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  I sigh and lean my head on Max’s shoulder. “Why can’t you be straight? You’re the perfect man for me.”

  He chuckles beside me. “My life would be a whole lot easier if I was. Come on. Let’s get your drunk-ass home before I have to peel you off another huge mistake with a penis.”

  We turn and leave the club. Once outside, and away from the sexy man who had me ready to chuck everything I stand for in order to have one sinful night, I feel relieved. I have no idea how this guy had so much power over me, but at least I never have to see him again. Too much time alone with a man like him would have me breaking every personal rule I’ve ever set for myself. Thank God that’ll never happen.

  Chapter 2

  I Knew You Were Trouble

  Holly

  Why the hell is it eighty-seven million degrees in this store? I know we’re poor and our family business is barely staying afloat, but damn—a little air conditioning would be nice.

  I re-adjust the fan on the counter, allowing the air to blow directly on me. It’s disgustingly hot in here and my gray Mountain Time Speed Track uniform doesn’t help the situation. It allows zero airflow to my skin and it’s taking every bit of energy I have to not curl up under the counter and sleep off my hangover from last night.

  I glance around, and when I’m sure there are no customers lurking about, I unbutton my top and stuff it under the counter. Immediately I’m relieved. The white wife-beater I have on is soaked with sweat, but at least now when the hot air whips across my skin, it feels a little cooler. Dad and I are going to have to have a serious talk about this uniform situation if he doesn’t cool this place down soon. He says it adds class and professionalism when the employees have clothing assignments. Poor Dad has been implementing every “make your small business successful” tip out of all those financial magazines he’s been reading lately.

  I gather my long, blonde hair into a messy bun on the top of my head and grab the spray bottle I’ve been using to keep cool. I tip my head back, close my eyes and douse my bare skin in water. A little sigh of pleasure slips from my lips as the relief of being cool finally wafts over me.

  “Damn. If I’d known I was going to see an erotic show in here I would’ve brought some singles with me.” My eyes snap open and land on a tattooed arm in front of me holding two hundred-dollar bills. “You’ll have to show a little more skin if you want me to stuff hundreds down your pants, sweetness. Only a damn good show ever earns those.”

  My gaze travels up the toned arm and shoulder, until it finally lands on an absurdly handsome face. A light beard covers his chin, while a baseball cap covers most of his shaggy, dark hair. His bright green eyes dance with amusement and his plump lips pull up on one side, revealing a devilish smirk. It’s like the face of Adonis staring right at me and it makes my stomach flip.

  Holy shit! It’s him. The green-eyed devil from the club I never wanted to see again.

  “Wow. Really?” I snatch the money from his hand a little harder than I mean to and do my best to pretend that I don’t know him since he seems to have forgotten we nearly had sex last night. “How much time do you need?”

  “Easy there, sugar tits, no need to be bitchy. I’m plenty fun once you lose that stick up your ass,” Adonis says before winking at me.

  Ugh. I bunch my eyebrows and my lip curls. What. A. Pig. And he actually has the nerve to fucking wink at me without mentioning something—anything—about last night?

  This asshole has some balls.

  This one is far worse than the typical biker boys that come here pretending like they’re the next bad-ass motocross rider on earth. Those guys I can handle. They don’t make my body hum with need or do something totally out of character, like sleep with a stranger.

  Since Jackson broke up with me, all the guys around here have been giving me their best lines. I’m just not ready to actually date someone else. Jackson was someone I trusted. What he did nearly broke me. I’m not ready to put my heart out there again.

  I’ve been shooting the wind out of all the proverbial sails belonging to men who have been trying to gain my attention lately. All it takes is my are-you-kidding-me-you-don’t-have-a-shot-in-hell look and they turn tail and run—never looking back or giving me any more problems. Like I told Max, I’m done with guys for a while. I never ever want my heart broken again. Just because I let my guard down and kissed this one last night doesn’t change anything. If I’d known I would ever see him again, I wouldn’t have let things get that far.

  Looks like I’ll have to kick my bitch factor up a couple of notches to throw this one off my scent. “You look about as much fun as an albino getting sunburn. Now, how much time do you want on the track?”

  “All business, aren’t you?” His gaze trails up and down my body as he rakes his teeth over his bottom lip nice and slow. “You always this difficult? Because I have to say, you seem like a girl that could be a lot of fun if she let loose.”

  I roll my eyes and sigh, trying to decide if I can get away with cussing him out and telling him there’s no chance in hell he’ll ever get close to me again. Been there, done that, so not doing it again.

  By the looks of his tattoos and bad-boy swagger, I can tell he’s like all the other guys that come in here. Most never have their shit together, and still live at home with their mommies so they can play video games all day—so not attractive.

  I open my mouth to tell him to give up now, but quickly close it as my father’s shaking head pops into mind like my guilty little conscience. Always treat the customer with respect, even when they are rude to us—that’s Dad’s number one rule. So I do my best to push my personal distain for this guy out of my mind and turn on my cold indifference. “Time?”

  Tattooed Adonis leans against the counter and grins. He’s looking at me like he’s contemplating taking me on as a challenge, so I stare back at him with raised eyebrows. “Tell me, sugar tits, did the last guy get your panties in a bunch? I’ll be happy to untwist them, if you like? You’d be amazed how it’ll pop that stick right out of your ass. And with a fine-ass body like yours, I’m a great volunteer and I’d consider it a public service.”

  My mouth gapes open and I stare at him in shock. That’s it—to hell with keeping the peace in order to gain his business—this jerk has pushed me too far. “Listen here, buddy, my panties are none of your concern. As for your time, you can shove your money right up your—”

  “Holly,” my father scolds as he comes bursting through the front door of the shop, a scowl on his face. I sigh heavily. “I can hear you clear outside. Why are you yelling at our guest?”

  The jerk focuses his eyes directly on me and smiles like a spoiled kid getting his way while waiting for me to explain to my father. “I…he…ugh! Why don’t you ask him why?” I mutter, flinging my hands in the guy’s direction. I’m so flustered I can’t even speak.

  I can’t believe I almost slept with this guy. I’ll have to kiss Max later for saving me from that giant mistake.

  This stranger is frustrating, but I’m dying to see the look on his face when he tries to explain himself to Dad.

  Dad scratches at the thinning hair on the top of his head nervously as he glances over at Adonis. I fold my arms across my chest while taking my turn wearing a smug grin. Adonis is so going to get it for being rude to me. My dad never lets that slide. He knows how the guys around here have been treating me lately. I know he won’t stand for it.

  Dad frowns and his thin shoulders sag a bit. “I’m sorry, Mr. Douglas. My daughter is normally very polite to all of our guests. Please don’t inform your boss about this. I would hate to see him lose interest in partnering with the track because of Holly’s momentary lack of self-control. I can assure you it’s not a recurrent problem.”

  My mouth gapes open. Not only is my father not defending me, he’s apologizing to the pig? I take a deep breath and allow my father’s words to sink in.

  Oh. Shit. “Wait. This guy? He’s here to check out the track for the inv
estor?”

  Adonis grins even wider as he extends his tattooed arm towards me. “That’s right, sugar ti—” His head snaps towards my father and he quickly clears his throat, realizing he just managed to catch himself before sexually harassing me in front of Dad. “I’m Trip Douglas. It looks like you and I will be getting cozy while you show me the ins and outs of this place.”

  I stare down at his hand. Ugh. This is so not happening to me. Our family business is going down the freaking toilet and I have to depend on the guy who thinks with his dick to pull us out of the hole? Maybe the investor can send someone else? Anyone else! No way is some rich, old dude relying solely on Trip’s judgments of the place to make a huge financial commitment? This guy can’t be trusted with something so important. This guy can’t stick with the same woman for five minutes, let alone see such a huge business deal through.

  Trip wiggles his fingers at me. “Come on. They won’t bite.”

  Dad needs this partnership to work for the sake of the track. He told me last week how important it was for this business to get it. If it doesn’t go through, we’re in big trouble.

  Reluctantly, I take his hand. It’s warm and rough against my own skin and it’s hard not to think about the way he felt pressed against me last night as he gives it a couple of quick shakes. “Holly Pearson.”

  He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand in slow, deliberate circles and I don’t like what that little movement might be trying to imply. I’ve had about enough of him touching me slowly. I’m not interested now, not after I saw that I was just some random chick to him.

  He smiles. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  I roll my eyes and jerk my hand away from his grip, trying to get rid of the tingle that’s left in the wake of his touch. “So what did you need again? Track time?” I quickly ask.

  Trip doesn’t answer—his brain obviously overloaded from his constant fixation on my chest—so I clear my throat and fold my arms, blocking his view of my boobs.

  “Holly, Mr. Douglas isn’t a paying customer. If he rides, it’s free,” Dad says.

  He shakes his head like he’s coming out of a daze. I didn’t know my breasts could be that damn mesmerizing. “You know, Mr. Pearson, now that I’ve been in here, I want to start going over the books. The track test can wait for another day. It will be good to know what kind of shape this place is in financially. Everything else is fixable.”

  “We’re actually in great shape,” I snap, not liking the idea of some strange man invading our family business—especially one that I’m totally uncomfortable being in close quarters with for any period of time. I wish I hadn’t liked what he’d done to me last night so damn much. “Besides, I doubt you can read them. You know they have no pictures, right?”

  He leans in and braces his hands on the countertop across from me, a cool smile on his lips. “Don’t let the tattoos fool you, sweetness. There’s a stellar mind behind these good looks.” He cocks his head to the side, giving me a look that I bet gets girls to do anything he wants. “You’ll find out that I can pick a person’s brain like no other. And that’s why I’m here…to pick yours.”

  I growl and grip the counter tight to keep me from jumping over it and smacking that beautiful smile off his face. He is one smug bastard. I can’t stand guys like him. It only makes it worse he’s acting like he doesn’t even know who I am. “You’re welcome to leave any time you want. I don’t need you to pick my brain or anything else connected to me or my family’s business!”

  “Holly!” my father warns so loudly I jump. “In my office now!”

  A quick check of my dad’s face tells me he’s not joking around. With his eyes narrowed at me, he points his long, bony finger at his door. Even the vein in his forehead is popping out beneath his dark-brown hair. That little monster is usually reserved for when I’m in really deep shit. I stare up at Dad and nod.

  I swallow hard and glance down at the counter, instantly feeling guilty for upsetting my dad. I don’t enjoy disappointing him. He’s got enough on his plate to worry about with the business collapsing, without having an unruly twenty-year-old daughter on his hands.

  Just before I hang my head down, I glance at Trip and he frowns. I should apologize, it’s the right thing to do, but with guys like him I just can’t bring myself to do it. Egotistical pretty-boys think an apology is an invitation into my pants. No way do I want to give him that impression. He had his chance last night and he blew it. He won’t be getting another.

  I straighten my back, stiffen my shoulders and march into my father’s office without giving Trip Douglas a second look.

  Last year, in an attempt to bring in extra income, my dad converted his office into storage rental for customers that needed a place to store their bikes and equipment. The cramped space that was once a broom closet is now what my father calls an office. A small metal desk sits in the in the center and hogs every inch of space—and most of the oxygen—in the room. The space is what some people would consider claustrophobic. There’s no relaxing view. Hell, there’s not even a window, but I like it. It’s quiet my escape when I need to collect my thoughts when my day gets too crazy.

  The bland white walls are covered with photographs of my father smiling—pictures of him with MX sponsors, pro-athletes, me, Jackson and even Grace, A.K.A. my mom. Don’t let the name fool you—there’s nothing graceful about the woman who is nothing more than my egg donor. She’s part of the reason this business is failing and why my life is slowly being sucked down the drain. The photos are a constant reminder that my once-happy life is now non-existent, which is pretty freaking depressing. Come to think of it, next time my father’s out of sight I’m taking those pictures of her down and torching them. I hate being reminded of her. It’s bad enough I look so much like her.

  Dad follows behind me and shuts the door. After he squeezes around me, he plops down in his squeaky, green chair that’s older than I am—it even has the duct-tape to prove it.

  He shuffles the piles of papers around on his desk. It’s the signature move he does while he gathers his thoughts—it gives the impression he’s busy.

  I know what he’s going to say even before he does and I open my mouth to apologize, but he beats me to the punch.

  “Holly, I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for me too, bringing a stranger in and allowing him access to everything I’ve—this family—has worked so hard for all these years. I don’t like it any more than you do, but these are the cards we’ve been dealt, honey. If this man doesn’t help us, we’ll lose everything.” I see the sadness in his eyes as he explains.

  I hear what he’s saying and I completely understand, but my reservations still stick. If I could tell him why I don’t think Trip can be trusted, maybe he would see my side, but I know I can’t do that. Not without appearing sleazy for throwing myself at a random man in a bar. I would get the “I raised you better than that” speech. “But, Dad, this guy? He doesn’t look like he knows anything about running a business. Did you get a good look at him? He looks like every other biker we’ve seen on the track, and you know they aren’t always the brightest crayons in the box.”

  Dad drags his fingers through his thinning hair. His hair, like the rest of his body is withering away. He’s lost so much weight over the last couple months—it makes his six-foot-two frame seem even taller. The stress is really getting to him. “Holly, I know what this place means to you. I’m grateful that you left school and to come home and help me out, but this place isn’t your cross to bear. It’s mine. This place is my dream, and it makes me feel like I failed as your father because I willingly allowed you to throw away your dream of finishing college to come back here to help me. If I can just get this place back into the black you can go back to school, like you planned. Convincing Trip to get this investor on board will make that happen. You can get your life back.”

  I frown as I walk around the desk and wrap my arms around my father. “Dad, I made the choice to come back here because
I wanted to. You were here, and Jackson. You and this track are my life. Just because I’m not with Jackson anymore doesn’t mean I regret my decision. I love it here. This place is my home and I want to help in anyway I can to save it.” Dad smiles. “Besides, I can always get a loan once we get this place back on its feet. Ohio State isn’t going anywhere any time soon. It’s you and me. And we stick together.”

  He folds his arms around me and pats the back of my head. “We do make a pretty great team, don’t we? Since your mom left—”

  I stiffen in his embrace and cut him off before he goes down memory lane about Grace. “Let’s not talk about her.”

  Dad sighs as I pull away and lean back against the desk. “All right but, honey, please try and be civil to Trip. I really want this to work out. We need him to like us.”

  I roll my eyes. As much as it kills me, I know I have to play nice. “I’ll try, but I swear if he comes on to me like the rest of the goons around here, I promise I won’t show any mercy.”

  He chuckles. “I would expect nothing less from you. Just please don’t rip his head off. I can’t afford a lawsuit. I’m trying to get money from him, not give it.”

  We both laugh because it’s no secret around this track that I’m quick witted and unafraid to put any man in his place. I’m one tough, general operations manager. This may be a male-dominated sport, but at Mountain Time Speed Track it’s most definitely a woman’s world.

  TRIP

  I rub my forehead, wishing I could take back the last five or so beers past my limit I drank last night. Walking into this place with a hangover wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had. Thank God Mr. Pearson wasn’t insistent I check out the track first. I would’ve puked after the first five minutes of riding.

  I didn’t mean to get that hot blonde in trouble with her dad. Flirting with beautiful women mercilessly is my favorite past time. I can’t help myself. And Holly Pearson is one fine piece of ass. No doubt about that. She reminds me a lot of that blonde I kissed last night, or at least I think I kissed last night. Things started getting hazy after my tenth drink, or maybe it was the twelfth drink. Alcohol has a way of fucking up my brain and making shit a blur. The blonde was smoking hot too. One minute she was grinding her ass against my dick, causing me nearly to come in my jeans, the next minute she was gone, dragged off by another guy. Lucky bastard was probably her boyfriend.