Revved (22 page)

I can’t risk it.

I need to put a stop to these feelings I have growing inside of me for Carrick.

I can’t fall for him. Because nothing good could ever come of it.

Even still, I fasten the necklace back around my neck and climb in the shower.

After I’ve showered and dressed, leaving Petra as she’s getting ready, I duck out of the hotel, fearing bumping into Carrick. So, I skip breakfast there, and on my way into the track, I opt to grab a toasted bagel from a deli near the hotel.

I’m just not ready to face him yet. It’s going to be awkward, and I don’t know how to handle it, so for now…I’m not handling. I’m avoiding.

And quite successfully so far. I’ve been hiding out in the garage all morning. Carrick doesn’t usually come down until right before race time, so I’m safe. I don’t even dare to go to the restroom in case I see him out there.

I’m being stupid. I know I can’t avoid him forever, but I just need this time to get my head straight before I face him.

I’m under his car, doing a few last checks, when I hear his voice.

My whole body freezes. And the belly of his car disappears from my view as images from last night flood my vision, making my body crackle to life.

I can hear him and Uncle John talking about the problem the car was having during yesterday’s practice. It was oversteering. That was the first thing I fixed when I got in this morning.

“It’s all sorted.” Uncle John’s voice draws closer.

That means Carrick’s coming over, too.
Shit
.

“Andi fixed it. She’s been here, working on it, since early this morning,” Uncle John says.

“Has she now?”

There’s something in Carrick’s tone that I can’t decipher, but his beautiful Irish brogue touches me in all the right places, making me shiver.

Touching me just like his hands did last night. His hands on me…him inside me…

Oh God. Focus, Andi. No Carrick sex thoughts.

Knowing I’m going to have to acknowledge the men standing near my legs, especially the one who saw me naked last night, I plaster on a neutral face and push myself out from under the car.

Shit
.

He looks…gorgeous. Unfairly hot.

Why does he have to be so damn good-looking?

It makes things so much harder. It’s not that Carrick being ugly would make it any easier because he’d still be him, and that’s what I like best of all—the Carrick underneath all the pretty.

Oh, Jesus. Stop it. Stop it now.

The next thing you know, I’ll be breaking into song about the blue, blue of his eyes.

Which are currently sparkling down at me. There’s an unreadable expression on his face. His dirty-blond hair is all messed up, like he hasn’t touched it since he left the bed—the one he shared with me.

And now, I can’t stop thinking about Carrick and me in bed.

Him naked. All of that smooth golden skin. His six-pack. His huge co—

“Good morning,” he says, bringing me back to my senses. His brow is lifted, and there’s an unmistakable gleam in his eyes.

He knows where my mind just was.

I blush immediately. Covering up, I mutter out, “Good morning,” and get to my feet.

I need to sort myself out and quick. Otherwise, Uncle John will figure me out straight away. The way I’m currently acting, I might as well have the fact that I had sex with Carrick last night written all over my face in permanent marker.

I can do this.
I can be a grown-up and act like nothing has changed because really it hasn’t. I just know what Carrick looks like naked. That’s all.

Oh God.

“Your car’s all ready.” I force my eyes up to his, but I feel a jolt the instant our eyes meet. Taking a quick breath, I swallow down. “You’ll have no problems. It’ll handle perfectly now.”

“John, you got a minute?” That’s Ben calling.

“Sure. I’ll catch up with you before the race.” Uncle John pats Carrick on the shoulder. He goes over to Ben, who is on the other side of the garage, leaving Carrick and me alone.

I watch Uncle John go. When I bring my eyes back to Carrick’s, he’s still staring at me but more intensely now.

That causes my heart to ratchet up and a swarm of butterflies to invade, mercilessly attacking my insides. I’m starting to feel hot, and I have a strong urge to run away.

“So, yeah…I’d better, um…”

I start backing away, but Carrick follows me.

“Andressa”—his voice is lowered—“can we talk?”

What I should say, as a mature adult is,
Yes, of course we can talk
.

Sadly, I’m not feeling that mature right now, which is why I act like a complete child. I mutter out, “Uh…I can’t right now. I need to, um…wash my hands.”

I lift my dirty hands up as proof, and then before he can say another word, I hotfoot it out of there like my arse is on fire.

My heart is practically beating out of my chest by the time I make it to the restroom.

I stand at the sink, my hands trembling.

Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I just talk to him?

Because you’re scared of what he’s going to say.

He’ll say what needs to be said—that last night was a one-night stand. It’s what I need to say. Because that’s all it was.

Even if I wasn’t who I am and I could be with him, this is Carrick. He doesn’t have girlfriends. He has one-night stands.

I rub at the weird sensation in my chest, which has left me feeling a little breathless, and in turn, I smear more dirt onto my overalls.

I sigh at myself in the mirror.

I need to act my age and talk to him. I’m a grown-ass woman. I can have a conversation with the man I had sex with last night.

I just need to get the inevitable over with, so Carrick and I can get back to normal. Whatever our normal is.

Deciding that I’ll talk to him the next time I see him, I pump out some soap into my hands with a renewed sense of purpose. I run the hot water tap and scrub my hands clean. I’ve just grabbed some paper towels when my phone pings a text in my pocket.

I dry my hands, dump the paper towels in the bin, and get my phone from the pocket of my overalls.

Carrick.

My heart starts to beat faster.

I don’t know what the fuck that just was, but we need to talk—now. Driver’s room. Two minutes.

My fingers tremble as I type out my reply.

Okay.

I look at myself in the mirror again, trying to build my courage. I give myself a pep talk. “You can do this. It’ll be easy. Carrick is a player. He’s well versed in one-night stands. You’re both grown-ups. You can do this.”

Taking a deep breath, I leave the restroom and head straight for Carrick’s room.

I take another deep breath before knocking on his door.

“Come in.” His gruff voice comes from the other side.

Hands trembling, I step inside before closing the door behind me.

Carrick is leaning up against the window, arms folded, eyes giving nothing away.

“Hi,” I say, my voice sounding tiny.

“What the hell is going on, Andressa?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean”—he unfurls his arms, straightening up—“that, first, I wake up to an empty bed. Then, I come down to the garage because we need to talk about last night, and you act like I’ve got a deadly fucking disease and run for the hills.”

“I wasn’t running. I had to—”

“Wash your hands. Yeah, you said.” His fingers rub at his forehead, his eyes flashing impatience. “Don’t bullshit me. I know when I’m being avoided.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”
Liar. Liar.

He gives me a look and then a sigh. He links his hands behind his neck, tipping his head, as his eyes go to the ceiling.

I watch the muscles in his arms flex and tense, and I get a flash of him above me last night—his arms tensing beside my head as he moved inside me. It leaves me with this unfamiliar feeling in my chest.

“I thought we had a good time last night.” His voice is softer, gentler, as his eyes come back to mine, his arms dropping to his sides.

I suddenly feel exposed. I wrap my arms around myself, staring past him and out the window at the city skyline beyond. “We did have a good time…”

“But?”

“But…” I exhale. “That was last night, and…well, this is today.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means…I don’t know, Carrick.” Dropping my arms, I shrug helplessly. “I guess it means that we move on from last night and go back to where we were.”

Something resembling incredulity flickers in his gaze. “You’re blowing me off.”

“I’m not blowing you off. I just…we slept together, and it was amazing, but…that was last night, and this is today.”

“So you keep saying.”

He’s not making this easy, and I don’t understand why. I thought he would want this. In all honesty, I thought he’d say this before I did.

I run my hand over my plait, tugging on it. “What do you want me to say?”

“Say what you mean.”

“You need me to spell it out?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Why are you being this way?”

He shrugs, and it pisses me off.

“Fine. Last night was a one-time thing, never to be repeated.” It comes out sounding harsher than I mean it to. I see something that looks an awful lot like hurt flash through his eyes, and it makes me feel like a bitch. “We both had something we needed to get out of our systems, and we did that last night. Anyway, it’s not like you’re interested in having a relationship with anyone, and I don’t get involved with drivers.”

God, I wish I could. I really, really wish I could have you.

He’s looking at me like he doesn’t even know me. Right now, I have to agree with him. I don’t recognize myself either. I’m not the girl who says these types of things.

His eyes go to the ceiling again, and he blows out a breath. “So, what happens now?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

His eyes come back to mine, his brow furrowed. “What is there not to understand? What the fuck happens now?” He enunciates the words.

I can tell he’s getting angry.

It makes me squirm uncomfortably. “Well…I guess we go back to being friends.”

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “You’re friend-zoning me?”

I frown, displeased. “We were always friends first, Carrick.”

He gives a hollow-sounding laugh. “I can’t believe I’m being given the let’s-be-friends speech.”

“That’s not what’s happening here.”

“No?” He gives me a direct hard stare. Then, looking away, he places his hands on the back of the chair in front of him, gripping it, and his eyes go to the floor.

It feels like forever before he looks back up at me. And when he does, I wish he hadn’t because he looks cold. The warmth in his eyes that I’ve grown so used to is gone, and it’s been replaced by something stony.

“And what if I said I don’t want to be your friend?”

A sharp blow hits me, dead in the center of my chest, leaving me gasping for air.

The thought of not being friends with him…it’s inconceivable. He’s become too important to me in such a short space of time for me to lose him.

“Carrick…”

“Answer the fucking question.” His voice is firm and resolute.

I don’t know what to say. My throat feels tight. I nervously wring my hands in front of me.

I’m trying to clutch at words, but I’m getting nothing.

All I have stuck in my head is the total dismay of never being able to be close to him again…to talk to him.

I never even factored that into the equation.

Swallowing past my fear, I part my dry lips. “Then…I’d respect your wishes.”
And I would spend the rest of my life missing you.

“Of course you would.” He sounds bitter.

I’m so confused as to what’s going on here.

“God, Carrick, are you being this difficult because you didn’t get in first to say that last night was a one-night stand? Have I bruised your ego or something? Because if that’s the case, then I’ll gladly step outside and come back in, so we can start all over again. Then, you could give me the one-night-stand speech.” I’d do just about anything to get back to where we were.

“Yeah, that’s what this is about—my bruised fucking ego,” he snaps.

“I just…I don’t understand you!” The anger bursts from me. I’m practically tearing my hair out here. “You sleep with women all the time. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

Something in his expression changes, and that’s when I see his eyes close down, shutting me out. “I’m not. Whatever, Andressa. We’re done here.” Turning, he walks away from me and over to the window.

“Done?” Panic slaps me in the face. “Carrick, I can’t lose my job over this.” The words are out before I can stop them, and I know it’s the wrong thing to say, but it’s too late now.

I don’t even know why that was the first thing out of my mouth, why I interpreted his words that way, because what I’m more afraid of is losing him from my life. That takes precedence over anything.

He turns back to me, his expression hardened. And I feel sick to my stomach.

“Wow…” A bitter laugh escapes him. “I didn’t realize you thought that low of me.”

“I don’t. I just…I mean—” I trip over my words, trying to correct my error.