“Was me what?” she demanded. She had her hand on her heart, as I'd frightened her. Man, that amazing hair, those beautifully defined cheekbones. I felt like she grew more beautiful every time I saw her.
“It was you that cut me off this morning,” I said. “I nearly got sideswiped by a hot girl in a red Mustang spinning her wheels on the grass by the track entrance.”
“Sorry about that.” She smiled demurely, teasing me.
“Are you leaving?” I asked her.
“Yeah, I’m done with Donald,” she replied. She had those big sunglasses on, so I couldn’t quite tell where she was looking. But I felt like she was smiling at me. “He’s started on the scotch again, and I’m not interested in a repeat of last night.”
“I don’t know.” I gave her an exaggerated grin. “There was quite a lot of last night I would love to repeat.”
She smiled. Surprisingly, she seemed a touch bashful and turned away. Maybe she felt more for me than she was letting on?
“We agreed, I thought, that there would be no complications, no ties, and no apologies. That’s why I didn’t kiss you. I thought we were on the same page.”
“We were,” I explained, “but there was nothing in what you just said that means we can’t get a drink right now.”
She laughed at that. “That’s true enough.” I persuaded her to come back inside with me for a drink. She was guarded and adamant that she didn’t want to commit, but she seemed to like me, or at least the sex we’d had. I didn’t want to commit either. I didn’t. I definitely didn’t. I just couldn’t get her out of my head, and I couldn’t stop the feeling—the longing—to be with her again.
Summer
James opened the door for me and we headed back into the hospitality suite. In the half-light, I could make out waiters carrying trays between round, white-topped tables. I grabbed a couple of scotches from one as he passed and handed a glass to James, then sat down at a free table. He sat in the chair next to me, turning it to face me.
“Cards on the table,” he said with a smile. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I don’t care what you say; last night was probably the most amazing night of my life, and I think you are the most beautiful, sensual, sensational creature it has been my pleasure to…pleasure.”
That was quite a little speech. I could feel my face warming up and my pussy moistening. I hoped I wasn’t blushing too much. “I’m flattered,” I began, staring past him. “And believe me, last night was fantastic for me, too. But I don’t want to see you again. I mean, I do, but I don’t want a relationship. I’m not good at them. I don’t want to commit, and that always hurts the man I’m with, regardless of how much he says he wants the same thing in the beginning.” I looked at him—his sexy smile, his kind eyes, his strong jawline. “I like you. I do. Which is why I don’t want to hurt you.”
He took a sip from his drink and recoiled at the taste. It was not a good scotch. “I know what you’re saying,” he said, putting his glass down on the table with a slow, deliberate movement. “I promise I feel the same way. I’ve never been able to commit to a relationship either. But I’m a few years older than you, so I’ve had much more practice at not committing. I think I can handle a little more.”
A loud “Ha!” popped out of my mouth. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard a line like that, only for the guy to whine six months later that I won’t move in?” I actually sounded quite resentful. In my mind, I looked like my mother during a screaming match with my father. He must have made her so angry and so miserable at the same time. “And,” I continued, talking over whatever he was about to say, “like I could commit to a juvenile racer anyway, someone who earns his living driving around and around in circles, then parties the rest of the time, fucking anyone who’ll agree to have him.”
I didn’t raise my voice, thankfully, but my vitriol surprised us both. James leaned back in his chair, his hands raised in mock surrender. The poor, innocent, needlessly attacked look on his face softened my bitterness.
“I’m sorry, James. I didn’t mean to be so aggressive.” I lowered my face, bit my lip, and looked up at him coyly. “Especially when you were so…nice to me.”
I dropped my shoe and gently ran my foot over his shin and knee. I felt really bad about letting loose on this guy. I did like him, after all, more than I cared to admit. I needed to make it up to him. He knew I was playing with him, but he seemed to like it.