Trevor, Brent and Trick’s friend head out of the garage to go look at Trevor’s car. As they pass, the owner stops and sticks out his hand, which is surprisingly clean considering what he was doing when we arrived.

“Jeff Catron,” he says, nodding at me. His voice is nice. Deep and gruff. I shake his hand. I notice his eyes have already moved on to Jenna, long before his hand does. And they stay there. “My friends call me Rusty.” He shakes her hand, too, holding onto it a little longer than he should, but not long enough to alert Trevor. I don’t think it matters. In my opinion, anyone would have to be an idiot not to see the sparks flying!

“I’m Jenna. And this is Cami.” He casts a quick smile in my direction and then turns all that heat back on Jenna.

Might have to take a step back from that! Wow!

I look up, between them, and Trick is watching me. That heat, I know I need to stay away from.

Rusty moves on and the three men exit the garage, leaving me and Jenna alone with Trick. He walks to the door, no doubt to make Brent feel better about being out there when he’s in here with me.

Trick is watching the guys out in the lot. Jenna is itching to go over there and watch them, too. Well, watch Rusty I should say. That’s the only one she’s interested in at this point.

And then there’s me. I’m left…floundering in the silence.

I walk to the car Trick was working on when we came in. Although my father collects the very high dollar classic cars now, it hasn’t always been that way. I can remember when things started to change, when money was much more plentiful, that Daddy started buying mostly restored vintage cars to work on. He graduated from partially-restored Mach I Mustangs, Camaros, and GTOs to fully-restored Shelby’s, Jaguars and Ferraris. And, being the Daddy’s girl that I was back then, I learned some of the ins and outs with him. That’s why I can walk up to a car like this and be somewhat familiar with it.

I’m looking under the hood at the engine they’re rebuilding when a shadow falls across the car.

“That’s the part that makes the car run,” Trick says dryly. I start to take offense until I look up and see his pale, twinkling eyes. I smile.

“Is that what it is? Because it looks to me like a V8 Thunderbird Special for this...” I walk around to the side of the car and take a step back, appraising it from front to back. “What? ’57 T-bird?”

I look back at him. His expression shows disbelief. I arch one brow. A slow smile curves his chiseled lips.

My heart picks up when he walks over to me and grabs my hands. He curls my fingers over the backs of his and examines them, rubbing his thumbs over the nails.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a grease monkey. What gives?”

I’m having trouble breathing with him standing so close. I glance nervously at the garage doors behind him, knowing Brent is out there and I shouldn’t even be talking to Trick, much less…this.

He gently lowers my hands and lets them go. I wiggle my fingers. I can still feel him touching them, even though he’s not.

“My father. He’s a collector. Has been for a long time. I used to like hanging out in the garage with him back when he liked to work on them.”

Trick smiles at me. “All girl with a little bit of tomboy. Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier.” He says it quietly, almost like he’s thinking to himself. I see his eyes flicker to my lips.

I want him to kiss me. So badly. Brent is the furthest thing from my mind.

But obviously not the furthest thing from Trick’s. His smile fades and his face sinks into a frown. He backs away from me just before we hear Rusty’s voice getting closer.

Trick walks back to the door and I rejoin Jenna. When I stop by her side, she turns to look at me. I know we’re both thinking the same thing.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Trick

“I don’t even need to ask who that was,” Rusty declares as we watch Cami and her friends drive away. “She’s pretty hot.”

I throw him an incredulous look. “’Pretty hot’?”

Rusty shrugs. “Yeah. She’s pretty hot. But her friend…damn!”

“Yeah, what’s up with that? Could you be a little more obvious?”

“What? I barely looked at her!”

“Dude, you needed a freakin’ bib! You all but drooled all over yourself. I’m surprised her boyfriend didn’t kick your ass.”

Rus snickers. “Like that could’ve happened.”

Rusty has always been scrappy. He’s a big guy now, but that hasn’t always been the case. Even when he wasn’t, he was not the kind of guy you wanted to mess with. You just didn’t. Still don’t. Unless you’re me, of course. We’ve been in our share of drunken brawls with each other. I think we’ve both won a few and lost a few.

“Missing the point, man.”

“I got this, Trick. Calm down. Holy balls! You’re worse than my mom.”

I drag my fingers through my hair. “Sorry, Rus. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.”

“You put too much pressure on yourself, bro. You’ve got some kind of hero complex, thinking you gotta save everybody.”

“Feeling responsible for my family does not mean I have a hero complex.”

“But it’s more than just that. It’s like you think if you can save enough people, it’ll change things. Or change you somehow. Make you feel less guilty.”

“Nothing can make me feel less guilty.”

“Trick, it wasn’t your fault! How many times do you have to hear that before it sinks in?”

I laugh bitterly. “Apparently a few more, because this is only making me mad.”

“You and that temper. Why is it that you’ve learned to hide it from everyone but me?”

“No one else makes quite as good a punching bag as you.”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be. You wanna go a round, Ace?”

Rusty starts dancing around, shadow boxing like some sort of prize fighter who’s just entered the ring. It gets even better when he starts humming the Rocky tune.

I can’t help but laugh at him. More often than not, he’s just what I need.

“Bring it, Firecracker.” I stand up and hold out my hands. Rusty taps each palm with quick jabs and then smacks me upside the head.

“Oh-ho-ho!” I say. “Enjoy that one, ‘cause it’s the only time those hands are gonna touch me.”

Despite my 6’2” frame, I’m agile. Always have been. Quick and light on my feet. I bounce around him a little and then, BAM! I land a solid slap to his right cheek.

Rusty’s eyes flash. His temper is much easier stirred than mine, but it burns out quickly. Unlike mine. I’ve learned to control my temper, but once it’s fired up…well, let’s just say the blast radius is usually pretty wide and devastating.

Rusty reaches out with his left hand. I dodge it and tap his ribs with my fingertips. He comes in next with two lightning fast right jabs. I dip to the side and avoid both then pop up and brush his chin.

“Looks like rusty is more than just a name for you,” I tease, knowing I’m pushing my luck.

Much to my surprise, Rusty stops, drops his hands to his sides and smiles at me. “You’re not gonna get to me, Trick. Not this time. I’d rather break open that bottle of Patron over there and think about the hot chick I just met.”

I relax as well. “That does sound like a lot more fun, doesn’t it?”

I move over to Rusty and, just as I’m getting close, he sucker punches me in the stomach. It’s not hard enough to really hurt, but it’s hard enough to knock the wind out of me for just a second.

“You’re such a dick,” I sputter.

With a laugh, Rus slaps me on the back and leads the way to his stash of my favorite tequila.

********

The door creaks as it opens. I crack an eyelid to look around. My brain hurts. I think it’s actually dizzy. And trying to differentiate drunken dream from sobering sunshine is not helping.

My head clears a little and I open my eyes all the way to glance at my bedside clock.

It’s already 7:00? Damn!

I hear soft footsteps as Grace sneaks up to the bed. I guess waking up before me twice in one week is like pure heaven for her.

Even though I’d rather go back to sleep, I should technically already be gone, heading to work. Regardless of either, I wait patiently for her to get closer.

When I see her feet come into view, I reach out and tickle her stomach. Me scaring her makes her happy, so yeah, I make a big roar for added effect.

She squeals in delight and takes off.

Mission accomplished.

“Mom says your phone’s been ringing,” she says from the doorway, a nice safe distance from my reach. She’s still smiling.

I look on the bedside table and, sure enough, my phone’s not there.

Must’ve dropped it on my way in last night.

I sit up and realize that my headache has a headache. I groan, genuinely this time, and Grace runs off screaming. Painfully, it echoes around in my skull.

Note to self: don’t make her scream after half a bottle of Patron.

Before I even make it to the bathroom, I see pink slippered feet appear. I squint up at Mom. She doesn’t look happy. I can almost see the lecture hanging around her tight lips.

Thank God, she saves it for later.

“Your boss called. Four times. Something has come up. He wants you to plan on being around the stable tonight and maybe for the rest of the week.”

Great! Not just any day with a hangover, but a long day. Working with horses. Riding them. I’m an idiot.

“I hear ya. I’m getting up.”

She shakes her head at me.

“Son, I just…”

“I know, Mom. I’m fine. Just a bad day yesterday.”

“And drinking didn’t change that, now did it?”

Good point.

Without another word, she turns and walks away, leaving me to get ready for the longest, most uncomfortable day of my life. I head straight for the Tylenol.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Cami

Even though it’s what I said I wanted, I’m bored looking at the books for the business and the bloodlines of our horses. I really do want to learn it, but today my focus is elsewhere.

I’ve been at it all afternoon, trying my best to stay away from the stables. It hasn’t been easy. Yes, partly because I’ve always loved my early morning rides, but mostly…well…

Not again! Dammit, Trick! Why are you so… ugh!

I can’t even finish that thought. I don’t know how to describe him really. He’s charming for sure. He’s funny and witty. He’s obviously intelligent. He must be good with horses. He’s apparently dedicated to his job. He seems like a good friend. Evidently he can box. Or maybe he’s just been in a lot of fights. And he’s definitely hot. Whew! Like hotter than the ninth ring of hell hot.

I think of those smoky eyes and that sexy smile. I feel steamy and realize I actually get all flushed just thinking about him.

Ridiculous!

None of those words adequately describe Trick, though. I’ve met guys before who are all those things and none of them have had such an effect on me. Not one.

I lean back in Daddy’s chair and prop my feet on the desk. I give in to the urge to think about Trick. Fully. Intently. Just for a minute.

Trick is different. He’s hard to pigeon hole. And what makes him so unique is not so much a blatant, identifiable characteristic, like hot or funny. It’s more like a way about him. He’s magnetic. Dazzling. Mesmerizing.

And then it hits me.

Addictive. Trick is addictive.

Yes! That’s totally it! The more I see of him, the more I want to see. The more I think of him, the more I can’t stop thinking of him.

Yes, that’s exactly the word I would best use to describe him—addictive.

I’m lost in a daydream of him when a knock at the door startles me. I look up to see the very object of my ruminations standing in the hall just outside the study.

I stare at him. It takes me a minute to adjust to seeing him when I’d been thinking about him in such depth. Then he smiles at me and all I can do is stare. I’m sure I look just like a deer caught in an oncoming car’s headlights.

“So, this is what you do all day,” he says, leaning one shoulder casually against the door jamb. He’s wearing old jeans with a hole in the knee, boots and a white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. A red baseball hat is dangling from him fingers and his hair is messed up, like he just ran his fingers through it.

I’m sure I’ve never seen anything more mouth-watering.

“What?” Ohmigod, I’m actually dazed.

He chuckles. “I said, ‘so this is what you do all day’.”

“Oh, uh, no. I was just, um, going over the books.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what it looks like.”

I slide my feet off the desk, smiling as I rack my brain for something clever to say. “I work better off my feet.”

One dark eyebrow snaps up.

“Um, I mean, I think better with my feet up.”

The other brow shoots up to join the first.

“What I mean is that I…I’m…”

I feel the blush rising into my cheeks as I stammer. It doesn’t help that Trick is smiling in such a playful way.

Hot damn, he’s sexy!

“I know what you meant,” he says quietly.

My face gets even hotter.

“Please don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I ask.

“Blush. You have no idea how hard it makes it.”