“Here it is.”
I turn to the sound of his voice, dragging my eyes off the yellow 1960 Lamborghini Miura, and— Oh my God.
My heart slams against my ribcage. “Is that…” I take a step closer, my hands trembling.
“William Wolfe’s car? Yeah.”
I swing around to look at him. “You bought it?”
I can’t believe he did that. Why did he do that?
A stupid hopeful part of me wishes it were because of me, that he somehow realized this car is important to me.
“I didn’t steal it. Don’t worry.” He grins, pushing his hands into his pockets. “It was bugging me—what you said about it sitting there, not being used, and how Wolfe would have wanted it to be driven. So, I got in touch with the owner, and I told him I wanted it.”
“And he just said yes?”
“Not right away. It took some persuading.”
“How much persuading?”
“A lot—plus, a five-year VIP pass to the Prix.”
“Wow. Expensive persuading.”
“Drop in the ocean.” He shrugs, walking around to the front of the car.
Sometimes, I forget how much money he has at his disposal.
I walk closer to the car, the tips of my fingers trembling to touch it. “Can I?”
“Sure.”
Reaching out, I open the door. Then, taking a deep breath, I slide into the driver’s seat.
I’m trying not to act weird, but it’s hard.
This is a bittersweet moment for me.
Closing my eyes, I place my hands on the steering wheel, curling my fingers around it.
I feel the car move. Opening my eyes, I see Carrick getting in the passenger seat beside me.
“Are you happy I bought it?”
Beyond happy.
Tears are beating at the backs of my eyes. I fight them away.
Pulling my lips up into a smile, I say, “Of course, I’m happy for you, and happy that this car isn’t going to be sitting around like an ornament anymore.”
He’s staring at me, almost like he’s weighing something. “Good, because I need your help to get it up and running. If you want to, that is?”
Do I want to? Is the sky blue?
“Really?” I feel suddenly breathless.
“Yeah. But it’s gonna be a big job. Total refit as she’s empty. If you’re up for it?”
“I’m up for it.” I smile so big that it nearly splits my face.
Carrick returns my smile. “I’ll pay you the going rate, of course.”
Huh?
I stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “I don’t want you to pay me.”
“Andressa, this is a big job. I’m not letting you do the work for free.”
“I don’t think you understand.”
He really doesn’t, and part of me wishes he did in this moment. God, I would sell my soul to be able to get this car back on the road. And with Carrick driving it, I’d give everything.
But I play it down. “Working on a car like this is fun for me, like what a day out at the spa is for other girls.”
He shakes his head, laughing. “Andressa, you are like no girl I’ve ever known.”
I tilt my head to the side, scrunching my eyes up. “Good thing or bad thing?”
“The best thing.” His voice is deep with meaning.
My eyes catch his and hold. The air crackles between us, and I suddenly feel everything.
Blood beats in my ears, my pulse quickening.
Memories of him and me together…him inside me…are flashing through my mind, making me hot, making me needy.
Carrick looks away, breaking the moment. He clears his throat.
I need to say something to put us back where we were. I can’t spoil things with him again, not when I’ve just gotten him back.
“So, no more talk of money. I’m doing this because I want to.”
He turns his eyes to me. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” I smile lightly, curling my hands back around the wheel, as I exhale. “So, when do we start?”
“Now, if you want?” He opens his door and gets out of the car. “You can help me draw up a list of what we’ll need. I’ll order it, and then we’ll go from there.”
Climbing out of the car, I say, “Let’s get started.”
I’VE BEEN WORKING ON MY DAD’S CAR with Carrick nonstop for the past four days. I’ve hardly been home.
It’s been amazing, doing this with Carrick, restoring my dad’s car back to life.
Even though it’s been amazing, it’s been tough, too, and not just because I’m working on my dad’s car. Even though that has been emotional for me, I’ve kept those feelings buried. I’m just praying that I won’t burst into tears when I hear the engine running for the first time.
It’s also been tough to be around Carrick. I’m like a pot waiting to boil over. My hands are permanently itching to touch him, and the sexual tension building inside me is at the point that I’m sure I’m about to spontaneously combust from it.
But it’s not just the sexual tension that’s driving me insane.
It’s how I feel about him. That’s tearing me up the most.
Being with Carrick so intensely these last few days has brought everything to the forefront, everything I’ve been fighting to hide.
My feelings for him have grown. They’re more insistent and bigger, harder to ignore.
It was a little easier to pretend that I didn’t want him, that I wasn’t totally crazy about him, when we were traveling with the team or when he was angry at me or when we were dancing around each other, trying to build a bridge back to a friendship.
But this, being around him all the time in close proximity…it’s getting to the point of being unbearable.
And instead of being relieved that we’re almost coming to the end of working on my dad’s car—well, Carrick’s car—so that I can put that distance between us, I’m finding that I want to etch it out longer, so I can be around him—hence, the reason it’s taken me two and a half hours to fit the wiper motor.
Two and a half bloody hours to do a job that should have taken me one hour maximum.
I just…I don’t want this time to end. I want to be around him all the time.
I want him. I just wish I knew a way I could have him.
But all my wanting is fruitless. Carrick is past all of that now. He’s past me. I can tell…feel it in the way he is toward me. It shows in his body language. There are no more accidental touches. He keeps himself at a friendly distance from me.
Aside from that little moment in the car the other day, he has shown no indication of feeling the way he used to about me.
He’s affable, and we have our usual banter, but that feeling I always got from him, the one that told me he saw me through different eyes, is now gone.
I know he just sees me as a friend. I know that was what I wanted when I was telling myself that I needed him to stop wanting me, so I could stop wanting him. But now that he has, I hate it. It hurts like a bitch.
And now all I want is for him to see me the way he used to. Look at me the way he used to. I want him to want me like he did before…like I now want him. And it hurts beyond belief that he no longer does.