Free Stepbrother Studs Kevin: A Stepbrother Romance by Selena Kitt

 
    “Dammit!” Evie revved her engine again but couldn’t get her Lincoln to do anything other than flash the dull red of the alternator icon at her. She fumbled for the hood latch but stopped at the last minute. It probably wouldn’t be smart to advertise her breakdown in the parking lot of the strip club. Not at 2 a.m, anyway.
    She’d have to call for help. She hated that.
    Evie stepped out, locked up, and fumbled her cell out of her jacket pocket to call her stepdad. Ned would be mad, but she couldn’t call Mom, with her three DUIs and suspended license. Her thumb hovered over the call button, but she couldn’t press it. The last time she’d had a fight with Ned, she’d stormed out yelling she didn’t need his ball-busting, his money, or him—period—and had no intention of weakening her position by calling him for a pick-up in the middle of the night. She couldn’t drag a friend out of bed either, so she made her way back inside the silent, deserted club, went over to the bar and called Kevin.
    Her stepbrother’s voice rumbled, deep and grouchy, over the line. “You stranded somewhere, Evie?”
    “Yeah, I’m stuck at the Gainsville Gala. My car won’t start.”
    “When was the last time you took it in to be looked at?”
    She gritted her teeth at his instant assumption that she’d screwed up. Unfortunately, he was right about her attitude toward car maintenance, which made his tone even more maddening.
    “Three months ago,” she lied.
    “Whatever. What’s your zip code?”
    She reeled it off, along with the full address, just to be sure. His 4WD Ford Velociraptor was an awesome off-road ride, but relied more on the navigational powers of its driver than the half-assed satellite attached to the satnav system. Which was a little unfortunate, given Kevin’s job in search and rescue.
    Feeling the side of her arm and neck prickle, she tuned out his lecture about how hard he’d kick her ass if she’d forgotten to top the coolant with antifreeze again, and followed the cold vibe across the dance floor. She was being watched by two jerks standing at the door of the men’s restroom. They’d given her the creeps earlier, trying to lean onto the strip stage and yank her skirt off before she was ready. The club boss, Ryan, stepped out of the ‘Private’ door right next to them, laughing at something one of them said and waving them to a table near the center dancing stage. It didn’t look like they were getting kicked out as over-stayers.
    Evie twisted away with her cell phone, trying to look casual, and raising her voice to make it clear she wouldn’t be alone for long. “Ok, honey, thanks! I’ll be outside when you get here.”
    “‘Honey’?” Kevin chuckled. “You been drinking, Evie? Anyhow— don’t leave the club. Joel called to invite me out to drinks. If Joel’s already at Hank’s Bar, that means there’s no security in the parking lot. I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes to give you a ride home. We’ll figure out what’s going on with your car in the morning.”
    “Can I come drinking with you and Joel?”
    Kevin snorted. “No way.”
    “Hey, I’m two years past legal!”
    “That’s not the frickin’ point! I know how you dress after shift, and I’m not spending my night off pulling guys’ hands off your tits. Sit tight.”
    As the call cut off, Evie jammed the cell into the depths of her jacket pocket. She blinked moisture back from her eyes before it had a chance to get to welling stage and fanned her face a little, like it would help her to get a grip. Asshole. And she thought Ned had the monopoly on making her feel cheap. She was wearing Levis and a dark green top. Okay, so the top was fitted and cropped just above the belly button, but it also had a modest V-neck and three-quarter-length sleeves. Hardly slutty.
    Since she wouldn’t be driving, she ordered a double Patron on the rocks and tossed it down in one gulp. Then she ordered another, ignoring the new