Huge Working Hero (Hard Working Hero Book 3) Read online

  I press the pads of my fingers against my lips. They're still warm and even a little sticky from the drink. I smile to myself. The kiss was so good I can still feel the weight of his lips on mine.

  I wanted more. I didn't want it to end. Of course, my father had to spoil it.

  Maybe that's for the best? It's not like I would have let him go any further.

  My phone rings on the nightstand. Reaching over, I pick it up and see it's Millie.

  “Hey,” I say. “How's it going there, prego?”

  “Ugh, I feel like Violet from Willy Wonka. I have to have Hardin roll me around the house.” She giggles.

  “Stop. You're not that big yet.”

  “I feel that big. I can't wait for the baby to finally come.”

  “I bet. Hey, you and Hardin don't have anything going on this weekend, do you?”

  “You couldn't get out of it huh?” she asks. I can hear her smile on the other end of the phone. “Your dad wouldn't let you skip the car show?”

  Millie knows how much I hate going to these things with my family. I've dragged her along plenty of times over the years so I wouldn't be completely alone. This year is no different. I don't care if she's pregnant. I don't care if she and Hardin are living their cozy little life.

  I still need her.

  “Nope. I tried, though. He wouldn't have it. And to make matters worse, my father hired this guy, Brand, and he's super fucking hot. Like male model hot.”

  “And. . .” Her voice draws out. “Are you saying you like this guy?”

  “I'm saying he's good looking, and I don't trust myself around him.”

  “Details, girl, details. Did you flirt with him? Did he flirt back? Did you get his number?”

  “Geese, Mil. I literally just met him today. It's not like we made out or something.”

  “Oh my god, you kissed. You kissed, didn't you?”

  Shit. I should have known she'd be able to hear it in my voice. Millie knows me better than I know myself.

  “There might have been a small kiss—”

  She lets out a screech so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “Oh my god, I knew it! Kel! Was it good? Was he a good kisser? Or was he one of those sloppy, wipe your mouth after, kissers?”

  “It was just a small kiss, Millie, that's it. My dad kind of interrupted us. Luckily, he didn't see anything.”

  “Is he going to be there this weekend, too?”

  “Yes, but what does that matter? It's not like it's a date. I can't act on anything. He works for my dad, and he'd never go for it.”

  “You know you're an adult and your dad doesn't control your life. It's a control thing, we both know that.”

  Her words sound idly familiar. Mockingly familiar.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know what you're doing here.”

  “Well, don't be a hypocrite then. You're the one who told me that. You told me to do what was right for me. Now, I'm telling you to do the same thing.”

  “This is different. I'm still a virgin, Mil, and you know that. What's this guy going to think about that? What if this goes too far and he wants to have sex? Not to mention, my parents will flip the fuck out.” I can feel my anxiety rising. My voice is moving faster as I speak.

  Millie laughs softly. “Calm down, Kelsie, you're worrying about all the what ifs. So what if you're a virgin. So what if your parents flip out. You gave me really great advice, now let me give you some. If your gut says to go for it, then go for it. Because usually your gut is right. I listened to you, and look how it turned out for me.”

  “Yeah, you went and got knocked up.” I giggle teasingly. “I'm kidding. I know what you're saying.”

  “You're lucky I love you, bitch.”

  “I love you too, but seriously, I just met this guy only hours ago. I don't want to over think this, it might be nothing. Most likely it's nothing.”

  “Well, I don't know what to tell you, then. It sounds like you like him, but if you're not sure, then just avoid him.”

  “I can try.” There's hesitance in my voice. I'm not sure it's possible for me to do that.

  How am I going to stay away when my body feels drawn to him?

  I hang up with Millie and finish packing. I don't go downstairs for dinner. I'm not really hungry. All I keep thinking about is Brand and our kiss. My mother called me down to eat a few times, but I told her to wrap it up for me and I'd eat later.

  I doubt my appetite will come back at all tonight. The bundle of nerves in my belly keeps tightening and curling. My brain is swirling with images of his lips and eyes. The way he leaned in ever so slightly to place that kiss.

  I remember the way my heart sped up. It pounded hard and heavy, slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird in a cage. There was a brief moment where I half expected it to jump out of my chest and land on the garage floor.

  The crazy thing is that my heart hasn't stopped pounding since. Even right now, as I lay in bed, trying desperately to fall asleep, my heart is going a mile a minute. His smile, his eyes, his mere presence is enough to make my panties warm and wet.

  I toss and turn a few times, covering my head with my pillow and attempting to pretend like my body will listen. I roll on my stomach, then onto my side. I flip to my back and pull the blankets over my head.

  I can't sleep. I'm not tired at all.

  This is all because of Brand. He's possessed me to the point that my body needs a release. My pussy isn't letting up. It’s aching and pulsing, growing wetter and wetter as the memory keeps replaying in my head.

  I throw the blankets off and give in. My hand moves down my belly and under my panties. The sooner I get this out of my system, the sooner my body will calm down and I can go to sleep.

  My fingers slip between into the warmth. I rub my swelling clit. It's so tender. A single touch and my legs are already shaking. I massage my clit, slipping my finger inside my pussy and then pulling back out to rub my clit.

  My toes curl and my stomach clenches as the orgasm roars like a volcanic explosion. The heat travels down my legs and up through my chest like fire and brimstone. My legs go numb and my thighs are shaking.

  As the orgasm slowly starts to recede, my lids get heavier and heavier until darkness finally takes over and dreams sweep in.

  I lazily throw my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. My fingers curl into the edge of my mattress and I stay like that for a few minutes. I'm still half asleep. In that place where consciousness and dreams merge. My head pounds gently, so I rub the center of my forehead with two fingers.

  Coffee. I need coffee.

  It's not easy to push myself off the bed, but I do it. I dig my heels into the floor and force myself up. The wood is cold under my feet, sending a chill up through my body. I rub the outside of my arms and grab my robe.

  In the kitchen, I pop the pod in the coffee maker and hit the twelve-ounce button. I need a big cup to shake this fuzzy feeling. The house is quiet. My mom's car is gone. She's probably out running errands or bringing my brother someplace.

  He's a sports kid. Soccer, baseball, football. You name it and my brother has probably tried it. The only thing he wants to do that my parents won't let him do, is drive one of my father's race cars down the track.

  He keeps begging, and my parents keep shooting him down. I can't say it doesn't make me smirk to see him beg and get denied. I like watching him squirm. Maybe I'm just cruel, but isn't that what being siblings is all about?

  The scent of Columbia's finest dark roast fills the room. It smells so damn good. I can already feel the effects of the caffeine. Everything starts to wake up. I pull the cup out from underneath, letting the last few drops plop into the small catch under where the mug sits.

  I can't wait any longer.

  Two sugars and a dash of milk and I'm good to go. I blow across the surface softly, taking the biggest sip I can of the steaming liquid as I walk to the window in the living room.

  The sun is already coming up over the trees, casting long
towering shadows over the front yard. I watch a small flock of birds zip through the sky, doing a synchronized swimming dance in the big blue sky.

  I take another sip, when a movement in the driveway catches my eye. Looking down, I see Brand leaning inside the hood of the Fairlane. His back is to me, and his head is down as he examines something on the engine.

  I look around, waiting to see my father. Minute after minute passes, maybe it isn't minutes, it was probably only seconds. Either way, my father isn't here either.

  Are we alone? My heart races at the thought.

  All alone. Could it be possible?

  I listen again around me. It's still quiet. There's no music coming from my brother's room. I don't hear my mother on speaker phone with one of her friends. And my father's booming, demanding voice is absent.

  Just knowing this is liberating. A smile stretches across my face. My heart pounds excitedly. There's no one here to interfere or get in the way. I run upstairs quickly and throw on some clothes. I pull on a tight blue tank-top and a pair of small jean shorts.

  I spin in front of the full length mirror, looking myself over one more time. I think I look pretty good for having just woken up. Leaning in the mirror, I wipe the light black shadow off from under my eyes from the mascara I wore yesterday.

  I run my fingers through my hair, combing out any snarls. There's a single white sandal next to my door, but I don't see the other one. I turn in a circle, then drop to my knees, and yank up the edge of the blanket on my bed.

  My sandal is upside down, so far under my bed, I have to crawl under up to my stomach to get it. I have to fix my hair again after shimmying my way back out.

  As I stand in the living room, I exhale a slow breath, then head outside. Brand is still buried in the engine, giving me a nice view of his ass. He grunts to himself. I hear a clank and a ping, then he swears.

  “Fuck.” The word is muffled. Brand stands up straight, shaking his hand and looking at his finger.

  I lean against the side of the car and cross my legs. “You all right? Did the car bite ya?” I grin and arch my brows. “My dad says cars can be a bit feisty sometimes.”

  “Well, he isn't wrong.” He holds up his hand, and there's a small gash across his knuckle. “She got me good.”

  “You need a band-aid?” I ask.

  He smirks, bending his finger and looking at his knuckle. Brand rocks it back and forth, examining the injury. “No,” he says. “But a kiss might make it feel better.”

  “Ha!” I laugh out loud. “We just met. I'm not kissing your knuckle.”

  “All right, fair enough.” He wipes his hand on his pants, then checks the time on his phone. “How about we go for a ride instead? I need to go pick up a part for Charlene.”

  “Charlene?”

  “Yeah, Charlene.” He runs his palm down the front fender of the car. “She needed a name, and your dad never gave her one.”

  “Why do guys consider cars female?”

  “I can't speak for all men, but I do it to showcase the car's beauty. I mean look at her.” He steps back, his eyes gliding smoothly up and down the car. “She's gorgeous. The sleek red paint. . .” His voice deepens. “The sexy curves. A man is rough, dirty, and has sharp edges. But cars like this, they deserve to be caressed. To be treated like a goddess and put on a pedestal.”

  “That is by far the sexiest description I've ever heard to describe a car.”

  “Well, I'm a passionate guy.” He winks, then dangles the keys in front of my face. “So, what do you say? Want to go for a ride?”

  I know I should say no. I know I should kindly decline and go back inside. I should cut this off before we take things too far. But, if I really felt that way, I wouldn't have come outside to begin with. I'm standing here because I want to be near him.

  Just go. It isn't going to hurt anyone. Right?

  He smiles again, jingling the keys like bells. “Come on, I could use the company.”

  “Fine, but just to get the part and then back. I don't want you to get in trouble with my father. I'm sure you know by now my father doesn't always play nice.”

  “Your father isn't here right now, and he won't be back for a bit. He had some business up at the shop and wants me here to keep working, so I think we're safe.” Brand opens the passenger side door, and fans his hand for me to climb in.

  I drop down in the seat and watch him as he walks around to the front and shuts the hood. He gets in the car and plugs the key in the ignition. The ignition bell dings as he flips the key.

  “Let's hope it starts.” He twists the key the rest of the way, and the engine roars to life.

  In the side view mirror, I see two plumes of white smoke billow out the back. “Looks like you got a coolant leak.”

  He cocks his head slightly, his eyes thinning. “How can you possibly know that but your father didn't?”

  I shrug my shoulder. “I've been around a long time, and I'm a quick learner.”

  “But you knew instantly it was coolant leaking. That's pretty specific.”

  “I also pay attention. You don't spend nineteen years around cars and at races and car shows and not learn a single thing.”

  Brand smiles big. “I like that.”

  He revs the engine a few times, then pulls forward and out of the driveway.

  “How is it even legal for you to drive this on the road? Isn't it illegal?”

  “Only with the slicks on it. Right now she's wearing regular street tires and the nitrous isn't on. We should be fine.”

  Brand hits the gas pedal quickly, causing the car to lurch forward. My head snaps back against the headrest, making it hard for me to inhale a breath. He lets up, the pressure dissipating instantly.

  “She's got such good thrust. Once we fix her up, she's going to scream down that track.”

  “What part are we going to pick up?” I ask.

  “A new head gasket.”

  “Oh, okay. That's a tough fix. You sure you can do it right?”

  “Can I do it? Are you really doubting me?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

  “I don't know you that well, so yes.”

  “All right,” he says, stroking his thumb across his jaw and pushing out his chin. “I've been working on cars since I was old enough to tell the difference between a flat head and Phillips head screwdriver, so, that was about five or so. I rebuilt the engine on my first car, a nineteen eighty-six Ford Mustang, and painted her myself. Named her Quarter, like the silver thoroughbred quarter horse. My father was a mechanic, my grandfather was mechanic, and my great grandfather was a worker at the original Ford factory in Detroit. So yes, I know my way around an engine.”

  “Wow, impressive résumé you got there. I know a thing or two, not nearly as much as you, but enough.”

  “Really?” he asks, his voice picking up its pitch.

  “You sound surprised?”

  “That's only because, and don't take this the wrong way, but your dad doesn't seem to be as well informed.”

  “My dad is your typical weekend car guy. I mean, yes, he owns a dealership for luxury cars and a garage that services race cars, but he doesn't pay attention. It's in one ear and out the other. Why do you think he has you at our house working on this?”

  “Because I'm awesome.”

  I giggle and roll my eyes. “That, and because the only things he's really confident with are changing his oil and rotating his tires. The last time he tried to change his own brakes I had to remind him to bleed the lines.”

  “Yeah, I kinda figured that out when he thought the smoke was an exhaust leak.”

  “It's easy to spot a coolant leak, just smell the air. Figuring out why can be a bit more difficult, but white smoke is usually a giveaway.”

  “And you learned that from just watching?”

  “That and the fact I spent most of my afternoons after school hanging out at the shop as they worked on the race cars. Did you get to meet John Woods?”

  “Yeah, he's the
really old guy, right? The guy that sounds like he's been smoking three packs of cigarettes a day for thirty years?”

  I nod. “He's been working in the shop for years, long before my father took over.”

  Brand pulls up to the parts store on Letty Lane, parking right out front. “I'll be right back. It should only take a second.” He climbs out of the car and I watch him as he hops up on the sidewalk and goes inside.

  I relax back in the seat, resting my elbow on the trim of the door and laying my head in my palm. It's a beautiful day out, despite the temperature being close to ninety. There's a light breeze. I can see the treetops swaying side to side, and the Crape Myrtle flowers rustling against the branches.

  I love the color of the flowers. They remind me of cranberries with their reddish pink hue. I remember being a kid and walking downtown with my mother once to go to the Cinelux Delta Cinema. I would always pluck a flower free and put it behind my ear, just like a movie star.

  The neon lights were magnificent to see as a child, so bold and bright. The word Delta was lit up in hot pink. It would make me think of those black and white movies I used to watch with my grandmother.

  The Hollywood actresses with their pinup hair, a big flower secured behind an ear, and huge smile. Red lip stick was a must have back then, and even up until the day she died, my grandmother always carried a tube in her purse.

  I miss those days. The ones where movie stars made your jaw drop and every man swoon. The days where my grandmother would put on her record player and let me run around in one of her old dresses with lipstick smeared across my face.

  The front door on the store opens up and Brand comes out swinging a bag. “All set,” he says, dropping back into the driver's seat. “Now that that's done, how about we find a big open parking lot and have some fun?”

  “I thought I said just to the store and back?”

  “You did, but since we're out and your dad won't be around, we can take this baby out and I can show you a good time. You ever get to really feel the pull of her engine?”