608 Alpha Avenue (Cherry Falls)

Grayson’s chest rumbles as he holds back a chuckle. “Fair enough.”

“I’m offended. I think.” Garret looks confused. “I can answer questions about men. I am one.”

“That you are. You’re a nice one, Garret. But your brother over here can give me insight that you can’t.”

Garret nods knowingly. “Oh, so you need asshole insight?”

“Yes.”

Grayson rolls his eyes. “She needs a real man’s input. She wants to know how we think. Why we fuck the shit outta women like Natalia.”

At the sound of her name, Garret’s eyes avert to the red-lipped queen at the other end of the bar. “Oh.”

“Wanna explain that?” Grayson asks.

Garret looks back at me. He almost looks … sullen. Definitely nervous. “You’re right. Grayson is perfect for the job.”

I laugh at his expression.

Grayson gets to his feet and takes his wallet out of his back pocket. It’s brown leather and looks like it’s been through the wringer. He takes out a few bills and slaps them against the counter.

“There ya go,” he says. “I got yours too, Garret.”

“Thanks,” Garret says, tipping his bottle back again.

I bite the pad of my thumb. “So, we have a deal?”

Grayson grins. “Nope.”

And out the door he goes.

Two

Grayson

Well, son of a bitch.

I wait until I’m in the parking lot of Fireside before I adjust my cock.

“Why do men only react—really react— to thongs and red lips and … and … and long, dark hair that has more body than my actual body?”

If she only knew …

“Hey, wait up!” Garret’s voice echoes through the valley. “Grayson!”

“I hear ya,” I mutter before stopping next to my truck. I turn to see him jogging across the pavement. “What do you want? I have shit to do.”

“Oh, the hell you do. You’re just being a pain in my ass.”

I rest my forearms on the side of the truck and wait for him to reach me. Once he does, he’s slightly out of breath.

“You need to spend more time in the great outdoors and get your ass in shape,” I tell him as he comes to a stop. “That couldn’t have been twenty, thirty yards.”

“You better remember who you’re talking to. I’m not Haley and half-scared of you and half …”

He doesn’t finish the thought, but we both know what he was going to say.

Haley Morgan wants my dick. She’s wanted me since the day we met at Cherry Tree Coffee Co. a couple of years ago. I’m not one of those guys who remembers everything about a woman—I’m not Ed Sheeran, after all—but that day is imprinted in my brain.

The flush of her cheeks as she slammed into me. The way her bright yellow tank top hung low, debuting a pair of full breasts threatening to spill over the cups of her lace bra. The curve of her hips in her faded denim shorts, and the way her green eyes flashed when they met mine.

I also, distinctly, remember the feel of her body against mine and the short conversation we had while I was holding her.

I remember all of that. But what I recall the most is walking away and knowing that Haley Morgan would be off-limits.

Forever.

“You better be scared of me,” I tell Garret. “Hell, you can’t even run across a parking lot.”

He grins as he slings his arms over the far side of my truck and faces me. “I feel like I missed something back there.”

“Hmm.”

Garret rolls his eyes. “I know the two of you play this love-hate thing. But if you want Blake Brother Auto Repair to stay in business—and fund your hiking obsession—then you’re going to set that aside, march back into Fireside, and take Haley up on her offer.”

“Hard no.”

“Gray …”

Exasperation punctuates every syllable he speaks and every breath he takes.

He’s irritated with me. I get it.

Too fucking bad.

“I’m not striking up some deal with a woman who’s barely old enough to serve drinks,” I tell him.

“She’s twenty-one—old enough to serve drinks, buy tobacco, and engage in any adult activity she chooses.”

I ignore the smirk.

“And I’m thirty-one,” I fire back.

“So?”

He quirks a brow and, suddenly, I realize what I’ve done. I’ve stuck my boot in my mouth. I’ve admitted, without quite admitting anything, that I’m into her. Garret probably knew that already because he’s as nosy as an old maid. Still, I would’ve been better off to deflect it with more finesse.

I’m slipping.

I backtrack as fast as I can. “What does she want? To follow me around and pester me with questions about … who knows what? I don’t have time for that shit, Garret.”

“You better find time. Her offer costs us nothing but some time—”

“My time.”

“Your time. Fine.” He huffs. “But there’s no cash involved. If I have to pay someone to help me—because I’m fresh out of ideas, Gray—then that puts us even further into the hole.”

I hang my head.

He’s right. I’ve heard him bemoaning all of this to Grant for the last couple of months. Their conversations about increasing revenue and decreasing overhead have been the main topic of discussion for a while now. I tune out, mostly, because the business aspect of what we do isn’t in my wheelhouse. I don’t enjoy it, and I’m not good at it. Give me a wrench, and I’ll take control. But this shit isn’t news to me.