Rough Edge (Tannen Boys 2)

I mean it. I really do. I’m not looking to get married either and am quite busy myself, actually, since we’ve got to get the cows to market soon. But I definitely wouldn’t object to spending what free time we do have together, preferably in bed, but at car shows if we have to.

Hell, maybe I’ll take her to the market auction when we sell the cattle. A bit of tit for tat. I listen to her talk cars with the guys and she can listen to me drone on about the price of cattle with the other ranchers. Something tells me she won’t find my cow knowledge nearly as sexy as I find her car knowledge, though.

She squints like she’s looking beneath my hood too, figuring out all my parts and pieces the way she does a broken-down car. “All right. If you say so. Just don’t come crying to me when you get your heart broken because I’m up to my eyeballs in transmission repairs and can’t suck your dick for a while.”

My eyes cross. Holy hell, this woman.

I growl, throwing my arm over her shoulder and pulling her to my side. “Show me some cars or something, Erica, or I’m gonna find the nearest deserted corner of this lot and let you do that now.”

She flutters her lashes before smirking. “What? Suck your dick?”

Goddamn it. I adjust myself in my jeans, looking for more room as they get too tight. Her dirty talk is brazen, like some curse-laden version of a weird love spell, but fuck, does it work for me. Or maybe it’s not the words. It’s just her.

Having won this round, she licks her finger and makes a tally mark in the air. “Oh, by the way, no fucking on school property. That’s probably a felony, don’t ya think? And wrong and gross even if it’s not.”

“Is a felony a deal breaker for you?” I tease back, an oh-shit look on my face.

“Seriously?” she hisses.

“Nah.” I laugh. “Got a misdemeanor charge for fighting once, spent a couple of nights sobering up in the drunk tank when I was younger, and definitely had some black eyes, but nothing felonious.” I don’t tell her that Dad was the primary giver of those black eyes. It’s not like it sounds, anyway. He was just raging. Hell, we all were raging. He took out his shit on me. I took out my shit on him. And now it’s done. “You?”

She knocks on her head like it’s a piece of wood. “Nope, not planning on getting caught, either.”

She doesn’t say she’s not planning on committing any felonies, I think with a smirk, wondering just where she’s thinking about fucking. She’s right, the school’s probably a bad idea, but there are some old dirt roads on the mountain, federal reserve land that no one goes on except the occasional ranger. We could definitely get up to something there . . . and most likely, not get caught.

I put a pin in that idea as she starts walking again. We look at some newer model cars, ones I can mostly identify. Mustang, Camaro, and a few Corvettes.

A mullet-haired blond kid in baggy jeans, probably no more than twenty, judging by his smooth jawline, waves at Erica, and she gives him a friendly smile. I’m already directing her that way, knowing she’ll want to talk to the guy, but she puts a hand on my chest. “Hey, would you mind grabbing me a Coke?” She points at a vendor on the far side of the line of cars. “I’ll meet you right here, by Todd’s Challenger. That’s the purple one.” She winks as she says it, teasing me.

I look from her to Todd, trying to get a read. “Yeah, sure . . . be right back.”

I use the full breadth of my strides to get to the drink vendor, not shortening them for Lil Bit’s stride the way I’ve been doing the rest of the day, and get back with a cold can of Coke in record time. Not that there’s a record for that, but if there were, I’d have just beaten it because I was damn fast.

Erica and Todd are deep in conversation. I try to judge if it’s personal. Hell, I don’t know, maybe she dated him too? Or he’s Reed’s little brother? I don’t know, but I’m standing here like a chump with her drink, feeling a little too much like Reed, I reckon.

But when Erica points Todd to the driver seat and dips under the hood, I can see there’s something more professional going on. Or at least I hope there is. She leans over the engine and he revs it loudly. Erica doesn’t even flinch, listening closely.

She’s like the Engine Whisperer, I think proudly. I have no reason to be proud of that. It’s definitely not my doing, but I like that she’s someone other people seek out for her brain. That she’s got this whole thing going on that she’s in control of.