The Wild Ones by M. Leighton Page A

I see Trick cringe a little.  Obviously his friend doesn’t know about his run-in with Brent.
    Brent doesn’t answer at first.  I can almost see him weighing his options, weighing his pride.  “I guess not, if he keeps his hands and his comments to himself.”
    “He won’t be a problem.”
    Brent nods.  “Trevor wanted to bring his car out to let you look at it.  He’ll be driving us back.”
    Brent had talked to Trick’s friend (was his name Rusty?) about doing some work on the Corvette.  He’d heard Rusty does some of the best work around when it comes to the classics.  Trevor had then talked to him about doing some work on his car.  When Jenna had called and asked me to ride out with Brent and then us ride back with her and Trevor, I’d agreed.  I didn’t want too much time to think.  Besides, I have to spend more time with Brent if I’m ever to be crazy about him.  So I agreed.
    Well, that plan’s shot to hell!
    I make a point not to glance at Trick, standing a few feet away.  I try to pretend I don’t know him, that he doesn’t work for my father, and that I haven’t given him a second thought since that night. 
    But I have!  Ohmigod, he’s practically all I can think about! It’s ridiculous.
    I search immediately for something else to concentrate on.  Thoughts like that will only make me blush.  And he’ll notice.  And he’ll smile that sexy smile.  And Brent might notice.  And that won’t turn out well for anyone.
     I turn again to Jenna.  She’s standing at Trevor’s side, trying her best not to stare at the garage owner.  I look at him again.
    He’s tallish and lean with dark reddish-brown hair.  His eyes are bright, bright blue and they continually flicker to Jenna.  Looks like she’s not the only one with an interest.
    Who wouldn’t be interested in Jenna, though?  With her Greek heritage, she’s very striking with her shiny black hair and bronzy skin.  Very exotic.  And her personality?  Psssh, forget about it!
    Ohmigod!  You know you’re off your rocker when your thoughts sound like a 60s mobster’s.
    Trevor, Brent and Trick’s friend head out of the garage to go look at Trevor’s car.  As they pass, the owner stops and sticks out his hand, which is surprisingly clean considering what he was doing when we arrived.
    “Jeff Catron,” he says, nodding at me.  His voice is nice.  Deep and gruff.  I shake his hand.  I notice his eyes have already moved on to Jenna, long before his hand does.  And they stay there.  “My friends call me Rusty.”  He shakes her hand, too, holding onto it a little longer than he should, but not long enough to alert Trevor.  I don’t think it matters.  In my opinion, anyone would have to be an idiot not to see the sparks flying!  
    “I’m Jenna.  And this is Cami.”  He casts a quick smile in my direction and then turns all that heat back on Jenna. 
    Might have to take a step back from that!  Wow!
    I look up, between them, and Trick is watching me.  That heat, I know I need to stay away from.
    Rusty moves on and the three men exit the garage, leaving me and Jenna alone with Trick.  He walks to the door, no doubt to make Brent feel better about being out there when he’s in here with me.
    Trick is watching the guys out in the lot.  Jenna is itching to go over there and watch them, too.  Well, watch Rusty I should say.  That’s the only one she’s interested in at this point. 
    And then there’s me.  I’m left…floundering in the silence.
    I walk to the car Trick was working on when we came in.  Although my father collects the very high dollar classic cars now, it hasn’t always been that way.  I can remember when things started to change, when money was much more plentiful, that Daddy started buying mostly restored vintage cars to work on.  He graduated from partially-restored Mach I Mustangs, Camaros, and GTOs to fully-restored Shelby’s, Jaguars and Ferraris.  And, being the Daddy’s