thing about my cardio habits.” But I notice she hasn’t drawn her hand out of mine yet.
The skin is soft and warm, and it hits me that it’s been a while since I’ve done something this simple. Holding a hand. Simple and intimate… I smoothly let it go and press my hand to her lower back instead, guiding her to my car.
“Our ride, milady,” I say with a flourish.
Brooklyn sucks in a breath as she checks out my ride, a classic dark orange 1973 Plymouth Cuda. Total muscle car—my dad was a huge fan of them and always wanted one. When he died, I found a used one online and bought it on the spot.
“This is gorgeous,” she breathes as she runs her fingers along the trim. “Please tell me it has a Hemi.”
I gasp and clutch my chest, trying to gloss over the fact that I maybe just popped a little bit of a car boner when I heard her say Hemi. “Are you kidding me? A gearhead? Say it ain’t so.”
Archly, she opens the door and slides in. “You don’t know a thing about me, Jax.”
Fuck. I have to admit, as I make my way to the driver’s side, that she’s right. I’ve made a lot of assumptions about her based on her type. But Brooklyn’s sparking my interest, and I’m finding myself curious to see what else is going on under that prim-and-proper surface.
“Your goal,” I declare as I rev the engine, “is to find a local place that sells the rings.”
She whips out her phone. “I’m on it.”
I weave us through traffic onto the freeway. I hear her fingers tapping across the screen as she searches.
“Bingo!” Brooklyn declares, pumping her fist in the air. “I think we have a winner. There’s a jewelry store about…twenty minutes from here straight down the highway, according to the map. Let’s give it a shot.”
“Nice job.” I pull off the highway, and she gives me a confused look.
“Where are we going?”
“We need money first,” I tell her, then wind my way to the front of Outlaws. Since the bar is closed, no one is in the parking lot, so I get a spot easily in front of the door. I shut off the engine and say to her, “Be right back.”
Her door closes a moment after mine, and she follows me in as I key the front door open to the bar. It’s quiet, with the scents of cleaner hitting me square in the face. Since Smith got together with Aubrey, our place has never been so clean. Not even any peanut shells on the ground.
That was one of my favorite drunk games—stomping on shells. Bummer.
“What are we doing here?” she asks me.
I head back to the office, Brooklyn on my heels, then squat in front of the safe. “I’m getting money, of course. Keep up, darling—I don’t have time to explain it all.”
“But…this isn’t…” She clears her throat. “Isn’t this company money, not yours?” Her uneasiness is palpable.
I stand and face her, resting my hands on her bare upper arms. Her skin is silky, and I find my fingers wrapping around her flesh involuntarily. She peers up into my eyes, hers wide and locked on me, and I’m suddenly overcome again with the urge to taste her. To see if I can nudge a little bit of wildness from her. My cock twitches, and it’s hard to make myself focus on the topic at hand.
“I have a plan,” I murmur in a conspiratorial tone. “I’m just going to borrow the money from here. Then when I find the rings, I’ll return them to the store, get the money back, and then refill the safe. Voila, no one will ever know.”
She arches a brow. “But what if you don’t find the rings?”
“Then I’m gonna sling a fuckload of beer for tips to repay it,” I say with a laugh.
The tension ebbs from her. I like seeing her like this, not as uptight, a little softer. It makes her more alluring somehow. All that innocence and sassiness. Such an unusual combination. I like her spirit, even if it has been aimed negatively at me a lot.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her, leaning close and letting my mouth brush her lobe. When I feel her shiver, my cock jumps to life this time and presses against my zipper. “I’ll take care of it.”
“The way you took care of decorating the car with me?” she says, and though I can tell she means to