Quarterback Drill (Desert Football #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

CASEY

“Jesus Christ, you’ve got to be kidding me.

” With a scowl, I pulled to the side of the road and shut the engine off.

The damn check engine light flashed on the dashboard.

“Limp mode.” I slapped the steering wheel.

I loved my Beamer, but it wasn’t always the most reliable.

Dad had tried to warn me. But I’d insisted this was the car I’d wanted.

Exhaling fully, I peered toward the plaza across the road. Iron bars covered the glass doors and windows. I was in Mesa, and not a great area of Mesa. A sign caught my eye, reading Hart Auto Repair. What were the chances I’d break down in front of a shop?

Twisting my lips, my gaze trailed over the brick building and an old Chevy truck in blue. I only took my baby to the dealer, but…

As the heat of the day crept inside the car, I swiped a droplet of sweat from my brow. Fuck, it was the end of May, and the daytime temps were already getting hellish. But my classes were over. With a smile, I adjusted my rearview mirror to see my face.

My dirty blond bangs fell to my cheekbones in mussed waves, and my green eyes looked brighter than usual in this light. The hookup hadn’t left me with much bedhead. I pulled my bangs back, letting them fall around my face again and popped the car door open. I’d melt if I stayed in here any longer.

Fishing my phone from the pocket of my shorts, I tapped my text messages open. I should text Eli and see if he could pick me up. Maybe after I called a tow truck. Fuck, what a mess.

I strolled to the sidewalk and texted.

Casey

Hey dude, are you home?

The three dots twinkled at me.

Eli

No, I’m out with Malik, having a beer. Where are you?

“Fuck.” Tapping my foot, I scanned the cars speeding by and then some trash stuck to the bottom of a chain-link fence next to me. The dirt lot inside the fence held more trash, and a few discarded tires. Maybe they’d leave their beers to come and rescue me.

Casey

My car broke down in Mesa. Not a great neighborhood. Can you come and get me?

Eli

What the hell are you doing out there?

A smirk tugged my lips. I could tell him. He’d understand. The guy had been too hot to turn down, and so what if it was in the middle of the day?

Casey

Coming home from a hookup.

Eli

You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s like two in the afternoon.

Casey

I’m not. Afternoon delight?

With a chuckle, I opened my internet browser and ran a search for tow truck companies. I couldn’t just leave my baby here.

“Hey, need some help?” A deep male voice asked.

With a start, I fumbled my phone, and my gaze snagged on a dark-haired man, maybe a little older than me, with brooding brown eyes and a perfect five o’clock shadow. A greasy green t-shirt pulled tightly across his shoulders, and his jeans, ripped at the knees, hung low on his hips.

“Uh, maybe? Do you know anything about cars?” I gave him my most charming smile. He'd better not be a transient looking for money.

“I do. I own the shop right there.” He pointed across the street and eyed me. “I’m a mechanic.”

“Oh.” I glanced at the shop and the cracked front window.

“Do you ever work on BMWs?” Hell, was I really considering this?

Maybe he could get it running so I could bring it to the dealer.

Plus, he wasn’t half bad to look at, even through the grime.

I swayed enough to fixate on his rounded ass.

Damn. Maybe I could get him to bend over my—

“I do.” He lowered his brows. “What are you looking at?” Planting his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed.

“Nothing.” I bit the corner of my lower lip. He filled out those dirty jeans pretty well in the front too. God, but I just had a hookup. Was he even queer? “How much do you know about BMWs?”

With a scoff, he said, “Jesus, dude, I worked at BMW for two years, okay? I’m certified to work on your damn car.” He stepped to the vehicle and looked inside the tinted passenger-side window. “Can you start it?”

“Yes, it’s in limp mode. The check engine light just came on.” Should I trust this guy though? I glanced at the shop. A young man emerged from the front door with dark hair similar to my would-be mechanic. “Who’s that?” I ticked my head at the young man. Did he have another mechanic over there?

“My brother.” Straightening, he tilted his head. “Do you want me to inspect it or not?”

“Uh, sure.” What the hell? It was close, and he was nice to look at in a blue-collar way. I strolled to my car door. “I’ll drive it over.”

“I’ll go with you, so I can see what it’s doing.” He opened the door and climbed inside.

Shit, he was dirty. Would he get grease on my nice red leather seats? “Okay.” I stepped inside and pushed the start button. Cool air blasted me from the vents. Thank God, the air conditioning still worked.

“Name’s Ryker.” He leaned over the center console, inspecting the dash. “I’ll grab my code reader when we get it in the shop.”

“Sure.” I glanced at him, his dark mop of wavy hair falling almost to his shoulders and so close. “I’m Casey.” What did he smell like? I sniffed, and the scent of sweat mixed with coconut filled my nose. Not bad, not bad at all.

“Okay, bring it over and put it in the left stall.” He did a double take of me and leaned back in his seat. “What?”

“Nothing.” With a chuckle, I glanced both ways and drove the car across the street, through the short parking lot and into the garage. “Is this good?”

“Perfect.” He climbed out and met his brother by a tall red toolbox.

After shutting the engine down and exiting the car, I stood.

“You’re supposed to be studying.” Ryker planted his hands on his hips.

“I know, but…” His brother’s gaze landed on me and narrowed. “You look familiar. Who are you?”

“Me?” I jabbed my thumb at my chest. How the hell would he know me? Not from a hookup app, right? He was too young. “Uh, Casey Carter?”

“Shit, the quarterback for ASU?” The brother’s eyes widened. “You have the best adjusted completion percentage in the NCAA.”

With a snicker and smoothing my hair, I said, “Yeah, guess I do.” Who was this kid? Football fan?

“Damn, it’s nice to meet you.” He rounded the car and stretched his hand toward me. “I play quarterback too. I’m on the JV team at Mountain View High School, and I follow all the best NCAA quarterbacks.”

“What’s your name, kid?” Shaking his hand, I offered a wide grin. I didn’t consider myself a celebrity, but what the hell.

“Wes. Wes Hart.” He freed my hand and stared at me. “My brother’s awesome at fixing cars.”

“He is, huh?” I peeked at Ryker, watching us with his lips pressed together. What was up with this guy? Was he a perpetually moody fucker? I bet I could change that. “I sure hope so.”

“Wes go and study. You have a test on Monday.” Ryker kept his gaze on me.

“Yeah, whatever.” Wes kicked at a rock on the concrete and left through a metal door.

“Sorry, my brother’s a little over the top with football.” Ryker strode around my car, opened the driver’s side door and popped the hood. “He loves the sport, and wants to play in college, but we’ll see.” Stepping to the hood, he lifted it and bent over the grill.

My gaze locked on the globes of his ass, and my dick sparked to life.

The last guy had been nice and all, but apparently, he hadn’t completely satisfied me.

“So…” I ran my finger along the car’s front quarter panel while closing the gap between us.

“What do you see?” I bent over, right next to him, running my gaze along the clean lines of the engine.

I wasn’t certain of what I was looking at.

But if I wormed into his space, I could gauge if he was attracted to guys.

Turning his head, his shoulder brushed mine, and he flinched but stayed.

“Nothing yet. I have to hook up the code reader.” His gaze locked on my lips for a beat and then flicked away.

“Why don’t you wait in the office?” Sucking in a breath, he rose, his head striking the hood.

“Fuck!” As he scowled, he rubbed his head and ambled to the toolbox.

“What’s going on out here?” Another man with blond hair and bright blue eyes opened the door to the office. “Dude, you hit your head again?” He cackled.

“Shut up, Dylan.” Ryker tossed the man a glare.

Were they friends or boyfriends? Because according to my impeccable senses, Ryker wasn’t straight. This was getting interesting. “Hi, and you are?” With my palm extended, I moved toward the stranger circling the car. Might as well find out now.

“Dylan Mercer. I do the grunt work around here because he loves me and I’m his best friend.” With a chuckle, he gave my hand a shake and released it. “Come on in.” He held the door open for me.

With a glance at Ryker, I stepped inside the cool air of the office.

A tattered blue sofa rested along one wall, under a poster of a red Ferrari. Didn’t every shop have one of those? At least it didn’t have an almost-nude woman sprawled across it.

Wes sat at the desk with an open laptop. “Hey.” He waved at me. A football rested at the end of the desk.

“Hi.” I plucked the football from the desk. “So, you play quarterback?” I tossed the ball from hand to hand, stepping through the room.

“I do.” Wes leaned the office chair back.

“Dylan, get in here and help me.” Ryker called from the shop floor.

“Shit, gotta go.” Dylan jogged toward the door. “Nice to meet you, Casey.” He left.

With a peek through the dirty window into the shop, I said, “They’re just friends, huh?” Why did I blurt that out? My heart slammed against my chest. Stupid, Casey.

“Yeah, but my brother likes dudes. Well, likes dudes and chicks, but lately he hasn’t had time for either.” Wes pursed his lips.

Bingo! I was right. “Yeah? Why?” I dropped onto the end of the sofa, setting the football in my lap. This little brother could provide a wealth of information. Maybe I could blow Ryker and get a discount on my repair bill? Naw, I could afford to pay. But a blowjob might be—