The Perfect Stroke (Lucas Brothers #1)(8)

“That’s because there isn’t one.”

“What??”

“Small town. There’s no need for a motel around here.”

“Where do people from out of town stay?”

“With family or friends…?”

“Are you offering?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“That’s cold. You’d just send me out to sleep on a park bench?”

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.”

“Are you afraid I’ll be kidnapped for my sexy body and—?”

“Probed anally by little green men?”

“Umm…” I can’t stop from smiling at the look on his face. I’m not sure why I like him, especially after today, but I can’t deny that there’s something about him. “Do you have many alien sightings around here?” he asks.

“Only on nights with the full moon, or the week after old man Jenkins sells some of his homemade preserve.”

“Delightful…”

“Rest easy, Crayon-man. There’s a bed and breakfast about three miles up that street,” I tell him, pointing the way. It’s on the right. Ask for Mrs. Casebolt. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with my bed.”

“Maybe I could double date with you. I bet I could make it more interesting…”

“Cat already beat you to the punch. Nice try, though.”

“We can let Cat have the couch.”

“See you around, Gray,” I tell him, walking to my car.

“You’re just going to turn me out into the cold like this, after all of the nice things I did for you this weekend?”

“They were nice,” I tell him, looking over the top of my vehicle.

“I definitely thought so,” he says, looking like he’s got me right where he wants me.

“But not so great that I’d kick Cat out of bed.”

“You—”

“Later, Crayon. Watch out for Mrs. Casebolt.”

“What do you mean?” he calls out louder as I get in my car and slam the door.

I start my car up and put it in reverse. I back up until my passenger window is even with him and I roll the window down. “She’s got grabby hands. Then again, you might like that,” I tell him and roll up my window before he can reply. I look in my rearview mirror once I get on the road and see him standing there. I can’t make out his face, but I still smile.





I’ve been in Kentucky for three days, only three days, and I’m going insane. Mrs. Casebolt does indeed have grabby hands. My poor ass has been pinched more than a fat baby’s cheeks. Shit, I probably have bruises. Riverton has been dicking me around making appointments that he mysteriously doesn’t show for, but his single annoying daughter does. Cammie isn’t bad-looking, don’t get me wrong, but she’s a bitch. Even while she’s trying to hide it and make herself appear to be the answer to every dream I’ve ever had, she’s a bitch. It’s this innate piece of her that shines through even with her smile. She’s also on the market for a husband, and that right there is why my dick will never get around Camilla Riverton. I will never tie myself to a woman. My brother Cyan did that, and that had horrible repercussions. We all thought his woman was a keeper, and we were all wrong… horribly wrong. Even if that wasn’t true, however, Cammie would be the last woman I’d ever look at.

After three days of dodging Mrs. Casebolt’s grabby-hands, three days of being catfished by Riverton, and three days of ignoring Cammie’s very large hints, I’m about to go insane. Not to mention the fact that it’s also been three days since I’ve seen CC. That is unacceptable. Riverton is out of town today and if I’m going to survive my next meeting with him, I’m going to need a good distraction.

Which is why I find myself pulling up to Claude’s garage. It’s not sitting great with me that I’m on the edge of chasing a woman. I’ve never done that in my life, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I tell myself that if I were back home in my own element where beautiful women are a dime a dozen, I wouldn’t chase CC—I wouldn’t even think about it. But I’m lying out of my ass. This morning alone, the waitress at the local diner gave me all the appropriate signals and she was definitely pretty, but her hair wasn’t bronze auburn with streaks of gold, her smile didn’t quite make her eyes sparkle, and her curves were lacking.

So here I am…

“Can I help you?” A man asks, coming out of the bay door of the garage. He’s big and broad… and definitely not CC.

“I’m looking for CC.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of hers. Gray Lucas,” I tell him, reaching out my hand.

He wipes oil off his hands with a rag and stares at my outstretched hand, but doesn’t bother to shake it. “CC’s never mentioned you.”

“Do you know all her friends?” I ask him, starting to wonder exactly what kind of relationship they have.

“Pretty much.”

“Well, we’ve just met recently. So maybe that’s why.”

“Recently?”

“This past weekend.”

He looks me over, and then the strangest thing happens: he gets a big smile on his face. “Now I get it,” he says.