Revved (14 page)

“Mmhmm. I’m good. Just tired.” I force a smile.

He takes the seat next to me. “I hear you. I think I’m getting too old for all this traveling.”

“Never.” I look at him, smiling. “You wouldn’t know what to do if you stopped. You love it.”

“Sure I do.” He gives me a wink. “But I’m still getting old.”

“Well, to me, you still look the same as you did when I was a girl.” I curl my hand around his arm and rest my head against his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“Like old times.” He lets out a long breath. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Carrick.”

And there it is.

I lift my head and meet his eyes. “And?”

“And I want to make sure that you’re okay.”

He stares at me, and I feel like he can see right through me. He’s always been able to know when something is going on with me.

“I’m fine. Carrick and I are just friends.”

“I’m sure you think that. But does he?”

I think back to yesterday. “Yeah, he does.”

Another long stare, and then he seems to settle on it. “I just worry about you, kiddo.”

“I know you do, and I appreciate it, but everything’s fine. I promise.”

Except it’s not.

He lets out a long breath. “Even though I see you every day, I feel like I’ve barely spent any time with you since you arrived.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. But I get it. We’re all busy. You are more than most.”

Uncle John is always working past the clock.

“Yeah, well, I want to spend some time with my girl. When we get to the hotel, you wanna have dinner with me? Or are you too tired?”

Smiling, I say, “I’m never too tired to have dinner with you.”

I’m sleeping when the knocking on the door starts.

I had dinner with Uncle John and then came straight up to bed as I was shattered.

Petra isn’t here. She was flying back to the UK for a week as there’s some catering thing to be done back home, and then she’s coming out. I can’t wait until she gets here. I could do with some female company right now.

So, I’m alone in my hotel room with someone knocking on the door.

Stumbling out of bed, I flick on the light, blinding myself in the process. Glancing at the clock, I see that it’s five a.m.

Approaching the door, I look through the peephole.

Carrick.

Shit.
What’s he doing here?

I thought he was still in China. I’m sure he had some press things to do before coming to Bahrain.

But he’s here, meaning he couldn’t have left much longer after I did.

On a deep breath, I open the door.

“Hey.” His eyes flicker to my bare legs before lifting to my face.

I’m wearing pajama shorts and a T-shirt. And now I’m remembering that I also don’t have a bra on.

Great.

I fold my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here? I thought you were still in China.”

Staring at him, I notice his eyes look bloodshot and glazed.
Has he been drinking?

“I came early. Private jet,” he explains.

“Well, that’s great, Carrick, but it’s ridiculous o’clock in the morning, and I was sleeping.”

“Sorry, I just…” He scrubs his hand over his face. “I wanted to talk to you.”

I wanted to talk the other night, but you were too busy screwing some other woman to talk to me.

“Well, couldn’t you have waited until a reasonable hour?”

I’m being a bitch because I’m hurt.

Hurt that he slept with someone. Hurt that he replaced me.

But most of all, I’m hurt because he thinks that I’m nobody.

“She’s nobody.”

Those words keep ringing in my ears. And they shred me to pieces every single time.

I thought I was something to him. I thought I was his friend.

Clearly not.

“No, I couldn’t wait.” His voice is as firm as his stare.

So, I give him a pissed off look back, and I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, what exactly is it that you want?”

He leans his shoulder against the doorframe, putting him closer to me, and I instantly smell the whiskey on him.

He has been drinking.

I don’t know why, but that just pisses me off even more, fueling the hurt and ire in my belly. “You’ve been drinking?”

He gives me an awkward look. “A little. On the flight.” He lets out a sigh. “Look, Andressa, I just—”

“How did you know what room I’m staying in?” I cut him off, the thought out of my mouth the second my brain thinks it.

Discomfort flickers through his eyes. Then, he straightens to his full height, his arms coming across his chest, confidence filling his gaze. “Do you really want the answer to that?”

I stand up straight, mirroring him. “Yeah, I really bloody do.”

Putting his hands on the doorframe, he cockily leans forward. “Because I’m Carrick fucking Ryan, and I have a fuckload of money. Those two things can buy me pretty much anything I want, including the number of the hotel room that you’re staying in.”

Not me. You can’t buy me, Carrick.

Aargh!
I’m so ready to slam this door in his arrogant fucking face. This isn’t him. Not the real him. Not the Carrick I’ve spent the past month getting to know.

This…I don’t know who this version is, but he’s a complete tosspot, and I really want to punch him in his rich pretty face.

I take a step forward, poking a finger in his chest, forcing him to drop his hands and move backwards. “What the hell is this? This isn’t you! You don’t say shit like that—especially not to me! And coming up here like you own the place, finding out my room number, waking me up at the butt crack of dawn—you have no right! You know some would call that illegal or maybe an invasion of privacy or fucking stalking!” I all but scream the last part.

He at least has the decency to look contrite. He retreats back a step at the force of my anger.

“Jesus.” He shudders out a breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “This is not going how I wanted this to go.”

“No? How did you think it was going to go with you turning up here out of the blue, drunk and acting like an arrogant prick?”

He steadily meets my eyes. “I might have been drinking, but I’m not drunk.”

I drag a hand through my bed-tangled hair, withdrawing into my room. “Look, I’m tired, and I’m not in the mood to fight with you.”

I start to shut the door, but he puts a hand against it, stopping me.

“Please, Andressa. Just wait…”

I let out a sigh, lifting my eyes to his. “What?”

“I texted you.”

“I know.”

I can see from his expression that he wasn’t expecting that reply.

“Why didn’t you text me back?” His words are soft. He sounds wounded.

Good, because so am I. Deeply fucking wounded.

“Because I didn’t have anything to say.”

He looks like I’ve just told him that his favorite car has been crushed to smithereens.

He moves back, looking like he’s going to leave, but then he stops. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

The words are spoken so softly that I wonder for a moment if he’s actually said them.

Oh.

The sense of relief I feel at hearing that is immense. And it’s wrong because I shouldn’t feel anything, especially not for him.

His eyes lift to mine. There’s desperation in them, and I feel it deep inside, like an ache in my bones.

“Why are you telling me this?” My voice is cold, devoid of emotion.

“Because…I thought…I don’t know what I thought.” He shakes his head. “I just want you to know that I’m not the complete bastard you think I am.”

Just half a bastard then.

“And I’m sorry. So very fucking sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. You’re a free agent. You can do whatever you want with whomever you want. It’s none of my business. I’m nobody, remember?”

That hurts him. I see it flicker through his eyes.

Good
. Now, he knows an iota of what I’ve been feeling since he said it to me.

Then, surprisingly, his pain turns to anger. And that pisses me right off.

“You don’t think I did anything wrong? I kissed you, dry-humped you on that fucking sofa, and then a few hours later, you found me in an elevator with another woman, who I was readying to fuck.”

I really don’t need a recap of one of the worst nights I’ve had in a long time.
Is he trying to get a reaction out of me?
Because if he is, then he’s going to get one—big time.

“But that’s just a standard night for you, isn’t it?” I bite, only just getting started with him.

It was a low blow, and that was exactly what I was aiming for.

What I wasn’t planning on was how much the look of hurt on his face hurts me.

I step away from him, needing the distance. “Look, I’m tired and angry, and you’ve been drinking. We shouldn’t be having this conversation right now. We’re getting nowhere.”

“Yeah…you’re right.” He lets out a defeated sigh. “Before I go…I just want you to know that I am sorry. Beyond sorry. You deserve better than the way I treated you. I was so fucking out of line. What I said…God, Andressa, you’re not nothing. You’re everything. Aside from my dad, you’re the best person I know.” Raking a hand through his hair, he drags his eyes back to mine. “And not that this is an excuse for my behavior, but I just don’t…deal well with rejection.”

Clearly.

“She didn’t look like she was rejecting you from where I was standing.”

“Jesus, Andressa. I meant you.”

Looking away, I hide my pain and wrap my arms over my chest. “What do you want me to say, Carrick?”

He moves before me. Earnest eyes stare into mine. “Just tell me that I haven’t fucked this up.” His voice is close to a whisper, a desperate whisper. “I don’t want to lose my friend. I don’t want to lose
you
.”

I swallow past my own bitterness as a hand of pain wraps around my heart and squeezes. “You haven’t lost me. We just…screwed up, and we’re working through it. We’ll be fine.”

And I ignore the little voice in my head asking me how the hell any of this can be fine when I clearly feel for him like I do.

I’M IN SPAIN
, and it’s late and hot. I’m still at the track, finishing up after today’s practice sessions. I’m here on my own as I told the guys to head back to the hotel. They were dying to go out for a drink, and I was too tired to even consider it, so I told them I’d finish up.

Now, I’m finally done for the day and so ready for my bed that it isn’t funny.

Things have been on the up with Carrick and me since China and Bahrain.

We tiptoed around one another while we were in Bahrain. Then, when we saw each other in Korea for that leg of the tour, after having a few days apart, we just fell back into our old ways. But even for the time we’ve spent together, we haven’t spent any time alone. We’ve always been with the guys and Petra.

Whether that’s a conscious move on his part or subconscious on mine, I’m not sure. I’m just glad that we’re friends still.

But the image of him with that woman in China is still seared into my mind. I wish there were some way to expunge it from my brain.

“I need a favor.”

My head whips up at the sound of Carrick’s voice.