Page 29 of Total Shutdown

“Add your cell number too,” he requests. “You know, just in case we get lost and need directions.”

CHAPTERELEVEN

SAWYER

The following afternoon, I pull my truck up alongside an industrial-style building.

Ezra looks across at me, kind of shocked. Despite it being only a ten-minute drive from my place, the area is different, and the streets are pretty intimidating, even in broad daylight.

“Is this where Collins lives? You told me she lived in a house like ours,” he asks, one brow lifted.

“Ah, yeah, ’bout that …” I pull off my sunglasses and rest a forearm over the steering wheel, preparing for a dressing-down from my son, but also smiling because this place issoCollins.

Across the street, a red overhead garage door starts moving, and slowly, Collins comes into view, distracting Ezra’s attention and saving me from another awkward explanation. Wearing tight black leather pants, her usual black boots, and a different rock T-shirt from the ones I’ve seen on her Instagram profile, I silently remind my dick that getting a hard-on right now—in front of my son and the girl who evidently finds me borderline insufferable—is not the best idea.

Since she’s barely five-four—my best guess—she clings on to a black cord above her head, her shoulder-length pink hair blowing in the fall breeze.

She motions with her other hand for us to join her, and Ezra is out of his seat belt and the truck in a split second, racing across the road in the process.

I seize the opportunity and give myself a second to gain some control.

“She isn’t interested in you.” At this point, I don’t know if I’m talking to the guy downstairs or myself. “She’s passionate about motorcycles and not the thought of another night with you. You’re here for Ezra, and that’s it. No funny business anddefinitelydo not check her ass out in those pants.”

On a final exhale, I swing my truck door open and head across the street to join them.

“We get to wax it?! All right!” Ezra sounds like a kid on Christmas morning when he catches a yellow microfiber cloth midair.

I fight to look anywhere but at Collins as she bends down to grab something from one of the tool chests stored at the back of the garage.

This isn’t the place she films in—which looks more like a professional garage with a painted gray floor and bright lighting. This garage has exposed brick walls with motorcycle wheels hanging from them. The lighting is softer with industrial-style bulbs and a smooth, unpainted concrete floor sporadically stained with oil. A red neon sign, lit on the back wall, readsBikerCollins.

“Waxing helps to preserve the paintwork.” Collins’s voice draws me back to reality. “Once it dries with a hazy appearance, we can remove the wax with a detailer.”

She tosses me another microfiber cloth, and I catch it with my left hand.

“You can start on the saddlebag, and we’ll work on the wheel arch.”

Just as Collins is showing Ezra what to do, I apply some of the wax and move the cloth in rhythmic circles, reminding me of the way I worked her clit until she came in my mouth.

Your son is here.

I clear my throat, desperate to distract my mind. “Do you live in this building?”

Crouching next to Ezra, Collins shakes her head, her eyes briefly finding mine before falling back to the bike. “The apartments above this garage are all rented out. I live across the street in a one-bedroom place. Originally, I had a garage on the other side of town—which was a pain in the ass to get to. Then, when I was about to relinquish the lease on my apartment, this garage came up. It’s not cheap, but it’s way better than what I had.”

I circle my cloth a couple more times, something in what she just said making me feel uneasy. “I remember you saying you’re on a rolling lease now.”

Her brown eyes flick to me again, surprise in them. Perhaps she didn’t expect me to remember details from the night we spent together. Truthfully, I remember it all. “Yes, that’s right. I prefer it this way since it gives me flexibility to leave when I want.”

She falls quiet for a brief second.

“Do you plan on leaving New York?” Ezra asks, sounding kind of worried—and a similar feeling constricts my chest.

There is absolutely no logical reason why I should feel any kind of way over the thought of Collins leaving town. But I do. And it’s getting harder to ignore. It’s frustrating and building all the time.

When she got in my Lamborghini that night, we both knew that I wasn’t driving her home. I didn’t even ask for an address as I pulled out of the parking lot and drove back to my place in virtual silence. For her, I knew it was about sex, scratching an itch that had been intensifying since we’d met that first night. For me, I was horny and wanted her so damn badly, but I can’t deny that when I put my hands on her, there was more at stake than just a fuck.

Maybe she worked that out; maybe she saw it in my eyes when she told me she didn’t kiss. Maybe she had considered more than a one-time thing when I palmed her ass at Lloyd’s.

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