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PROLOGUE
LYNCH
Age 21
“Um . . . excuse me.”
I glance up from the motor I’m working on, cock my head slightly to see who it is speaking to me, and feel a slight jolt in my chest at the sight of her. She’s a slight thing and beautiful. Also, way, way too young.
“Can I help you?” I ask, straightening from what I’m working on.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I need help,” she says, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Whatcha need help with, babe?” I reach around to my back pocket, pull the rag out I keep there while working, and wipe my hands off.
“My car, it started acting funny and I didn’t want to take any chances, so I pulled into the first shop I came to,” she explains.
“Show me your car, and I’ll see what’s what,” I tell her, nodding for her to move ahead of me. When she does, it’s all I can do not to drop my gaze down to what I’m sure is one sweet ass. But she’s jailbait. Not something I’m into getting in trouble for.
I follow her to where a sleek silver muscle car with two black stripes down the front is parked. I can’t help but whistle and admire the car. It’s a sweet ride. Not every day you see a girl like this driving around in a 1970 Chevelle. “Nice wheels.”
“Thanks, it is my daddy’s pride and joy. He loves this thing,” she announces, somewhat laughing, though I don’t miss the nervousness in her tone.
“He know you’re driving his pride and joy?” This is something I need to know before I work on it.
“He gave it to me for my birthday.”
“How old are you darlin’?”
“I’m sixteen.”
Yep, total jailbait. “Your daddy let you have this kinda car for your sixteenth birthday?”
“Well, I had to earn it. He didn’t just give it to me. I had to show him I could handle the responsibility. Which I have,” she rambles and furrows her brows all cute like. “I mean, I thought I was, then she started making this noise.”
“She?” I cock a brow.
“Yeah, she, my car, her name’s Shelly.”
“You named your car Shelly?” I chuckle. This chick is full of surprises.
“Well . . . yeah, every car should have a name. That’s what my dad told me all my life. Shelly’s been Shelly from day one.”
“Yeah, darlin’, every car should have a name,” I agree and stick a hand out to her. “I’m Lynch.”
She takes my hand and meets my gaze head-on. “I’m Camilla.”
Camilla. I like it.
“Well, Cams, let’s see what’s going on with Shelly.”
Age 23
“Lynch.”
Damn, I love hearing herbreathing moans. Never in my life have I thought I’d hear anything so sweet. “Love you, Cams,” I groan, finding my release and filling the condom.
“I love you too,” she whimpers and wraps her arms tighter around my neck.
