“I can’t wait to hear all about it. I gotta fresh cup of joe and the Charger for that Beckett billionaire can wait for a while.”

That probably wasn’t the case. The waiting list for the model hot rods Roger created in his studio seemed never-ending thanks to an outsider art exhibit he’d been featured in at the Black Hearts Art Gallery. It was very Roger to make it sound like dropping everything to listen to her was no big deal, but still, she didn’t want to take advantage.

“Are you sure?”

“Shelby,” he said in that tone that made it impossible for her not to see the lines in his craggy face deepening as he frowned at her through the phone. “Don’t act like I’m a pint of oil short. If I wasn’t sure of it, I wouldn’t have said it.”

Since arguing with Roger was pointless, she told him everything. By the time she was done, her shoulders were a bit more relaxed, her coffee mug was empty, and that sharp poke of want that only a stiff drink could get rid of had been ground down to a nub.

“Girl,” he said with a chuckle. “When you move, you really do go zero to sixty with things.”

“And now I have to spend the entire road trip with him and his brother—whom he now hates.”

It was going to be awful and amazing and uncomfortable and fun and a million other things that were a lot to take in all at once. Hell’s bells. How in the world was she going to make it through this trip without losing her mind or her panties or both at the same damn time?

“Do you need to talk to that Lucy lady about backing out of the assignment?” Roger asked.

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t considered it. Last night, while she’d stared at her ceiling and worry turned into an all-you-can’t-sleep buffet of anxiety, she’d definitely given it a lot of thought. But there was too much on the line. She’d worked her ass off for this opportunity. There was no way she’d fuck this up—no matter what.

“No. I can do this,” she said, the affirmation coming out accompanied by that nervous-laughter thing she could never shake. Taking a deep breath, she centered herself. “I have to do this. This partnership with the Ice Knights is my dream outcome for The Biscuit. I can’t let it get ruined because I was an idiot who slept with Ian Petrov.”

She left the “and who wants to do it again and again and again” unsaid, but the truth of it had her fanning herself. Really, she was still sore in a few places she hadn’t known existed.