Running Hot

  By Yolande Kleinn

  Kurt Trench loves running a successful auto repair shop with his twin sister Lena. Lately loyal customer Shane Dolan has been coming around more often, and Kurt assumes it’s because of his sister. While Kurt wouldn’t dream of coming between them, he can’t help being drawn to Shane himself…. Or thinking about him in ways he definitely shouldn’t.

  One night everything changes. Kurt doesn’t reciprocate Shane’s kiss—he’s got no intention of stealing his sister’s man—but when he tells Lena what happened, she can’t believe how thick her brother is. She’s not the reason Shane’s been coming around the garage, and Kurt and Shane have more in common than a love of classic muscle cars. Now it’s on Kurt to make the next move, assuming he hasn’t blown his chance for good.

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Text

  About the Author

  By Yolande Kleinn

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright Page

  For Beth, whose enthusiasm gives me life.

  THE GARAGE was relatively cool despite the overwhelming noonday heat. All five bay doors were open to daylight, half a dozen box fans blowing air through the high-ceilinged workspace. Kurt had shed his button-up shirt with its Trench Auto Repair logo on the pocket and was working instead in the gray tank he always wore beneath. None of the other mechanics would dare try the same, even in deference to the stifling air, but Kurt Trench didn’t have to worry.

  It was good to be the boss.

  Kurt bent lower over the engine block beneath his hands, careful not to bang his head on the propped hood. The Camry’s paint job was a truly rancid shade of yellow, but the engine was well tended. As soon as Kurt finished replacing the alternator, it would run like a brand-new car. Fitting the new alternator in place was an exercise in shoving and rocking to wedge the thing where it belonged. There was nothing precise about it, and Kurt breathed a satisfied grunt when the piece finally slotted into line.

  A familiar rumble signaled a car pulling into the garage somewhere behind him, but Kurt didn’t need to turn and look. He would know that sound anywhere. Even rumbling at a lower pitch than normal—wouldn’t be here if it didn’t need a tune-up—there was no mistaking the sound of the gunmetal-gray Mustang idling then turning off.

  The urge to set aside his tools came to Kurt with surprising strength, but he focused on finishing his work. Reposition the belt, secure the mounting bolts—careful steps to put everything back in place. He finished with steady speed, then stepped back and closed the hood. Kurt grabbed for the rag in his back pocket, rubbing oil from his fingers as he turned to survey the garage.

  The gray Mustang sat just inside one of the farther bay doors. Its owner leaned carelessly against the car’s sleek metal lines, the muscles of his arms straining visibly beneath a dark T-shirt despite his otherwise lanky frame. Shane Dolan looked completely at ease with his arms crossed, his curly hair just a bit too long, and a wide grin cutting across the smooth planes of his face. Shane’s laugh carried easily across the noisy garage.

  Kurt’s sister Lena stood beside Shane, looking pleased. When she stepped forward to tug Shane into a hug, a familiar unease pulsed in Kurt’s chest.

  Lena didn’t let Kurt get away with any overprotective brother bullshit, but she couldn’t forbid him from worrying in the privacy of his own mind. Especially where Shane was concerned. It was downright strange for Lena to play out a long game the way she seemed determined to do with Shane Dolan. Lena didn’t put up with guys sniffing after her when she wasn’t interested. She didn’t shy from taking what she wanted, either. To watch her string along a suitor as earnest and affectionate as Shane was jarring to behold.

  Kurt didn’t know what to make of it, and he hadn’t yet dared to ask. Lena’s love life wasn’t any of his business. Besides, from the obvious fondness and smiles he was constantly catching between the two, whatever they were doing clearly worked just fine for both of them.

  If it turned out they’d been dating for months and hadn’t bothered to tell him, Kurt would be furious. But for the moment he had no intention of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, no matter how desperate his curiosity.

  When Lena stepped back and let Shane go, her eyes swept the garage deliberately. She was still smiling when she caught sight of Kurt and grabbed Shane by the elbow to tug him across the garage.

  One thing most people never realized about Kurt and Lena Trench: they weren’t just siblings. They were twins. It was the best joke they’d ever shared, because they looked nothing alike. People rarely guessed they could be cousins, never mind that they’d been born minutes apart to the same parents. Lena cut a slim figure, all sharp edges and narrow shoulders. She’d built up a lifetime of muscle working in the garage—strong arms and stronger hands—but her frame was slight, her face all delicate features and big, dark eyes. She wore her hair pixie short, the better for keeping it out of her face while she worked.

  Kurt was the opposite in almost every way: tall, stocky, and sturdy as a pack mule. He had shoulders built to intimidate, all the more imposing for the wall of muscle he’d accumulated between gym and garage. There was nothing delicate about his broad nose and heavy brow. He wore his hair buzzed short despite the fact his ears were too big for his head, and his jaw always sported a shadow of stubble by noon, no matter how closely he shaved.

  They were a mismatched set, he and his sister, but they made a good team.

  “Hey, man.” Shane extended a hand toward Kurt on reaching him, inviting a familiar clasp. A year ago, when Shane was still a new face, Kurt might have avoided the handshake for fear of smudging a customer with engine grease. He knew better now, and shook Shane’s hand warmly. A smile crept across Kurt’s face at the cocky strength in Shane’s grip.

  “Hey, Dolan. What the hell did you do to your car? You were just in here two weeks ago.”

  Actually, Shane had stopped by only five days back, but that had been purely a social call. No car troubles, just a box of pistachio muffins to share with everyone on shift. Somewhere in the past few months Shane had crossed the rocky divide from customer to friend, and his presence at the garage was easy to take for granted. It had something to do with Shane’s earnest eagerness around engine blocks and gearshifts, and even more to do with his stubborn and unquenchable charm.

  Shane was a genuinely good guy, and Kurt hadn’t had the heart to run him off, even when Shane started hanging around the garage with the unspoken sincerity of a lost puppy. Lena had that effect on men sometimes. The fact she always smiled when Shane turned up told Kurt everything he needed to know.

  Shane gave a rueful shrug when he dropped Kurt’s hand. “Could be I pushed the engine too hard yesterday. She’s running okay, and everything looks fine, but she doesn’t sound right. I was hoping you guys could work some magic, figure out what’s up?” He finished it like a question, peering into Kurt’s eyes. Shane was nearly as tall as Kurt despite his lean frame, which meant he didn’t have to crane his neck to lock Kurt with a hopeful look.

  “Could be your wheel bearings, from the sound of it.” Lena nudged Shane with an elbow. Her eyes met Kurt’s a moment later when she added, “Paperwork’s all yours, bro. I’ve got shit to do.” She retreated smirking, heading toward the hopeless old truck she’d been fighting for two days straight. Kurt had glanced under the hood when she wasn’t looking and honestly didn’t know why she was still trying; then again, it wouldn’t be the first time Lena had coaxed life back into a vehicle Kurt had judged beyond saving.

  “Come on.” Kurt cocked his head toward the office at the back of the garage. He led the way, barely aware of the creak of old hinges as he pushed open the door. “Coffee?”

  The coffeemaker in the office was an outdated and fussy appliance, but it did the job. A fresh pot sat barely touched—Lena’s work for sure. No one else craved the caffeine badly enough to drink coffee in this heat.

  “No. Thanks.” Shane followed him inside and flopped into one of the mismatched office chairs. Both were low and creaky, but Shane chose the sturdier of the two. He seemed completely at ease as he slouched against the faded back of the chair and kicked his legs out in a careless sprawl. Shane and his lanky limbs belonged in this space, his bright presence somehow perfectly natural in the dingy and well-worn gray of the room.

  The whole office felt comfortingly like home, from the metal-sided desk to the scuffed leather couch on the other side of the room. Wide panes of glass took up most of the wall between the office and garage, and a row of smaller windows ran high along the opposite wall, sneaking sunlight in from outside. Both sets of windows were smudged with grime, but the office itself was clean. Kurt had a fastidious streak in him, and since the office was almost entirely his domain, neither Lena nor their staff imposed uninvited clutter.

  Kurt slid into his chair behind the desk and grabbed the mouse to wake the garage’s clunky desktop computer. The ancient machine still ran the books and kept the schedule well enough to prevent Kurt pining after a replacement, but it was only a matter of time. Kurt predicted another year and a half before he admitted defeat and changed over to a new system.

  “We’re a little swamped this week,” he admitted as he glanced through the pages of the calendar on his screen. “If it’s a difficult fix, you might be waiting a few days before we squeeze you in. I could recommend another garage….” Kurt hated the very idea, but he’d do it if Shane was in a hurry. Shane was no slouch beneath the hood of a car himself. If Shane hadn’t been able to spot a problem—even one too complicated to fix himself—chances were it’d take some time to track down the fault.

  “Nah.” Shane shook his head. “I’d rather leave it in your hands. The wait’s not a problem. I just bought my dad’s old Camaro off him, anyway. Car like that deserves a proper welcome.”

  Kurt snorted. “Damn right it does.” He and Shane had shared only a handful of nonbusiness conversations, but even Kurt knew how long Shane had been coveting his father’s ’69 Camaro. “How’s she run?”

  “Like a dream.” Shane’s eyes went distant, and the daydreamy look made his smooth face seem impossibly young. Kurt returned his attention to the computer with difficulty, focusing on entering data into the scheduling software. He didn’t need to ask Shane any of the usual intake questions, but there was no such thing as a tune-up without paperwork.

  When Kurt finished and shifted in his seat, he found Shane watching him. Something other than quiet patience glinted in Shane’s expression, but it was a cryptic something, and Kurt couldn’t decipher it.

  “I’ve got you booked in.” Kurt scooted his chair back more sharply than he intended. “We’ll give you a shout when she’s ready to pick up. Need me to call a cab?”

  “Got it covered.” Shane fished his phone from his back pocket and tipped it in salute. From his front pocket he grabbed the Mustang’s spare key before Kurt had a chance to ask for it. “Here. Thanks for fitting me in.”

  As Shane handed over the key, he smiled a different kind of smile than any of the ones Kurt had seen before. This was no smirk or laugh or giddy grin. This was something lazy and warm, the kind of look Kurt would take for an invitation coming from anyone else. He knew damn well it wasn’t an invitation, but the fact didn’t stop his stomach from clenching tight with a sudden kick of want. The unexpected feeling hit him hard, and he barely heard himself grunt a reply to Shane’s thanks.

  A moment later Shane was out the office door, but Kurt’s head was still spinning.

  Christ, where the hell had that come from?

  Kurt was a pro at not wanting things he couldn’t have, and it didn’t take a headful of genius to figure out Shane Dolan belonged on the list. Sure, Kurt had looked. Shane was a knockout, charming, and easy on the eyes. Exactly Kurt’s type. But Kurt had no reason to believe Shane was interested in men, considering the way he’d hit it off with Lena; and even if he were, so what? Lena had dibs. Shane might not be her boyfriend exactly, but they were damn well headed that way.

  Kurt sat, the wheels of his chair squeaking in protest when he landed too hard. Suddenly the fact he couldn’t make a move on Shane actually hurt, and that was a new sensation. It was a shitty way to feel about the guy Lena was into.

  Kurt leaned forward and let his forehead hit the desk with a dull thud. He shoved all thoughts of Shane to the back of his mind and vowed not to revisit them.

  “Fuck.”

  BEFORE IT belonged to Kurt and Lena, the garage had been their father’s.

  Trench Auto Repair possessed a reputation for solid service and quick work, a family business that was as much of a local tradition as Frank’s Cafe or the grocery on the corner. Kurt and Lena had played in the back office as kids. They learned the names of all their dad’s tools at far too young an age to actually use them, and grew up breathing the smell of motor oil and engine grease.

  No one had been surprised to see them follow in their dad’s footsteps. Cars were in their blood, in the base code of their genes. A simple fact of life.

  Marcus Trench had long since retired, but the garage was still a family affair. When Kurt and Lena took on the business, they invested and expanded. They recruited extra mechanics when their efforts started bringing in more business than they could handle on their own.

  More hands on deck meant more office work, most of which fell to Kurt. He didn’t love the necessary drudgery of keeping the business on its feet, but he managed without resentment. Lena did her own time in the office at first, before she and Kurt accepted she had no head for dollars and cents. Between her distaste for accounting and the fact she was by far the better mechanic—another truth Kurt had grudgingly accepted years ago—the office work had become Kurt’s domain alone.

  He still got out on the garage floor most days. Kurt was a damn good mechanic, and there was no point to this job if he couldn’t get his hands dirty. Kurt was here for the cars, the feel of an engine block giving up its secrets beneath his hands.

  It was a good life.

  If Kurt sometimes wished he had someone to share it with—someone besides his jostling team of employees and his constantly exasperated sister—that was an easy enough price to pay.

  Monday mornings were all about ritual for Kurt. The alarm clock rousing him at six, the quick shower and shave, the slice of toast he ate on his way down the back stairs from his apartment above the garage. Most days Lena was already hard at work by the time Kurt hit the garage floor, despite living fifteen miles away. When their dad still owned the place, Kurt would dive right in beside her and start his morning with his hands beneath the hood of a car.

  Today Kurt simply called a greeting on his way past. Lena’s legs stuck out across the cement floor, the rest of her completely out of sight where she lay on her back beneath a massive SUV. The sounds of work from the undercarriage paused, and Lena grunted something that might have been, “Good morning.”

  Kurt laughed as he left her to her task, not the least offended by her brusque treatment. Lena never had the patience for niceties when focused on her work, and Kurt knew better than to try and draw her out. There was plenty of paperwork waiting for him in the office anyway. Invoices piled up and waiting to be processed, parts to order, a hundred other details in need of attention. Dull but necessary, and the sooner Kurt finished, the sooner he could get to the real work himself.

  By the time he finished his second mug of coffee, the worst of the looming paperwork was complete. At only ten o’clock, the day’s heat was just starting to creep in around the edges of Kurt’s awareness. A glance at the to-do list on his calendar told him just how much time he could lose if he started on the less urgent business. Too much. They were all important tasks, work that would just hang over his head until it moved to the urgent stack. Kurt wasn’t the type to let things fall overdue, but just the same he wanted to shut the computer down and get out there where he belonged.

  He stood, rinsed his mug in the tiny sink beside the coffeemaker, then turned to the wall of windows, taking in the entire garage with a sweeping glance. His three early-shift mechanics were hard at work. Kurt hadn’t even noticed them arriving, inured as he was to the noise and chaos of the garage. He expected Lena to still be fussing with the SUV, but there was no sign of her beneath the undercarriage. Instead she stood in the opposite corner of the garage, leaning down beneath the hood of a familiar gray Mustang—never mind that Kurt had warned Shane they might not get to his car for a few days.

  Kurt blinked in surprise when he realized Lena wasn’t alone. From this distance he could barely see whoever it was bent over the engine beside her, though he could guess well enough. All the mechanics were accounted for, and no one besides Lena or Kurt was apt to show up early for a shift.

  Without conscious decision, Kurt emerged from the office. Even as he drew closer, he could barely hear Shane’s voice over the noise of the garage. From where he stood Kurt still didn’t have a clear view of Lena and Shane at work, but he could tell Lena was explaining something. Shane seemed to be helping, both of them struggling with a stubborn part beneath the hood.

  Kurt admonished himself to announce his presence. Instead he stood and watched, helpless against the flood of images that flared in his mind at the sight of Shane bent forward over the car. Tight denim stretched distractingly over the contours of Shane’s ass, making it damn near impossible to look away.

  Kurt’s rational mind was painfully aware he had no place thinking about Shane Dolan this way; his libido had other opinions. He’d fallen asleep thinking about Shane the night before—about claiming frantic kisses against the wall of the garage—and even now, in the unguarded light of day, Kurt found himself wondering how Shane would taste.

 

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