Retired soldier Blake Best drives hard—his car, his life, and his choices. Former Airman Parker Monteith is fighting to keep his life on cruise control so he doesn’t lose it all.
One Maserati brings them together. Can Blake slow down enough to discover the important things aren’t in the fast lane?
The passenger door opened and a man’s deep voice rang out, “You won’t touch it.” The man stepped out of the truck. “Unless I am directing you. Clear?”
Parker licked his lips, Maserati forgotten. Maybe if the porn magazines had men like this specimen, he’d have at least peeked. Tall and muscular, the man seemed to have stepped off the pages of his imagination.
“Did you hear me?” The man put his hands on his hips.
Parker nodded and took a wobbly step. A Maserati and a hot man? More excitement than he’d seen on a Friday night since he’d been home. Maybe ever.
The man smiled, and Parker flushed. A moment later, the smile was gone and the man was all business.
“Blake Best.” He stuck out his hand. “This is my car, Leon.”
Parker took Blake’s large hand and held on while the other man shook for both of them. He looked into Blake’s blue eyes, or were they brown? He couldn’t tell in the half-light, but whatever their color, they were framed by gorgeous dark lashes matching Blake’s cropped, dark hair.
“Good to meet you.” Blake squeezed his hand. “I’m making it clear up front. You don’t touch my car unless I say so.”
“Hey, I gotta get to another call,” the tow truck driver yelled. “Let’s get this showboat off my truck.” He pushed a button and the truck bed squealed lower.
Parker looked down. He was still holding Blake’s hand. He pulled away and cleared his throat. “Help get this car into the garage so I can take a look.”
Blake headed to the truck bed and Parker followed. Parker couldn’t help but watch Blake’s ass. Clad in thick jeans, it was difficult to tell exactly how firm it was or its exact shape, but damn, it was the first exciting ass he’d seen in forever.
“Be careful, that’s my baby,” Blake called.
“Huh?” Parker’s face flamed, and then he realized the man was talking about the car. Oh my God, the car. It sat, or did it float, on the truck bed, a vision in creamy white with dark shadows spiraling along its side. It’s black top was closed, but Parker knew exactly what the car looked like with the top down. He stuck his hands in his pockets. Yeah, it was just a car, but oh, what a car it was.
“Stand back!” The tow truck driver unlatched the last of the wheel lashings and pushed the button to extend the winch.
Blake turned toward Parker. “I can’t watch.”
“He knows what he’s doing.”
A loud screech sounded. Blake cringed and whirled toward the tow truck driver. “What in the hell?”
“Calm down. Your precious car is fine.” The driver lowered the front end of the car then released the winch.
They pushed the car into the garage without a problem, though Blake insisted they wear cotton gloves, which he provided from the trunk. In the stark garage lights, the white car appeared even brighter, like a gleaming star, lit from within. Blake fussed over the car, running his hand along the body and cupping the headlight and squeezing.
“Sign for it.” The tow truck driver shoved his clipboard under Parker’s nose.
Parker signed for receipt of the car and the driver capped his pen and stuck it back in his pocket.
“He’s your problem now.”
Parker gathered he wasn’t talking about the car.
Copyright © KERRY ADRIENNE, March 9, 2014 | All Rights Reserved, Earthshine Publishing