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Joy Ride(12)

By:Lauren Blakely


“Thanks. Appreciate that.”

“It’s turkey with avocado and artichoke. It’s my specialty,” she says, her lips curving into a smile. “I hope you like it. I have lots of specialties.”

Yeah, and I might like to get to know them, but that can’t happen.

“I’ll dig in on the ride back to the city.”

The snap of the hood popping open catches my attention, and I peer outside again. I can’t help myself. No matter the make, no matter the model, when someone pops open the hood of a car, I have to look. I have to drop everything and check out the engine. It’s an affliction all car guys suffer from, but it’s one we never want to cure.

Must. Stare. At. Engine.

Livvy and the builder are obscured behind the hood, which gives me an even better view for ogling. Fifteen seconds later, I cross the driveway and walk up to the car.

“That’s a gorgeous 16-valve V-8 if I ever—”

My blood goes cold. It turns to an arctic chill as a brunette in combat boots, a short jean skirt, and a black T-shirt steps out from behind the open hood.

Her.

Henley’s deep brown eyes go wide as moons, and her red-lipsticked mouth parts. Then, she presses her lips together as if she’s holding in all the insults she wants to fling my way.

Livvy jumps in. “Max Summers, this is Henley Rose. She specializes in hot sports cars.”

“I bet,” I bite out. Why the hell is she here? Did she find out I worked with Livvy and snag the last-minute gig away from me before Livvy even gave me a shot at it?

“Henley, this is Max. He’s done my entire fleet.”

My one-time apprentice, who wasn’t fucking ready to leave on her own, arches an eyebrow. “Is that so? I bet he’s great at doing a whole fleet.”

I seethe inside from her off-hand comment. Look, when she worked for me, I never hit on her. But that doesn’t mean I was a choirboy in general. And that doesn’t mean I did a good job hiding my late-night activities. But I’ve learned over the years how to be discreet. Now no one but me needs to know how very much I enjoy variety in the ladies.

“He is great,” Livvy adds. “He’s simply been fantastic with all my automobiles.”

“He sure does know his way under the engine, doesn’t he?” Henley remarks. “I’m a huge fan of his work,” she adds.

Livvy nods enthusiastically. “This man knows how to make a car sing. How to make her purr. How to make her roar.”

Henley’s jaw drops, as if Livvy has said the most salacious things, and she kind of has. “Purr? Roar? Wow. He must have some serious skills.”

I can’t have Henley twisting shit around again. “I should take off. It was lovely spending time with you, Livvy.”

Livvy gestures from Henley to me. “I hope you don’t mind, but since I have Peter driving you back to the city, I thought he could take you both together.”

My shoulders tense. That is not going to happen. No how. No way.

“You know,” I say, giving my best casual, unperturbed shrug of a no-big-deal shoulder, even though this situation is the definition of a big fucking obstacle I must avoid like a video game character jumping across lava pits, “I really don’t mind taking the train. Let Henley have the car all to herself.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary at all,” Henley says in a far-too-chipper tone. If she’s even one-quarter as annoyed as I am, she’s excellent at hiding it. “I’m more than happy to take the train.”

A soft voice pipes in from behind me. “I can drive you, Max.”

I turn to see Ariel standing a few feet behind us. “My shift ends in thirty minutes, and I live in Queens.”

Henley clasps her hands to her chest. “What a kind offer. That’s so sweet, Max. Isn’t that so sweet?”

I clench my teeth. I’m not sure which is the more dangerous lion’s den right now.

But Livvy cuts in, shaking her head. “Ariel, you were going to stay later to help me prep for my niece’s party. I need you for a few extra hours.” Then she whispers to her maid, as if we can’t hear her discussing the tawdry subject of pay for the help, “Overtime.”

“Yes, of course, ma’am.” Ariel steps closer, lowers her head, and speaks softly in my ear. “I like the Rolls better.”

“Thanks,” I say as she returns to the house.

And when I turn back to Henley, the look in her eyes says she heard every word and is going to make me pay for them. Time to get the fuck out of the alligator pen. I point my thumb in the direction of the road. “Love the offer, Livvy. But I’m good with the train.”