Chapter 1 #3
Screw it, she silently determined. Greg had seen her in far worse condition. She wondered if Peggy had come with him. She hadn’t seen her surrogate aunt in ages.
Trixie took the time to wipe her work boots against the doormat before walking through to the showroom. She nodded to her sales crew, all finely dressed, before hurrying past to the front desk. With a shout of joy, Trixie launched herself into the old man’s tight grasp.
Despite only living a few miles from each other, Trixie was ashamed to say she hadn’t visited with her abuelo’s best friend in a long time. It was really good to see him.
Greg returned her hug with vigor. Either he didn’t realize how bad her hair was or he didn’t care, because he dropped a rough kiss onto her curls.
“Trixie, baby, you’re looking good.” Setting her down on her feet, he gripped her shoulders as he took a step back to get a better view of her.
“I swear you get taller every time I see you.”
Her cheeks reddened. He’d been saying that since she was two feet tall. Now, at twenty-five, she stood only an inch under him. “Stop it. I finished growing years ago. But look at you. Is that another gray hair?”
He chucked her gently across the chin. “I only have gray hairs.”
Her grin widened. “Is Tìa Peg with you?”
He shook his head to her disappointment. “No, but she did invite you to dinner on Sunday night.”
That brightened Trix’s mood. She missed Sunday dinners with the Romeros and Wynns. It had been a long time since she’d been with her entire family. There hadn’t been a lot to celebrate recently.
“I’ll be there.” She missed Peggy. And she would never turn down a free meal. Trixie’s version of a gourmet meal was a bowl of cereal. Even she couldn’t mess up pouring milk into a bowl, though that was not from lack of trying. “What brings you by?”
“Well, I was passing by and wanted to stop in.” The man lived three miles down the road; when was he not passing by? “Peg got that old picture of me and Bobby fixed up, and it got me thinking that I hadn’t been by to see you in a while.”
The guilt on his face was clear. In his defense, Trixie also hadn’t been by to see either him or Peggy either. She reached out to grip his arm affectionately. “We’ve all been busy. It’s really good to see you.”
He squeezed her hand on his bicep. “I know, sweetheart. I’ll make more time, I promise.”
Greg and Peggy ran a halfway house. Their time was certainly kept busy.
Trixie worried about them, especially Peggy.
She knew opening their home to ex-cons trying to get their feet back under them was their way of being close to their son again, but she still worried.
Peggy was stern and had a good heart, but she was still a woman in a house with a bunch of unknown men. Trixie didn’t know how Greg handled it.
There had been a few instances when the cops had had to be called.
In fact, the time Trixie had passed the house almost three months ago to see a bunch of cop cars outside had probably been the last time she’d seen Greg or Peggy.
One of the residents had taken a knife to another.
Strong and resilient Peggy had been more upset about the hole in her kitchen wallpaper than she had been about the man who had used a knife to threaten her.
The picture Greg was referring to had also been damaged in the scuffle, the blade piercing the glass and paper of the old photo.
Trixie was glad Peggy had been able to get it repaired.
A copy of that same picture was framed in Trixie’s office, inherited from when it had been Abuelo’s.
If Peggy hadn’t been able to get Greg’s repaired, she would have offered up hers as a replacement or seen if it could be copied again. The original film had been long lost.
A man stepped up next to Greg, and Trixie blinked in wonder.
Whoa. He wasn’t handsome by Hollywood standards.
Like her Marine brother, his nose had been broken too many times to sit straight on his face.
He was tall and muscular, filling out his button-up and jeans quite nicely.
He wore work boots similar to her own. The short sleeves revealed extensive, incredible tattoos on both of his arms and hands.
With her height, she rarely had to look up at men to meet their eyes, but she did for him. He towered over both Greg and Trixie.
It was his eyes that held her attention, though. One was bright blue and the other was sea green. The contrast was breathtaking. She loved unique things, always finding them more interesting than most. She didn’t know how common heterochromia was, but she certainly found it unique on this man.
Apparently, so had her body. As soon as he’d approached, her mouth had gone dry and her panties had gotten damp.
Very, very damp. A shiver ran through her as his eyes met hers, making her grateful she’d decided to wear a bra today.
Her small excuses for breasts didn’t often require one, especially when she was planning on wearing her coveralls.
Knowing she was going to be working on her back for most of the day under the GTO, she had worn one to keep herself secure.
She could feel her nipples perk up against the polyester.
She couldn’t remember the last time a man had this sort of effect on her.
“Cayden,” Greg smiled in greeting. “Good, I want to introduce you to Trixie Romero, the owner of this dealership. Trix, this is Cayden Russo. He’s going to be staying with Peggy and I for a bit.”
The meaning behind Greg’s cryptic words was clear, and it was also the douse of cold-water Trixie needed to break through her sudden arousal.
Her eyes landed on the tattoo creeping up his neck of a detailed snake, and her breath hitched.
Cayden wasn’t just an ex-con living in Greg and Peggy’s house.
He was a Black Python. They were notorious in this area for car theft, which meant he was beyond off limits to her.
Schooling herself, Trixie lifted her chin as she held out her hand. “Good to meet you, Cayden.”
He returned her grip with an equally callused hand. “You too, Trixie. I gotta say, until you walked in here, I thought that sweet sleeper in the corner was the prettiest thing I’d see today.”
Oh damn, and he was a flirt too.
When Mr. Wynn had parked at Romero’s, Cayden had nearly come in his pants like a teen looking at porn for the first time.
Romero’s was breathtaking! Outside were what he considered to be flashy cars—Ferraris, Chargers, Challengers, Camaros, Mustangs, GT-Rs, and the like.
They were expensive cars, and frankly, ones most commonly sold to men going through a midlife crisis.
The ones inside were the exotics and sleepers.
It took a real enthusiast to understand the beauty of a sleeper.
They might be plain on the outside, but it was their interiors that made them valuable.
He’d been admiring a 2003 Mercury Marauder when he’d spotted the woman standing in front of Mr. Wynn.
From their touches and smiles, he knew the two were well acquainted with each other.
And while he’d found her smile to be stunning, it was the grease-stained coveralls wrapped around her middle, scuffed boots, and messy hair that drew him to her.
She was not a woman who was afraid to get her hands dirty.
He could still see the smudges on her hands from where she’d attempted to clean them.
Damn, and he’d thought the cars were going to be the most tempting thing here.
He tried to keep his surprise under control when Mr. Wynn introduced her as the owner. With the same last name as the sign out front, the Latina woman was obviously related to Mr. Wynn’s friend, Bobby. He didn’t know how, though he suspected daughter or granddaughter.
Her alluring chocolate eyes narrowed just slightly when Mr. Wynn said Cayden would be staying with Mr. and Mrs. Wynn for a while.
Obviously, she knew about the halfway house, which also meant she now knew his history.
Cayden couldn’t say he was happy about that.
He hated it when people judged him by his record, rather than who he was as a person.
Trixie did not smile at him as she shook his hand. It was odd to feel calluses on a woman’s hand, but he liked it. She had an air of strength about her that was truly intoxicating.
“What are you working on?”
He noticed it took her an extra second to release his hand, though he had already unclasped from around hers. Fuck him, because he liked that too.
“Excuse me?” Trixie asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She was wearing a white tank with a beige bra underneath. He wondered if she realized her left strap was twisted.
He indicated to her hands. “What are you working on? I’m assuming we interrupted you.”
Her eyes narrowed further. “Mr. Russo, my customers come to me because they know I’ll be discreet and treat their vehicles like I would my children. I don’t talk about my projects and I certainly don’t advertise them to a hot-rodder.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Mr. Wynn hadn’t said why I was staying with him.” Though he did appreciate that Trixie hadn’t said the word ‘thief’ or ‘biker’. Anyone within earshot would know those words, but not many knew the street term ‘hot-rodder’ meant someone who jacked cars.
Trixie indicated to the Marauder in the corner. “You called her a sleeper.”
“Perhaps I’m just an enthusiast.”
She rose to the challenge, indicating with a single finger for him to follow her. He did, disappointed that the coveralls around her waist kept him from seeing the outline of her ass. If it was anything like the rest of her, though, he imagined it was sexy and sassy.
A hand up the backside of his head drew his attention to Mr. Wynn, who was glaring at him. Oops, probably shouldn’t have been checking her out in front of him. Or at least, he should have been less obvious about it.