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)
The Crest was the only motel in the area. While it wasn’t the worst place I’d ever seen, no way in hell it was safe enough for a woman my instincts had already put under my protection.
The practical side of my brain ran the numbers right behind the possessive side and came to the same conclusion. If she couldn’t afford repairs, then she couldn’t afford to burn through money on a room while waiting on parts.
She acted casual, but she’d gone too still when she asked, like she was trying to make the question sound less desperate than it was. I didn’t call her on it. Riley struck me as the type to dig her heels in if pushed too directly, and I wasn’t interested in giving her an excuse to bolt when I could keep her exactly where I wanted by letting her think she had choices for another few minutes.
“The Crest is about five miles east of town. Head out of the lot, take a right and that street will take you to the beach. Turn left and follow the main road until you see the faded blue sign with a wave.”
Her lips twitched again, quicker this time. “That sounds promising.”
“It has doors and beds. I wouldn’t call it promising.”
“Glowing endorsement,” she muttered, shifting the duffel higher on her shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She turned toward the open garage door, and I watched her go because I couldn’t seem to do anything else. The late-afternoon light hit her as she moved, catching in her hair as she walked with the tired stiffness of someone who’d spent too long behind the wheel. But there was still strength in her stride. Stubborn woman. And mine, even if she didn’t know it yet and would probably try to throw a wrench at my head when she figured it out.
She made it a few steps before she stopped so abruptly that the duffel bumped against her hip. Her shoulders tightened, and her head tipped slightly toward where her Mustang sat dead in my bay instead of waiting to take her anywhere.
I saw the realization move through her. The motel was several miles away, her car wasn’t running, and she had no way to get there unless she planned on walking along the shoulder in the Florida heat. For half a second, I considered letting that problem do the work for me, but the image of her stubborn, sexy ass actually walking down the road was enough to kill that idea fast.
“Riley,” I called.
She turned back, her expression already guarded, like she expected me to point out the problem and make her feel stupid for missing it. That pissed me off too.
I grabbed a set of keys from the hook near my office and tossed them across the shop. Her hand came up automatically, catching them without fumbling. The kind of reflexes that came from being around fast-moving parts.
She looked down at the keys, then back at me. “What are these?”
“One of the shop trucks.”
Her brows pulled together. “I’m not taking one of your trucks.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“I don’t need—”
“You need to get to the motel, your Mustang isn’t moving, and you’re coming back here tomorrow morning anyway,” I cut in, keeping my voice even because arguing with her was already doing things to my blood that had nothing to do with irritation. The spark in her eyes when she got annoyed made me want to crowd her against the side of her car and see if her breath hitched when I got close. “Bring it back when you show up.”
Riley stared at me long enough that I could practically hear the fight in her head. She wanted to argue because taking the truck meant accepting help. To refuse because the woman clearly hated needing anything from anyone. But she was also smart, which won out over stubborn after a few seconds.
Not gracefully. Definitely not happily. But it won.
“You always this bossy?” she asked, shoving the keys into her pocket like she was doing me a favor by taking them.
“Only when people are being difficult.”
Her mouth flattened, but there was color in her cheeks now, and the sight of that faint flush did not help the situation in my jeans. “You mean when they don’t immediately do what you say.”
“Same thing.”
She muttered something under her breath that I didn’t fully catch, though “asshole” was definitely in there. I grinned because I couldn’t help it, and she shot me a look before heading toward the lot again. This time, she didn’t stop. She climbed into the shop truck, adjusted the seat, backed out carefully, and drove away like she’d rather chew glass than admit borrowing it had solved a problem.
I waited until the truck disappeared beyond the edge of the lot before pulling out my phone. The Crest answered on the third ring, and the bored voice on the other end perked up fast when I gave my name. That was one of the benefits of living in a town where the Redline Kings owned enough businesses, land, protection, and favors that people understood refusing us rarely ended well. We didn’t throw our weight around for the fun of it, but when I needed something done, I expected it to be handled.