Sexy Stranger(2)

"There's something wrong with my car," Charlotte told Molly. "And apparently, I have to wait until tomorrow to have it checked out."

"That's too bad." Molly gave her a sympathetic look. "So, you'll be here for a few days?"

"Oh, I hope not," Charlotte said, as if spending time in Shady Grove, Texas, was the worst thing she'd ever heard of. "Hopefully, it's a quick fix."

"Duke's pretty good with cars," Molly said, casting a stare across the table. "Maybe he could take a look."

"Yeah," he said with a grin that bounced from Molly to Charlotte. "I could get up under that hood. Take a look."

"I think I'll pass," Charlotte said without missing a beat or letting Duke's charms get the better of her.

I couldn't help the laugh that managed to break from between my pursed lips when she gave him the old thanks, but no thanks. I loved it when a woman gave my brother an ego check. Didn't happen too often, so I let myself enjoy the moment.

"Your loss, sweetheart," Duke said, clearly taken aback by her directness.

"I wasn't trying to sound like a bitch or anything." Charlotte gave him a tight smile. "I just . . . it's an Audi. It's probably really complicated, and a trained professional is probably better suited. I don't know that you'd be able to help me."

It was one thing for her to shoot a man down because she wasn't interested romantically, but it was quite another to shoot down his mechanical skills. Duke, like every other guy in this town, knew how to fix a car. Even a fancy car like hers.



       
         
       
        

"So much for not sounding like a bitch," I said.

"Excuse me?" She quickly looked at me.

"You heard me." I sat up straight in my chair. "He could fix your car just fine," I assured her.

"Well, excuse me for not wanting some cowboy to poke around under the hood of my hundred-thousand-dollar car." She looked back at Duke. "No offense."

"None taken." A small smile played on his lips as he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're just going to take it?" I asked him, confused that Duke was bowing out so easily.

"You got this," he said, giving me a nod.

I didn't know what game he was playing, but if he wasn't going to set this woman straight, I sure would. "Just because we live in Texas, we're all cowboys?"

"I just assumed. But if the boot fits," she said with a smirk, her agitation now clearly directed at me.

Which was fine. I could take it. "You know what they say about making assumptions. And you're from where? Wait."

I paused and took a second to turn my ball cap around. I wanted to make sure I was looking this snooty woman in the eye when I gave her the reality check she clearly needed. Her gaze flicked from me to Duke as the realization that we were twins sank in, but I wasn't in the mood to discuss just how much we looked alike.

"Let me guess," I said. "LA?"

"New York."

"Ah." I nodded. "Makes complete sense. I'm surprised you can even sit there, what with the stick up your ass and all. You know, because everyone from New York has one up theirs."

The oohs and aahs that came from the nearby patrons listening in on our conversation were deafening.

"Wow," Charlotte replied with a look of complete calm.

I'll be the first to admit, I was kind of impressed that she wasn't more rattled. Hell, maybe even a little turned on. Wasn't every day you met a woman who could give as good as she could get. I thought for sure she'd get up and storm out like the spoiled brat I'd pegged her for.

"I shouldn't have assumed that you were all cowboys." She gave me a smug smile as she shook her head. "You're clearly just an asshole."

I'd never seen a woman so manicured and polished and cleaned up, it made me want to get her all dirty. And that sassy streak that ran a mile wide? Fuck, that just made me want to put her on her knees and show her who was boss.





Chapter Two

 
Charlotte

Never in my life had I met anyone more arrogant than the man sitting across from me. And that was really saying something, considering the high-society assholes I'd been surrounded with my entire life.

Didn't matter one bit to me that his shoulders were broad and he looked like he worked with his hands. I didn't let the image of him tossing hay bales or shoveling dirt pop into my head, or whatever it was that "not cowboys" did. The perfectly sculpted arms revealed by the short sleeves of his T-shirt didn't distract me. Not one damn bit.