Until We Crash - Michele G Miller Page 0,4

energetic.

"Who'd you offend this time, Finn?" I ask, lifting my head.

Finn scoffs as though the suggestion he's offended another human is ludicrous. This is the guy whose number of establishments he's been tossed out of for lewd behavior rivals rock stars.

"You assume I could offend the love of my life?" he asks.

Frey punches his brother's shoulder and jumps onto the workbench where I laid out the parts for our new project. "How many lives do you plan on living, brother?"

My laughter joins Frey's as I consider Finn's past conquests. "Who was the last love of his life? The blonde drinking an Ultra-Light at Rock Fest?"

Finn hums, licks his lips, and closes his eyes like he's savoring the afterglow of that lewd romp. "She was a limber one. A gymnast, if my memory serves me."

"Before her, it was the ‘dark-skinned angel’ you met in Austin? The artist?" Frey prods before Finn becomes lost in his soiled memories.

Ahhh, yes, the Austin artist. "She was a fine one, damn." I agree, returning to my memories of the early spring weekend trip we took mere weeks before my injury.

A shit-eating grin crosses Finn's face. "Dominique. I should hit her up. I could use a weekend without you two assholes."

My focus returns to the carburetor in my hand. "Tell me, who's the new conquest?"

"A new server at Bleachers."

Frey snatches a screwdriver from my table and twirls it, his light eyes mischievous. "You should have seen her, mate. She wanted no part of Finn's shit. Gave me a hard-on watching her put him in his place."

I glance toward Chase's desk, verifying the door between the shop and her office is closed. Frey's gaze follows, and he smirks a silent apology. Controlling everything out of their mouths is impossible, but I can sure as hell try.

"Little sis is a grown woman, I'm sure she knows what a hard-on is."

I growl at Frey's whispered comment and shove him. "Get off my table." The twins' bawdy laughter echoes through the garage. "And shut the hell up. Talking about Chase is off limits."

She's eighteen and heading to college, but I refuse to accept she's anything like me or the girls I hooked up with at her age. Like she suspects she's the topic of conversation, Chase stands and walks around her desk. The guys' humor fades when she pushes through the office door and into the garage, her eagle-eyed gaze scanning over us.

"Tell me you two are giving Carter a hard time this morning, please?" She plunks her hands on her hips.

"We give Carter a hard time every morning," Finn says, walking over to his own workbench.

His admission puts a smile on Chase's face as she joins Frey and me. "How's your knee?"

"Ahhh, hell." Frey jumps down from my workstation and hurries across the bays to his own.

My molars grind. "Is the only reason you took this job, over working at Mom's, to play doctor?"

Her innocent eyes widen when she turns back my way after watching Frey hightail it out of our vicinity. "I took the job because you boys needed organizing before you lost jobs. Bugging the hell out of you is a perk."

Our glares hold before my lips twitch. "Hey, guys, did I tell you about the time Chase tossed all her stuffed animals and dolls"—Chase leaps with a yelp, her hands slapping for my mouth— "out the window in the middle of the night because she swore they were watching her?" I finish, twisting away from her reach.

"Seriously?" she whines as the twins’ chuckle. Her fist connects with my bicep. "If my numbnuts brother hadn't forced me to watch horror movies while our parents were out of town—"

"You would have done it anyway, you big baby," I point out. At eighteen, this is the girl who requires a running leap onto her bed if her room is dark. Her imagination is too vivid for her own good. I may have exploited her fears, but who could blame me?

Crossing her arms beneath her chest, Chase stews. "You know, I could call Mom and tell her you're hiding the extent of your knee pain."

My eyes hit the expanse of skin showing at her chest. Our garage uniform is casual since we're grease monkeys—jeans and tees—but most days, Chase wears a dressy shirt to present a classier front office appearance for clients walking in off the street. Today's top is a V-neck cut way low for my baby sister. She drops her arms at my stare.

"I'm turning twenty-two and live