CHAPTER ELEVEN
CRASH
Crushing the plastic bottle in my hand, I toss it in the trash.
Today is a fully booked day at the garage.
We have bookings coming out of our ears, and not enough hours in the day to fix everything. The flyers that we handing out at the festival brought us a fucking ton of business.
I take a breath and look around the space: cars are lined up along the side of the building waiting their turn. Thankfully, most customers left to come back later in the day, but some are waiting around.
‘Enjoying the view’ as a few women have commented. It does not help that today is so fucking hot that some of my brothers have taken off their shirts, so they look like those men out of a chick porn magazine— all sweaty and covered in grease.
Shaking my head, I laugh at Savage, who is making a show out of being watched. He keeps stretching in a dramatic way, or flexing his muscles, like a fucking porn star. The thing is, there are only women here, who have zero chance of getting sex out of him.
Fucking tease.
“Is it lunch time yet?” Rogue bitches next to me.
“You just ate like an hour ago.”
He shrugs, rubbing his flat stomach. “I am a growing man, brother and I fuck a lot, so I need the calories.” He grins.
“So, greedy and a whore. Got it.” I laugh.
“Hey, nothing wrong with that. I am single and ready to mingle.”
I bark out a laugh. “You did not just say that. Man, how old are you?”
“Fuck you. I am not that old. Thirty-eight is not old.” He looks offended that I suggested such a thing.
“Wow. Thirty-eight. Damn,” I joke, looking away to hide my smile.
“You are a dick.”
“A big one,” I joke back.
“Oh, fuck you.” There is no heat to his words, as he smiles at me.
“Sorry, brother, you are not my type.”
Now that makes him scoff and definitely offended.
“Bitch, I am everyone’s type.”
“Of course you are.”
I step way from being punched in the face, laughing as I walk over to the Bronco I have to work on today. It reminds me of Stevie.
It has been a few days since I last saw her, and managed to have our first kiss and make her angry at me all in one swoop. That kiss has been on my mind since it happened; I could feel her for hours after, taste her, and I wanted more.
Shame she hates me right now, and I do not blame her.
When I saw her, Racer was with me and so was Forge, and he told me to work my charm to find out if Stevie had been in contact with Val. Even though we witnessed what went downbetween them, Pres thought that girls being girls, they would get over it and start chatting again.
I fucking regretted agreeing to it as soon as I did. The way Stevie looked hurt plays like a loop in my head.
I wanted to talk to her, to see how she’d been. We had such a good time at the festival, and having her close for those few hours felt…right. It was nice to stop being “Crash” for a bit and just be Logan—with Stevie.