It’s always with him.
I see his feet approaching, and as I lift my head, I find he’s standing directly in front of me, his face all shades of serious.
I wipe the tears of mirth from my eyes with the backs of my hands, still chuckling. “Beat by one of your mechanics—and a female one at that. What’s this gonna do for your reputation, Carrick? This could kill your career. You’ll be ruined if this ever gets out.”
His lips twitch. “Am I being blackmailed again?”
I tilt my head to the side, grinning. Lifting one shoulder, I say, “Maybe.”
He shakes his head. I can tell he’s desperately trying not to laugh, but his eyes are shining with it.
“Blackmail, cheating, and now blackmail again. Who are you? And what have you done with the Andressa I know?”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” I wink, ticking his nose with my finger.
He catches my finger, holding it.
The instant my skin makes contact with his, it’s like something supercharged has just conducted its way through my body.
I suddenly feel very alert and very aware of him.
The way his chest is lifting on each breath. The parting of his lips as he exhales. How tense his body is. How very close he is to me.
Everything is heightened. And the air thick all around us.
I meet his eyes, and my mouth dries instantly.
The laughter that was in them is gone and has been replaced with something else entirely.
Something heated.
It’s a heat I feel deep inside of me.
His fingers slide over my hand, curling around it, gripping. “Andressa, you’re—” His voice has changed. It’s deeper, husky.
“The winner?” I cut him off, trying to inject sass into my voice. But it didn’t work. I just sounded all breathy.
I need to bring us back to where we were, but I don’t know how.
He’s slowly pulling me in closer to him, closer to everything I want but can’t have.
“Like no one I’ve ever met before.”
Wow.
And fuck.
Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck.
I’m pretty sure he’s thinking about kissing me right now, and I really, really want him to.
God, I want to kiss him so bad.
My lips are readying themselves for the action.
But I can’t. He’s a driver. I can’t get involved with him.
I step away, breaking the moment, and my hand slips from his.
I see disappointment flicker over his face, but I pretend not to see it.
Putting my helmet down on the car, my hand still burns from his touch. I clasp it into a fist to rid myself of the feel of him. I clear my throat. “So, you owe me dinner, Ryan.”
Dinner. Shit. I was supposed to lose, so I could pay for it.
Could I be any dumber? I’m blaming my idiocy on the brain mush he is clearly able to reduce me to.
Turning back to face him with my feelings firmly locked away, I offer a light smile, but I can tell it’s shaky. I just hope he can’t.
He’s still staring at me, the look in his eyes unreadable.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to speak.
Lifting his hand, he runs his fingers through his hair. Then, his lips tip up into a soft smile. “Not that you deserve dinner because you cheated…but technically, you did win. So, fine, I’m buying. What are you in the mood to eat?”
You. I just want you.
Resting my hand on my hip, I tilt my head to the side, clearing my mind of all my wanting-Carrick thoughts. “What am I in the mood for?” I purse my lips and then make my decision. “Local food.”
He smiles. “Great choice. I know just the place to take you.”
WE DROVE FOR ABOUT FORTY MINUTES, and now, Carrick is parking on the street, near what looks to be a market.
Carrick brought us here as he knew the way, but I’m driving back to the hotel later, and I can’t wait to get my hands on this car.
I climb out of the car, joining Carrick on the pavement. “So, where are we going?” I ask, hooking my fingers under the strap of my bag, holding it to me, as we start to walk into the market.
“There’s this great little place just a bit farther up.”
As we walk along, I’m looking at the stalls and storefronts, getting distracted by all the sights and smells—fresh food, clothes, jewelry. There are street artists painting portraits and some old men sitting at a table, playing a board game that looks similar to checkers. All around is traditional-sounding music, one song fading into another.
Then, I see this little kitschy stall lined with what looks to be Disney jewelry, and that’s when I spot it.
“Oh my God, is that a Lightning McQueen necklace?” Stopping, I turn and walk over to the stall.
I’m a bit of a Lightning McQueen fan. Seriously, Cars is the best Disney movie ever. Give me that over Disney princesses any day.
As I approach closer, I see that it is definitely a Lightning McQueen necklace, and it might just be the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a little McQueen pendant hanging from a silver chain. I’m guessing the chain probably isn’t silver, and my neck will turn green after an hour of wearing it, but I don’t care because I want it.
I curl my hand around the pendant, and I’m just about to ask the man how much it is when I feel Carrick’s heat press up behind me.
“Why are you looking at that Cars necklace like it’s a Tiffany’s diamond?”
I tilt my face to his. “Because to me, it is. What might be one girls’ junk is another girl’s treasure.”
His eyes are sparkling at me in the sunlight. “So, am I to take it that you’re a Cars fan?”