Cocky Romance: Chapter 6

Furious cannot even begin to describe the sensations roaring through my chest.

Dawn—Miss Banner—was almost assaulted by a buffoon.

What would she have done when he wrenched that spanner from her, his temper ignited and his rage blinding him? Tiny woman. What if he’d hurt her? Sent her flying into a lift or had her head slamming into the many sharp objects littering the mechanic shop?

I almost choke on my frustration.

Worry is such a prissy little worm.

I can’t seem to jar my brain out of the what-ifs. Can’t unsee the moment when I found some idiot grabbing her roughly while she desperately reached for a way to defend herself.

My blood burns in my veins.

I grit my teeth.

What if something like this happens again?

I set Ms. Banner as the leader of this shop, not only because it’ll look good in Stinton Auto write-ups but because I believed the world had evolved to a place where she would be safe there.

There at the top.

There as the leader.

She’s certainly earned the chance. I’ve seen the reports. Yes, I didn’t just pluck her out of her ordinary circumstances to become the face of Stinton Auto because she’s beautiful.

If stunning was all I sought, I could have hired a professional model and sent them to do a few weeks of mechanic training.

No, I checked Ms. Banner’s stats.

She has good reports from every shop she’s ever worked in.

How can I—someone completely blind to this world of automotive repair—recognize her abilities, and someone like that buffoon couldn’t?

At the very least, he shouldn’t have insinuated that her achievements were due to a sexual relationship between us.

Damn it.

I should have clobbered his face for that.

The worst part—if I’ll admit it—is that he was on to something.

The more time I spend with Dawn, the more I want to strip her out of those over-alls and fling her into my bed. I want to run my tongue down her dark and silky skin until I find all the ways she can scream. I want that delectable mouth growling more than just insults at me. And I want to dive so deep into her that I can scrape my name into her insides.

It’s infuriating.

It’s flabbergasting.

I’ve never lost my cool like this.

Ever.

And what the absolute worst woman to start getting confused about.

She’s the mother of my niece.

She’s more Trevor’s woman than she can ever be mine.

And why the hell would I want her to be mine?

She’s brash and rude and stubborn. Everything is a fight with her and—damn.

“Get it together, Stinton,” I snarl at myself.

My hand is killing me. I need to find something to wrap it up. This is a mechanic garage. There must be a first aid kit somewhere.

I snag my fingers around the edge of Clint’s desk, squeezing my eyes shut and letting a deep breath untangle all the knots in my chest.

“You okay, Stinton?” A soft, throaty voice drifts from the doorway.

I stiffen on impact. “Fine.”

“Barking that word at me doesn’t make me believe you. Just in case you were wondering.”

“What do you want, Banner?”

“To talk.”

“Later.” My hand is killing me. My head feels like it’s about to split in two and my heart…

That dusty thing is starting to beat again. I’m thinking of grabbing the spanner Dawn wanted to use on the mechanic and turning it on the idiot in my chest.

“Sit down,” she orders me.

“Huh. Is that how I sound?”

“Exactly like that.”

I make the mistake of glancing up. Make the mistake of looking at her.

A strange weight falls on my body. Then it sinks in. Past skin and bone. Past my veins. Goes somewhere I wouldn’t be able to reach it and pry it out if I tried.

Dawn sashays toward me, her hips swaying lightly—a motion I can see now that her overalls are tied around her waist and exposing a bit more of her shape.

The closer she gets, the more prickles start dancing over my skin. No, it’s more powerful than that. It’s like an electric shock. It’s like some part of me that never saw light before is getting blasted with a full ray of sunshine.

And dammit, it hurts.

I press my lips together and steer my eyes away from her.

Dawn Banner presses dark hands flat against my chest, against the heart that’s starting to beat double time just because she’s so close to it, and pushes. I stumble into the rolling chair and skid across the room.

Never would have happened if it were anyone else.

I would have stayed on my feet.

I would have told them where they could take their orders.

Damn her for making me falter.

Damn her for giving me thoughts I shouldn’t have.

She walks up to a cabinet in the corner. Her formfitting top has sparkles all over it. The sleeveless design shows off her trim arms. Delicate gold bangles adorn her wrist and the way they reflect off her skin tells me she was born to be covered in jewelry.

Her magenta-toned mouth purses in irritation as she swipes her hand over the top of the cabinet, realizes she can’t reach and foists herself to the tip of her toes to grab the kit. She puckers her lips harder. A jolt of desire flows through me when I imagine sucking and owning that mouth until all that lipstick rubs off.

The things I would do to her if this arrangement wasn’t so complicated—it sets me on edge.

Her eyes light up when she finally pushes the kit close enough for her fingers to latch on. There’s something shimmering on her lids. Something on her cheekbones too.

Then there’s all those curls—she foists them over one shoulder and they swing back and forth like a pendulum before finally settling over her back in jet-black coils.

She tilts her head to the side, glaring at me through narrowed eyes before she steps closer. “You’re staring again.”

For the first time in a while, I don’t have a comeback.

She stretches her hand out to me.

I stare at it.

She sighs and snatches my wrist. I hiss and her touch instantly gentles.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough.”

There’s something in her voice, something that almost feels like genuine care. Paired with the heavy silence around us and the glass pane revealing every movement we make to the rest of the shop, I feel both cocooned in our own world and painfully on display.

She’s messing with my head.

I need to stop letting this woman tear me up inside.

Roughly, I move my hand away from her, silencing her protests with a dark look. “I came to discuss something with you.”

“Take a minute, Stinton. You stopped a spanner in motion with your bare hands.”

“I’m fine,” I say coldly.

“Then I guess you really are a robot.” She pushes away from the desk and closes the first aid kit. Her steps are fierce and determined, almost angry. Her lips look more tempting than ever, even as she flattens them into a scowl. “Whatever. You don’t have to get patched up by me, but you should at least go to the hospital.”

My eyes spear her. “I’ll take care of my own matters.”

“What is your problem? Do you practice being that unlikeable?”

My eyebrows hike.

She pulls out her phone. “I’m calling Jefferson. You’re going to the hospital.”

A scowl crawls over my face. Why does she have Jefferson’s number?

“I’m not going to the hospital.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to,” I growl.

Her eyes flicker over me and then she laughs.

I frown at her. “I don’t see what’s funny.”

“You. You’re funny.”

Crazy woman.

“You’re just like my dad. He used to run from the hospital too.” She shakes her head. “He acted invincible. Never let anyone see him break down. It was ridiculous when he did it too.” The emotion in her voice is thick. There’s a tremble in the words. A hint of exhaustion.

I almost feel bad for snarling at her.

Almost.

She glances past me to the view of the workshop, her eyes narrowing. “I know what you’re thinking.”

If Dawn Banner knew what I was thinking, she’d probably get a restraining order against me.

“Willis has… strong opinions, but they’re not shared by the group.”

“Men like that don’t act out at random. He was spewing that kind of talk for a long time to his buddies. To his coworkers. He was encouraged. I believe there are still men here who share his sentiments.”

“I don’t.”

“Doesn’t really matter what you think. It won’t change reality.”

“You’re being jaded.”

“And you’re being foolishly optimistic.”

She slams her hands against her hips. “What a cold, cruel world you live in. Is that what Stinton Group taught you?”

I ignore the dig about my family. “What if I hadn’t shown up? You’re assuming someone else would have stepped in, but there’s a possibility they wouldn’t. What then?”

“People like Willis aren’t the majority. They’re just louder.”

“And?” I growl.

“And I’m not going to think you’re a decent human being all of a sudden. You’re still the man holding Beth for ransom.” She points at my arm. “Me taking care of your hand doesn’t mean we’re on the same side. So if you’re worried I’ll start feeling sorry for you, don’t. Boss. I’ll always remember who’s holding the strings.”

“I don’t need your help,” I growl.

“Stinton.”

“Forget my hand. We need to talk about your next act as Stinton Auto—”

“Talk while I work.” She grabs my hand again, although she’s much gentler about it this time and opens it flat on the table.

Her fingers press into my palm and I hiss.

“That hurt?”

“No.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “What do you need from me?”

“The marketing team pitched an idea. We want to record you working on a celebrity’s car.”

“For real?” Excitement sparks in her eyes.

“Actually, no. Not for real. The celebrity’s regular mechanic will be brought in to fix it. All we need from you is a diagnosis.”

Her lips flatten into a thin line and her grip on my hand tightens. “That’s a fancy way of saying you trust me to find what’s wrong, but not to correct the problem.”

“Don’t think so deeply. It’s all for show anyway.”

She straightens, her eyes shooting daggers at me. “How can I not consider this a problem when you’re telling me you don’t trust my professional skills?”

“It’s not about that. It’s about doing what’s best for the client.”

“If I diagnose the car and the other mechanic doesn’t listen to me, who’ll look like the idiot?”

“The celebrity wants you to work together with her mechanic.”

“And you were happy to accommodate that, weren’t you?”

“Dawn.”

“You didn’t even think of pointing out that I can fix her car on my own. No, because that would mean that you actually believe I can do it.”

“Sharing the responsibility with another mechanic isn’t a bad thing. It takes the pressure off Stinton Group while still enabling a collaboration with Mila Dubois.” My head starts to hurt again. I rub the bridge of my nose. “If you don’t want to do it, just say so.”

“I can fix the car. It doesn’t need a second opinion.”

“No.”

“Then I’m not interested.” She folds her arms over her chest.

“Weren’t you the one who said you wouldn’t forget who’s holding the strings?” I bite out.

She goes stiff. Her eyes burn with flames and her nostrils flare.

Regret hits me hard and fast.

It’s too late.

She turns sharply and stalks out in a cloud of willful pride and tart disgust.

In the silence, I flinch and reach for the first aid kit. My hand is really starting to ache now and my head is tightening like a metal clamp is trying to squeeze my brain out the way kids squeeze play dough.

The pain started at the police station when, once again, I hit a dead end. The tip about Trevor’s whereabouts turned out to be someone chasing fast cash.

My brother’s still missing and the longer we take to find him, the more worried I am that something really went wrong.

Trevor’s used to every problem being wiped away for him. He’s never had to face the world without the family. Without me. On his own, he could make mistakes, get involved with the wrong people, and things could turn dangerous.

My phone buzzes.

HILLS: The board is calling an emergency meeting. They’re not happy about your female mechanic, Max.

The pain multiplies and I grit my teeth.

I just need a minute.

One minute and I’ll go tackle the most pressing problems first. I’ll go down the list one at a time. There’s no one else to do it but me.

To my surprise, the door slams open again.

Dawn stomps back into the room.

She’s carrying an ice pack.

At first, I think she’s going to hurl it at me, but she stops an inch away. “Open your hand.”

Eyebrows shooting to the top of my head, I stretch my fingers out slowly.

The ice pack descends and hits my skin with a hiss of pain and a flood of relief.

Her eyes focus away from me and she taps her foot on the ground.

“Dawn.”

“I’m not doing this because I agree with you. You got hurt because of me.” Her words are sharp, but her touch is gentle.

“I don’t—”

“Be quiet.” Her eyes narrow. “You’re not the only one who knows how to take responsibility, Stinton.”

It’s more than just her kindness that has me fighting back reluctant admiration.

When was the last time someone looked after me?

What I know is blind obedience and, at times, forced obedience. What I know is people scurrying to do what I want because I pay them to do so or because they need something from Stinton Group.

Dawn doesn’t want anything from me. Hell, she’d prefer if I kept my distance from her. She’s not swayed by money and she couldn’t care less about my status in the company.

What would it be like to have her true care and respect?

I only realize I’m staring again when I feel her frowning at me. She cocks her head to the side.

I quickly avert my eyes. “The film crew wants to set up tomorrow morning.”

“Fine.”

“It’ll be the same hair and makeup team. We’ll send out a notice so people are aware the shop is closed during that time.”

“Whatever.” She moves the ice pack to another part of my hand and I hiss.

She doesn’t even look at me.

“I’ll make sure he takes your diagnosis into consideration.”

“You can’t force him to do that. Mechanics are a proud bunch. If we have two different opinions, he’ll go with his.”

“Then I won’t let it happen on camera.”

“You think I care about the camera?” she asks sharply.

“Then what do you care about?”

Dawn stares at the desk. Her eyes turn midnight black when she’s passionate, from dark brown to shining obsidian.

“I care about the customer taking their car out into traffic or on a late-night road and trusting that it won’t give out on them. I want my work to be associated with excellence and integrity. This isn’t just one job on the line. It’s my reputation.” Her voice is steely with resolve. “But I get it. Things like a good reputation and integrity don’t matter much to Stinton Group.”

“I—”

“Since you paid for a puppet, I’ll perform my role tomorrow. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Dawn.”

“Take a pain pill if your hand starts hurting later. And if you can’t handle it, go to the hospital. Don’t try to act tough because you’re not fooling anybody.”

Her anger is silent but as heavy as a whip, singeing the air between us. She marches out of the room once again and slams the door with a finality that tells me she’s not coming back.

Sleep is not a friend of mine.

On a good day, I’ll work until I can’t anymore and fall into bed where I doze for a few hours before getting up early to go to the gym.

But tonight, sleep is a lost cause and it’s all because of her.

My eyes are closed, but Dawn is painted on the back of my eyelids.

That look of crushed disappointment.

That feeling that she regrets her agreement with me.

That certainty that I wouldn’t let her go even if it’s the right thing to do.

Did she actually do the impossible? Did she go fishing in my black hole of a heart and find my missing conscience?

I wish I could say she was dead wrong about me. That I have priorities other than Stinton Group, but I can’t. The company is my girlfriend, my wife, and my mistress.

I’m juggling all the balls, all the time.

If I don’t hold on with an iron-fist, it can all be taken away from me.

The board is just itching to do the honors.

I groan when I think about the emergency meeting they called for tomorrow. Dad won’t dare show up. He doesn’t attend meetings that could turn out negatively for him. I’ll be there on my own, a target strapped to my back while the board takes their shots.

Which is why I need sleep.

And why I shouldn’t be thinking about the aggravating female mechanic who keeps forcing me to find that one shred of humanity I’ve got left.

Morning comes and I’ve barely gotten two hours of rest.

Doesn’t matter. I hit the gym like I always do.

The sun is bright and the room is completely silent.

Pumping iron alone and unbothered is the only time the world feels even semi-decent.

“Looks like you got something to work out,” a familiar voice says.

I don’t have to open my eyes to know who’s standing in front of me.

We used to call Darrel the ‘therapist’ of our group long before he ever quit finance to go be a shrink. He’d take one look at our self-destructing mess of a life and give us the truth straight up.

A lot of the kids in our circle didn’t like Darrel for that, but I respected his honesty. There just wasn’t enough people who bothered to be honest with me after mom died.

“How did you find me?”

“Someone rented the entire gym for one hour blocks every morning. You’re the only person who would do something that excessive rather than work out at home.”

I grunt as I set the weight back in its cradle and sit up. “Your wife know you’re obsessed with me, Hastings?”

“The wedding’s in six months, Stinton.” He shoves a bottle of water at me. “And no one is as obsessed with you as you are with yourself.”

I chuckle and take it from him. That’s the Darrel nugget of truth that I know and love.

Hastings looks down at me. He’s tall and broad-shouldered with a head of dark hair and green eyes. The chicks used to dig his broody, mysterious vibe. Until they found out he was just a brain science nerd with muscles.

He hasn’t changed since college. He’s still that highly intelligent man of few words. The guy observes everything and everyone quietly and you tend to underestimate him until he makes a move that hits you at your weakest point.

It’s why he was such a beast in finance.

Wall Street is still mourning the loss of him.

When I’m done relieving my thirst, I screw on the cap of the bottle. “I’m sure you didn’t go to all the trouble of finding me just so you could be my water boy.”

Hastings pins me with those assessing green eyes. He still doesn’t smile, but I can tell he’s amused. “You’re right. I came to check on you.”

“Huh.”

“I also came to apologize.”

“That’s new.”

“Now that I think about it, it wasn’t right for me to heap the blame on you after Trevor took off. It wasn’t your fault that Sunny didn’t get her money and you were dealing with a lot.”

“It’s alright. A man in love will do anything for his lady.”

Darrel shakes his head, but he can’t help the smile that flits over his face at the mere mention of his fiancée. Sunny Quetzal. Last I heard, she was a successful interior designer doing work all over the country and internationally. I know she must be good at what she does since my brother hired her to decorate the Stinton Investment offices. Trevor’s crap with money, but he’s got an eye for good taste.

“Did you get my wedding invitation?”

I bob my head. “Congratulations.”

He nods and then his expression shifts to a more serious one. “I heard you still haven’t located Trevor.”

I blow out a breath. “It’s weird. I thought he would have turned up by now. He’s not shifty enough to stay undercover this long.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I appreciate that, but no.”

Silence falls.

Darrel’s never been uncomfortable with these long stretches of quiet, but I’m not used to them.

I tap my leg. “Is there something else?”

“Yeah.” He drags out the word nice and slow.

I figure that means something and brace myself for the worst.

“It’s about Dawn.”

Bingo.

My fingers tremble and I try to hide it by reaching for the bottle of water again. Taking my time to carefully unscrew the cap, I tip the rim to my lips and take a big chug.

Darrel waits patiently until I’m finished, not moving a muscle.

His eyes scour my face. “Which one of you is the father?”

I almost spit out my water. “Huh?”

“Is it you or Trevor?”

I cough and then tap my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dawn’s got a lot of hatred for Stinton Group.” He pins his stare on the window. The gym has an incredible view of the city skyline. “An inordinate amount of hatred. A normal person would take that animosity at face value but—”

“But you’re a creepy mind reader so you know better.”

“Neuropsychologist.”

“I’m acknowledging your superpower. Accept it.”

His lips curl. “Since you’re so uncomfortable with the topic, the father must be Trevor.”

My head whips up.

He gives me a knowing smirk. “If it was you, you’d have told me it was none of my business. You wouldn’t have danced around it. You’re not ashamed of your achievements or your mistakes. But when it’s about your brother…”

I grab my towel and slap it over my shoulder. Rising, I glare at him. “Don’t psycho-analyze me.”

“I’m not trying to dig into your business. The thing is… my son is best friends with Beth.”

I stop short. It hits me that Darrel probably knows my own niece better than I do.

“They’re best friends?”

“She’s always over at the farmhouse. We consider her a part of the family. We consider Dawn a part of the family too.”

I blink slowly.

It’s hard to get ahead of Darrel because he never lays all his cards on the table. I could stupidly cut him off at the pass and realize he wasn’t heading in that direction anyway. Better to keep my mouth shut.

“I wasn’t going to interfere since Dawn obviously doesn’t want anyone to know. But Sunny showed me a video this morning—a video announcing Dawn as the face of Stinton Auto.”

I hadn’t planned on sending the announcement so soon, but the timeline moved up when Hills told me about the board meeting. I wanted the news out and catching fire fast before the board could contain it.

“Now, Dawn is publicly tied up with Stinton Group. It’s only a matter of time before someone starts digging into her and putting the pieces together.”

“I’m not going to let that happen.”

“There are some things you can’t control, Stinton. Even if you wanted to.” He advances on me. Lowers his voice to something close to a threat. “Now, if you were thinking of Beth first, you would have seen that. But I’m guessing you weren’t thinking of the girls.”

I scowl at him. “Say it plainly, Hastings. Are you here to give advice or threats?”

“I’m telling you that Dawn might appear to be a single mother with no family or protection around, but she’s got me. She’s got Alistair. She’s got my fiancée and she’s got Kenya.”

She also has a handful of mechanics at her auto shop, but it’s not like I’m going to tell Hastings I’m outnumbered.

“I don’t know what agreements you have in place with her and it’s none of my business either way. But if it ever comes down to a choice between Dawn and Beth or Stinton Group, I hope you don’t think the girls are an easy target. There will be consequences.”

“You’re assuming I won’t choose them,” I growl.

He goes quiet again. Just stares me down without saying a word.

I squirm.

Finally, Darrel whispers, “Have you ever chosen someone else, Stinton?”

Hell, he definitely came here with threats.

The annoyance is expected.

What I don’t anticipate is the guilt.

It comes hurtling at me so fast that it adds another thousand pounds to my frame.

The feeling that I’m letting everyone down, my mother, my brother, Stinton Group, threatens to tear me under.

It only gets worse when I head home, change into a suit and head out to meet the board.

“You call this a solution?” Hilary Stinton crooks a finger toward the picture of Dawn on the projector screen. Dawn looks stunning as she bends over the open hood of the car, her fingers secure around a wrench and her brown eyes sparkling at the camera.

“Stinton Auto is our most vulnerable company. If we can strengthen that weak link, it’ll only have good repercussions for the rest of Stinton Group,” I explain.

“You expect the world to turn around and forget what Trevor did because of this girl?” That accusation came hurling out of the bitter mouth of Angelie Stinton.

Everyone’s related in this room, whether by birth or by marriage. But you wouldn’t know by the way they constantly connive against each other. The only time this family is united is when they’re coming at me.

“I’m also against it.” Patrick O’Heary, who married into the Stinton family and considers himself the mouthpiece of all the other relatives, raises a hand. “We should be focusing on finding Trevor quietly rather than getting all up in the public eye.”

“Why would he want to find Trevor?” Angelie Stinton huffs. “He’s better off if his brother dies.”

Under the table, my fingers curl into fists. “I assure you that we’re doing everything we can to find Trevor.”

“How do you expect us to believe that? With everything else, you get results fast. But when it comes to your own brother, you drag your feet?” Hilary raises her fist as she rants at me. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Half-brother,” Angelie hisses. “He’s half Stinton and half… what was your mother’s name again? I keep forgetting.”

My nostrils flare, but I’ve got practice keeping my temper in check. “Give this initiative a chance. Ms. Banner is good at what she does and she has a way of drawing people in. I know she can turn public sentiment.”

“Yes, but what if that sentiment isn’t what we want?” Angelie mutters. “For all the years Stinton Group has been around, we’ve never had someone like…”

I stiffen. “Someone like what?”

Everyone starts squirming.

“What were you going to say?” I growl.

Angelie glances at her relatives, finds that no one wants to die on this hill with her and fans her face. “My goodness. I’m just pointing out that she’s very different than the spokesmodels we usually choose. I’m afraid the public will think we’re tokenizing her and her people.”

“There is no ‘tokenizing’ going on here. Dawn Banner is a beautiful, intelligent and capable auto mechanic. She has a real story and a real passion for the work she does.” I think about her confession yesterday about why she loves fixing cars. “If you’ll look at the stats,” I gesture to the folders in front of them, “Stinton Group has been trending online since the announcement. The comments are positive. We’re being seen as an innovator in the industry.” I gesture to Hills and he hands out more booklets. “Regarding stocks, ours saw an upward trend for the first time in weeks.”

For a second, nothing but the sound of plastic flipping open and the rasp of paper against fingertips is heard in the room.

I pool my fingers together and stare at each of the board members in turn. “Ms. Banner is one of the best things that happened to Stinton Group. No matter the color of her skin or her profession, she is someone we have to protect.” My stare hardens when it lands on Angelie. “So I ask each of you to think before you speak about her and give her a chance to take over the world the way she took over the automotive industry.”

Patrick clears his throat and tosses the information packets on the desk. “Fine. We’ll give her a shot.”

“It’s very out of the box, but I think it can work,” Hilary croaks.

Angelie narrows her eyes at me. “I’ll reserve my judgement. As long as you remember what you said, Max. She’s an asset. That means the moment she starts losing her usefulness…” Angelie makes a cutting motion.

A harsh anger hardens inside me, clashing with my resolve.

I push it back and dip my chin. “Understood.”