Page 52 of Crashed
Piper had a record for picking total losers, or assholes who decided they liked her big sister a whole lot more. So Deke and Rusty took it upon themselves to terrify the crap out of any man who showed an interest in their baby sister, testing them. They had to prove their worth if they wanted to date her. Poor, sweet-natured Piper didn’t stand a chance.
They were both staring at her, waiting for her to spill her guts. Jesus. She had to give them something. “It’s just casual, you know? Just sex.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Rusty was wearing her I-see-all expression, which meant she was in serious trouble. “How good is the sex, then? Must be pretty spectacular to hook up as much as you and the suit have this last week. You’re hardly home.”
She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly, stalling. “I guess.”
Rusty grinned. “Well, is the dude hung or what?”
Alex was in the middle of drinking her soda and sucked her mouthful down the wrong way. Piper jumped up and pounded on her back. Alex scowled at Rusty, who was now giggling her ass off.
Her friend shrugged. “What? Piper wants to know as well.”
“She does not.” Giving her friends intimate details of their brother’s anatomy did not sit well with her. Not at all. They’d be scarred for life if they ever found out.
“Well, yeah, I kinda do,” Piper said as she took her seat again.
Alex stood and stomped to the door. “Enough talk about my sex life. Go get one of your own.” She pulled the door open. “And if you ask me how hung he is one more time, I’ll stick dead rats in both your beds.”
There. Ha! She spun around and slammed on the brakes, mouth dropping open. A customer stood there, eyes round as saucers. “Shit. Um…I mean…what I meant to say was…”
She took a steadying breath. “Your car’s ready, Mr. Porter. Please follow me.”
Her friends’ barely restrained laughter followed her as she went to grab the guy’s keys.
The rest of the afternoon was thankfully busy and blessedly uneventful, so Alex wasn’t forced to endure any further questions. This was getting complicated already, and they hadn’t even reached the two-week mark.
And it wasn’t only Piper and Rusty asking questions that had her second-guessing what she was doing. That confrontation with Emily and Tammy. Alex cringed inwardly, remembered humiliation heating her cheeks. They thought she was nothing but a gold-digging slut, and why not? She and Deacon were worlds apart now. They knew as well as she did that a man like Deacon would never want anything but a fling with someone like her.
It had shaken her. The way they saw her, the way everyone would see her when she and Deke were together.
She would never fit into his world, and she refused to change for any man. Even Deacon. Huffing out a breath, she shook her head. The point was moot anyway. That wasn’t what they were about.
And why did she care what a couple of stuck-up Barbies thought of her, anyway?
She dropped her wrench into the toolbox, wiped her hands off on a rag, and stuffed it in her back pocket. Then, closing the hood of the car she was working on, she walked around, reached through the driver’s side window, and twisted the key in the ignition, turning the engine over.
The car roared to life. At least one thing was going right. She threw a cover over the driver’s seat to protect the upholstery and climbed in. The deep growl of the 1967 Plymouth ’Cuda’s V8 rumbled through the seat, right through her. Nothing beat it. As long as she had Rusty and Piper, the garage, she could handle anything. Even losing Deacon when their three months were up.
She had to believe that.
Putting the car in first, she rolled out of the garage and onto the street to take it for a test run. Window down, the wind tugged at her ponytail, the sun warming her skin. Yeah, this was all she needed.
Then Emily’s nasty face entered her head again.
Shit. She needed to stop second-guessing herself. But dammit, why did Deacon put up with his ex interfering in his life anyway? He and Emily were divorced. He promised there was nothing going on between them. So what was it?
It was like Emily had some kind of hold over him. When she’d seen the scratches on Deke’s chest, she’d felt sick to her stomach, and yeah, she’d overreacted. But in that moment, the past had reared up and smacked her upside the head. Emily was a bitch, but she was also poised, beautiful, classy—and the woman Deacon had chosen over her. The woman he’d chosen to marry. The woman he still had a relationship with. Seeing them together, she’d felt like she had back then, when he’d left her behind to be with Emily.
Not good enough.
Never good enough.
But in the end, she had no choice but to believe him.
Why would he lie?
Still, she couldn’t get her head around it. If it was truly over between them, then why let her insinuate herself in his life like she seemed to? Why not tell her to piss off and mind her own damn business? She hadn’t missed the way he held back around his ex-wife, treated her with kid gloves. It didn’t make any sense unless…
