Breaking Even (The Sterling Shore Series #5) Read online

  This was so stupid.

  “You need a shot,” Rye says from behind me, grinning while giving me a wink.

  He’s embarrassing the hell out of me right now. Knowing he’s told everyone here about our war—mostly Wren—is mortifying. Wren probably thinks I’m a two-year-old.

  Though liquor is the enemy, a shot would be perfect right now.

  “Thanks,” I murmur with a tight smile, growing more nervous by the second.

  Wren is texting someone. Again. That’s what he’s done for most of the time we’ve been out here. The walk on the beach consisted of him texting, or cursing under his breath, or apologizing for ignoring me.

  I’ve never felt so uncomfortable.

  Rye takes my beer as I absently grab a lime wedge and stare at the shot, trying to gather courage. Then I chug it down, suck on the lime, and reach for my beer. He hands it to me promptly while grinning. I’m sure my face is screwed up in disgust. That was nowhere nearly as good as the shots at Silk.

  “Thanks,” I say, sucking in a breath as I finish drinking the rest of my beer, and Rye covers his mouth with his hand as he shakes with suppressed laughter.

  Surely my face wasn’t that distorted.

  When I turn back to Wren, he’s putting his phone away and apologizing for the hundredth time tonight.

  “It’s fine,” I say with my same, fake smile, but his eyes widen in horror as he stares at my mouth.

  “What the hell?” he asks through a strangled cough.

  I frown, and then wipe my mouth. When red appears on my fingertips, I gasp, worried about where the hell I might be bleeding from. But when I hear the roaring laughter coming from my asshole neighbor, I realize that dick is behind this.

  “We called a truce!” I screech, which only clues Wren in, and he joins in on the laughter.

  Rye stumbles backwards when I dive for him, and he narrowly dodges my foot that is aimed at his crotch. Bastard!

  “So much better,” he says through his snickering, even though that makes no sense to me.

  I chase him around the pool, fighting back my grin when he grabs Ash and uses her as a barrier between us.

  “Oh hell no!” she says, even though her smile is growing. “I so don’t want in the middle of you two.”

  I glare at him, trying to grab at him, but he keeps the brunette beauty between us, even as she tries uselessly to escape.

  “Tag,” she calls playfully, “help! I’m going to end up with food or alcohol all over me.”

  He just laughs while shaking his head, and Rye continues to chuckle as he keeps himself shielded.

  “Sorry to break up the fun,” Wren says with a sad smile, drawing my attention, “but I need to be going. There’s something I have to deal with right now.”

  Crap. I’m busy chasing Rye and acting like a kid. I’ve probably just ruined all my chances with Wren. Not that it matters. I wasn’t all that into him anyhow.

  “It was nice to meet you, Brin,” he says so cordially, making all of this seem suddenly... boring.

  We’re supposed to have another date tomorrow. An actual date where we go out to eat. Now... I feel like he’s changing his mind. I wish he’d just tell me now and get it over with.

  “You have my number,” I say while tucking my hands into the tops of my pockets, a nervous reaction.

  “I’ll call you. Have fun. Don’t let Rye drive you crazy.” He winks at Rye and then he hugs Ash before walking out.

  Rye walks out from behind Ash and heads over to me, dropping his long arm across my shoulders as though he didn’t just... Ah, hell. I’ve been standing here talking to everyone with a damn vampire’s mouth.

  I hate him.

  I glare at his hand as it comes to rest just off my body, hanging casually as he guides me over to a table.

  “Guess it’s just us now,” he says as we make our way to some seats.

  “What happened to your date? Too charming for her?” I muse, trying to sound annoyed instead of nosy.

  “No,” he says, laughing. “She didn’t deal too well with the bloody mouth bit.”

  I can’t help but laugh. I bet the beauty queen flipped the hell out if he did that to her. I just want massive payback. And I will have it. When he least suspects it.

  We sit at the far back and just watch all the happy couples, and the Sterling men who have brought equally designer women. Why the hell did I think shorts and a tank top would be okay? Oh yeah, because it’s a barbeque!

  “Why haven’t you gotten your car fixed yet?” he asks just as Tag comes over, carrying something odd and fruity to give to me.

  I’m thankful for the interruption.

  “It’ll get rid of your food coloring. Hopefully,” he snickers.

  I roll my eyes while mumbling a thanks, trying to keep my mouth as closed as possible.

  “And this is for you,” Ash says, coming up and handing Rye a glass of whiskey on the rocks.

  We’re going to be trashed at this rate. Liquor is the devil.

  He thanks her as they walk off, and then he returns his gaze to me as I drink my weird fruity drink with a straw. I’m trying to decide if I like it or not. I’ve never been a fan of frozen drinks. Brain freeze is a bitch.

  “Well,” he prompts, leaning up on his elbows to stare intensely at me.

  Crap.

  I shrug as though it’s no big deal. “Haven’t had time.”

  He mutters something about safety and me being an idiot. I choose to ignore him.

  “I’ll have it taken to my garage. It’ll get fixed quicker there.”

  I’ve heard of his garage—through the others. It’s supposed to be the place where all of the rich and famous around here go. There’s no way I can afford that if I can’t even afford the scrubby piece of shit garages.

  “It’s fine. I have something lined up,” I lie, taking a bigger sip of my drink.

  “You’re lying. Your whole body just stiffened. If it’s about money, don’t worry. Your insurance will cover it. I’ll make sure the deductible isn’t an issue.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “I... uh...”

  “You don’t have insurance?” he asks, his voice hitting an angry note.

  I give him a sheepish grin while shrugging. “Liability only. It’s fine. I’m working overtime at the museum. I’ll have the money in a couple of weeks to cover it.”

  Maggie has already volunteered to pay the full amount of rent on the house and utilities just so that I can get my car fixed, but I can’t let her do that. I’m still paying off some of John’s credit cards that were in my name. It’ll take a while, but eventually I’ll get it all caught up.

  “And you wrecked a Porsche? That’s not very smart,” he grumbles, leaning back while taking a deep breath.

  “It was a bad day. A really bad day. It was... You’re right. It was stupid. But you pushed me. Why are you parking on our side of the street? Your side has plenty of room.”

  He frowns as he takes another sip of his drink.

  “Kittens,” he says randomly, and I give him what has to be an unbelievably confused stare.

  “Kittens?” I ask, trying to look for a code to decipher. Nothing.

  “Kittens—several that are just a few months old. They’re living in the storm drain of the gutter. They climb up in your engine, and when you start your car... Well, it’s not pleasant. Animal control is behind and they haven’t come out to remove them yet. All of my neighbors are getting as far away from that damn opening as possible.”

  I bite back a grin. He doesn’t want to be a kitten killer. That’s what started all this.

  “Aw,” I saw teasingly, enjoying the way he narrows his eyes at me.

  “I’m allergic to cats. That’s the main reason,” he lies, and I work really hard not to smile mockingly. Okay. Maybe I don’t work at all.

  “Stop smiling,” he grumbles, sipping his drink again.

  “For a bad boy, you’re actually a pretty big softie.”

  His lips c
url up in amusement as his eyebrows raise. “Bad boy? What makes you think I’m a bad boy?”

  I squirm uncomfortably while absently stirring the straw in my drink.

  “You have tattoos all over your upper body. Your nipple is pierced. So is your eyebrow. And you have a motorcycle.”

  He lets go one of those throaty laughs that always makes me smile, and I just let the vibrations rattle through me.

  “And that qualifies me for bad boy status?”

  When he says it like that, it sounds pretty stupid. Instead of making myself look like a bigger idiot, I shift the subject.

  “Why do you only have one nipple pierced?”

  His grin slowly changes into one of more mockery. “Because I wasn’t bad enough to get the second one pierced,” he jokes, making me feel like a jackass.

  Jerk.

  “Really?” I ask, playing along.

  “The shit hurt a lot worse than I thought it would,” he says while chuckling, still sounding as though he’s making fun of me.

  From there, conversation just flows. I detail my very demanding yet low paying job, and he tells me all about his garage. His career is by far much more fascinating, and I actually enjoy listening to him speak so passionately about it.

  I laugh when he tells the Tinker Bell story and how Tag still taunts him. And for a little while, the rest of the world gets shut out. It’s... nice. And a guy who looks like Rye Clanton should not be so easy to talk to. It just isn’t fair that he’s so damn perfect.

  ***

  BRIN

  “You’re such a horrible drinker,” Rye says through a laugh, helping me out of the cab as soon as he finishes paying.

  I just giggle, because right now, everything is spinning and it’s all hilarious. He laughs, too, finding the world just as amusing as I do.

  When I start to fall, he bends and scoops me up as though I’m weightless and carries me the rest of the way to the house.

  “You’re right,” I murmur while resting my head against his chest.

  He smells so terrible. I wish I hadn’t bombed him because he’d probably smell so good right now.

  “About?” he asks while fumbling with my doorknob.

  “You’re a terrible excuse for a bad boy.”

  He laughs again as the door swings open, and I squint against the lights inside to see a grinning Maggie.

  “Hey!” I exclaim, half singing the word, and she starts snickering.

  She must be drunk, too.

  “Liquor?” she asks as Rye steps in, carrying me toward my bedroom.

  “Lots and lots of liquor,” I answer, beating him to the words.

  He navigates my house too well, and gently places me on the bed. “Might want to get her some water,” he says while grinning.

  “On it.” Maggie disappears as Rye slides my shoes off and pulls down my covers on the other side of the bed.

  He moves me to be there once he finishes, and then he moves my hair from my face as I nestle in.

  “I take it you had fun with Wren?” Maggie asks, fishing for information.

  Rye takes the water from her and forces me to sit up enough to drink it against my silent protest.

  “Wren was completely uninterested in me. We’re supposed to have a date tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure he’s planning to cancel,” I say flippantly.

  Maggie frowns, as does Rye.

  “Why do you say that?” he asks, forcing me to take another sip.

  As my glass comes back away from my lips, I answer, “Call it women’s intuition. Can I go to sleep now?”

  He chuckles quietly and leans down to tuck me in while setting my glass of water on the nightstand.

  “This war resumes tomorrow,” I mumble, earning another snicker from him.

  “Your ass is mine,” he teases.

  I just grin as my eyes grow too heavy to hold open another moment.

  Chapter 5

  BRIN

  As expected, Wren sent a text during the night to cancel our Sunday date. That’s fine. He’s really not my type. Though I’m not actually sure what my type is. Well, Rye would be my type if he wasn’t so far out of my league.

  “I think it’s cowardly to break a date via text,” Maggie growls.

  She’s been badmouthing Wren all morning, but it’s not necessary. That spark wasn’t there, and we both knew it. Everything felt so... forced.

  “It’s fine. I need to run to the store. You want anything?” I ask as I pick up my keys.

  “Donuts would be nice,” she teases, and I glare at her.

  That reminds me... I need to do something to get back at him for the red mouth. I’ll come up with something while I’m at the store.

  When I walk out, my mouth falls. My car... It’s gone! Who the hell would steal a wrecked car? An old wrecked car.

  “It’s at my garage,” a deep voice says, prompting me to look up just as Rye crosses the street, his jean-clad legs taking long strides on his way to me.

  Why does he look so good even under the influence of my cruel hangover? “I’m on my way there now. I just need your keys.”

  My mouth opens and closes a few times, and then panic sets in. I can’t afford his garage! I told him this already.

  “No. You can’t fix—”

  “It’s fine, Brin. It’s seriously no big deal. We happen to have a surplus of the parts, and this gives me a reason to get rid of them. Besides, I can’t torture you if you get yourself killed in that thing. You can drive one of mine for a few days until you get yours back.”

  He reaches me and pulls my keys from my hand and exchanges them for his Range Rover keys.

  “I can’t drive that,” I hiss, pointing to the SUV that costs more than I make in three years. Or more. He’s crazy.

  “It’s harder to tear up. Don’t worry,” he says while winking. Then he turns around and walks away, leaving me in my stupefied state as my feet cement themselves to the ground.

  A black motorcycle is parked in his yard, and he throws one long leg over it before pulling on his helmet. The beast roars to life, and he rocks it back until he can drive off the grass and onto the street, leaving me to wallow in my humiliation.

  “That’s so fucking sweet,” Maggie says from behind me.

  I turn to see her grinning while sipping her coffee, and I glare at her. “It’s not sweet. He feels sorry for me. I can pay for my own car to get fixed.”

  She snorts and rolls her eyes. “You can’t pay for his shop. And his is the best.”

  So she knew where he worked this whole time?

  I frown as I look at the black Range Rover at my curb. He’s loaning me his car while he fixes mine. And all this after I wrecked it into his. What a twisted, weird world we live in.

  ***

  RYE

  “Engine looks rough as hell. Sparkplugs are going bad, brakes are shot, rotors are fucked, tires are bald—”

  “In other words, it’s a piece of shit,” I interrupt, flipping through the interview questions for the magazine reporter that will be coming.

  “Yeah,” Wrench—my lead mechanic—says.

  “Fix it all,” I say with a shrug, cursing at how personal some of these questions are.

  Why do they need to know about my home life? This is about my garage, isn’t it?

  “Don’t you need to call the owner? That’s going to be a chunk of cash, and it’s a Camry, and not one of the snazzy new ones, either. It’s an old Camry—talking dawn of the dinosaurs here. There’s a cassette player, dude. The owner may not have that kind of dough. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a blue-collar car in here.”

  That makes me sound like a rich asshole. I charge a lot because I have the highest quality workers, but still.

  “This one is on my tab. Do whatever needs to be done.”

  I can actually feel his surprise, so I don’t bother looking up. Brin can’t keep driving that thing around, and she’d have never let me take it if I hadn’t had it towed without her knowledge.

>   “Alrighty then,” he says at last, and then I hear him talking to a familiar voice in the hallway.

  “Hey,” Wren says as he walks in.

  I look up as he comes to drop onto the chair in front of my desk.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your date?” I ask, glancing at the clock on the wall.

  I don’t usually work on Sundays, but it’s been so busy that it was necessary to do. I really have to get my new guys trained properly so I can let this place run without me a little better.

  It sucked to call Wrench in, but I know Brin will be impatient while waiting on her car. And I won’t dare let anyone besides me or him touch it. Since he’s even better than I am, I want him to take care of every detail.

  “I canceled the date,” Wren says, bringing me back to the here and now.

  I could strangle him. She just finished saying he was going to do this.

  “Why?” I growl.

  His eyebrows go up as a daring grin forms. He has no idea how close I am to slapping his grin off.

  “Dude, if you liked her, all you had to do was use Star. You didn’t have to dye the girl’s mouth red.”

  Star? I’ve never used Star. It’s a code we came up with a long time ago after a battle over a girl named Star went on between two of our friends. If you ask a guy about Star, it means you’re calling dibs. I’m not calling dibs on Brin.

  We are friends. Nothing more.

  “No need to use Star. Pranks are just our thing. You know the only two rules I have.”

  I look back down to the interview questions, and then I groan when I see all the even more probing questions. Why do they need to know the length of my longest relationship?

  No wonder they send you a pre-interview list. They’re letting you know ahead of time that they’re about to bend you over and fuck you hard. It almost makes me want to cancel.

  “Whatever you say,” Wren snickers. “It was obvious you didn’t like the idea of me dating her.”

  His eyes are on me expectantly when I give him my attention again. “You don’t make a good couple. But that doesn’t mean I want her for myself.”

  I’d sound like an ass if I told one of my best friends that I didn’t think he was good enough for Brin. But he’s not. He proved that.