Revved (15 page)

It’s weird to be thinking of someone and have that person just appear like that.

“A favor?” I raise a brow at him, watching him walk toward me, as I wipe my grimy hands on my overalls. “And what are you still doing here?”

“Meeting with Dad and Pierce.”

“Oh. So, this favor?”

“Hmm.” He’s looking at me with a sexy smile growing on his face.

“Well, what is it?” I’m suspicious because Carrick’s favors usually involve me doing something that potentially puts my job at risk.

Stopping in front of me, he lifts his hand, and he sweeps his thumb over my cheek.

I part my lips on a breath as my skin ignites on a blaze of flames.

“Oil.” He shows me his thumb.

“Oh.” I rub my arm against my face. “So, this favor?” I step back, away from him and over to the workbench.

“I need a date. More specifically, I need you to be my date. I have to go to this sponsorship event tomorrow night. It’s our biggest sponsor, so it’s kind of a big deal.”

“And you want me to go with you?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to go alone. And because you’re awesome.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “I meant, why me?”

“Because you’ll make what is guaranteed to be a boring-as-fuck night a million times better.”

His compliment flushes through me, all the way down to my toes.

“And I want to spend some time with you. Just me and you. As friends…” he adds at my expression. “I miss hanging out, just us.”

I miss hanging out, just us, too.

“Okay.” I smile.

His face lights up, and I like the way it makes me feel. I like making him happy.

“What time does it start?” I’m thinking of the practice sessions tomorrow—if I’ll be able to slip away for an hour to get an outfit and have time to get ready after.

“It starts at seven thirty. And don’t worry. I’ll speak with John, let him know you’re coming with me and get him to let you off early.”

Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go down well.
“Let me talk to him.”

“You sure?”

I give him a look. “I’m sure.” I walk over to the basin to wash my hands. “So, what should I wear?”

“It’s black tie, so a dress.”

“Dress. Got it.”

Shit.
I have nothing to wear and no clue what to buy. I’m a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of girl. I’ll have to ask Petra. I’m sure she’ll come shopping with me. She loves shopping.

Carrick reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a credit card. “Take this.”

Reaching for a paper towel, I dry my hands. “What is it?”

“What does it look like? It’s a credit card, you dope.” He chuckles.

“Your credit card?”

“Yeah.”

“And why are you giving it to me?”

“So you can buy a dress.” He shoves it into my hand.

“Erm, nope. No way am I taking your money.”

I push the card back at him, but he holds his hands up, refusing to take it.

“Take it. You’re doing me a favor by coming with me. You shouldn’t have to drop a shitload of money on a dress that you’re only buying to help me out.”

“How do you know I don’t own a dress already?”

He folds his arms. “Do you?”

I fold my arms, mirroring him. “No, but that’s beside the point.”

“It’s the only point, so take the fucking card and buy a dress.” He walks away before I can get another chance to give it back to him. “See you tomorrow.” He throws a wink back at me.

The minute he’s gone, panic mode sets in.
How in the hell am I going to buy a dress and make myself look pretty by tomorrow night?

I’ve reached high-level dread, wondering why the hell I agreed to go to this event with Carrick by the time I get back to my room, and I’m surprised to find Petra here.

“I thought you were going out?”

“Changed my mind. Thought I’d have a night off and hang out here with you.”

I drop down on my bed and turn onto my side, facing Petra. “I need some help.”

“Okay.” She takes her eyes from the TV to look at me. “Is this about Carrick?”

My head jerks back. “What do you mean?”

“Come on. I know there’s been some weird tension thing going on between the two of you. You left China all weird, and you’ve been the same since.”

“No, I haven’t. And there’s no tension between me and Carrick.”

“Sure there isn’t.” She rolls her eyes.

I pretend not to have seen her, as I don’t want to get into my Carrick problems with anyone. I know Petra, and I like her, but I don’t know her well enough to trust her with my Carrick crap.

“Anyway, this is Carrick-related, kind of. He’s asked me to go with him to this event tomorrow night—as friends,” I add when I see her brow rising. “And I need a dress.” I won’t tell her that Carrick is paying for the dress because she’ll think for sure that something is going on. “But I have no clue what kind of dress to get or where to get it from here in Barcelona, and I need your help because I’m crap at shopping.”

She claps her hands together with glee. “Of course I’ll help.”

She glances at the clock, and I follow her gaze, seeing that it’s seven thirty.

“Lucky for you, we’re in one of the best cities for late-night shopping. The shops are open till nine.” She gets up off the bed. “What’s your budget? Because Passeig de Gràcia has the best designer shops, but they also have Zara and Mango.”

“Well, I don’t want to spend too much.” I can feel Carrick’s credit card burning a hole in my pocket. “But I want to look good.”

“Hot on a budget. Got it. Come on, chick.” She pats my leg as she passes by. “We’ve got some serious shopping to do and limited time to do it.”

And that’s how I find myself in the fitting room at Mango on Passeig de Gràcia.

Petra yells for me, “Have you got it on yet? You’ve been in there for ages!”

“Yes.”

“And?”

I run my hand down the dress again, looking at myself. I just…I don’t know. I think I look okay, but it’s a little risqué for me. It’s red satin, floor-length, strappy with a plunging neckline, so you can see definite cleavage. But that’s not the risqué part. It’s the split up the side. Granted, it’s not skintight, but you can see definite leg when I walk, like up-to-the-thigh high.

“Jesus…your legs go on forever.”

I flush at the reminder of Carrick’s words to me that first day in the garage.

Would he like me in this dress? Would I care?

I think I already know the answer to that last question.

“Andi?” Petra calls, impatience in her voice. “If you don’t come out in the next three seconds, then I’m coming in.”

“Okay. I’m coming out.” Taking a deep breath, I pull the curtain back and step out.

“Holy fuck,” Petra says, getting to her feet.

“Is that a good holy fuck?”

“It’s a very good holy fuck.” She grins. “You look amazing, not that you look like shit normally, but you’re always in those god-awful overalls or jeans and a T-shirt. All this time, you’ve been packing this under there.” She waves a hand over me. “Carrick is gonna come in his pants when he sees you wearing this.”

“Nice.” I grimace at her choice of words. “Seriously, you think it’s okay?” I turn to look at myself in the mirror. “It’s not too…red?”

“Not at all. And with your coloring, you can carry it off, no problem.”

“So, you think I should get it?”

“I definitely think you should buy it and maybe wear it every day.” She smiles, coming to stand beside me, looking in the mirror. “God, I feel so like a bloody midget next to you.” She pouts.

Petra’s only five-five, which is a good height. I’m just so bloody tall.

“I think we should go minimal on the jewelry,” she says. “Maybe just some earrings. Don’t want to take the emphasis off the dress. Oh, shoes. You definitely need some heels. Maybe black or nude. We’ll have to scout some out.”

Heels?
“Er, Petra, I’m not used to heels.”

“We’ll go low.” She pats my arm. “Three, maybe four inches.”

Three or maybe four inches?
“I was thinking more like one inch. Seriously, I won’t be able to wear them. I’ll fall over and make an arse of myself. And I’ll look like a giant. Can’t I just wear flats?”

She looks at me like I just asked for coffee on my cereal. “No, you can’t bloody wear flats! It’d be an insult to this gorgeous dress. I’ll teach you how to walk in them. And you won’t look too tall. You’ll look like a freaking supermodel. Now, go get changed.” She ushers me back into the fitting room with a pat to my behind. “We haven’t got much time left, and we need to get you those heels.”

I’M STANDING OUTSIDE THE HOTEL’S BEAUTY SALON
, wondering what the hell I’m doing here. This isn’t me. I don’t do this girlie stuff. Sure, I go to the hair salon for a trim when my hair needs it. But getting my nails done? Hell, no. It’s too embarrassing.

I glance down at the text I got from Petra this morning. She was already up and out before I woke up as she had to get an early start on breakfast for some meeting that Pierce and the rest of the management team were having.

Hotel salon. 4 p.m. I made you a nail appointment. Be there. See you back at the room afterward, so I can do your hair and makeup.

I look at my hands. They’re all dry, and the skin is rough. Oil stains are around my cuticles, and my nails have been bitten down.
Ugh.
The nail technician is going to take one look at my hands and run screaming.

“Can I help?” says a heavily accented voice.

It’s then I realize the door to the salon is open, and a woman is standing there, looking at me.

I must look like a crazy person, just standing out here staring at the place.

“Oh, um, yes, I have an appointment…to get my nails done.” I hide my hands behind my back. “My friend made it for me.”

“Oh, you are Andi?” She smiles at me.

“Yes,” I answer tentatively.

“Wonderful! Come in.” She steps back, waving me in. “I’m Martina.”

She presses her hand to her chest. When I see how nice her nails are, I cringe again at my own bitten mess.

“I have you booked in with Alma. She’ll be out in a few minutes. Sit down.”

I’m ushered into a chair.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Coffee would be great. Thanks.”

Martina disappears through the salon, leaving me to panic about being here. The salon is a hub of activity with women getting their hair done. They all look stylish and glamorous, and I’m none of those things.