Page 4 of It's Going to Be a Chrome Christmas
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 wasbeyondoff 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 thesign 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.
Trixie popped the trunk of a Porsche Spyder to expose the rear-engine. The lime green finish shone in the overhead fluorescents. He looked down and noticed immediately what she wanted him to see. Any thief could break through glass and into the key box to get to one of these cars, but it took an expert to know the missing sparkplugs were the true anti-theft protection. The car wouldn’t start without those, key or no key.
She lowered the trunk. “My point exactly.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Your babies are safe from me.” He held up his fingers in the Boy Scout salute. “I’m rehabilitated.”
Her unladylike snort increased his smile. She did not seem impressed in the least by his vow. “Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”
Cayden knew taking a step forward was a risk, and not just because of how close their bodies now were. He saw Mr. Wynn’s eyes narrow warningly as he did it. He dipped his head and said into her ear, “Your security is good, but it could be better. I know a guy who could take anything off of this floor in under ten minutes.”
He left off that the ‘guy’ washim.
Trixie stiffened but didn’t back away. “Is that a threat?”
He shook his head. “No, just an observation. If you want to protect your babies, you need to think like a thief.” He steppedback, noticing the hitch in her breath and the spark in her eyes as he did. Good, she liked him being close to her as much as he’d enjoyed it. She’d smelled of cars, and that was more erotic to him than the most expensive perfume. “Give me a call some time if you want to better protect your merchandise.”
