Pure Heat by M. L. Buchman

find the nerve to ask. SF? Some San Francisco team.
    She’d bet he’d go nuts if she asked him which one.
    ***
    â€œWhat are you grinning at, gorgeous?”
    Carly wanted to tuck a hand in her uncle’s arm as they walked side by side to the helibase parking lot, but the swing of his crutches would make that an ankle-buster of a choice.
    â€œIt’s a beautiful evening and nothing is burning.”
    â€œThat we know about,” he corrected just as her father always had.
    â€œThat we know about,” she conceded with a soft smile at the shared ritual.
    They arrived at her Jeep. Her seats and floor were covered with… gravel. A quick look around showed the long slide marks ending at the tires of an absolutely cherry classic black Trans Am parked beside hers. A seriously gorgeous muscle car with a bright red-and-orange Firebird rampant on the hood.
    And not just a little gravel. It was as if whatever jerk drove the Firebird had thrown up whole shovelfuls. She could feel the heat rising.
    Carly scooped up a fistful of the gravel off the driver’s seat. It was hot from the sun beating down on her black seat. She was just about to sling it at the Trans Am when a shout stopped her.
    â€œHey, whoa. No hurting my precious baby.”
    Steven “Merks” Mercer. Of course he drove a muscle car.
    He moved to stand between her and his car.
    â€œWhat about my ‘precious baby’?” She waved her clenched handful of gravel toward her Jeep.
    â€œThat old thing. You couldn’t hurt it if you set it…” He clamped his jaw shut, clearly realizing the mistake he’d just made. Too late.
    She could hear TJ laughing quietly as he cleared off his seat and climbed in on the passenger side. Carly ignored his laugh and continued to glare at Mercer.
    â€œYou couldn’t hurt my Jeep if you set it… what?” she prompted him.
    He hemmed and hawed, but didn’t answer.
    â€œSet it…” She leaned in close, as close as they’d been the moment before he kissed her over the top of the drone. “On fire, perhaps?”
    He grimaced, then nodded.
    â€œYeah, sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”
    â€œYou know what I’m thinking?” She made her voice breathy as she leaned even closer, their noses almost brushing.
    â€œUh, no.”
    â€œI’m thinking.” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and saw his eyes widen. “That you’re right. It wasn’t your car’s fault. I shouldn’t hurt it.”
    â€œUh, thanks.”
    â€œNo worries.” Then, keeping her gaze matched up with his, she grabbed his belt, hooking his underwear as she did so, pulled it toward her, and dumped in her fistful of hot, sharp gravel. She let the waistband go with an elastic snap.
    As he started to jump and hop about, she climbed up into her Jeep. TJ had cleared off her seat as well.
    She fired up the engine and shifted into reverse.
    Steve was trying to shake the burning hot gravel away from his precious self. He’d loosened his belt and shoved a hand in his underwear to scoop out what he could. He was definitely dancing now, his boots crunching on the gravel as he shook first one leg, then the other.
    â€œYou do move pretty quick when you need to, don’t you… Merks?” she shouted at him over the sound of her revving engine.
    She let out a whoop, then popped the clutch, spraying him with a long stream of gravel and dirt that sent him stumbling back. She slammed into first and roared out of the lot.

Chapter 10
    Steve was late arriving at the Doghouse in downtown Hood River. A shower and clean shirt had been necessary. Keeping the same underwear and dusty pants and boots was a symbolic thumbing of his nose at Carly. Not that she’d be paying him any mind.
    The camp had been empty by the time he was ready, and there’d been no one to ask where the place was. He’d had to circle up and down the streets to find