Free Full Throttle (Fast Track) by Erin McCarthy Page A

“Hey, bro.”
    “Hey, what’s up?”
    “You busy on Monday?” It was their day off from racing, usually their only one.
    “Not particularly, though I was planning to sleep in. Why?”
    “I need you to help me move.” Rhett crossed the parking lot and beeped his truck open, unable to prevent a grin. He enjoyed shocking his brother. There was just something really damn fun about it.
    “What? Where the hell are you moving to? You just took that place over from me. God, are you moving back in with Mom and Dad? That’s lame.”
    “No. I’m moving in with Shawn.” He was going to save the whole marriage thing until after the deed was done, but he did need to get the muscle lined up for moving day, or he was going to be trying to carry a couch by himself.
    There was dead silence on the other end. Followed by, “What the fuck are you talking about? You just met Shawn like five minutes ago!”
    “We met on Saturday, technically,” he said cheerfully.
    “You’re kidding me right?”
    “No. There’s just something about her. She blew me away.” She had. That wasn’t a lie.
    “But you’re not impulsive. You don’t attach easily.”
    “That’s just Mom’s opinion. I actually attach extremely easily.” Which might concern him if he stopped to think about it. He chose not to. “Just save your opinions and psychological analysis and show up on Monday, okay?”
    “Does Mom know?”
    “Not yet. Don’t worry, I’ll tell her before Monday.”
    “Jesus Christ, Rhett. She’s going to flip her fucking wig.”
    “She can handle it. She handled nine kids. I’ll talk to you later. I have plans with Shawn in twenty minutes.” To get married.
    Shawn was pacing in the courthouse hallway when he arrived, a gift bag in his hand, a ring box tucked in his coat pocket.
    “I thought you weren’t coming,” she blurted, then seemed to be annoyed with herself for admitting that. “Anyway, how did it go with Clinton? He e-mailed me last night that everything was in order with your background check.”
    “Yep. We’re good to go.” He pulled the ring box out of his pocket. “For you.”
    Her eyes widened. “You bought a ring? Holy crap, you didn’t have to do that! I figured we’d just get cheap bands from Walmart.”
    “So I can look like a tightwad? Screw that.” If everyone thought it was legit, he didn’t want to look like an ass. Besides, when he had walked into that jewelry store, he had wanted to buy something delicate and beautiful for Shawn, something that went with the elegant grace of her long fingers and her fair skin.
    There was something about Shawn’s features that intrigued him endlessly. She was strong and athletic clearly, yet parts of her, like her fingers, her lips, her tiny nose, were so profoundly feminine that he couldn’t look away when he was with her. It may be a fake marriage, but she should be wearing a beautiful ring to match her delicateness.
    Yeah. This was him not attaching. Fuck.
    But when she opened the box and let out a gasp, it was worth it.
    “Oh, my God, this is stunning. It’s so pretty, Rhett.”
    It was vintage-inspired, white gold, and narrow, the band crusted in diamonds, meant for the elegant hand of an elegant woman. The fact that Shawn was that and a former driver and current track owner and racing enthusiast, made her just about the perfect package.
    Too bad none of it was real and he was essentially a warm body she’d hired.
    “Let’s do this thing,” he told her, because he found himself doubting the intelligence of this move. He was starting to feel a brooding mood coming on, and that wasn’t going to look good in the wedding picture.
    “I like your wedding jeans,” Shawn told him with a smile as her eyes swept over him, the ring box closed again in her hand.
    “Thanks. I even washed them before I put them on.” He owned exactly one suit, and he felt like a gigantic ass wearing it, so he’d opted out. He had put on a button-up shirt, though truth be