Slide Down on Me

Slide Down On Me

Lissa Matthews

Small-town mechanic and tattooed bad boy Travis keeps his profile low, his needs satisfied outside the city limits, and his business running smoothly. He doesn’t cause trouble and he certainly doesn’t want any. Trouble finds
him
one scorching afternoon, however, in the form of the equally scorching Arabella Drake. The former heiress owes Travis for car repairs, money she can’t readily pay.

Their situation requires a creative solution, and while most of the town rejects Bella, Travis wants to
ravish
her. He offers a proposal, one that will soften the repair costs—and satisfy Travis’ longstanding wish to have Bella Drake naked, writhing and sliding down on every inch of him.

A Romantica®
contemporary erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

S
LIDE
D
OWN ON
M
E

Lissa Matthews

Chapter One

Wednesday Afternoon

“Twenty-five hundred dollars?” Bella’s lips barely moved over the words. Her throat closed and nausea rolled through her belly. If she said anything more, her breakfast of toast and coffee from several hours earlier was going to be all over the garage floor. They probably wouldn’t even notice, given the stains of oil, gasoline and what she could only hope were other car fluids dotting the concrete.

She supposed it could be the fumes making her lightheaded. She wasn’t used to such strong, bitter smells.

“Close,” he said, looking down at his clipboard. “Twenty-five hundred, sixty-seven dollars…” He looked up again, giving a benign smile. “And thirty-nine cents.”

Bella met his gaze. Travis. He was as gorgeous as ever. His cobalt eyes held no hint of emotion, no matter the sarcasm that dripped from his lips.

Tattoos covered his arms and disappeared under his short-sleeve shirt and drifted up the sides of his neck. Black hair brushed his collar and was so dark that in the right light, one could swear it shown blue. He was tall, broad yet lean-hipped, and she’d wondered for years what his rough mechanic’s hands would feel like on her skin.

She’d had a secret crush on him when she was growing up. She’d see him around town and out on the lake, but they were from two different worlds and though their paths rarely crossed, when he was near, she was always acutely aware of him.

“I…I don’t have access to that kind of money anymore, Travis,” she said quietly.
No thanks to my brother.
Humility seemed to be her new best friend, but in front of Travis? That was a new level she wasn’t exactly comfortable with.

Heat bloomed in her cheeks, but she was just stubborn enough not to look away. She wanted to get out of here, run as far as she could, but there was nowhere to go, no place for her to hide. And now, thanks to the transmission in her car, no way for her to get anywhere. She squared her shoulders and swallowed past the queasiness.

“That’s as low as I can go, Bella.”

Bella sighed. “That low or going lower or raising the number doesn’t matter. Not even the sixty-seven thirty-nine. At least not until payday.” Her voice didn’t shake and she was proud of that. He was sexier than a man ought to be, but she wouldn’t let that distract her. “Can you hold the car for a little while? At least a couple of days?”

“I take credit cards.”

“Really?” She didn’t roll her eyes, but the sarcasm in her tone couldn’t be mistaken. “Travis…” This wasn’t the first time she’d come up against this argument. “I don’t use credit cards anymore.”

“And I don’t generally hold cars for anyone other than friends. The lot is pretty small, you see.” He looked over her shoulder, out the bay door. “I don’t want legit customers thinking I can’t take care of them because there’s a fancy piece sittin’ out front.”

She ignored his emphasis on the word “piece” and fought the sudden strong urge to kick him. She turned her head and followed his line of sight.

The front of the garage had a small parking area, but there was also room out back he used. “It’s a Cadillac. People drive them all the time. Please, Travis. Just a couple of days until I get paid on Friday.”

Please
had become the most-used word in her vocabulary. She’d always used it, along with
thank you
,
excuse me
,
yes ma’am
and
no sir
, among other courteous terms, but they had all taken on whole new meanings since she was no longer the heiress who lived in a mansion.

Their gazes locked again and he didn’t seem moved by her plea.

“It was all I could do to get it here this morning. It kept dying anytime I got it over forty. I don’t have any way to get it back to the lake or anywhere else to keep it.”

He heaved a sigh. “Until Friday. Not a day later.”

Relief swamped her and she smiled. “Friday. Yes. Th-thank you, Travis. Thank you.” It was a small battle but she’d won. “I have to get back to the flower shop, but I’ll be in touch Friday when I get off work.” She spun on her heel, heart thumping wildly in her chest at the victory. Of course, her mind whirled with the fact that it would take longer than two days to get the money, but one step at a time.

His voice from behind abruptly stopped her forward progress. She was thankful that she didn’t stumble over herself.

“Do you need a ride?”

Lust flooded her, but Bella masked her surface reaction before facing him again. Oh yes, she’d love a ride. A long, hard, naked ride. On
him
. He hadn’t moved closer but heat flared between them. Maybe he wasn’t as indifferent as he’d have her believe. “N-no. I walked here. I can walk back. I don’t want to owe you any more than I already do.”

Travis shrugged. “Suit yourself. Have a good day, then.”

She nodded. She didn’t believe his uncaring, all-business tone for a second. The spark she’d felt was real, but if he could pretend it didn’t exist, she could too.

Stepping outside from the dim interior of the garage, Bella was blinded by the bright sun. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes and by the time she reached Main Street, she was used to the light.

A sense of home and belonging filled her. She couldn’t remember loving this little town when she was a kid. What she
could
remember was not being able to get out fast enough, even though she and her friends ran around unchecked. But when things changed and went south with her brother, she couldn’t wait to get back to this little hole-in-the-wall place. She’d wanted to walk down the street just as she was doing now, with the crepe myrtles in bloom along the sidewalk, the ice cream shop with its door open all summer, the fresh fruits and vegetables at the farm stand. Everything she’d never appreciated while growing up here…

The transmission issues with her car weren’t her first hurdles; they were simply the latest since her brother’s arrest on white-collar-crime charges. Despite all the years he’d spent working for their father and all the training he’d gone through, it seemed he thought the rules and code of ethics didn’t apply to him.

Bella was the accidental child. Ten years, eight months and twelve days younger than Artie. Their parents had doted on her, and heaped all the expectations for the continued success of the family business on Artie’s shoulders. She’d felt bad, and even asked him to let her help with the business after she’d graduated from college. He’d always patted her on the head and told her not to worry about it.

But now, everything she’d known and loved as a child, everything she’d cherished for the memories, was gone—sold or auctioned off. She had an Ivy League education but that didn’t do her any good here in her hometown. Her degree and her family name had helped her land a job at a posh boutique design firm in Nashville, but the work itself was hers alone, and it had been the greatest feeling. A strange freedom. She’d invested some of her pay in the family firm. She’d lost it all too. She wasn’t completely broke, the way Artie and his partner had left many others. She had a meager amount saved in a small credit union and there was a trust fund left to her by their grandmother, but the latter had stipulations and red tape.

The striped awning of the flower shop came into view and she unlocked the door when she approached. She took a deep breath and smiled. The sweet scent of flowers greeted her as she walked in.

Flower arranging hadn’t been what she’d gone to Wellesley for, but rather, it was something she’d learned growing up in Southern high society. She could also play the piano, write thank-you notes, ballroom dance, arrange place settings with enough silver to need a road map, and flash plastic with the best of them. Debutante balls, cotillions and parties of all sizes were also on her list of abilities.

But her expertise in the fine art of being a debutante wasn’t wanted or needed anymore. She’d learned after college that she
liked
working, that she
liked
helping people. Yes, she’d designed high-priced interiors in Nashville for the rich and sometimes famous, but she still gave them something they wanted, something that made them happy.

What she
didn’t
like was owing Travis.

Okay, well, that wasn’t exactly true. She’d rather owe him pleasure and fun instead of money.

There was something else she had to figure out—how was she going to get home after work? It was a five-mile walk to her cottage. It wasn’t so much the walk that was the issue though, but the slacks and long-sleeve button-down shirt her boss, Mrs. Cleary, required of her. It was hot as blazes outside.

In the bathroom at the back of the store, Bella splashed cold water on her face. The short walk from the flower shop to Travis’ garage and back again had been enough to make her wish for an ice bath. The ends of her hair were damp and the ponytail needed brushing. How it could be smooth one minute and a tangled mess the next, she didn’t know, but the humidity didn’t help. She dusted her cheeks, chin, nose and forehead with some powder, then lined her lips with a bit of gloss.

Her reflection looked a little more presentable than when she’d first flipped the light on in the small half bath. “Well, it’ll have to do,” she told herself.

She hung her purse on a hook behind the front counter and donned her green smock, another of Mrs. Cleary’s requirements.

There were several orders to fill before closing and she needed to get her mind on her job and off Travis and her car situation.

* * * * *

The low whistle echoed through the concrete-and-metal garage and Travis groaned. “Shit,” he whispered. He didn’t want to get into this, not right now.

“Who belongs to the fancy red Caddy out front? And did you get her private number?”

Miles, Travis’ older brother by eight years, normally came in every day around nine, but he was several hours late today. Given that Bella had been there not too long ago, it was probably a good thing.

Bella and her family had never been Miles’ favorite people. Travis wasn’t sure there was a reason, but since news of Artie’s legal issues and Bella’s subsequent return home, Miles had been especially irritable.

They were a lot alike, Travis and Miles, despite their age difference. Good women, good times at the bar, hard working. They were also different. Miles held grudges, where Travis tried to see beyond faults.

He glanced around the front end of the twenty-something-year-old land yacht he was currently working on. “Bella Drake,” he answered.

Heat traveled through Travis as her name left his lips and, not for the first time, his long-unused dick woke up.

“Come again?”

“I didn’t stutter and don’t pretend you’re idiot enough not to know already.” Everyone knew who owned the red Cadillac. Including Miles.

“She stayed? Really? I didn’t think she’d give this town more than a passing glance when she wasn’t received with open arms.”

“Right.” Travis turned his attention back to the Jeep’s air filter. “You’re full of shit. She’s been living out on the lake. Old lady Morrison’s place, I think.” He didn’t have to think. He knew exactly where she lived, and he wasn’t the only one. When she’d returned and rented the property, gossip had spread like wildfire.

Miles scowled. “Hasn’t anyone told her she and her kind aren’t welcome here anymore?”

“Whose kind isn’t welcome anymore? Old lady Morrison’s?” Travis glanced up just in time to see Miles flip him off. Yeah, some people had told Bella she should’ve stayed gone, but she’d always gone her own way. He liked that about her. “Get off it, will ya? Her brother was the first-rate asshole, not her.”

“Uh huh.”

That was all his brother said, but it was enough. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Travis sighed after the words left his mouth. “Most people don’t give a shit anymore. Why do you?”