I blinked, dragging out the action just a little longer than necessary, leaving my eyes shut a fraction longer than normal.
It was an innocent touch.
Friends touched all the time. Drew and I had never been the type of friends who respected each other’s personal space, so brushing arms was hardly anything new.
But this felt different.
It felt intentional. Like the kind that was at first accidental just because of the tight space we occupied…
And then it wasn’t.
And then it was just an excuse to stay this close, an excuse to feel the tension in the air and silently suffer in it.
I don’t know why, but I wanted to test the theory. Even though I pretended to still be working on the car, I really wasn’t. All I could focus on was the way it felt to have him so close. The way it felt wrong and good at the same time.
I turned slightly, angling my arm back just a fraction. Just enough that we weren’t in contact anymore.
“You got it?” he asked, his body following mine.
I glanced over. He was still focused down on the car.
Was I imagining this? Was I standing here on the shoulder of a mountain road in the blistery cold air, completely losing my mind?
Drew sensed whatever I was going through and turned toward me. Just as our eyes were about to connect, the flashlight in his hand went out.
Darkness cloaked everything, including the answer I’d hoped to find in his stare.
“Damn app,” he swore and straightened to fumble with the phone and click it back on.
The darkness jolted me. I went back to working on the car. Drew leaned in again, but not as close as before.
We worked in silence for a few minutes until we were sure everything was good to go for the drive back to his place.
“You gonna tell me what’s up with you?” Drew asked as I pulled my hand back to inspect it for oil.
“Huh?” I looked up from wiping my palm on the side of my jeans.
He made a rude noise and slammed the hood of the car back into place. “Something’s up with you—”
“I—”
Drew held up his hand to cut me off. “You were quiet all night. Then you drove like a man with some pent-up aggression on the way out here.”
He meant earlier, not just now.
“You drive like that on a daily basis.” I pointed out.
“That’s different.” He grunted.
“How?”
“Don’t try and turn this around on me.” He shoved a hand through his hair, making it stand up in odd places. “I know you.”
“Then you know if I don’t want to talk about it, I won’t.” My tone was final.
“So there is something.”
A familiar sound in the distance made us both pause.
“What the fuck?” Drew muttered and swung around. We both stared at the bend as the sound of a car’s engine came closer, waiting for it to appear.
“Got some muscle under the hood,” Drew murmured, his head cocked as he listened, eyes still trained on the curve.
“I’ve never seen any other drivers out this way,” I added.
Headlights came into sight before the car, stretching around the curve, lighting the road like some kind of red carpet. My back muscles bunched with tension like my body was preparing itself for some kind of confrontation.
A black car slid around the corner and slowed.
Even though Drew gave no indication of surprise, I knew he was.
And I was immediately on guard.
All my instincts were screaming. We’d been followed.
The Camaro from the speedway jerked to a stop on the other side of my Mustang. Part of it was sticking out onto the road because the shoulder wasn’t big enough for all three cars.
The guy hadn’t even stepped out yet; I hadn’t even laid eyes on his face.
But I didn’t like him.
The door swung open and a dude stepped out.
Instantly, I understood why.
Drew
No fucking way.
I would have known.
There was no way in hell this cocky bastard was the one I raced tonight at the speedway.
But it was the same black Camaro with the same tinted windows.
“What the fuck are you doing all the way out here?” Trent snarled from behind me.
Lorhaven was an award-winning asshole, and I trusted him as much as I loved opera (which was not at all), but there was something about this guy that totally rubbed Trent the wrong way.
No one ever rubbed Trent the wrong way; he usually got along with everyone.
Not Lorhaven.
Trent disliked this guy from the second we heard his name whispered among the local indie racers. When they met face to face, his dislike only intensified.
“You took off so fast I didn’t get the chance to congratulate you on your driving tonight,” Lorhaven remarked and smiled. It was a fake smile. The kind a wolf would give a sheep to try and prove it wasn’t about to become his dinner.
I stared at him levelly, taking in his faded jeans, white T-shirt, and army-style green coat. Had it been him behind the wheel tonight? It seemed that’s what he wanted me to think…