CrossOver: a Motocross Mini-Mystery Romance (Book 3 of Road to Romance series)

“Hey, Vaughn! Your motorbike people are here!”

Vaughn Rogers rose from where he’d been crouched beside a pristine Harley-Davidson Nightingale and looked out the bay windows. He wiped his hands on a rag as he took in the battered RAM truck sitting out front.

Mud caked the doors, splattered up the sides like the truck had just clawed its way out of a ravine—a dead giveaway that he was about to meet his boss’s current charity case.

For the hundredth time, he wondered how he’d let Laz talk him into wrenching on a dirt bike. But since Vaughn himself had once been on the receiving end of Lazlo’s generosity, he wasn’t in a position to complain.

He pushed through the shop door and headed toward the truck.

A man in his early forties hopped down from the cab, boots hitting the pavement with an easy confidence. But it was the woman sliding out of the passenger side that stole Vaughn’s full attention.

She was petite and athletic with sun-kissed skin. Her chestnut hair was stuffed through the back of a ball cap in a messy ponytail, and she wore a fitted T-shirt and frayed cutoffs that showed off long, toned legs. The kind of legs that made a man forget his own name.

He’d bet his Jim Beam she had an ass to match.

“Are you Vaughn?” the man said.

With effort, Vaughn dragged his gaze to the man. “That’s me.”

“Archie Johnston.” The man stuck out his hand. “I appreciate you taking a look at the Kawasaki.”

Vaughn shook it. “No problem.”

Archie motioned toward the woman, who had come around the front of the truck and now leaned against the hood, hands tucked into her back pockets. “This is my daughter, Gabby.”

Daughter? Damn.

He’d have to check his libido at the door.

“Good to meet you, Gabby,” he said.

She nodded once. Her sunglasses hid her eyes, but he noticed the freckles dusted across her nose and cheeks, like someone had flicked sunlight at her face. The urge to brush his mouth over each one of them hit him out of nowhere, sharp and unwelcome.

“Gabby, can you help Vaughn unload while I talk to Laz for a minute?” Archie said.

“I think I can manage,” she replied dryly.

Archie chuckled and headed toward the stairs to Laz’s office. “If you’ve got questions about how the Kawi should ride, she’s the one to ask.”

Vaughn blinked. “You mean she’s…?”

Gabby pushed off the truck and pulled her sunglasses down, tucking them into the brim of her cap. Her eyes were a rich brown, like the mud on the banks of the James River.

“Yeah, I race,” she said. “You got a problem with that?”

Heat sparked low in his gut. Feisty. He liked that.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Vaughn said. “Just seems like a rough sport for a girl.”

Her jaw tightened. “I think you mean a woman.”

Wow. If looks could wound, he’d be bleeding out on the concrete right now.