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Parts Room written above the arched door frame of diamond
     plated steel beams.
    Sneaking peeks out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed groups of guys standing around
     talking near the bay doors that were open leading out to a parking lot where the haulers
     were parked.
    After knowing Charlie as long as I have, I’ve come to the conclusion that most engine
     builders are nerds and could talk your ear off about gear ratios, dyno tests and volumetric
     efficiency. They are hardly civilized enough to actually speak to another person without
     speaking “engine” let alone have a conversation with you.
    Look at Charlie. He never stopped talking about engine and compression ratios.
    And until now, I never thought I would meet one who was so, how should I say it, cool?
    And then I did.
    Straightening out my black dress, two guys who were wrapped in their “engine talk”
     turned to look over at me. A few more stood quietly in the distance but I had yet
     to focus on anything but the two in front of me.
    Listening to them, this was where I realized that none of these engine builders were
     your typical engine builders. This also explains how a guy like Charlie Gomez was
     one, able to keep a job, and two, interact with others.
    Charlie nudged me with his elbow.
    “You already know my brother, Noah,” he said, grimily as his twin stepped forward
     with a smirk and blue brown eyes that screamed I’m full of shit so don’t listen to
     anything I say. They also screamed, I’ve seen your vagina!
    He gave me a nod but then turned and walked away. Thankfully.
    Charlie pointed to another guy standing by the door to another room where there appeared
     to be an engine on a machine. The guy, who wasn’t wearing a shirt and holding a video
     camera, waved and then Charlie said, “That’s Cole Riley, my cousin. He does the media
     shit like taking videos at the races and then puts them on the website.” And then
     he added, “He rarely has a shirt on.”
    Charlie then pointed to another guy, taller, standing by the large bay doors with
     brown hair that fell in his chocolate brown eyes. “And this is Logan Reins.”
    Logan gave me a wave but paid little attention to me and more to the shorter guy standing
     next to him with orange hair.
    Charlie didn’t introduce the other one, they seemed busy, and instead punched the
     shoulder of a rusty haired guy who bared a strong resemblance to Jameson with his
     bright grass green eyes. Though it’d been weeks since my interview, I couldn’t forget
     that color. No way.
    The guy rocked backwards playfully keeping his eyes on mine in a way that made me
     nervous. When his eyes traveled the length of my body without a shred of reserve,
     I felt my cheeks warm.
    “This is Casten Riley, Jameson’s son.” He gave him a nod. “Casten, this is Tate’s
     niece, Hayden.”
    Casten was just as pretty as his daddy and more polite than the other two when he
     actually spoke to me.
    “Nice to meet you, Hayden.”
    His hand immediately reached out to touch mine and I was done for. Done for I tell
     you. He was tall, lean, and oh so adorable. What stood out the most was his rusty
     hair that fell in wavy loops over his ears sticking up in odd angles. He smirked,
     the same sexy smirk his dad had.
    Again, I was done for and without thinking, replied with. “You look like you’re up
     to no good, sugar.”
    That’s what I say right then? Kill me. Just kill me.
    Sweet love of God, what the fuck is wrong with me? Have you lost your last few brains
     cells?
    Casten replied immediately with, “I am up to no good.” And then followed his statement
     with a wink.
    Charlie shook his head. “No, that’s not happening, ever. Stay away from her, Casten.”
    Casten let out this laugh that had me melting because it was equally as loveable as
     it was sexy.
    “Hey, Charlie, give us a hand over here,” Logan called out while Casten leaned against
     the engine hoist next to him, appearing