“Race ya!” he yelled as his tires squealed away.
I gunned it and caught up to swerve around him and slide my car right in front of his. He swung out, and I hit my emergency brake and drifted into a wide circle. Doing this always made me feel a little off balance. Kind of like being on a ride at some theme park. The kind you loved but also made you want to hurl.
A feeling of Trent overcame me.
He didn’t flash behind my eyes. He wasn’t a picture in my mind.
He was a feeling.
Trent made me feel as if I were drifting in a circle. It was like catching a whiff of some cologne off a complete stranger at the mall, but the scent transported you back to something utterly familiar.
That slightly dizzy, somewhat nauseous but thrilling sensation filling me was no longer just a side effect of driving tricks.
It made me homesick for him. It had been only hours, but I missed him.
My car jerked to a stop. Smoke from the tires floated up around the body of the car and disappeared into the air. Without thought, my palm rubbed my chest. A little of the homesickness went away.
I pulled my hand back. Wonder what the fuck I was thinking.
Then I realized.
I’d been rubbing the mark he’d left on my chest. And it made me miss him less.
Well, damn.
A horn cut through the air, and I jerked. Arrow was already way over by the barns.
“Shit,” I muttered and hit the gas. I tore over the pavement and parked near the Camaro.
“So what is this place?” I asked as we both climbed out of our rides.
“It used to be the town airport, like back when I was a kid,” he explained.
I suppressed a laugh. I was very proud of myself.
Arrow went on. “But they built that new one on the other side of town.”
“You just have access to it?”
He shook his head. “My father owns this place. Keeps his planes here.”
I knew Lorhaven had money and he was born into it, but they had their own private airstrip. With planes?
“Good place to drive.” I looked around, choosing not to acknowledge the fact they were obviously crazy rich.
They weren’t the first I knew. Hell, I didn’t grow up poor. And I lived with two NFL stars. Money wasn’t new to me just because I wasn’t rolling around in it. No one wanted to be judged or even befriended based on cash anyway.
“Good place to work on cars, too.” He pushed away from the black Camaro and walked over to the nearest “barn.” I watched him click a button on his keychain, and the door to the thing swung wide.
Inside the dome-shaped building was a full-on garage. Man, was it sweet.
It was basically #CarGoals.
Before, Trent I would have said it was #Lifegoals.
I whistled beneath my breath. “This is a sweet setup.” I felt Arrow watching as I walked in and wandered around. My fingers itched to touch all the tools and the parts out for cleaning or just on display.
In the center was a freaking car lift. Like the kind you saw at car repair shops. Damn, that would be so nice to have. It would make oil changes and undercarriage work so much easier.
On the walls hung a bunch of ribbons and awards. There was even the title to the Camaro, Lorhaven’s Corvette, and a couple other cars I’d never seen them drive.
“So where’s all the cars?” I asked, motioning at the titles.
“In the next hanger.”
Large stainless-steel tool lockers and toolboxes on giant rolling casters lined the walls.
“Your favorite is the Camaro, though, huh?” I swung around to look at him.
He nodded. “It’s tough.”
I don’t know why, but to me, that seemed like an odd response. Did he need a tough car because he didn’t feel so tough himself?
God. I was turning into Oprah.
I needed some fries. A beer. And my person.
Not necessarily in that order.
I pulled my hands out of the pockets of my leather jacket and pivoted toward the entrance. My eyes caught a display nearby, and they about fell out of my head.
“Is that a vintage Benford sparkplug?”
“Yep.”
That sparkplug had its own gravitational pull. I couldn’t resist going over and letting my hands hover over the space above it. “I’ve never seen one of these in person,” I said, awed.
Serious car junkies sometimes collected rare or vintage car parts. Sparkplugs could be very sought after, including this one. It was plated with twenty-four-carat gold.
“You can touch it,” Arrow said from close by.
I hadn’t even noticed him approach. I was too blinded by the vintage beauty.
“Where the hell did you find this?” I asked, picking it up and cradling it gently. I smoothed my thumb over the sides.
“Not sure. It’s my brother’s.”
I grimaced. I’d forgotten about Lorhaven.
Reluctantly, I put it down and resisted the urge to pull out my phone and take a selfie with it.
Please. It would be better than those horrid bathroom selfies people post all over social media. Like, dude, no one wants to see your toilet.
“I’m sure your brother would blow a gasket if he knew you brought me here.”