Page 13 of Live Love Steal
“What’s your dad’s name?”
I told him.
Recognition lit his eyes. “He’s a good man. ‘Runs a shop on the south end of town, doesn’t he?”
“That’s right.”
Sketch grinned at me. “If I’d have known he had a daughter…”
Was he flirting with me?
He licked his lips, and his eyes traveled southward.
Wow. I guess he was. “He has two daughters.”
Sketch’s mouth opened, and then he shut it. The look on his face was devilish. “One’ll do.”
I sidled over to watch him pull the loose cowling out of the damage. “One’ll do what?”
He froze, mid-crank of the screwdriver. “Whatever she wants. She could start by handing me that 10mm wrench over there.”
As I handed off the tool, our hands brushed. I took the moment to catch his finger. “Whatever I want?”
Our eyes locked. A grin slowly crept over his face. “Do you prefer horizontal or vertical?”
A shiver trembled deep in my pussy. I could barely muster the voice to say, “Both?”
“Are you asking, or telling?” he asked.
Was it hot in here?
“Maybe… begging?” I said sheepishly.
Sketch looked at the steering column, the tool in his hand, then at my legs. He breathed out a soft, “Fuck.” Then his eyes met mine. “Let me get this buttoned up, then we’ll talk about unbuttoning, okay?”
Inwardly, I chuckled. He was snared as hard as I was. But I also wanted my car fixed so Dad wouldn’t complain about it. I squatted next to him, getting even with his eye level. “I’ll be in there. Find me when you’re done.”
4
Find me when you’re done - Sketch
Holy shit, I was in trouble. Isobel sashayed away, and I couldn’t help but watch her ass swing back and forth until she shut the door, breaking the spell she’d put me under. I shook my head and looked at the hard-on bulging my pants outward.
“What the fuck are you doing, asshole?” Ever since losing custody of my son, I tried not to let my dick rule me. Hell, that was my biggest flaw. I had a kid, one I hardly ever saw, and a bitch of an ex.
All because of that dumbass appendage between my legs. It didn’t care that I might bring the whole club down if I got found out to be the lying thief who ordered Isobel’s plate stolen. It certainly didn’t care that her father was six-foot-one and had been wielding hammers and blow torches for a good ten years before I was born. And it didn’t certainly didn’t care that seven hours from now the club had a drop scheduled, using the clone to Isobel’s car with Isobel’s plate, in one of the worst neighborhoods of Harrisburg you could imagine.
“I need my head examined.” Both of them. I cranked away, replacing Isobel’s steering column frame with the parts I’d waited seven weeks to get. We’d snagged a stolen Kia, the same model and color as Isobel’s, but didn’t register it. That would be stupid. Four weeks ago, the club’s prospect snagged her front plate. We all called him Whoosh because shit went over his head so often we were afraid the resulting windblast from the vortex would tear it off.
We’d been using the car for discreet drops. Tonight would be one of the last for it. I amended that timeline. It would be the very last one. Now that I’d met the owner, I couldn’t keep fucking her like that.
But fucking her in another way?
“Asshole,” I muttered again. The trouble was, I wasn’t talking to my dick this time. Because, sue me, she was hot…and my type…and knew a bit about cars, which was a hell of a plus in my book. My ex knew jack squat about them, expecting me to step in every time she forgot to change her oil for a fucking year. I was tired of fixing her shit for nothing. Her move to Delaware couldn’t come soon enough. As long as my son, my light, my life, stayed right the fuck here.
Which reminded me, I had to talk to Sprout about building permits. We’d drawn up the plans for the rooftop addition. He was helping me handle the paperwork. If the city approved it, I could finish building. I tore a hole in the roof before realizing I’d need to do everything on the up and up.
Of course, I put the whole thing on pause as soon as that bitch announced her Delaware move, because without Noah, it wouldn’t even be necessary. Which meant I had one more day of uncertainty. I could hang on… I could.
