Flirting With Disaster (5 page)

Recently, her friend had
told a crowd of the biggest gossips in their small town she was
having sex six ways to Sunday with Tate. Peyton's purpose had been
to squash a much uglier rumor. Didn't matter, she became somewhat
of a sideshow. Two years ago, her friend would have gone into
hiding over it. Now, because she was
in
love
,
her friend
didn't mind the attention too much.

Peyton pointed to the crowd. “Damn good.
Should have told everyone I was having lots of sex a long time
ago.” This time her friend bumped her shoulder. “What's really
bothering you about Dane?”

Of course straying from the subject wouldn't
be that easy. “What I always worry about with men like him.”

Peyton's gaze swept over the crowd. “That
he'll want to change you.”

That she'd change herself
to please him
. She'd done that before and
never wanted to be that woman again. “Exactly. He's attracted to me
now but a year down the line and I'm still not soft and
cuddly...”

“
But you'll never know,
because you make sure there's nothing likeable about you. It's a
preemptive strike.”

They'd been friends long enough Brooke
didn't doubt Peyton saw the pattern. “I'm just saying, he's the
kind of man who'd walk in the door five minutes after I get home
and ask what's for dinner. Like it's my job. He won't understand
why I'm annoyed because he’ll think it's a woman's work.”

Peyton shrugged. “And I'm saying I've talked
to Dane. If you say to him 'are your hands broken?' he'll see the
light. Hell, he might even make dinner to apologize for being
insensitive.”

Her heart squeezed. “I shouldn't have to
point it out.”

Peyton only shook her head, probably seeing
the argument as a lost cause. “How's the calendar going?”

Brooke accepted the change in subject
because talking about Dane made her stomach flutter and her skin
tight. “I'm going to have to call my brother. He always has a few
junkers he's fixing in his spare time.”

“
How many do you
need?”

“
Looking like six. I might
be able to squeeze four out of him.”

“
And he'll likely know
someone else who can help you.”

Brooke rubbed her face. “Yeah. I'm not
troubled by that. I'm troubled by what he's going to ask for in
return.”

Peyton winced. “A visit home?”

“
Yeah.”

She wasn't against going home, but being in
the same room as her mother. First, the subtle questions would
come. The kind of questions that would uncover simple facts that
would lead to whether or not she was seeing someone. Then, there
would be the inquiries about when she would get married as though
that was Brooke's only purpose in life. Her mother was stuck in an
era where that kind of existence wasn't only okay, but the only
acceptable existence.

There was a time when she would have happily
lived that Donna Reed dream, would have been hopeful right along
with her mother. Those days were gone. Revisiting them just put a
sour taste in her mouth.

Brooke shrugged. “I see you were trying to
distract me. How's Tate?”

Peyton blushed. “Fine.”

“
Don't you mean 'none of my
business?'”

“
Shut up.” Peyton laughed
but her face reddened even more. “I'm going to go troll for empties
and see if I can sell some more beer, but think about what I said.
Dane isn't a bad guy.”

Even when they bickered at each other he
didn't get nasty. That said a lot about him. And if she was willing
to be reasonable, she could admit it said good things about him.
Things that made her like him more. “Maybe.”

Her friend left her alone with her thoughts.
The other, much more private reason why she volunteered to help at
The Grog was to escape that. Her mind seemed to get stuck on how
her skin prickled with sexual awareness whenever they lost track of
why they hated each other, and Dane looked at Brooke as though he
wanted to eat her up.

It started with the first car that morning.
She thought nothing about bending over in front of him until she'd
turned around and caught his expression of pure sexual hunger in
his gaze. She hadn't been able to breathe, and then she couldn't
help but wonder how he would kiss her, how he'd touch her.

She'd spent way too much time since that
morning imagining what naughty words he'd murmur in her ear if they
ever lost their goddamn minds. She shivered. No. No. They were
partners. Soon they'd go back to their respective corners. She just
had to survive the next few months with her sanity intact.

Brooke turned, pulled down the bottle of
tequila, and poured herself a shot. It felt necessary.

CHAPTER FOUR

The hairs on Brooke's arm rose. She peeked
around the hood of the old Chevelle. Dane stood at the opening of
the garage, looking as though he didn't want any parts of the
building to come in contact with his pristine, cream-colored
sweater. No sideways buttons on this one, but these buttons looked
to be made of expensive wood and were purposefully off-center. He
had a plain white shirt and jeans. His boots looked gruff but only
because a factory made them appear that way.

She shucked off her gloves and took out her
earplugs. His appearance meant it was lunch-slash-meeting time. He
stepped forward, skirting her toolbox, which was covered with grime
along its sides.

Dane probably kept baby wipes next to his
bed for cleanup after sex. The thought made her chuckle.

She straightened and stretched. She'd spent
her morning hunched over the beater. “Where are we going today?”
she asked.

His gaze followed the languid movement of
her body. Every part of her went hot from the perusal.

“
Brooke,” he said as a
greeting, then added, “Town square. I can piggyback on the mayor's
Wi-Fi and show you my finds.”

She gasped in false scandalization. “You're
breaking society's rules?”

“
It's not illegal, and if
he didn't want anyone to use it, he'd put a password on
it.”

“
That you could probably
get from Naomi, but I'm still scandalized.”

His jaw clenched for a second. “Not my fault
you assumed I followed all the rules.”

“
You're right,” she said
and happily watched shock play over his face at her admission. She
unzipped the coveralls and tied the arms around her waist. “Let me
grab my lunch, lock up, yada, yada.”

Five minutes later, she found him standing
outside the garage doors. His back was to her and he rocked on his
heels. From behind, he created one hell of a picture. His shoulders
were broad, his legs long, his ass a thing of beauty.

She'd given being cordial a try, and the
heat and frequency of their arguments had lessened. They’d
progressed to having disagreements, which were a different
animal.

She hated to admit Peyton had been right.
She hated to admit she liked him, in a general
he's-not-a-crappy-human kind of way. And, okay, he was very
attractive, in an every-sense kind of way. And, he made
her-heart-pitter-patter kind of way, too.

Most of that could be attributed to him
wearing jeans instead of slacks lately. More than likely because
they'd spent a lot of time with each other over the last week. Most
of that was either meeting up at her shop or getting into her tow
truck or standing in a middle of a field looking at a junker.

It was a lot of time for her to see him in
an appealing light that made her forget he could be chauvinistic.
Something she found hard to keep at the forefront of her mind when
with him.

She sighed and led the way. They stopped
long enough to get his laptop out of his car before settling onto
one of the benches in the town square. Tom had cut the acre of
grass that edged the center of town, and it smelled wonderful—like
the beginning of summer.

Brooke took out her sandwich, broke off a
piece, and chucked it near the statue of the town's founder. The
pigeon that had been propped on his head flew down to eat it.
Finally, she turned to Dane and waited for the big reveal.

He looked amused at her ritual and shook his
head.

“
We have eight,” he
announced and moved the computer so she could see the
screen.

Around a mouthful of ham and cheese, she put
a hand up to her lips and asked him to scroll down. The owners had
taken pictures of both the exteriors and interiors. From the looks
of them, they were in no worse condition than all the rest of the
cars.

She swallowed. “I need to see them.”

“
You can take the road trip
without me. Have you hit up your contact yet?”

She hadn't. Her brother was the very, very
last resort. “Not until I know for sure we're tapped out. Go back
to the last one and zoom in on the engine.”

He shifted closer and did as she asked. His
scent distracted her for a moment. He smelled...masculine. That was
the best way to describe the scent. He smelled like a man filled
with testosterone, and the fragrance was delicious for that simple
fact. She hummed and bit into her sandwich, refusing to look
directly at him until the urge to bite him instead died down.

She pointed at what looked to be a spider
web of cracks on the engine. “We have seven. Unless we're going to
spend the next ten years doing this, I don't have time to order a
slew of new engines. That one is shit. Who gave you this?”

“
A friend of mine, but he
knows nothing about cars.” Dane sighed, putting his back against
the bench. “I hate this. Why did we say calendar?”

She laughed. “It could have been a bachelor
calendar. Now, that would be hell trying to put together.”

“
Huh.”

He didn't sound entirely against the idea.
She frowned at him. “What?”

“
Not a bad
idea.”

“
What?” her voice was
louder.

He laughed and closed his laptop. “Think
about it. We'll have a calendar for the men and one for the
women.”

The sandwich turned to dust in her mouth.
“Yeah. 'Cause women aren't into cars.”

He glared at her. “You're trying to tell me
you'd walk right past a calendar filled with half-naked men?”

Brooke would be on it like flies on shit,
but she'd have the same reaction with a muscle car calendar.
“You're so sexist.”

“
I like to think I'm a
realist. A good majority of people who'd buy the car calendar will
be men. Half-naked men? Women.”

She scoffed. “How would we know what sells
better?”

“
Do a survey?” He shrugged.
“I'm sure it'll be simple enough to slap on questions if we sell
this thing online.”

She shook her head. “It's for a good cause.
The numbers will be skewed.”

He nodded. “One towards men and the other
towards women.”

She thought about it for five seconds and
went with the first impulse. “Okay. I handle the car calendar, you
put together a bachelors of Tanner Creek calendar. Technically, we
are still working together and folks will think we're back to
arguing. Since people would think we're back at odds, that'll move
some calendars. Our fair small town loves train wrecks.”

He gave her a blank stare. “We are
arguing.”

She shrugged. “Beside the point.”

“
It is the point.” There
was steel in his voice. “We're deciding to take on another mammoth
project to prove each other wrong.”

“
Look at it this way, you
get to gloat if you're right. You won't have to go with me to look
at cars anymore. And you get the final say on your
project.”

“
No. You get the final say
with the cars.” His brows rose, and he looked so damn haughty she
wanted to flick his forehead.

“
Of course, I'm motivated
to make this work,” she said. “We've managed to be nice to each
other for a few days. A few weeks from now I'll want to strangle
you. This keeps me out of jail.”

His jaw tightened, and the way he looked at
her made Brooke feel emotionally stripped. Dane asked, “What would
it take for you to get to know me and not make assumptions?”

He was serious, and Peyton's words started
to ring in her head. Was she being too hard on him? Was he any
different than most people? How would Brooke feel if he suggested
the bachelor calendar just to get away from her? Offended, and then
infuriated.

His question was asking for a way to judge
him, on her own terms, in hopes she'd see him differently. He was
being open and vulnerable in a way that made her throat feel
tight.

She put down her sandwich. “Let me see your
hand.”

He frowned. “And what will that do?”

“
I made sure to wear gloves
all morning and I washed my hands before we left. Still, my hands
look like I work with them. They aren't the softest and would
likely never be. Too many healed over cuts and abrasions. I
think...” She hesitated, not able to meet his gaze. “I think my
hands say a lot about the woman I am. I gave up nail polish a long
time ago, but every now and again I put some on to feel pretty. So
let me see your hand.”

He placed his laptop beside him on the bench
and then offered his hand with his palm up. Brooke lined up their
wrists. She'd known that his was larger than hers, but she didn't
know how that simple difference would kick her heart into
overdrive.

It was cool outside but his hand was warm
and rougher than she'd imagined. He didn't come off as a man who
worked with his hands, ever, but maybe that came from working with
books.

She flipped his hand over and found the
small nicks, likely from paper cuts. She traced a few with her
fingertip.