Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Did you try to find it? The motorcycle I mean?”
“Yeah, I put out feelers, got the word out I was looking for it. Heard nothing. I assume they are long gone and the VIN number on the bike replaced and sold, or they pulled it apart for pieces. I had to give up dwelling on it and move forward.”
“Did this happen last year?”
“Yes. Why would you ask?”
“I noticed your files went from meticulous to barely done about a year ago.”
I scrubbed my face. “Yes. Thanks to Mary, taxes and everything are up to date. I need to fix the files—sort them and do a bunch of matchups. It’s all there in the storeroom, just jumbled.”
“I already started,” she confessed.
“Red…” I breathed out, surprised yet not shocked she would have simply taken on such a project without saying anything.
She asked me a few more questions, then fell silent. I was touched by her reticence in bombarding me with queries or opinions. It felt good to clear the air between us. A relief, almost.
“Do you regret placing that ad?” she whispered.
“The ad that brought you here?”
“Yes.”
I tilted up her chin and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Best ad I ever placed. I got you.”
“Yeah?”
“Wanna hear another secret?”
“Okay.”
“You drive me crazy in the very best of ways, Red. All your little habits and sayings. The way you put me in my place. Flutter around the garage with zero idea how sexy you are to me in your little outfits. The food you cook. Your goddamn delicious pies. All of it rolled into one smart-mouthed, sassy little redheaded snippet.” I kissed her again. “My little redheaded snippet.”
She stilled.
“Yours?”
“I’m done fighting this, Red. I’m attracted to you. More than I should be. I don’t know if I can be—if we can be—any more than what we are right now, but I’m not going to make myself miserable anymore. So, if you want that, you got me.”
For a moment, she was silent. “I want that,” she replied.
“Okay. We go from here, then.”
The room was quiet, and I thought she had fallen asleep. Until she lifted her head.
“You aren’t going to go all soft on me, are you, Maxx? Be all sweet and nice suddenly?”
I chuckled. “You don’t want sweet and nice?”
“No, I want Maxx. In all your growly, snarly magnificence, glowering at me in the garage and telling me off. I like that.”
“You are a strange girl, Red.”
“Holy moly, buddy, you’re one to talk,” she snorted. “Only you could come out of counseling even grumpier than when you started.”
I rolled her under me, hovering over her. “I’m going to show you grumpy in about three seconds, Red,” I promised. “And I don’t plan on treating you any differently than I have been. I’ll chap your ass daily. So, get used to it.”
She pulled me down to her mouth.
“Yowsers. Perfect.”
Chapter 21
MAXX
I was busy with Brett and Stefano when Red sashayed her way into the garage the next morning. I had left her sleeping in my bed, thoroughly exhausted from a night of being woken up by my wandering hands and growly demands. She was curled in a ball, her bright hair a mass of messy curls around her face as she slumbered.
We all lifted our heads at the sound of the side door opening. She walked in, carrying a tray of muffins, Rufus following her closely. But it wasn’t the muffins that had me slack-jawed. It was the outfit she was wearing today. Worn, I knew, to drive me mental.
It worked.
She had taken a pair of the old mechanic coveralls, cut off the sleeves, and tied the shoulders up with a pink ribbon. She left the top billowing open, giving me a glimpse of a tight tank top, also pink, underneath the worn beige material. She’d rolled up the legs of the pants so they ended at her knees, showing off her shapely calves. The waist was cinched in with more pink material, and her hair was in pigtails, with a bandanna holding it in place. And those damn sparkly sneakers again. It got worse as she drew closer. My name, MAXX, was embroidered on the lapel of the front pocket. Of all the overalls she could have chosen, she was wearing my old ones.
She was feminine, sexy, and yet still appropriate for the garage.
But not for me.
“Jesus,” I muttered.
Stefano and Brett exchanged a look and chuckled. “She’s a handful,” Brett muttered.
“Yep,” I replied.
She stopped in front of us, a falsely innocent look on her face as she smiled. She knew what she did to me in those outfits. “Muffins?”
They each took two, then decided they needed to go to the office and get coffee, leaving us alone. Red pushed the tray my way. “I made these.”
I took one, glaring at her. “I don’t recall giving you permission to cut up any coveralls.”