Marcus

The scent of her lingered in the hallway even after Marcus shut Ryder’s door. It was something soft, like sweet vanilla and coconut, out of place in a house that usually smelled like motor oil, leather, and expensive bourbon.

Beside him, Jane was practically vibrating with nervous energy. Her cheeks were still dusted with a fiery pink blush, her hands balled up into tight little fists inside the pockets of her sweatpants. She looked tiny next to him, soft around the edges in a way that made his hands itch to pull her closer, but she had her chin tilted up like an angry little general ready to march into battle.

Man, she was cute when she was mad.

“Don’t mind Ryder,” he said easily, flashing her his best, easiest grin as he took her elbow to guide her down the hall. “He’s allergic to manners. And people. And fun in general. Basically, if it doesn’t have an engine or require a torque wrench, he wants nothing to do with it.”

Jane jerked her arm out of his grip, giving him a side-eye that could have withered a tree. “Your brother is unhinged. He accused me of breaking and entering. In my pajamas.”

“To be fair, you kind of did,” he pointed out, winking when she let out an indignant squeak. “Though personally, I think you look great in sweats. Very retro. Very approachable.”

“Shut up, Marcus.”

He chuckled, pressing a hand to his chest in mock agony. “Ouch. Right through the heart, Miss Jane. And after I rushed back from the shop just to rescue you from the big bad mechanic?”

“Nobody asked you to rescue me,” she grumbled, tucking a loose strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear. “I had the situation under control.”

“Right. You looked super in control when you were staring at his abs like they held the secrets to the universe.”

Jane gasped, her eyes widening in horror. “I was not staring! I was traumatized! A half-naked stranger was looming over me in a dark room!”

“Looming is Ryder’s default setting,” he told her, turning the corner into the east wing of the third floor. “Which brings me to the grand tour. Since you decided to take a self-guided trip into enemy territory, I figured I should actually show you around before you accidentally wander into the indoor garage and get crushed by a hydraulic lift.”

“I don’t need a tour. I just need a bed, a door that locks, and maybe some ibuprofen.”

“You get all three, plus me as your personal concierge,” he said smoothly, leading her past the line of arched windows that overlooked the courtyard below. “Downstairs is the main kitchen and living area. Feel free to raid the fridge whenever you want. The cinema room is on the second floor, along with the gym. Pool is out back, heated year-round. My suite is at the far end of the left wing on this floor, Ryder’s is opposite, and yours…”

He stopped in front of a door and pushed it open with a dramatic flourish.

“…is right here. The actual guest suite. Notice the lack of grumpy, dripping-wet mechanics.”

Jane hesitated on the threshold before stepping inside. The room was massive, painted a cream with windows showing off the sunset over the hills. A bed sat in the center, piled high with pillows, and her duffel bag was already sitting politely on the bench at the foot of the mattress.

She walked around slowly, running her fingers over the dresser, looking like an uneasy cat in a totally foreign territory. “This is… ridiculous. It’s bigger than my entire studio.”

“Only the best for my VIP guest,” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his ankles.

“I’m not a guest, Marcus. I’m a hostage to your guilt complex.” She turned to face him, folding her arms over her chest. “And I’m leaving the second my head stops throbbing.”

“Now, now, let’s not rush things,” he said, stepping into the room and closing the door halfway behind him. “Which brings us to the ground rules of your stay.”

Jane’s eyebrows shot up. “Ground rules? Excuse me?”

“Rule number one,” he started, counting off on his fingers with a serious face. “No wandering around unattended. As you already experienced, this house is full of hazards. Like irritable twins.”

“I can walk down a hallway by myself, thanks.”

“Rule number two,” he continued, ignoring her. “All meals must be eaten with me. Can’t have my star patient starving to death on my watch. I make a killer breakfast.”

“I can cook my own food.”

“Rule number three,” he stepped closer, dropping his voice an octave as he looked down into those gold-flecked eyes of hers. “You have to let me take care of you. Doctor’s orders, remember? You took a nasty fall because of me. The least you can do is let me pamper you a little.”

Jane didn’t blush this time. Instead, she let out a dry, unimpressed scoff that cracked his ego right down the middle.

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to swoon?” she asked, tilting her head back to look him dead in the eye. “Because let me break something down for you, Marcus Wolfe. I am not Amanda. I don’t care about your follower count, I don’t care about your shiny bikes, and your cheap bad-boy charm doesn’t work on me. At all.”

A slow, genuine smile spread across his face.

God, she was exhilarating.

Every girl he met tripped over themselves trying to laugh at his jokes, agree with his opinions, or slide into his bed. They played the game so predictably it made him want to scream from sheer boredom. But Jane? Jane looked at him like he was a slightly irritating gnat she wanted to swat with a rolled-up magazine. She pushed back against every single word out of his mouth, immune to the smile that usually got him whatever he wanted.

It didn’t deter him. It did the exact opposite. It lit a competitive fire in his veins that felt dangerously close to the rush he got when the starting lights flashed green on the track.

He leaned down slightly, bringing his face just inches from hers, close enough to catch the faint scent of that sweet coconut again. “Cheap charm? Ouch, Janie. You wound me. But don’t worry… I’m a patient guy. We have plenty of time for you to change your mind.”

“Keep dreaming,” she muttered, though her breath hitched just a tiny bit. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to lie down before my skull splits open.”

“Your wish is my command,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender as he took a couple of steps backward toward the hallway.

He reached for the door handle, fully intending to leave her to rest. But as his fingers wrapped around the knob, the memory of Ryder standing half-naked in his room, looking at her with that strange, calculating intensity, flashed behind his eyelids.

It was weird.

Ryder didn’t look at women like that. Honestly, Ryder barely looked at women at all. When groupies hung around the paddock after races, he ignored them like they were invisible. When girls hit on him at the club, he gave them a cold glare until they walked away feeling stupid. The guy was married to grease, metal, and their bank accounts. He didn’t flirt. He didn’t date. He sure as hell didn’t pay attention to girls wearing t-shirts.

So why had his eyes locked onto Jane like she was an engine he needed to tear apart piece by piece?

Marcus paused with his hand on the door, glancing back over his shoulder at her. Jane was already unzipping her duffel bag, looking thoroughly exhausted.

“Hey, Jane?”

She sighed, not turning around. “What now, Marcus?”

“Just so you know,” he said, letting a half-joking, casual chuckle slip out, though his eyes were tracking every microscopic twitch of her face. “My brother doesn’t usually pay attention to anyone. Ever. So if he acted like a prick… you must’ve really rattled his cage.”

Jane froze for a second, her shoulders stiffening before she turned her head toward him. A flicker of something flickered in her eyes—confusion, maybe a quick flash of defensiveness—before her usual mask of annoyance snapped right back into place.

“I didn’t rattle anything,” she replied flatly. “He’s just an arrogant jerk who thinks the world revolves around him. Must run in the family.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he pulled the door open. “Maybe it does. Get some sleep, Janie. I’ll check on you later.”

“Don’t bother,” she called out as the door swung shut.

Marcus stood in the hallway for a beat, staring at the panels.

Ryder’s reaction was definitely unusual, but he brushed the thought away with a scoff at himself. There was no way his twin would ever go after Jane anyway. Ryder didn’t have a romantic bone in his body, and his flirting skills were practically nonexistent. Besides, she clearly despised both of them.

Which only made him want her more.

Grinning to himself, he turned on his heel and headed downstairs, already planning how he was going to crack that stubborn shell of hers by tomorrow morning.