to?
Christopher said he could show me things without crossing that line. I had no reason to distrust him. He’d been true to his word with everything he’d promised. I was the one who kept crossing the red lines I drew.
The words came alive when I described things to him. He said he would help me, that he wanted to be friends. It was me that had the problem. But I could get it under control. I had to, or my career was over.
I did a quick Google search and found the address I needed. I’d meant for our relationship to be about business the last time we met. My mistake was meeting on home turf. This time I’d meet Christopher at his place of business.
Outside, Lucille started up without incident and we headed across town. I pulled up to the car shop. WATCHERS CREW AND AUTO, the sign read. It sat in the middle of a mixed industrial and residential neighborhood. I parked Lucille in one of the open slots of the storefront and went into the glass front doors.
Inside there was a tall, dark drink of water bent over a car. He had his shirt off. I had trouble averting my gaze from the valley between his abs and his belt buckle. Looking up, I saw grease stains on his muscled chest.
“You’re the piece of sweet meat Crow’s been pouting about.”
There was so much to unpack in that sentence. My hackles went up at being called a piece of meat, regardless that he’d tacked on “sweet” as an adjective. But my attention was diverted to the end of a sentence.
“Christopher was pouting about me?” Every business-minded thought, all pep talk points, all firm red lines, went out of my head.
The guy rolled his eyes. “He’s not here. He’ll be back soon.” His gaze raked over my body. “I’ll keep you company until he gets back.”
I wasn’t afraid of him. I knew he was trying to get a rise out of me. This was one of Christopher’s friends. I remembered him from last week at the sex shop.
“Leave her alone, Eagle,” said a woman’s voice.
Eagle turned to look over his shoulder. “You telling me what to do, sweet meat? I got something for that ass later.”
The woman skirted his slap with a giggle and came to stand before me. “Mary Katherine? I’m Eleanor. You can call me, Ellie.”
Ellie looked like someone from my grandparents’ church. She had on a prim and proper blouse and a knee-length skirt. Her blond hair was pulled into a platted bun.
“You want to come up to the house and wait?” she asked.
I followed her out the door. Eagle watched us with a narrowed gaze. My instinct was to cover my ass with my hands. Ellie wiggled her hips.
“Crow has never brought a girl home,” Ellie said once we were outside on the path that lead from the shop to a three-story house.
“I wasn’t invited,” I said. “I just need to talk to him about something.”
“Is this about your book?”
“He told you about my book?”
I felt irrationally jealous. This girl was basically me. She had ‘good girl’ written all over her heart-shaped face and prim clothes that were in a slimmer size than mine. But I had nothing to worry about. She was with the shirtless guy, Eagle.
“I’m the only other person in the house who reads anything besides car magazines,” Ellie said. “Owl reads literature, but he wouldn’t be caught dead reading a romance novel.”
Eagle? Crow? Owl? And there was an emblem with wings coming out of a tire over the top of the shop. I wondered what was with all the bird names? I also wondered who else lived in this house?
I saw sports cars in the driveway that were straight out of the Fast and Furious movie franchise. And there was also a VW Bug with a ladybug paint job. Ellie ran her hand lovingly over the Bug as we headed up the driveway.
“I read your books,” she said. “The Tender Kisses series is one of my favorites. It’s hard to find good inspirational romance that doesn’t hammer you over the head with scripture.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“That’s the cutest
Landon Dixon, Giselle Renarde, Beverly Langland