Blue Blooded (28 page)

Brent Payton has a reputation for wanting to have fun, all the time. It's well-earned after years of ribbing his brothers and flirting with every girl he meets, but he's more than just a good time, even though nobody takes the time to see it. When a new girl walks into his family's garage with big thoughtful eyes and legs for days, this mechanic wants something serious for the first time.

Ivy Dawn is done with men, all of them. She and her sister uprooted their lives for them too many times and she's not willing to do it again. Avoiding the opposite sex at all costs seems easy enough, until the sexy mechanic with the dirty mouth bursts into her life.

 

B
rent was the middle brother, the joker, the comic relief. The irresponsible one.

Never mind that he'd been working at this shop since he was sixteen. Never mind that he could do every job, inside and out, and fast as fuck.

Never mind that he could be counted on, even though no one treated him like that.

A pain registered in his wrist and he glanced down at the veins and tendons straining against the skin in his arm where he had a death grip on a wrench.

He loosened his fist and dropped the tool on the bench.

This wallowing shit had to stop.

This was his life. He was happy (mostly) and free (no ball and chain, no way) and so what if everyone thought he was a joke? He was good at that role, so the type-casting fit.

“Why so glum, sugar plum?” Alex said from beside him as she peered up into his face.

He twisted his lips into a smirk and propped a hip on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I knew you had a crush on me, sweet cheeks.”

She narrowed her eyes, lips pursed to hide a smile. “Not even in your dreams.”

He sighed dramatically. “You're just like all the ladies. Wanna piece of Brent. There's enough to go around, Alex, no need to butter me up with sweet nicknames—”

A throat cleared. And Brent looked over to see a woman standing beside them, one hand on her hip, the other dangling at her side holding a paper bag. Her dark eyebrows were raised, full red lips pursed.

And Brent blinked, hoping this wasn't a mirage.

Tory, Maryland, wasn't big, and he'd made it his mission to know every available female in the town limits, and about a ten mile radius outside of that.

This woman? He'd never seen her. He'd surely remembered if he had.

Gorgeous. Long hair so dark brown, it was almost black. Perfect face. It was September, and still warm, so she wore a tight striped sundress that ended mid-thigh. She was tiny, probably over a foot smaller than him. Fuck, the things that little body made him dream about. He wondered if she did yoga. Tiny and limber was his kryptonite.

Narrow waist, round hips, big tits.

No ring.

Bingo.

He smiled. Sure, she was probably a customer, but this wouldn't be the first time he'd managed to use the garage to his advantage. Usually he just had to toss around a tire or two, rev an engine, whatever, and they were more than eager to hand over a phone number and address. No one thought he was a consummate professional anyway, so why bother trying to be one?

He leaned his ass against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I help you?”

She blinked, long lashes fluttering over her big blue eyes. “Can you help me?”

“Yeah, we're full service here.” He resisted winking. That was kinda sleazy.

Her eyes widened for a fraction before they shifted to Alex at his side, then back to him. Her eyes darkened for a minute, her tongue peeked out between those red lips, then she straightened. “No, you can't help me.”

He leaned forward. “Really? You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Like, how positive?

“I'm one hundred percent positive that I do not need help from you, Brent Payton.”

That made him pause. She knew his name. He knew he'd never met her so that could only mean that she heard about him somehow and by the look on her face, it was nothing good.

Well shit.

He opened his mouth, not sure what to say, but hoping it came to him when Alex began cracking up next to him, slapping her thighs and snorting.

Brent glared at her. “And what's your problem?”

Alex stepped forward, threw her arm around the shoulder of the woman in front of them and smiled ear to ear. “Brent, meet my sister, Ivy. Ivy, thanks for making me proud.”

They were both smiling now, that same full-lipped, white-teethed smile. He surveyed Alex's face, then Ivy's, and holy fuck, how did he not notice this right away? They almost looked like twins.

And the sisters were looking at him now, wearing matching smug grins and wasn't that a total cock-block. He pointed at Alex. “What did you tell her about me?”

“That the day I interviewed, you asked me to recreate a Whitesnake music video on the hood of a car.”

He threw up his hands. “Can you let that go? You weren't even my first choice. I wanted Cal's girlfriend to do it.”

“Because that's more appropriate,” Alex said drily.

“Excuse me for trying to liven it up around here.”

Ivy turned to her sister, so he got a better glimpse of those thighs he might sell his soul to touch. She held up the paper bag. “I brought lunch, hope that's okay.”

“Of course it is,” Alex said. “Thanks a lot, since someone stole my breakfast.” She narrowed her eyes at Brent. Ivy turned to him slowly in disbelief, like she couldn't believe he was that evil.

Brent had made a lot of bad first impressions in his life. A dad of one of his high school girlfriends had seen Brent's bare ass while Brent was laying on top of his daughter before the dad ever saw Brent's face. That had not gone over well. And yet this one might be even worse.

Because he didn't care about what that girl's dad thought of him. Not really.

And he didn't want to care about what Ivy thought of him, but dammit, he did. It bothered the hell out of him that she'd written him off before even meeting him. Did Alex tell her any of his good qualities? Like . . . Brent wracked his brain for good qualities.

By the time he thought of one, the girls had already disappeared to the back room for lunch.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Excerpt from
The Bride Wore Red Boots
copyright © 2015 by Lizbeth Selvig.

Excerpt from
Rescued by the Ranger
copyright © 2015 by Dixie Lee Brown.

Excerpt from
One Scandalous Kiss
copyright © 2015 by Christy Carlyle.

Excerpt from
Dirty Talk
copyright © 2015 by Megan Erickson.

BLUE BLOODED
. Copyright © 2015 by Shelly Bell. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition OCTOBER 2015 ISBN: 9780062396488

Print Edition ISBN: 9780062396495

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