Revved (5 page)

“Don’t worry. I’ll get them,” Uncle John tells him. “Beer?” he checks with Ben.

“Yep.” He lifts his bottle, draining the last of it.

Uncle John turns to me.

“I’ll have a beer, too, please,” I say.

Uncle John leans up against the bar, waiting to be served.

“Did you have a nice dinner?” Ben asks me, pulling my attention to him.

“Yeah, it was good. Thanks. Nice to catch up with Uncle John.”

“How long have you known John?”

“All my life.”

“Cool.” He smiles. “So, how are you finding England? I heard you’re from Brazil.”

“Yeah. Good.” I decide not to regale the fact that I was born and lived here for ten years. “How long have you worked for Rybell?” I ask him.

“Four years.”

“You like it?”

“Love it. It’s long-arse hours and shitty hotel rooms, but I get to see the world, and nothing beats the buzz of race day.”

“I hear you.” I smile.

“Here you go.” Uncle John hands my beer over to me and then gives one to Ben.

“Well, welcome to Rybell.” Ben lifts his bottle to mine, so I chink it against his.

“Thanks.” I take a swig of beer.

Perfect. Just what I needed to pick me up.

“You want me to introduce you to some more of the staff?” Ben asks me. “The rest of the pit crew guys are here and some of Nico’s team along with the front-of-house girls.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

I tell Uncle John where I’m going, and he tells me that he’s going to go find Owen – business to discuss. Uncle John is always working.

I follow behind Ben through the pub to a table in the back. While I’m walking, I glance around for Carrick but no sign yet.

Ben stops before the table. “Everyone, this is Andi, our new mechanic. Not that you’ll remember their names, Andi, but this is Amy, Petra, Damon, Paul, Mike, Davis, and you know Robbie.”

I follow Ben’s finger around the table.

“Hi.” I lift a hand in greeting.

A pretty girl with blonde hair and huge blue eyes, who I think is Petra, gives me a big smile. She’s shorter than me, I’d say, but it’s hard to tell with her sitting down.

“Shove over, Amy. Come and sit down with us,” she says.

I slide onto the bench beside her and put my beer on the table.

“So, you’re from Brazil?” Petra asks me.

I’m guessing Ben must have told her. “I’m from England originally, but I’ve lived in Brazil since I was ten.”

“Wow. You’re so lucky. I would love to live somewhere hot.”

“You spend more than half of the year in hot countries,” the other girl, who I think is Amy, says. “God, I can’t wait to get out to Australia. Never been before.”

“Amy’s newish, like you,” Petra tells me. “Been here a few weeks. She works front-of-house with me.”

“So, you’re the girls to see when I want some really great food.” I smile.

“For sure,” Petra says.

Amy just stares blankly at me, which she’s kind of done from the moment I came over here. I can tell she’s doing that bitchy girl assessment of me. I hate that.

I take another swig of my beer, and I’m thankful when one of the guys asks me a question.

I’m there for a while, chatting, and my beer is quickly empty.
I should probably go find Uncle John.

“I’m going to the bar,” I say to no one in particular. “Can I get anyone anything?”

I get a few noes from the ones who were listening around the table. The others luck out because I’m not asking again.

Picking up my bag, I head in the direction of the bar. I’m still surprised that I haven’t seen Carrick yet. The pub doesn’t look to be that big, and he’s not exactly a guy you can miss.

I actually want to wish him a happy birthday, which I failed to do earlier. That was kind of crappy of me.

With no sign of Uncle John or Carrick, I slip into a spot at the bar and wait to be served. I decide on getting a drink and then going to look for Uncle John. He’s probably with Carrick.

I feel him before I hear him.

His heat presses up against my side. “You came.”

Carrick.

Turning to him, I smile.
God, he looks good
. His eyes are bright, and his cheeks flushed, like he just came in from outside.

“I did. I got here a while ago.”

“Hmm. Did you now?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You should have come and found me.”

“I thought maybe you were busy as you were nowhere to be seen.”

“I was cornered. Couldn’t get away.”

“But you’re free now?”

A mischievous glint appears in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m most definitely free.”

Feeling that tension run over my skin, I look back out at the bar.

“So, Amaro—that’s Brazilian, right?” He leans closer to me.

I slide a glance at him. “Right.”

“Dad told me that you just arrived in today from there.”

“I did.”

God, aren’t I full of the vocab tonight?

“Not to be offensive, but you don’t sound Brazilian. Your accent sounds a little diluted.”

“I’m from England originally. I was born here. My mother’s Brazilian. We moved there when I was ten.”

“Ah, right. Explains the dilution then.” He smiles.

“So, I didn’t wish you a happy birthday earlier,” I say, changing the subject from my history.

“No, you didn’t.” His stare on me is suddenly direct and intense.

“Well…happy birthday,” I say awkwardly.

His stare relaxes, and a smile lifts his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Let me buy you a drink. Beer?” I check, nodding at the bottle in his hand.

“Mmhmm.”

He downs his bottle, and I can’t help but watch his lips around the rim or the way his throat moves as the alcohol slides down.

“What can I get you?” That’s the bartender.

Feeling like I’ve been caught staring at Carrick, my face flames.

“Um, two beers, please.”

The bartender deposits two bottles on the bar just as Carrick puts his empty one down.

I’m digging in my bag for the money to pay when I see Carrick handing a twenty over.

“Hey, I was supposed to buy you a birthday drink.” I frown.

“Call it a welcome-to-the-team drink from me.”

“Well, thank you. But that kind of defeats the purpose of me buying you a birthday drink.”

I lift my bottle to his and chink it, and then I take a drink.

“So, Andi—what’s that short for?” he asks me.

“Andressa.”

I did tell him my full name before in the garage, but clearly, he’s forgotten. Then again, he probably has a lot of women’s names to remember.

“Andressa…” He rolls my name around his mouth.

I love the way it sounds in his Irish lilt, the way his tongue rolls on the S. It sends shivers hurtling down my spine.

“Of course, you did tell me earlier. So, why Andi instead of Andressa?”

“Because Andressa is a bit of a mouthful, and it’s just what everyone has always called me.” My dad started calling me Andi. It apparently drove my mum mad until she finally gave in.

Carrick raises his eyes, and I can read the sexual innuendo all over his face.

“A mouthful can be a good thing.” He grins sexily. “Andi is a boy’s name, and you’re far from a boy. No, Andressa…that’s a beautiful woman’s name. It’s perfect for you.”

Oh, he’s good.

I feel him move in even closer to me. My heart starts to beat harder and faster than I’ve ever known it to do before.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Unable to look at his face, I keep my eyes on his chest. “You’re pretty rich in lame pick-up lines.”

“That’s not all I’m rich in.”

As I look up, I see him flash a glance down, causing my eyes to focus on the very prominent bulge in his pants.

Good God.

And that breaks the spell he was weaving over me.

I turn back to the bar, leaning into it, I put my bottle down and rest my elbows on it. “You really shouldn’t talk to me like this.”

He rests his back against the bar, but I can feel his eyes on me. “And how exactly should I talk to you?”

I slide my eyes to his. “Like you would speak to any of your mechanics.”

“How do you know I don’t speak to Ben like this? And Robbie? He and I have something special going on.” He winks cheekily before taking a swig of his beer.

A laugh escapes me.

Cutting it off, I stare ahead. “Seriously, we need to draw a line here. So, let me just lay it out for you—”

“Perfect. Your place or mine?”

“Jesus, can’t you be serious for one minute?”

He angles his body toward mine. “I am being serious.” The tone in his voice screams a totally different kind of serious to mine.

“So am I.” Straightening my spine, I turn to face him. “Exactly how much have you had to drink tonight?”

His brows pull together. “Not enough that I can’t get it up. And even if I was wrecked, I can guarantee I would have no problem getting it up for you.”

Then his eyes do that thing they do, running the full length of my body, giving a lazy perusal. And it irks the hell out of me. He wouldn’t treat his male mechanics this way, so he definitely doesn’t get to do it with me.

“Let’s just cut the comedy. You need to stop with the flirting and the sexual innuendos. You and me – not going to happen. I don’t go with drivers. It’s a rule of mine.”

He frowns. “You don’t
go
with drivers?”

“I don’t sleep with them.”

“What I was suggesting wouldn’t involve sleep.”

“Yeah, I got that memo. But if you’re wanting sex tonight or any other night, it’s not gonna be with me. Drivers are off-limits for me, especially ones I work for. Now, thanks for the drink.” I pick my bottle up. “And have a great rest of your birthday.” I turn to leave.

“That’s it?” he says, his voice pulling me back to him.

I give him a strained smile. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“So, we can’t even be friends?”

I give him a suspicious look. “You want to be friends?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Um…because less than thirty seconds ago, you were trying to get into my pants.”

“Look”—he scratches his cheek—“the flirting…it’s just the way I am. I don’t mean any offense. But I like you. I think you’re cool. I’m guessing, as you’re new here, you don’t have many friends—aside from John—so I’m saying, let’s be friends.”

I ponder on it for a minute.
Is it a good idea to be friends with Carrick? Probably not.
But I’m going to be working for the guy, so friends seems logical. Not good friends. Just work buddies.

“Friends…okay, I can do that.”

“Good.” He smiles winningly.

“Carrick? You ready to go?”

My eyes swing to the voice calling his name, and I see a group of guys and girls all by the main door, looking like they’re about to leave. I notice that Amy and Ben are with them. Amy is looking at me less than favorably. A definite frown is on her face. I get the impression the frown is because Carrick is talking to me, and she likes Carrick, which isn’t surprising.

In this moment, I find myself comparing my looks to hers, not something I usually do. She’s pretty, womanly. She has definite hips and a bum and plenty going on up top. Me…well, my figure’s more boyish. I’m slender with no hips and very little arse. My cup size is generous but not too generous. I know my face is nice because people always tell me how much I look like my mother, and she is beautiful. And I have nice dark-brown hair—long, thick, and with a natural wave. I don’t wear it down often though as it’s always tied up because of work.

“I’ll be there in a sec,” Carrick says to the group.

“Well, the cabs are here, so hurry up,” someone calls out.

I watch as they pile out the doors before I bring my eyes back to Carrick, who’s already looking at me.

“We’re going clubbing. Do you want to come?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

“No, but thanks for asking. I’m tired. The jet lag is catching up with me. I’m gonna head home soon.”

He stares at me for a long moment, before he starts backing away. “Okay…cool. Sleep well, and I’ll see you soon, friend.”

He gives a cheeky grin, one that I can’t help but return in the form of a soft smile.

“Good night, Carrick.”

One last dazzling smile, then, he’s gone, and for a split second, I regret not going with him even though I know that I did the right thing. Nothing good could have come of me going clubbing with Carrick.

That becomes even more apparent in the morning when I go out to get some food from the local shop and see the newspapers in the stands. They are filled with pictures of Carrick leaving a club, looking the worse for wear, with a couple of girls hanging off of him, and I recognize one as Amy, the front-of-house girl.

I’m guessing Carrick hasn’t learned his lesson about sleeping with coworkers.

Seeing this picture and going by the icky feeling in my stomach at the knowledge that Carrick quite possibly had sex with both of those girls, probably at the same time, I’m starting to think that it’s maybe not a good idea for me to be friends with him.

Because, if after a day of knowing him, I feel icky over a picture, then it can only go downhill from there.