Dick-tits beat feet as soon as I exited the Hellcat.
Good idea.
Wiping the scowl off my face, I strutted toward Shy. “You’re good.”
I dropped the keys in her hand.
She wound her arms around my neck and pressed her lips against my cheek. “Thank you, Max.”
Disengaging from her infectious heat and curvy body, I ran a hand through my hair. “Why’d you come here?”
“Needed a quick fix.” She leaned against the building, butting her hip against mine. “The real question is why are you here, Max?”
“You trying to rehabilitate me?”
I folded my arms across my chest, fully aware I still wore little more than workout shorts, sneakers, and a bunch of sweaty muscles.
Her eyes skipped down my torso, landing in an area that was strictly Off Limits.
Too bad my cock hadn’t gotten the memo.
“This is home, Shy. You don’t understand.”
She smiled sadly and hooked her fingers around my forearms. “You could try me.”
“You know what went down.”
“And that was crap. You’re so smart!” Her fingers tugged harder. “You got your psychology degree!”
“Who told you that?”
“Maddy.”
“My sister? She knows?”
“It’s not like you totally disappeared. You just left their lives.” Shy smoothed a hand up to my shoulder.
Shrugging free, I turned my back. “It didn’t go down like you think.”
I gave a dry laugh, a bark of sound more than anything else. “Better with my hands than my mind anyway. Better with them than with people. What I really want to do is . . .”
“What?” Shy snuck behind me, those hands once again on my bare flesh, flesh that stung, tickled, shivered, wanted.
Drawing a deep ragged breath, I pulled away. I spun around to face her down. “Nothing.”
“C’mon, Handsome.”
“You shouldn’t call me that.”
“Well, it’s true.” She stomped her foot.
“Get spunky lately or somethin’?” I bit into my slowly forming grin.
“Yes. Damn it!”
I raised my hands as she advanced.
“Okay. All right. God, girl, you sure got a lot of grit.”
She stood in front of me with her hands on the swell of her hips. “I earned it.”
Rubbing my fingers across my jaw I remembered I was shirtless, shower-less, and unshaved whiskers scraped across my palm.
Shy wasn’t used to seeing me like this any more than I was used to seeing her as an adult.
A woman.
“I want to start my own brewery,” I stated.
“Compete with your folks’ company?”
“That’s bad, huh?”
“Well, beer and not bourbon, right?” She reached up and rasped her fingertips against the stubble on my neck. “Besides, I don’t think you’re bad at all.”
Something hard knocked in my chest. Something harder knocked in my groin.
Seriously?
How many times did I need to tell my dick this was never ever in this lifetime gonna happen?
I kept a flat expression on my face while I stalked into the garage bay, made my way to the sink. Pumping out water, I splashed it over my cheeks and neck and chest.
Spinning with my hands skimming the excess before it reached my abs, I was heart-stopped by Shy’s hungry look.
At me.
Oh God.
This wasn’t gonna end good.
I needed a T-shirt. Chains to lock me up. To tase myself, maybe, as she advanced.
My hands warded her off. “I could be bad, Shy.”
Her lips parted.
Her feet moved.
Her hips swung.
She came so goddamn close I clutched the lip of the sink, wishing I could dive down the drain hole instead of diving into her silver-shaded eyes.
I only relaxed, slumped back, remembered to breathe, when a playful smile tipped her lips. “Naughty, naughty Maxwell Rush.”
Her finger wagged beneath my nose.
She turned about-face with an ass-swinging hypnotic move.
“Thanks for fixing my car.”
I tried to talk. Nothing came out. I was still clinging to the fucking sink like it was a buoy.
What the shit?
I spied Brodie leaning just inside the doorway, taking it all in, keeping everyone else out.
“One more thing, Max?” Shy’s breathy voice coiled back.
I raised my eyes to the ceiling. “What?”
“I sure could use some help moving back into my condo on Saturday.” When she turned back—just before slipping into her car—she bit into her lip.
My brain is backfiring.
Brodie loped out of the shadows, shook her hand, and closed her door.
She started the engine, wound her arm behind the front seat, and started backing out like a fucking starlet.
I frowned the entire time.
Before Shy got too far, Brodie—number one nosy fucker—leaned into her window, loudly stating, “Hell yeah. We got enough manpower. Lazy bastards could do with something useful on their work schedules. And Handsome can be the boss in charge.”
Evil. Fucker.
Chapter Six
The Other Other One-Percenters
“WHAT IS THIS PLACE? A fucking museum or something?” Tail wrenched his neck back to stare up at the three-story mansion on The Battery.