Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 42479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
“You’re feeling that pull because your camber’s slightly off, and the front coilover is rebounding a fraction too slow.” Riley finally stood back up and wiped her hands on her jeans. “It’s probably less than a tenth of a second’s difference, but on tight corners, it’ll feel like the front end wants to fight you, especially when you push it hard.”
Edge’s expression shifted to pure respect, and I felt a ridiculous surge of satisfaction watching the exchange. He glanced back at me again, a slow smile spreading across his face as Riley walked away to grab some tools. “Damn.”
I nodded, folding my arms over my chest to keep from looking too smug. “That’s how she is. You should’ve seen her diagnose the suspension issue on Mick’s bike earlier this week. Five minutes flat, and she nailed it. She spotted a fuel map problem we’ve been chasing for months, too. Nobody here even came close, and she figured it out like it was nothing. The woman’s instincts with setups are fucking incredible.”
Edge’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with open amusement. “Kane wasn’t bullshitting me when he said you were already gone over this girl.”
I narrowed my eyes slightly even though he wasn’t wrong. “What makes you say that?”
He let out a laugh, not even a little apologetic. “Brother, I’ve been standing here hearing you list all the reasons she’s basically the best thing to walk into The Pit since we built it, and it’s been a long fucking time since I’ve heard you talk about anything besides horsepower for more than five minutes.”
I shrugged, completely unconcerned with the observation. “She’s good at her job.”
“Yeah, sure. That’s definitely the reason.” Edge shook his head with a knowing smile. “Face it, man, you’re just as fucked as the rest of us.”
I didn’t bother arguing because the bastard was right. I’d known Riley for a little over a week, and already I couldn’t imagine letting her walk back out of my garage or my life. The fact that Edge could see it so clearly made the possessive streak in me settle a little deeper. Maybe I was fucked, and the guys would have plenty to say about it later, but I wasn’t particularly interested in changing my situation. Riley Mercer had walked into my shop temporarily, but as far as I was concerned, she wasn’t leaving.
7
RILEY
Iwas shoulder to shoulder with Ryot under the hood of a sleek black car, and my hands were deep in the wiring harness while he checked the fuel rails beside me. The familiarity of the work should have grounded me, but my mind kept drifting to the man who took up way too much of my thoughts.
I wasn’t sure how I’d found myself in this position. Shawn had sent me running into the night, fearful for my life. Now I had a job I actually loved, a safe place to sleep, and a boss who made my pulse race whenever he was near.
I was supposed to keep my head down, stack cash, and figure out my next move. Instead, I spent far too much time thinking about Ryot.
The way his broad shoulders filled out his shirt, how his dark green eyes saw too much, and the black ink on his tanned skin all fueled my imagination. And my libido.
But it was more than just physical. I also liked his quiet confidence and the little things he did that showed he paid attention to me.
I caught myself staring at his grease-streaked hands as he tightened a fitting and quickly looked away.
Stop it, Riley. You cannot afford this.
“You’re quiet today.”
I shrugged. “Just focused.”
He made a low sound that might have been amusement. “You’re always focused. It’s one of the things I like best about you.”
I kept my eyes on the wiring and prayed he couldn’t hear how hard my heart felt like it was beating.
This attraction was already becoming impossible to ignore, and it only got harder each time he said something sweet like that. Which happened often since Ryot worked beside me more often than not.
He wasn’t checking my work like he didn’t trust me. If anything, the opposite was true—he kept handing me more responsibility. Every time he gave me another complex job, it felt like another quiet vote of confidence. Yesterday, he’d let me lead the full suspension setup on a team’s drift car.
He was coming to trust me, and it made me feel guilty over the secrets I was keeping.
“You mentioned you grew up around engines.” He handed me a wrench, his fingers brushing mine and sending a spark of awareness up my arm. “Who taught you?”
I kept my eyes on the fuel rail I was securing. “My dad. He was a mechanic. I spent most of my childhood in his garage.”
“Sounds like a good way to grow up.”