Relentless (Mason Family 4)

I’m not reporting this to anyone. Involving the police sets us up for tickets and I’d definitely be getting one. I also have no interest in getting this fixed for five hundred or fifteen hundred if it’s not totally necessary.

“Let me ask you this,” I say, rocking back on my heels. “Can I drive it like that?”

“How far do you have to go?”

“Not far.”

He bends at the front end and inspects it. He peers beneath the busted plastic or whatever a bumper is made out of and fiddles with things.

I stand behind him and watch. My mind takes off, sprinting away from the accident and straight into bed with Oliver. I’m visualizing his rough palms grazing over my body and the taste of his lips against mine. The way my name sounds when it comes through clenched teeth—“Oh!”

He stands abruptly, catching me off guard. I jump back and clutch my heart.

He dusts his hands off and grins. Amusement is written all over his handsome face.

“I have an idea,” he says, heading to the Rover.

Me too, but it’s probably not what you have in mind. It was nothing to do with getting my car engine running.

He opens the back of his SUV and digs around. I use the opportunity to catch my breath.

The whole day has been a whirlwind of fuckery. I stubbed my toe climbing out of bed. The water heater decided to go out two minutes into my shower. The staffing agency I have been using to fill an employment gap had me booked for a weekend afternoon shift downtown. When I showed up to the address they gave me, so did another woman—the right woman. She stayed. I was sent home.

The day did not get better from there.

Clearly.

I sigh and look up as Oliver stalks toward me with zip ties dangling from his hands.

Oh, good grief.

Two possibilities fire through my mind at the exact same time. I didn’t know that was possible, but it happens.

One is that he’s going to tie my hands a la Christian Grey. Now that I think about it, he has that businessman-with-a-backstory vibe going on.

The other is that he’s going to secure my wrists together and perform a citizen’s arrest. It seems possible. He somehow knows the law.

Then it hits me.

He’s a cop.

I’m not sure whether to run or offer myself up. Getting detained could go either way, depending on the final destination—police station or Red Room.

Oliver stops a few steps away, his gaze turning wary as he reads my expression. “I was going to try to tie your bumper up with these, but if you don’t want me to …”

My shoulders slump and I sigh. Relief is mixed with disappointment. “Oh.”

His gaze narrows. “I feel like I missed something.”

“I was thinking about what you were going to do with those zip ties.”

His eyes darken. “Oh, really?”

“But tying up my bumper sounds like quite the plan,” I say, adding a laugh as if that will somehow erase the thinly veiled reference that we both know exists. “Zip ties are strong. I bet I won’t even need a mechanic, huh?”

His lips twist into a smirk.

“I once used them to hold up a clothes rod in my closet,” I babble, desperate for him to let it go. I haven’t flirted in a million years. My flirt-er is broken. “And I zip-tied my shoes onto my feet one night. Long story.”

“I bet.”

I smile in hopes it distracts him. “So, about the bumper?”

“Yeah. The bumper.” He crouches down, keeping an eye on me. “Come here and hold it up.”

I squat next to him, doing my best to keep the scent of his cologne at bay. It’s persistent. Before I know it, the notes of tobacco and amber are flirting with my core.

It doesn’t take him long at all to fasten the bumper … somewhere. All I know is that it isn’t touching the pavement anymore and that’s good enough for me.

He wipes his hands down the front of his jeans as he stands. “That should hold pretty well for a while. But you do need to have someone take a look and make sure nothing else is broken.”

“I will,” I lie, ignoring the roar of a truck on the road behind us.

The wind kicks up, ruffling the edge of my shirt. But as I stand next to Oliver, I absorb the calm, sturdy energy rippling off him. It’s nice. I wish I could bottle it up and take it home with me.

His eyes search mine. “I wasn’t kidding about my mechanic. I’d be happy to have him take a look at it for you, if you want.”

“I’ve already caused you enough problems for one day.”

He smiles. “We could schedule it for tomorrow then. We could grab lunch while it’s being looked at.”

Suddenly, I don’t know what to say.