Revved (11 page)

WE DROVE FOR ABOUT FORTY MINUTES
, and now, Carrick is parking on the street, near what looks to be a market.

Carrick brought us here as he knew the way, but I’m driving back to the hotel later, and I can’t wait to get my hands on this car.

I climb out of the car, joining Carrick on the pavement. “So, where are we going?” I ask, hooking my fingers under the strap of my bag, holding it to me, as we start to walk into the market.

“There’s this great little place just a bit farther up.”

As we walk along, I’m looking at the stalls and storefronts, getting distracted by all the sights and smells—fresh food, clothes, jewelry. There are street artists painting portraits and some old men sitting at a table, playing a board game that looks similar to checkers. All around is traditional-sounding music, one song fading into another.

Then, I see this little kitschy stall lined with what looks to be Disney jewelry, and that’s when I spot it.

“Oh my God, is that a Lightning McQueen necklace?” Stopping, I turn and walk over to the stall.

I’m a bit of a Lightning McQueen fan. Seriously,
Cars
is the best Disney movie ever. Give me that over Disney princesses any day.

As I approach closer, I see that it is definitely a Lightning McQueen necklace, and it might just be the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a little McQueen pendant hanging from a silver chain. I’m guessing the chain probably isn’t silver, and my neck will turn green after an hour of wearing it, but I don’t care because I want it.

I curl my hand around the pendant, and I’m just about to ask the man how much it is when I feel Carrick’s heat press up behind me.

“Why are you looking at that
Cars
necklace like it’s a Tiffany’s diamond?”

I tilt my face to his. “Because to me, it is. What might be one girls’ junk is another girl’s treasure.”

His eyes are sparkling at me in the sunlight. “So, am I to take it that you’re a
Cars
fan?”

“Um, yeah.” I look at him, astonished that he even has to ask. I mean, who doesn’t like that film? “Aren’t you?”

A smile touches his eyes. “No.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I’m not five years old.”

That earns him a jab in the ribs from my elbow.

I stare at him, curious. “You’ve never seen the film, have you?”

“No.”

“How is that even possible?” I exclaim. My hand slipping from the necklace, I turn to face him.

“Because, again, I’m not five years old.”

I give a disappointed shake of my head. “You’re seriously missing out. And you call yourself a race car driver.” Pausing, my hands find my hips. “Seriously, you have to watch this film. It’s amazing. That’s it.” I make a decision. “We’re watching it when you’re free next.”

He presses his lips together, and I can tell he’s holding back a smile. “What are you going to do? Buy it and force me to watch it?”

“No, I already have it on DVD, dopey.”

Something dawns on his face, and I realize my slip up.

“You have it with you, don’t you?”

My cheeks explode with color, my eyes going to my feet. “Maybe,” I mumble.

“You travel around the world and take a Disney DVD with you, don’t you?”

He’s dying to laugh. I can tell.

I’m just dying because he now knows how big of a dork I am.

“It’s my security blanket,” I say defensively.

His fingers find my chin, lifting my face to his. His face is alight with humor. “You know, normal people actually have a real blanket for security.”

“Are you saying I’m not normal?” I try to give sass under his scrutiny.

“No. I’m saying you’re unique.”

“Unique bad or unique good?” I bite my lip.

His mouth kicks up at the corner, but a flare of something else is in his eyes, something a little more serious. “Oh, definitely good. You’re…unprecedented, Andressa.”

Oh. Wow.

A frisson of pure delight shivers through me.

“So, you want the necklace?”

“Mmhmm…”

He hasn’t stopped looking at me, nor I, him. I’m dazzled, caught in his sweet spell.

He tears his eyes away from mine, and I instantly miss his stare on me. Then, I see him getting the necklace off the rack.

Before I can stop him, he’s holding the necklace up and saying to the market vendor, “How much?”

The vendor says, “Fifty-five ringgit, but you can take it for fifty.”

Carrick pulls his wallet out, and I see him get out way more than fifty ringgit.

He hands the money to the man. “Keep the change.”

I don’t know how much Carrick gave him, but the man’s eyes light up at the money, and he quickly tucks it away into his money belt.

“Here.” Carrick gestures for me to turn around.

So, I do, putting my back to him. “You didn’t have to do this,” I say softly.

“I wanted to.”

He places the necklace around my neck. The pendant lays cool against my skin.

Fastening it, he lays his hands on my shoulders. “Now, you’ll always have your security blanket with you.”

I feel something deep and meaningful settle inside my heart.

I lay my hand over the pendant. “Thank you.” I glance at him over my shoulder.

His eyes flicker to my lips. The blue in his eyes darken, and then he lifts his gaze back to mine, stepping away from me. “Come on. Let’s go get that food.”

We walk on a little farther until Carrick stops outside a small restaurant. It’s so obscure that I would have walked past it.

“Here?” I point to the building.

“It doesn’t look like much from the outside but wait until you see the inside.”

Carrick opens the door for me, and I step into a little Malaysian oasis. He wasn’t kidding. I’m almost tempted to step back outside to check that I’m still in the real world. I feel like I’ve just stepped into Narnia.

The ceiling is high, and pretty red lanterns are hanging from it. The tables are dark wood, all laid with colorful place settings, differing in rich reds and greens and purples. The wooden chairs have cushioned backs, all equally as colorful as the place settings. The walls are gold-lined with beautiful paintings, and a drape is hanging around the back window, which surprisingly looks out onto a pretty garden complete with a water fountain.

“Mr. Ryan!” A small, Malaysian chap comes wandering over from the bar area with a big smile on his face. “Good to see you again. I was wondering when you would be coming in. And I see you’ve brought a friend. Hello,” he says to me, smiling wide.

“Hello.”

“Guntur, this is my friend Andressa Amaro. Andressa, Guntur Wan. He is the owner of this fine place,” Carrick informs me.

“Beautiful place you have here,” I say.

“Thank you,” he says with a wave of his hand. “But the decor is nothing compared to the food.” He gives me a wink, making me chuckle.

“He’s not kidding,” Carrick tells me as Guntur seats us. “Why do you think I haul arse over this way every time I’m in Kuala Lumpur?”

“Well, thank you for bringing me with you.” I smile, meeting his eyes over the table.

“What can I get you to drink?” Guntur asks us.

“Sparkling water for me,” I say.

“Same,” Carrick tells him.

Guntur hands us each a menu. “We’ve added a couple of new dishes since you were last here,” Guntur tells Carrick, patting his back in a friendly way. “I’ll be back soon with your drinks.”

“So, how did you find this place?” I ask Carrick. “It’s not exactly on the tourist map.”

“When I first started in Formula One and I was out here for my first race, I met Guntur through one of the sponsors. He’s a relation of some sort. Guntur is a huge race fan. Anyway, he gave me his card for the restaurant, told me to come out. Said he served the best nasi lemak in the whole of Malaysia. I had no clue what nasi lemak was, but I was bored one night, so I took a drive and came out here. Had some nasi lemak plus a ton of other food, and now, I come back here to eat every time I’m in Kuala Lumpur. And Guntur is a great guy.”

“Yeah, he seems nice.” I rest my chin on my hand. “And what is nasi lemak?”

“It’s their national dish. It’s basically rice cooked in coconut milk and pandan leaf.”

“Are you into cooking?” I ask, bemused, trying to imagine him in the kitchen.

“No, I’m reading it from the menu.” He gives me a cheeky smile, eyes flickering down to the menu before him.

Laughing, I shake my head at him.

“So, what are we having?” Guntur has appeared back with our drinks.

I thank him as he places my water down in front of me, and I glance down at my menu. With no clue what to order, I look at Carrick for help.

“You want me to order for both of us?”

“Please.” I smile.

I listen to Carrick rattle off what sounds like an awful lot of food while I take a sip of my water.

Guntur scribbles down the order and then disappears off into the kitchen.

“So, I can’t believe I’ve never asked you this before, but whereabouts in Ireland did you grow up?”

“Houth. It’s an old fishing village not far from Dublin.”

“Does it have any beaches?”

“Nah.” He laughs. “Off the harbor is a scrap of rocks you can just about stand on to get near the water. Nothing like what you have in Brazil.”

“I didn’t always have those beaches, remember? I was born in the UK.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “Whereabouts in England are you from?”

“London.”

“And why did you move to Brazil?”

I take a sip of water, preparing myself for my response. “My dad died when I was ten.”

“Jesus, Andressa. I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t kill him.”

He stares at me for a moment, looking uncomfortable.

“Sorry. Poorly timed joke.”

I wave it off, and his face relaxes. I just wanted the look of pity on his face gone. I can take it from anyone, but on him…it bothers me.

“Anyway, my mother didn’t have any family in England, but she has a lot in Brazil. We were alone in England, so she took me back to Brazil to live.”

“Must have been hard—losing your dad and moving halfway around the world.”

“I managed.”
Just barely.
“And I have loads of cousins and aunts and uncles, so it was nice to be around family.”

“How did your dad die? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“In an accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

“The worst kind.” My voice is harsh, and I instantly feel bad, so I try to lighten the subject by changing it. “So, how did you end up becoming a Formula One driver?”

“My dad was a mechanic—”

“I didn’t know that.” I lean forward with interest.

“Yeah, I grew up around cars. My granddad—my dad’s dad—was a mechanic, too, so I guess cars are in my blood. When I was seven, my dad took me and a few of my friends go-karting for my birthday, and from that moment on, I was hooked. I was karting on a regular basis, entering competitions. I loved it. Couldn’t get enough. My dad quickly realized how serious I was about it, and of course, he saw how good I was, especially since I was winning all my races.” He gives a cheeky smile.

“So, he started dedicating a lot of his time to my dream. With all the races I was entering, it was hard for him with work, so he ended up having to reduce his day hours and take on more nighttime off-the-book jobs to earn money.

“Then, when I was thirteen, my granddad passed away, and he left everything to Dad—his house and a good bit of money he’d saved over the years. Karting was good in Ireland, and the races were decent, but I wanted more. Dad saw that there were more opportunities with karting in England and the possibility to progress to Formula One. So, he sold Granddad’s house and our house, and he moved us to England. He rented a place and took on jobs when he could. He used the money from Granddad and the house sales to keep us afloat.

“I entered into Intercontinental A when I was fourteen, which I think is now called KF-two. Then, the year after, I progressed up to Formula A. The next year up, I was up to Formula Super A. I moved up through F-three, F-two, and then to F-one by the time I was twenty.”

“Wow. That’s quite some story. Your dad did a lot for you to help get you where you are,” I say, starting to see the reason for Owen’s protectiveness over Carrick’s career.

“Yeah, he did. He’s great. The best dad a guy could ask for.”

That brings a lump in my throat. “What about your mum?”

His eyes darken. “She’s not around. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

“She left?”

“When I was two. Apparently, she wasn’t mother material.”

“Oh, Carrick…I’m sorry.”

I can’t imagine anyone leaving a child. My mum would never have left me, and my dad…no way. The only way he left me was in death. And to leave someone like Carrick…I can’t imagine. He just shines so much.

Reaching over the table, I touch my hand to his, curling my fingers around it. “She missed out big, Carrick. Really big.”

His eyes flicker to my hand, lingering there a moment, and then they lift to my face.

My heart starts to pump in my chest.

I slide my fingers away. Picking my drink up, I take a nervous sip.

“What’s your favorite car?” he asks out of the blue, assumably to fill the awkwardness I just created with my little hand-holding moment.