Gas or Ass Read Online Free PDF

tailgate onto the front porch, clearing the steps. Colt opened the front door.
    Unsure what to do, I waited for my mother to get out Dale’s truck. She peered around the far side of the trailer with a broad smile. “You’re going to love this house, Shelby.”
    I blinked. She’d seen it?
    Caine swept a hand toward the front door. “Go on in. You’d just be in the way.” Since neatly trimmed shrubs fronted the porch, he had to help me onto the metal ramp. Touching him didn’t give me the same weird jolt as touching Colt, but my shoes were wet from walking through the grass and I slipped on the diamond-tread metal. He caught me with one hand to the waist, just as the front porch light flared to life.
    I didn’t have time to decide whether Caine’s eyes were truly black. As soon as I had my feet under me, he let go and turned away, reaching a hand to help Mom climb onto the ramp. “Be careful now, little mama. Shelby already slipped.”
    I skidded down the sloping metal ramp, eying the long black shutters and the broken tile that covered the porch. Colt stood in the doorway, moving aside, but not stepping out. The way his eyes flashed, I suspected he was forcing me to decide whether to touch him again, or make a big deal out of not touching him. I brushed by with my nose in the air and tripped over the doorjamb. He just threw out one arm and hauled me to his side. I felt like a child, or a sack of potatoes. He shook with laughter, but at least it was the silent sort. “You ain’t as big as a minute, are you? Do you still shop in the kid’s section?”
    Cheeks afire, I jerked free. “No, I wear a junior’s size.” Okay, a zero Petite, but that was still a junior’s size.
    The foyer boasted a cheap light fixture, a slab of rock that formed a wall shelf, and beautiful parquet tile. Colt had rolled up the small rug, I supposed, since one leaned in the corner. I peered into a long room to the right. There wasn’t any furniture, but racing memorabilia hung on every wall.
    “See, Shelby, our furniture will go right in here,” Mom gushed, coming up behind me. I said nothing.
    “They moved the furniture that was in here into the den, and their den stuff downstairs.” I tuned out her nervous chatter, withholding judgment until I saw the room Caine had given up for me. She led me through a door off the far end of the living room. Her comment, “We’ll buy a dining room table, of course,” told me this part of the long space was designed as an eating area. The depressions in the carpet weren’t from any table, but the tan pile was spotless.
    I couldn’t care less what she and Dale bought. I eyed another tacky light fixture and clenched my hands into fists.
    The kitchen had all the conveniences, including a larger refrigerator than I’d ever seen in a private home. A bar with stools divided the kitchen from a breakfast nook. I presumed the door opened onto the deck where we’d parked, so I turned the other way. The family room was huge, and I wasn’t surprised by the curved screen, flat-panel television that had to be sixty inches or wider.
    The black leather couch, loveseat, and recliner were either the most practical choices ever made by three single guys, or hideous, depending on one’s point of view. I was in the latter camp.
    Mom led me down a hallway. I paused at the foyer entrance, unable to resist peeking at the line of broad shoulders and narrow hips as the guys stood on the porch and Dale explained where our things were to go.
    “You’ll have to share this bath with the boys.” Mom felt for the light switch and I wondered if she realized she spoke as if they were six-year-olds.
    I studied the long counter, twin sinks, and unremarkable tub and shower surround. The white tile had gold specks. A bottle of Hugo Boss sat between the sinks, alongside matching hair gel and deodorant. Add the expected tube of Crest, and there wasn’t a speck of room for makeup, or a hair dryer, or any of my stuff.
    I spun