She came tumbling out onto the sidewalk, not even caring if anyone saw her. But of course, no one did, because everyone else in Beaver Bend was, you know, asleep. Except for her landlord. The air was cool and downtown was quiet in either direction. Most of the buildings were shops, not residential, and it struck her now as a little eerie. Fear started to creep in to mingle with her anger.
The front door to the auto shop was locked but she hot-footed it around the side and found the garage door wide open. Rick was whistling along to the radio, which was turned to a low volume. He had a car up and was clearly working on it.
“What are you doing?” she asked. Which was a pointless question. She could see what he was doing. He was working. At midnight. On a Monday.
His whistling cut out and he turned. “Hey, Sloane. I’m working. What are you doing?”
“I’m not sleeping, that’s what I’m doing.” She moved into the garage, feeling like hissing as the bright lights hit her in the face. “You’re really loud, are you aware of that?”
“My radio is on low.” He gave her a smile. “You look very cute right now, did you know that?”
He put down whatever tool he was holding and came toward her. Sloane paused. Oh, hell, no. She knew that look. He was stalking her. He wanted her. Nope. Not happening. “You can’t distract me, Rick. I’m exhausted and I’m pissed off. You either need to be quieter or quit working for the night.”
“Sorry, beautiful.” He came up to her and brushed her hair back off of her face. “I got behind on my regular repairs because I’ve been busy working on my bike you wrecked.”
Oh, he was good. “That’s not going to work, Ryder. I refuse to feel guilty because you are stubborn. It was an accident.”
He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Hey.”
She shivered, crossing her arms over her chest. “Hey, what?”
“We’re alone and no one can see us in the back of the garage.” He put his hand to her lips. “Unless you don’t think you can be quiet.”
His other hand was teasing at the front of her sleep shorts, right between her legs.
And just like that, she proved herself just as stubborn as him, because she was not about to let him think she couldn’t control her volume.
She reached out and grabbed his cock through his jeans. “I’m not the noisy one. I think we just established you are.”
* * *
Rick sucked in a breath. Damn, Sloane had turned the tables on him. Completely.
She had stormed in there, looking sleepy and sexy, her hair a mess and her nipples jutting into the cotton of her tank top.
He did feel bad he’d woken her up. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take advantage of it though. So while she stroked his cock, he stroked her pussy through the thin fabric of her shorts. He dipped his finger deep, right between her lips. She sucked in a breath.
“Come here,” he said. “Come see my handiwork. Truthfully, I owe you a thank you. The bike needed some TLC anyway.”
He dropped his hand and reached for hers. She sucked in a disappointed breath. He grinned, wanting to draw out the anticipation. Sloane in his garage at midnight, ready and willing? Dream come true. He wanted to see her straddle his bike. Arch her back. Show him those nipples.
“You’re welcome,” she said, dryly.
That made him laugh. “I feel like you’re being sarcastic with me.”
“Then you feel right.”
“At least your insurance premium won’t go up. You should be grateful to me.”
Her eyes darkened. “Oh, I am.”
Fuck. He tugged her hand and drew her to the back of his garage, where his bike was parked, ready to ride again. Shiny and polished, his pride and joy. “There she is. Better than brand new.”
“Looks nice.”
“Nice? All you can say is nice?” He was only half-kidding. “This is not a nice bike. It’s bad-ass. It’s a bobber style Indian.”
“I have no idea what that means but if it makes you happy.” Sloane yawned.