Page 70 of Changing Lanes

Beckett scoffs, finally breaking his silence. “Don’t tell her that.”

“Get fucked,” Coty replies to Beckett in complete monotone that says they’ve been over this before. Many times.

“Is that an offer?” Beckett holds his hands in front of him like he’s praying and I snicker under my breath.

Coty shakes his head, trying to hold back his own laugh and says to me, “We’re having a little housewarming party at the new place. Why don’t you come? Angela was just talking about needing more girls around.”

The refusal is on the tip of my tongue before he finishes. “Thanks, but I’m not going anywhere like this.” I point to the globby mess on my forehead. “Beckett’s lucky he got me here today. If it wasn’t for him dragging me-”

“Bullshit. You’re just as much a motorhead as half the guys I got working here. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were eyeing that Scrambler 1200 that came in earlier.”

The urge to wipe that smirk off his face has me rocking on the balls of my feet but I don’t. The jerk’s right and he knows it.

Coty makes a sound in his throat like a cough that has Beckett’s eyes widening a fraction.

“If you come back tomorrow, I’ll let you help me with it,” he wiggles his eyebrows, “then we can ride together to Coty and Angie’s afterward.”

Coty nods like he’s pleased with himself. Did I miss something?

I consider my options which honestly are slim. That bike was beyond gorgeous and I’d love to get my hands on it in any capacity possible. This might be my only chance at getting near a Triumph.

“Fine, but I’m taking my own ride so I don’t end up being your third wheel when you try running game at the party.”

Angela’s words fill my head at full blast. He never lets his dates sleep over. While it’s true I’ve never seen a girl sleep over—for either roommate—I was just in Beckett’s bed last night and he didn’t seem to mind the company this morning.

Maybe he’s ready to try again but with someone else this time.

The plastic bottle in my hand makes a loud crack in the nearly empty garage and I look down to see my fingers wrapped around it in a death grip.

“No can-do, girl. You’re mine.” My eyes jump to Beckett’s as he rushes to clarify, “I just mean you’re not ready for a helmet yet. I’ll drive us.”

I’m still not convinced, considering he avoided the topic of picking up another date altogether.

“I can have a friend bring me,” I try.

“No.” His blue eyes turn arctic before he looks to his old roommate saying, “we’ll be there,” effectively ending the conversation.

Coty bids us goodbye just as Angela pulls up in a vintage Jeep to pick him up. She throws a wave over the top of the roll bar which I return before facing Beckett again.

“Hungry?” he asks, cleaning up the last bit of tools.

I meant what I said. His work station is by far the cleanest even though I know he works on more vehicles than the other mechanics.

I study him as he tidies up. How he puts everything just so. Most people would probably discount him as clumsy and careless. I did at first. His uncaring façade has been nearly perfected, throwing everyone off.

Everyone but me.

I see how meticulous he really is. The care he uses when applying my ointment. He notices more than he lets on, too. It’s in the way his tools are clean and organized. The way he refuses to let anyone else help me whether it be for a ride or treating my injury. He likes his things being right where he wants them, accessible at all times. I thought it was because he was an only child but now I’m starting to think there’s another reason. Something that has to do with his nighttime issues.

My eyes slide along his tall frame, devouring every inch with my gluttonous gaze. He shakes out his sweaty blond hair, loosening several drops that fall to his Pop The Hood logo shirt. The material is then lifted to wipe his face, revealing his tight abs, and I follow the path between the muscles down to the well-defined V snaking below his pants. A fire ignites in my core as I imagine what that trail leads to.

Covering my view when he drops his shirt again, I meet Beckett’s questioning eyes before answering honestly, saying, “Starving.”

With shaky legs, I slip past him before I do something stupid. Like kiss the guy. I already made that mistake once. It was hard enough pumping the brakes on going any further with Beckett and that was when he was being an asshole. I don’t want to test my strength when he’s being sweet and attentive.

Before I’m out of ear shot, I hear him mumble something that sounds like “me, too” proving I made the right decision—today.

Tomorrow I’ll have to exercise my restraint all over again.