Fast, Furious and Forbidden. Alison Kent

“Something tells me you’re not tossing anything at the whole team. And that Butch winning doesn’t matter to you any more than it does to me.”

      And to Eddie, she knew, it didn’t matter at all. He’d gotten over racing when his accident left him unable to drive Jeb’s car. He’d gotten over Corley Motors at the same time because the team’s crew chief was the son of the man who’d almost killed him. “Okay. It’s for Trey. Happy now?”

      “Happy that you’re singling out Whip? No.” He shook his head. “Not really.”

      Cardin sighed her frustration. Her father could hold a grudge longer than anyone she knew. And a stupid grudge at that, since it had been Aubrey Davis—not Trey—who had put Eddie in the hospital. “Even if I were singling him out for more than a few ears of corn, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

      Eddie went back to stirring the chili. “What part of that is supposed to make me feel better?”

      It was hard, but Cardin managed not to strangle him. “The part where you remember all the things you taught me about dealing with men. The part where you remember that I can take care of myself. You can trust me, okay?”

      The spoon stopped. The chili bubbled around it. “My trusting you doesn’t mean he won’t break your heart.”

      “Oh, Daddy.” Cardin rubbed her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he stared down, reducing the fire on the stove when the chili started getting too hot. “No one is going to break my heart. I won’t let them. And that includes Trey Davis.”

      Eddie took a minute to shake it off, then he banged the spoon against the side of the pot and used it instead of his finger to point. “I’m going to remind you of that when you come to me with tears in your eyes because he has. Now get that corn out there before it’s too cold to melt butter.”

      With a quick kiss to Eddie’s stubble-covered cheek, Cardin was off, dodging Albert’s hands, the dishwashers’ sudsy puddles, and Sandy’s biting tongue—the other woman snapping about Cardin expecting her tables to be covered while she was off doing God knew what.

      It hadn’t been that long, and Cardin was well aware that she needed to get back to work, but if she didn’t snag Trey’s attention now, she’d have to hope for—or manufacture—another opportunity. Waiting would be a waste of the time he would be in Dahlia, and this trip would very likely be his last.

      She was only halfway there when he saw her coming. He was leaning on one elbow, his beer mug palmed in his hand, listening to one of his tablemates tell a whopper of a story when he caught her eye. It was a live-wire jolt, the way their gazes fused, and she had to step carefully since she couldn’t see a thing in her path.

      Reaching the end of the row of tables, she turned the corner, vaguely aware that the men had gone silent and all eyes were on her. She couldn’t let herself wonder what they were thinking or care about that now. Trey was waiting, his dark eyes broadcasting his curiosity and a much more personal interest.

      Good. That’s what she wanted. To see she wasn’t alone in feeling this connection, the one driving her impulsive actions and the staccato beat of her heart.

      With the television mounted high in the corner playing clips from today’s Farron Fuels, she stopped at his side, set the platter of still steaming and sweet smelling corn in front of him, reached across him for the salt, pepper, and bowl of softened butter balls, pulling them close.

      And then with a tingling rush of heat tightening her to the core, she leaned in, her breasts brushing his shoulder as she whispered for his hearing alone, “I’m ready to tell you what I need.”

      She didn’t wait for him to respond, but walked away, smiling to herself at the catcalls and raucous whooping-it-up that erupted at the table behind her.

       Chapter 3

      “C’MON, WHIP. What did she say?”

      “Yeah, man. Don’t leave us hanging.”

      “I tell ya. That little gal can whisper sweet nothings in my ear anytime she wants. ’Course I’d have to explain to the wife that whispering was the only thing going on.”

      “Look at yourself, Sunshine. Now look at that little gal. You’d have a hard time convincing anybody that something more was.”

      While the wolf whistles accompanied Cardin to the kitchen, the digs, jabs and good ol’ boy ridicule continued around the table. Ignoring the noise, Trey watched over the heads of dozens of customers, his gaze following her until she pushed through the swinging saloon doors, her dark ponytail bobbing as she crossed behind the order window and disappeared from sight.

      Only then did he think about breathing again, or respond to the ribbing his crew members were killing themselves over. The group of men he worked with were also his friends. He could take whatever they dished out, could dish it right back, tit for tat.

      But he had absolutely no intention of repeating what Cardin had said to anyone, dead or alive. Not when he was about to find out why she’d come to see him the other day at the hauler.

      He set down his beer mug, wiped his mouth and hands on one of the towelettes Headlights provided, then slapped the table and got to his feet. “If you boys will ’scuse me, some unexpected business has just come up. I’ll catch up with y’all later.”

      “What kind of business would that be, coming up?”

      “Sure you don’t need some help with whatever it is?”

      “Holler if you do. The wife’s pretty understanding when it comes to helping out a friend.”

      “I know your wife, Sunshine. I don’t think she’d be anything close to understanding about you helping out yourself.”

      Trey waved one hand and ignored the lot of ’em, winding his way through the tables, dodging serving trays and customers and kids running wild. Kenny Chesney on the jukebox singing about his sexy tractor added to the din. He wanted to catch Cardin before she ditched him for work; with a crowd this rowdy, he figured that scenario was seconds from coming to pass.

      At the swinging doors, he gave a smile to the waitress with the big mouth and big hair who told him he wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. He looked toward the grill, the fryers, the freezer, the fridge, searching for Cardin…nothing. Staff scurried like ants on a hill, but she was nowhere to be seen.

      Her father was, however.

      “Hello, Whip.” Eddie Worth was as tall as Trey, as strong as Trey, and sixteen years more clever. His eyes saw all. His keen wit missed nothing. He wasn’t anyone a smart man messed with.

      “Hello, Eddie.” Trey shook Cardin’s father’s hand. It was hard to know what else to say when Eddie was obviously well aware of what had brought Trey into the back. “How’ve you been?”

      “I’ve been fine.” He held on to Trey’s hand as he added, “Sorry to hear about your dad.”

      Though his dad was the one who’d put Eddie in the hospital and there wasn’t any love there lost, Trey acknowledged the condolence with a nod. He’d had six months to put it behind him. “Thanks. It was, uh, rough there for a bit, dealing with the funeral and all.”

      “But things are better now?”

      Another nod. It was an easier response than explaining what he needed to make things even better than they were.

      “That’s good. That’s good.” Eddie crossed his arms, a dish towel slung over one shoulder. “And I hear you’re going to get your place ready to sell?”

      Another something Eddie no doubt thought was good. Trey stood his ground. “This economy, it might take awhile, but holding on to it doesn’t make much sense considering I’m never here.”

      He imagined his never being here was also to Eddie’s liking. Trey was