I was ready for summer. Warm nights. Long days.
The door opened, and I stopped walking, bracing myself for this guy. A pair of small feet hit the ground, and my forehead wrinkled.
I watched, fascinated, as the person stepped around the door and slammed it closed.
My eyes traveled from the feet, up the black denim-covered legs, rounded hips, narrow waist, and my mouth dropped open when I hit the pair of perfectly globe-like tits.
“You’re gonna catch flies,” the stranger said, clear amusement in her voice.
Yeah. Her.
It was a woman.
I forced my eyes off her chest (which was seriously impressive) to her face. I blinked.
“You’re a girl.”
Her straight, white teeth flashed beneath pale, glossy lips. “Nice of you to notice.”
She had creamy skin, smooth and even. It wasn’t too pale, but it wasn’t very tan either. Her face was shaped like a heart, her cheekbones wide and high. Her chin was slightly pointy, but there was a faint cleft in the center.
She watched me with open humor through green eyes rimmed with impossibly dark lashes. Topping it all off was her hair. There was a lot of it and it was dark, not quite black, but way too dark to be just brown. It was long and curly, kind of wild, like she too liked to drive with the windows down.
Her long, shapely legs came forward, carrying her close. The woman was fairly tall, taller than all the women in my house. She was probably close to five feet seven. I stood there still stunned as she reached up and pushed up on my chin, closing my mouth, which was totally hanging open.
“I thought Joey was coming,” I said.
She smirked and stuck her hand between us. “I’m Josephine. Joey for short.”
I put my hand in hers and we shook.
“That’s your car?” I gestured to the Skyline.
“That’s the one.”
“You were driving the other day?” I asked, skeptical.
She smirked again. I was beginning to think it was a bad habit of hers. “Smoked you.”
I made a scoffing sound and yanked my hand back. “Like hell you did!”
She laughed, totally thrilled she pissed me off. “Don’t worry.” She patted my chest. “You kept up better than most. Even with a car that—”
I snatched her hand off my chest and growled. “You insult my car and I’ll kick your ass.”
She pressed the hand to her chest and batted her green eyes. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to speak to a lady that way?”
I rolled my eyes. “Something tells me you can handle it.”
“So, ah…” She gestured to my clothes. “Leather and dress pants. I like it.”
“I just got off work,” I grouched.
“And I can see the battle happening between your real job and the one you want.”
I bristled. “Driving is a real job. Just because I don’t have some fancy sponsor like you.”
“Down, boy.” She whistled. “I was kidding.”
“Real drivers don’t joke about racing.”
Her lips pursed, and she studied me. I stared back at her levelly. She was totally not what I was expecting tonight.
“He was right,” she declared.
“Who?” I demanded.
“Gamble. He said you have what it takes to pull in an entire fan base.”
I snorted. I learned it from my lovely snorty sister Rimmel. “And why’s that?”
“Passion. You have it. Lots of it.”
“And what do you think about the indie’s getting a chance at their own mainstream sport?” I challenged, lifting a brow.
Beneath her lip, her tongue slid over her teeth as she stared at me. “Honestly?” she spoke, and I prepared myself for a total asshole comment. “I’m jealous.”
I blinked. That was not what I was expecting.
I seemed to be thinking that about her a lot.
“Come again?” I asked.
She shrugged. “A whole new racing division? No rules, starting from scratch to make it whatever you want it to be? Sounds amazing.” Her last words were spoken in a wistful sigh.
“I think most drivers would say your setup sounds amazing.”
“Yeah, nothing like being ordered to the other side of the state to teach someone how to drive that doesn’t need taught and who clearly doesn’t want you around.”
Damn. That was spot on.
I grinned. “You think I don’t need to be taught?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know how to drive,” she allowed. “But you definitely have things to learn. You’re like a wildcard behind the wheel.”
I took that as a compliment.
“Come on.” I motioned and went toward the front door. “I need to take off this uniform.”
I went ahead to open the door, and I totally felt her checking out my ass. “Enjoying the view?” I called out.
“I’ve seen better,” she answered.
I laughed out loud. At least she didn’t deny she was looking.
Inside, I kicked off my dress shoes (which were obviously designed by Satan) and motioned for her to shut the door. I hung my jacket nearby and pulled my cell out of my pocket, checking the screen for any texts.
None.