Page 13 of It's Going to Be a Chrome Christmas
He held out his hand to her. “Do we have a deal?”
“By Friday closing?” she asked again. He nodded once, his hand still waiting for her. Hesitantly, she reached forward. Their palms clasped, and she swore she felt a jolt of electricity course through her body. Man, her flickapedia fantasies just got a whole hell of a lot more material.
She forced her chin up and said, “Deal. Good night, Mr. Russo.”
Then she turned and walked down the steps. She let out a sigh of relief when she stepped off the Wynn property line where he couldn’t follow. She was to her car—a 2002 Pontiac Firebird she’d rescued from a junkyard—when she heard him call her name.
She paused, not daring to turn around. If she did, she might run back to him and give him permission to touch hereverywhere. How the hell was she going to survive his kiss if he won the bet? While she didn’t want to screw him or his parole over, Trixie had every intention tonight of securing the showroom floor so that there wasno wayhe could possibly break in to plant that claw clip.
Deciding to ignore him, she opened the door to her Firebird and got into the driver’s seat. She slammed the door closed, grateful for the barrier between them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him standing there, right on the edge of the property line. If he took a single step forward, he’d be breaking his parole.
Damn. She shook her head to clear it. She really needed to win this bet. No man should have this much power over her.
The following day dragged. Cayden helped Mrs. Wynn around the house, even so much as getting on the roof to clear out the gutters. She made him lunch, and they ate together at the kitchen table. Everyone else was at work, so it was just the two of them. He kept feeling like Mrs. Wynn wanted to ask him something, but she was just chitchatting the day away with small talk. She never brought up Trixie, though. Instead, she talked about her former job, the other residents of the house, and even her son, Josh.
As it neared three-thirty, Cayden couldn’t help the wave of jealousy that washed over him. What was Trixie showing Geordi at the shop? What was she wearing? Did she have her hair up like when he’d first met her, or was she wearing it down like she had yesterday? Man, he was dying for the chance to run his fingers through those thick, black curls.
Despite the day’s distractions offered by Mrs. Wynn, Cayden’s mind never strayed far from Trixie Romero. Hewantedher. And not in a one-time, quick fuck way either. Hewantedher. By his side, in his bed, under him, on top of him, up against a wall, next to him… He wanted her every way and any way he could get her.
This acknowledgement then fueled the doubt he’d been feeling all day. Not about the bet. He had a plan, and he knew exactly how he was going to win it. Hewouldget his kiss.
But did shewanthis kiss? He was an ex-biker with a record. He was on parole for another four months and four days. Why would she wanthim? He wasn’t a catch. He couldn’t even hold down a legitimate job without her help. He knew he affected her, knew that she found him attractive, or maybe it was the fact that they both loved cars first and people second that sparked her interest.
But a relationship?
Cayden 2.0 wasn’t looking for a one-night stand. He’d filled his teens and early twenties with those. He was done with them. His cock might not understand that decision, but his head and his heart sure did. Cayden didn’t want just anyone, a random someone. He wantedtheone. Maybe not marriage, maybe not kids, but he wanted commitment. A partner.
He’d been out of prison for almost two months. There’d been ample opportunity to get laid, and he’d turned down some interesting offers. The fact that the last time he’d had sex was the day before he’d been arrested was also on the forefront of hismind, and something his dick seemed to need to remind him of every single day.
He’d been convicted of Class 3 auto theft, which was a felony. His sentence was three years, of which he’d served two and a half inside. Prison had not been fun, but he’d managed to make it through unscathed and hadn’t been subjected to any sexual stereotypes. His prison bitch had been his right hand. His cellmate for most of his time inside had been a convicted murderer named Tony. The two of them had gotten along just fine and, for the most part, people left them alone. If they didn’t mess with them, they didn’t mess with Tony or Cayden.
But thirty months inside was still thirty months inside. He’d been lonely, isolated. He’d craved ice cream and to see the stars. He’d spent most of his time taking apart engines in his head or exercising. Tony had shown him some karate moves too.
Sex had been tempting since his release, but the idea of settling down and making something of himself, of making himselfworthyof a decent woman was even more so. Cayden didn’t want just sex or a quick lay. He wanted happiness. He wanted to be able to bring a woman home to Gran and tell her that he was happy.
He’d never introduced a woman to Gran before, at least not since high school. But that faceless woman in his prison dreams was no longer featureless. She had raven hair with milk chocolate eyes, tanned skin, and killer legs. She smelled of motor oil and had calluses on her hands with grease under her fingernails. She had a spine of steel and a sassy mouth made for kissing.
He didn’t just want between Trixie’s legs. Sleeping with her would be amazing, and it would happen, but he would never be satisfied with just one time. He’d get her to trust him. He’d get her to understand that he was a man of his word.
Maybe one day Trixie would look at him like a man worthy of her.Thatwas Cayden’s new dream. To be worthy of Trixie.
His perpetual blue balls might explode while achieving this goal, but he had every intention of achieving it all the same.
Geordi and Mr. Wynn came home a little after five. Geordi ran right up to Cayden and told him all about Trixie and how awesome she was. His smile was so wide, Cayden could have counted his teeth. He soaked it all in, every word Geordi had to say about Trixie. Geordi’s excitement lasted the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, to the point where Mrs. Wynn had to make him a cup of warm milk to get him to settle down for bed.
Cayden laid on his own bed, listening to the muffled voices of Mrs. Wynn and Geordi.Four months, he thought as he drifted off to sleep. He wondered what it would feel like to have Trixie pressed up against him, her raven hair in his face, her hips nestled against his. Yeah, he could definitely get used to feeling that every night and every morning for the rest of his life.
Trixie wasn’t sure how it was Friday already. Monday had been busy as always. She wasn’t sure why people insisted on doing their standard oil changes on Mondays. What was the time significance of that? Geordi and Greg’s visit had been nice. She’d shown Geordi around and laughed at his childish antics, but she’d also been very aware of the fact that Geordi was not Cayden. The parole board had sent the inspector on Tuesday, which had taken up most of her day. Joey was the only one who knew that she wasn’t an OSHA inspector. The shop had passed with flying colors, and Trixie once again blessed the day she’d decided to hire Joey. Wednesday and Thursday were ablur. She’d had a lot of work to catch up on and she was tired. She’d done everything she could think of to secure the cars on the showroom floor. True to her word, though, she had written a letter stating that Cayden would be running a security test and had her permission to break into one of her cars. She made sure to put that the security test would take place prior to Friday’s closing time. Then, she mailed out a copy each to Mr. Jones and Greg as well as placed a copy in Cayden’s employment file.
Greg had dropped off Cayden’s employment paperwork on Wednesday, so the man was ready to come to work. But he hadn’t.
Was he backing out of their deal? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She wanted him tolose, not to forfeit. Friday came and went too. At four-thirty, Trixie found herself distracted and anxious in her office, reviewing the week’s service tickets. He had thirty minutes. What was he waiting for?
At quarter to five, a knock sounded on her door. “Come in,” she called without looking up from her laptop.
The moment the door opened and closed, she knew. God-fucking-damn it. That same electric tension filled her office, forcing her eyes closed. She wasn’t sure if her heart was beating like a drum out of disappointment from losing the bet or excitement for the prize he was about to claim. She justknewthat cocky smile was on his face.
With a groan, she forced her eyes open and met his mismatched ones. Sure enough, theyblazedwith triumph. “What the hell did you do and how the hell did you do it?”
