Page 1 of Brazen

1

CLIO

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Oof! There was nothing like having a twenty-pound tire tossed to you by your five-year-old.

Yeah, five-year-old.

“Here, Mommy.” JT cocked the next tire.

“Five more seconds, baby.” Six years working as a race car pit crew member meant I could change a set of wheels by myself in about sixty seconds.

I zipped through tightening the lug nuts on the first one, turned, and caught the airborne Michelin XZX with another oof. “Ow. Too hard for Mommy. Don’t put so much strength into your throws.”

“Oops. Sor-ry,” JT sing-songed as he hefted the next one overhead.

“And you know if Mr. Ernie was here, this would be a no-no.”

“I know!” JT’s exasperated sigh made me smile.

“You’re just so strong, buddy. We don’t want to make anyone else feel bad.” My daily struggle was teaching a superhuman kindergartener to mask his abilities and not show anyone what he was. It wasn’t like I could tell him he was part wolf shifter. I would someday, but he’d have too many questions, and I didn’t have the answers.

“Why don’t you grab your screwdriver and keep taking that toaster apart?” The old appliance had been Ernie’s. It broke, and my boss had brought it in thinking JT might like to use some tools to take it apart.

My little man hung out with me after school. Thankfully, the elementary school was only a block away, and I was able to meet him out front after the bell rang and walk him back to the shop until it closed at six.

I moved efficiently around the classic Volkswagen convertible Bug that seventy-three-year-old Mrs. Marsh brought in. She told Ernie in a conversation that spanned far longer than it took me to give the car a full tune-up that her granddaughter was turning sixteen, and she wanted to surprise her with the title to the treasure.

There was no sixteen-year-old on earth who wouldn’t love this baby. Especially now that I installed a top of the line stereo system, so she had full technology. Not that a teenager in Cooper Valley would need help with directions or traffic. I was pretty sure everyone in this small Montana town was born and raised here.

JT tossed me the last tire, and I put it on and lowered the car off the lift as a giant red pickup drove into Ernie’s Garage’s empty lot.

These ranchers and their giant trucks. Around here, I swore that the men equated their trucks to their dick size. Not that I’d seen one in a while.

I gave JT a pointed look, but softened it with a smile. “No more tire throwing,” I warned as I sauntered out the open garage door, peeling off my latex gloves. They kept my hands from being permanently stained with grease.

“I know,” he called.

A young, blond man in cowboy boots and jeans opened the door of the truck and dropped from the driver’s seat in a smooth motion. He started to come my way, cup of coffee in hand. When his gaze met mine, his nostrils flared, and he froze, sloshing coffee over the white t-shirt that did a whole heck of a lot to show off his packed muscles.

He turned back to the truck, which let me see the back side of him… including his ass.

Another hot cowboy. This town was full of eye candy like this guy. Good thing I was fairly immune to virile young men who thought they were the shiz. I grew up in a racetrack central pit, surrounded by trash-talking testosterone-laden young men.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t enjoying the view though. If I were a few years younger and less jaded, I might let him buy me a drink and test-drive him in bed. But I was older, wiser, and had a child.

He set the now-empty to-go cup on the hood and–holy hell.

He peeled his t-shirt off over his head, wiped his hands with it, then tossed it back in the truck.

I should thank the good Lord he didn’t have a napkin because taking his shirt off perked my ovaries right up. It should be illegal for a guy with a body like that to walk around shirtless. There could be car accidents.

It felt straight out of a movie the way the sun bounced off his six-pack abs.

But he probably spilled on himself just for the opportunity to show off his Hollywood-worthy physique. Guys like him knew their effect on women and milked it for all it was worth.

This one had broad shoulders stacked with muscles and light curls dusting his sculpted pecs. There was no farmer’s tan that I could see, and I saw. A guy that blond should’ve been sunburnt, but he sported a golden tan, like he worked all day in the sun without a shirt.