Free Chrome: With a Heart Forged in Steele (Carolina Bad #4) by Rie Warren

off his boots, he entered the foyer. “Holy shit. This is your house?”
    “Yeah.” I shoved my fingers through my hair. “Well, it was my folks’. After they . . . you know . . . it’s mine now.”
    Not something I wanted to think about today.
    In addition to the house, which was prime real estate on the Cooper River in the Old Village, Mom and Dad had left us Chrome and Steele, their life insurance policies . . .
    I’d rather have them back.
    I’d done my best keeping the business successful, investing the money on behalf of Cat, Brodie, and me. We all had nice nest eggs that sat mostly untouched and untalked about. We only splurged on cars and bikes. Gearheads, all of us.
    “I get it, man.” Cole shook off his jacket, the usual thick chains at his neck and wrists rattling.
    He presented me with a bottle of fairly high shelf wine.
    My eyebrows rose.
    He shrugged. “Just ’cause I’m Original Recipe Probie doesn’t mean I don’t know a good vino when I see one.” Placing his jacket on the wooden bench just inside the door, he said, “Thanks for inviting me, man.”
    “Don’t thank me. Thank Brodie when he gets here.”
    His eyebrows shot together. “Brodie? He hates me.”
    “Right. That’s why he was the one who patched you through instead of me.”
    “He always gives me a hard time.”
    “Cole, in case you haven’t noticed, he always gives everyone a hard time.” I led him into the kitchen. “So why are you alone at the holidays?”
    Coletrane was a big boy with even bigger muscles, and ink—most of it his own artwork—everywhere the eye landed. He’d come to us unknown and proven his worth time and time again.
    “Family troubles.”
    “That so?” I concentrated on mincing garlic, keeping my back turned. “I know all about that.”
    “You do?”
    “Yup.” I held up a long, sharpened knife. “But the real question is how much do you know your way around a kitchen, Probie?”
    “I could flay Bobby Flay with that knife.” He rolled up his sleeves over iron-hard forearms. “Put me to work.”
    “You always were the best Probie.”
    We worked in silence, Christmas music and the slice and dice of veg, the sizzle and hiss of meat the only sounds in the house.
    The jingle of a new text on my phone interrupted the quiet camaraderie.
    I’m here. At least I think so. If you live in a mansion?
    It came from Rayce.
    I dropped my knife with a clatter. “Be right back.”
    “Eager much?” Cole shot after me.
    “If you think Brodie’s evil, just say one more word to find out how much worse I can be,” I warned him.
    Reaching the door before Rayce did, I yanked it open and saw her standing in the driveway, no dirt bike in sight but a taxi driving away.
    I jumped down the steps and met her on the path. “You took a cab?”
    Her head ratcheted up. “Yeah. Didn’t want to risk it with the weather . You know how people around here drive.” Light sarcasm dripped from her voice. “Oh look. It’s cold and raining so let’s close the bridges because of idiots.”
    I laughed. “I would’ve picked you up. Or at least paid for the cab.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes.” My voice deepened. “Really.”
    Her smile hit me in all the right places. “Then maybe you can take me home later.”
    “Maybe I won’t let you go home.”
    No damn lie.
    She looked amazing—fuckhot and adorable all at the same time. No idea how she pulled off that killer combo. Cold flushed her cheeks pink. Her lips looked entirely kissable. And something about the fresh snow reflecting all around her made her glow.
    In a beaten-up brown leather jacket, she had a scarf knotted around her throat, fingerless gloves on her hands, and tight black leather pants tucked into her boots.
    Unbelievable. She didn’t have to do anything but show up, and I got the twisties in my gut.
    Rayce gave me another hit of that smile and tilted her head. “Hi.”
    “Hi.”
    “Are we gonna stand out here all day?” Her lips curved invitingly.
    I