Spitfire in Love (Chasing Red 3)

Like he wanted me.

You’re fucking crazy. He has a girlfriend. He’s a cheater!

I rolled my eyes at the voice in my head.

Yeah, duh. I know. It’s not a sin to find something beautiful. Even flies like poop. Nothing’s going to happen here. Not ever, so zip it!

“We’ll throw in some add-ons,” I continued. “If you like. Some accessories. At a reasonable price. Or we can give you free basic maintenance checks for three months. Pick one.”

Suddenly, I wanted to get away from him. Fast. I pulled out my wallet from my jacket pocket, fished out our business card, and shoved it and the flyers in his hand.

“Here. All our information is there. Come tomorrow morning. I usually open the shop, so I’ll be there.” I was rambling. “And you…you have my number.”

I flushed at the reminder of how he got it. I started walking down his driveway back to my car. “Which I totally didn’t want to give to you, for your information!” I called out to him. “You caught me in a…private moment and I was totally vulnerable. If you have any objections, tell me now or else I’ll take this as a yes.” I got in my car, started it, reversed. I looked over and saw him still standing there with a mysterious smile.

My heart was knocking so hard in my chest it started to hurt. When I stepped on the gas, I let myself breathe.

“Good job, good job. You did a great job,” I muttered to myself. “He totally agreed.”

I glanced at my rearview mirror. And found him standing in the same spot, watching my car, before I turned the corner and he disappeared from my sight.

Chapter 7

Cameron

“Don’t think the shop’s open yet,” Caleb said, slamming the tailgate closed after we’d muscled my motorcycle out from the bed of his truck to the ground.

I shrugged.

“You sure about this?” he asked dubiously, surveying the surroundings. He knew how scrupulous I was when it came to my motorcycle.

“Yeah,” I answered, turning around to look at the area with him.

The shop was an old, gray, rectangular box built in the middle of a dirt lot. There was a big sign on the roof with the words HAWTHORNE AUTO REPAIR SHOP, with their phone number in smaller block font on the lower right. The paint on the W was peeling. The roof still held but looked ready to be replaced.

Cars were parked neatly in two rows on the front left side of the building, and on the right side was a dirt road leading to the back of the lot.

“All right then. Let’s go get me some coffee,” he announced.

“Get a job so you can afford it.”

“You could’ve driven the company truck, but I have a heart of gold and still drove you here, didn’t I? So pay up, cheapo.”

“I bought last time. It’s your turn, asshole.”

“No, it’s not, dumbass.”

“Sure it is,” I said easily.

“Basketball practice on Monday. Loser buys.”

“You got it.”

His phone chirped.

“It’s Rick,” he said after reading the text message.

“Better get your ass to the site, then. I’ll get a cab as soon as I’m done here and meet you there.”