Revived (Revved Series Book 2) (15 page)

Using the remote sensor, he locks my car and hands me the keys. His fingers graze over mine, making me shiver.

What am I thinking?
I’m his therapist.

He’s just grateful for me helping him. He’s confusing that with wanting me.

Clenching my keys in my fist, I drop them in my bag.

“Thanks for trusting me to drive your car.” He smiles at me as he walks to his front door.

“You don’t have to thank me. There was never any doubt in my mind that you could do it,” I say from behind him. “So, how did it feel, driving out on the roads?”

He unlocks the door and turns on the hall light.

“Once I got past the initial apprehension, I started to feel okay. I am not saying I wasn’t having thoughts about the accident, but I pushed them aside and got on with it. That was when I remembered that feeling I always got when I drove. It felt good. But I know it’ll be a whole different ball game when I take a car out on the track.”

I step inside his house and close the door behind me. “Baby steps.” I offer him a gentle smile. “And if you need any support out on the track, let me know. I can be there.”

He takes a step closer to me. My heart starts to thrum in my chest.

“You’d do that?”

“Yes.”
My voice has gone all breathy again. He’s your patient, India.
“I mean, of course, it’s all part of the therapy service.” I straighten up, changing the tone of my voice.

“Of course it is.” A frown crosses his face like a dark shadow. He turns from me and begins walking down the hall. “What would you like to drink?” His tone sounds hard.

Feeling off-balance and confused, I kick my heels off and follow him. As I walk, I ask, “What do you have?”

“I don’t have much alcohol in here anymore since I cut back, but I do have a bottle of champagne.”

“Champagne works for me.”

I walk into his kitchen. It’s modern, all glossy white cabinets and silver countertops.

“Wow. This is a nice kitchen.”

“Thanks.” He takes his jacket off, hanging it over the back of a stool at the breakfast island. Then, he moves across the kitchen and gets a bottle from the fridge. “Do you like to cook?”

“Not really. I just like kitchens. They’re my thing. I want to have a kitchen just like yours and have someone cook for me. Then, I could just sit here all day, eating amazing food, while staring at my pretty kitchen.” I grin at him, and he returns it.

I remove my jacket and take a seat on a stool at the breakfast island, and set my jacket on my lap.

Leandro puts two champagne glasses down in front of me. He holds up the bottle as he unwraps the foil from the champagne.

Bollinger. Very nice.

He pops the cork with ease.

“I’m impressed,” I say at his cork-popping abilities.

“Years of practice on the podium.” He pours out the champagne into the glasses.

“And you’ll have many more years of it, too.”

He picks up his glass. “Here’s to hoping.”

I pick up my glass and chink it against his. “You will. I’m sure of it.” I take a sip of my champagne.
Delicious
.

“You know, this is my first drink in weeks.” He leans his hip against the counter.

“I shouldn’t be encouraging your drinking.”

He lets out a deep chuckle. “I’m not an alcoholic, India. I just used it as a tool to make me feel better.”

“But it didn’t.”

“No…but I do feel better now. Because of you.”

That makes me smile. “Leandro, all I’ve done is listen and guide.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You have done so much more than that.” He puts his glass down, eyes fixed on me.

My belly starts doing flips. I look away.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I can make you something to eat.”

“As appetizing as that sounds, I have to get home. It’s my turn to make dinner tonight. I can’t leave Jett starving.”

I finish off my champagne, fully aware that he’s watching me.

“Thank you for the drink.” I slide off the stool.

My legs feel wobbly, and it’s not because of the champagne. It’s because of the beautiful man standing before me. I pull my jacket on.

“Sorry to drink and run.” I turn and head out of the kitchen.

“Don’t apologize. You have a son to get home to.”

He’s behind me as I walk down the hall to the front door. I’m fully aware of his nearness, and his delicious scent. He’s driving me to distraction.

I really need to get out of here before I do something stupid.

I slip my feet into my heels and turn to him. He’s a lot closer than I expected.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a few days.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.

“You will.”

We’re staring at each other, and I’m pretty sure I just looked at his mouth.

Time for me to go.

“Okay…well…” I fumble for the handle behind me.

He leans into me. I close my eyes, my lips parting on a breath…

Then, I hear the door click open.

I blink my eyelids apart. He’s watching me, a hint of amusement on his face.

Oh god.

Embarrassment floods me.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” I mumble, then, I’m out of there, lickety-split.

“Good night, India,” he calls from behind me.

Flustered, I get my keys from my bag and climb into my car.

He’s standing in his doorway, watching me.

I start the engine and slam the car into reverse. He lifts a hand in good-bye, so I throw a quick wave at him and peel out of there.

Oh my God, I’m mortified!

I really thought he was going to kiss me. And worse, I was going to let him.

This is all just getting out of hand, and I’m spending way too much time with him outside of our sessions.

I need to rein this in and get back to what we are. Therapist and patient.

By the time I’m parking beside Kit’s car on our tiny drive twenty minutes later, I’m calm and thinking more rationally.

I’m the therapist. Nothing can or will ever happen with Leandro.

I need to get his handsome face out of my head and ignore the way he makes me feel when I’m around him—like a hot mess of sexual frustration—and look at him as I do all my other patients.

I let myself in the house. “I’m home,” I call out.

No answer.

I drop my bag in the hall and kick off my shoes before wandering through to the kitchen. Through the window, I see our garage door is open. We have an old garage in the back garden as our house opens up onto a wide alleyway. We don’t use the garage for parking, just for storing junk.

I open the back door and go barefoot into the garden. I can hear Jett’s excited voice in there, talking to Kit.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” I poke my head inside the garage.

Then, I see it.

“Is that what I think it is?” I step inside the garage. “Is that a…kart?”

Jett grins at me. “It is. It’s brand-new, top of the range.”

“And where did it come from?”

I’m not stupid. I know how much these things cost. Mainly because I looked at the prices of them online last night after Jett had told me he wanted to start karting. They cost around two thousand pounds.

“It arrived about an hour ago,” Kit tells me.

“And who bought it? Please don’t tell me you got it for him,” I narrow my eyes at Kit.

He’s been known to make impulsive purchases for Jett in the past.

“Not me.” He holds his hands up in protest, but has a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. “But I’m thinking that Brazilian race car driver has a thing for my sister.”

“What?” The word comes out strangled.

“Oh, he totally does. He told me yesterday that he likes you,” Jett announces.

“I’m sorry. What?” I snap my gaze to Jett.

“Yesterday, I asked Leandro if he likes you, and he said it was complicated, but yes, he does.”

What?

Kit lets out a deep laugh. “Well, I’m figuring he likes you an awful lot as he’s just dropped a couple of grand on a kart for your son, all to impress you.”

“Leandro bought this?” I choke out. I know he has, but I just needed to say the words out loud.

“That’s what the delivery paper says.” Kit thrusts it into my hand.

I stare down at it in disbelief. My head feels like it’s about to explode.

I can’t believe he did this.

“He bought Jett a kart. I just can’t…I mean…why?” I look at Kit, like he has the answer.

“I think it’s pretty obvious why, Indy.” He raises a brow, giving me a knowing look.

I take a step back. I feel like I can’t breathe. “This…isn’t right. I mean, I just…can’t…” My eyes come to Jett’s. “You’re not keeping it.” I jab a finger at the offending kart, and immediately feel a stab in my heart at the crestfallen look on Jett’s face.

This is all Leandro’s fault! How dare he buy my son a kart without even talking to me about it! Not that I would have let him buy him one even if he had.

What the hell was he thinking!

Anger flares in my gut like a volcanic explosion.

My hand curling around the delivery note, I swivel on my heel and march out of there. “I’ll be back in half an hour. Start dinner for me,” I call to them.

“Where are you going?” Kit calls after me.

“To shove this delivery note up a certain race car driver’s arse!” I stomp back into the house, put my heels back on, grab my car keys, and slam my way out of there and into my car, heading straight back to the place where I just came from.

I’VE JUST GOTTEN OUT OF THE SHOWER
when I hear the doorbell ringing along with hammering on my front door.

Grabbing a pair of pajama bottoms, I quickly pull them on and jog downstairs.

“Okay, I’m coming. I’m coming!” I call out to the incessant banger and doorbell ringer.

I check through the peephole to see who it is.

India. And she doesn’t look happy.

Fuck
. The kart must have been delivered today.

My conversation with Carrick a few days prior flashes through my mind.

“Ryan, I need to buy a kart. Best place to get one?”

“Why? Are you thinking of taking a step back in your career?”

“Funny. It’s not for me.”

“Who’s it for?”

“A friend.”

“Does that friend happen to be a certain therapist we both know?”

“You stalking me, Ryan?”

He lets out a laugh. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. The good doctor tells us that she’s got a kid who is obsessed with Formula One. You take him to watch a karting race. The next day, I’m getting a call from you, asking about the best place to buy a kart. Actually, it does take a genius. Fuck, I’m good at this shit.”

“You’re a prick.”

“A good-looking prick though. Admit it.”

“You’re an ugly bastard. Now, tell me where to get this fucking kart.”

“Look, in all seriousness, do you think it’s a good idea to buy her kid a kart? You might want to fuck her, but she is your therapist. And it’s an extravagant gift.”

“I’m buying it for Jett, not her. And it’s not an extravagant gift.”

“Said like a true rich kid. And trust me, nothing says, ‘I want to fuck you,’ like buying a woman’s kid a two-thousand-pound kart.”