Fast, Furious and Forbidden. Alison Kent
out back.” Eddie gestured toward the door. “Took a load of trash to the Dumpster.”
“Thank you, sir. Good to see you again,” Trey said, then made his way to the exit, feeling the heat of Eddie’s gaze boring into his back. He’d deal with Eddie and Jeb and the cause of the fight with his father later. Right now, he had other things on his mind.
Outside, he found Cardin wrestling a huge black trash bag out of an equally huge gray plastic can. She didn’t notice him there, and as much as he wanted to help, he waited, looking on as she scrunched up her face and rocked the bag side to side, working to dislodge the items wedged against the sides of the container.
He watched the flex of muscles in her arms and shoulders, the tendons in her neck as she tugged. He watched her frustration mount, her frown deepen, her aggravation grow until disgust took its place.
She stopped then, blew a puff of air up at her bangs, stretched her back and groaned. She was still unaware of his presence. He knew that because when she swiped her wrist across her forehead and saw him leaning against the building, she straightened, stiffened and glared.
“How long have you been standing there?”
He liked that she wasn’t wearing her sunglasses this time. Her eyes were so blue, full of such life, and though he’d expected to see anger, he hadn’t been ready for the thrill he saw in them. He wondered if it was a reflection of his own.
“Well?” she prompted.
He pushed away from his perch. “Long enough to see that you could use some help.”
“Just not to offer it?” When he shrugged, she added, “In that case, I’m sorry I wasted the corn.”
“Trust me. The corn was no waste,” he said, making his way slowly to where she stood.
She watched him approach, her fingers tightening on the bag, crinkling the plastic, stretching it, piercing through. The set of her shoulders grew taut as he neared. Her pulse was visible in her throat. “Then brace this here so I can get the trash out and get back to work.”
He stopped in front of her, planted his palms on the can’s rim and used his weight as an anchor, leaning forward into her space. He smelled sunshine, sweat and cooking smoke, and wanted to be closer still. “This is certainly not the reception I was expecting.”
“Sorry.” She jerked the bag free, and hauled it toward her. “I’m not my best when surrounded by garbage.”
The trash in one hand, she climbed onto an empty crate, lifting the Dumpster lid and tossing the bag inside. Once again on the ground, she dusted her hands together, keeping the can between them as a buffer. “Thank you.”
Trey took a minute, cleared his throat. His mind’s eye was still looking up her short skirt and at her black panties. “Can we get to what you need now?”
He could’ve stepped around the can, shoved it to the side and out of the way. He could’ve reached for her the way she’d reached for him that day in the hauler, wrapped her close and finished what they’d left undone that night he’d pinned her against him as long as he could. But this ball was in her court, and he would play by her rules for now.
She considered him closely, dodging his question as if not sure how to answer, and asked him one of her own. “What made you decide to sell your place?”
He pushed up from the can to stand straight. “You heard about that, did you?”
“Everyone in town has heard about it. You know how Dahlia is.”
He knew well, and that was part of the reason he was cutting his ties. He was tired of everyone being in his business. “Dad’s gone now, and I spend most of my time on the road. I figured it was the best solution.”
“But then you won’t have a home.”
He ignored what looked like sadness—was it sympathy? Pity maybe?—in her eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Home is where the heart is. Isn’t that what they say?”
“Do you need help?”
He frowned. “What?”
“I’m happy to give you a hand. Packing, organizing, tossing out trash.” Her mouth twisted as she gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. “I’m good with trash.”
Huh. This wasn’t what he’d expected to hear when he’d decided to hunt her down. “Is that why you came to see me the other day? You’re offering to help me get things ready to sell?”
Again she avoided a straight answer. “I’ve seen your family’s place, Trey. That’s a lot of work for one person.”
She was right. Making order out of the chaos left behind at his childhood home was not a one-man job—not if that man didn’t want to spend an eternity living in his past. Not that it was such a bad place to be. He just liked the here and now a whole lot more.
As an only child with two working parents, he’d spent a lot of time with a sitter until he’d been old enough to stay alone. By the time he was twelve, his mother had split, leaving him and his father in each other’s care. He’d hated her for leaving, until he’d learned of his father’s indiscretion. Then he’d decided the hate was a waste since both of his parents had done wrong.
But he didn’t believe for a moment Cardin had him out here to talk about his plans for his property. “You’re welcome to help, but I gotta know. What’s behind the offer?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, affecting a frown that raised his suspicions not already at full mast.
“What do you want from me, Cardin?” he asked, taking hold of the lip of the can and spinning it out of the way, leaving the space between them filled only with a tension that lived and breathed. “Because I can’t imagine it’s the same thing I want from you—no matter the message you delivered with the corn.”
She licked her lips as she looked away, lifted her chin as she looked back. “If you take me up on my offer, you’ll find out, won’t you?”
Trey pulled in a deep breath, blew out a sigh. Her rules, he reminded himself. Her rules. And since he wasn’t getting anywhere today…“What about your hours here? Don’t you work pretty much full time?”
“I do, but I have connections.” Her smile punched him in the gut, and he was already aching. “The boss won’t mind scheduling around me.”
In that case, he wasn’t going to say no. “You wanna start tomorrow? I figured I’d tackle the outbuildings first. See what’s worth selling. Burn the rest, and haul what won’t burn to the dump.”
“Sure. I’ll talk to Jeb about using his truck. He gets a kick out of driving my Mini.”
Trey tried to picture the wide shoulders, six feet two inches, and prominent paunch of Cardin’s grandfather behind the wheel of her red Mini Cooper convertible and had not a bit of luck. “That I’d pay to see.”
“Then I’ll get him to quote you a price.”
Funny girl. He took a step toward her. “Say eight o’clock then? Or do you need more beauty sleep than that?”
“I’m okay on the beauty sleep, don’t you think?”
Cocky girl. A second step. “Could be you’ve had too much already. Could be an early morning would be good for you. Say…seven?”
“If I didn’t have so far to drive, we could get started at six.”
Brave girl. He took a third. “You looking to spend the night?”
“I might consider it,” she said, wetting her lips—and causing his head to blow a fuse.
Fuses elsewhere were inches from overload. “I’ve been at the track since I got here. I’m not sure there’s a mattress worth sleeping on at the house, but I do have a second