by Sarina Bowen
She doesn’t.
“Yo! You don’t have to get the car for me. I’ll get it.”
She lifts a hand and shows me her…pinky finger.
“What does that mean?” I ask as I finally catch up to her.
“It means I want to give you the finger but I’m too polite.”
Po-laht. There’s that word again. I want to know how polite she’ll look when she’s naked in my arms, begging me to let her come.
Jesus. My raging attraction to the commissioner’s daughter is really inconvenient. “Have you ever driven a Tesla before?”
“It’s a car, Jason. How hard could it be?” She stops in front of my baby, which is practically glowing in the moonlight. She opens her fingers to reveal my key fob, which is basically a small, smooth replica of the car itself, without any buttons.
She turns it over in her hand, and I can practically hear her gears grinding as she tries to figure out how to open the door.
This time I can’t fight off my grin. “Need some help?”
“Okay, this is weird,” she grumbles. “No buttons?”
“Touch the driver’s side of the little car in your hand.”
She taps it, and my car door opens slowly. “That is seriously cool!” She taps the model twice more, and now my back doors rise, too—bat-wing style—up over the car.
“You’ve got it now,” I say.
But before I can even finish the sentence, she’s tapping those sensors like crazy, opening and shutting all four doors. The car looks like a bird that’s flapping its wings for takeoff.
Jesus. “You’re draining my battery right now.”
“Oh, please,” she says. “Like you never did this?”
Fine. I totally did.
She marches over to the driver’s side and gets in. Then all the doors begin to close at once.
“Whoa,” I say, ducking under the backdoor, forcing it to pause in its descent. I drop into the backseat of my car, a place I haven’t admired before now. “Hey, it’s roomy back here.”
“Shall I climb on back, then?” Heidi asks, turning around to face me. Her pretty face sizes me up. There’s a challenge in her eyes.
Unngh. This girl is gonna kill me. “Very funny.”
“What if I wasn’t joking? I want another chance.”
“Another chance at…?”
“You. Jeez.” Her expression is defiant, but a telltale blush hits her cheekbones. “I’m not drunk, and I’ve sworn off alcohol.”
I clear my throat. “Well, I’ve sworn off you.”
“Because of the picture?”
“The picture doesn’t help,” I admit. “We both know that people will believe what they want to believe.”
“Which people?” She narrows her eyes. “Does this have to do with my father?”
“Sure it does,” I admit. “Do you know how he greeted me tonight? With, ‘My daughter is off limits.’ That was his opener.”
Heidi whips around to face the front again and thumps herself back against the driver’s seat. “FML.”
I snort. “You say it that way when you’re sober?”
“Yes. It sounds cheap when a woman drops f-bombs.”
“Depends when she’s saying it,” I point out. “I’m rather fond of hearing it when we’re naked and she’s begging for it.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she snaps. “I guess there’s nothing more to say. Let’s deliver you and your hot guy vehicle to the turnaround, shall we?” She reaches forward and…
I wait.
“Castro,” she says in a low voice. “I know there’s no key. But where’s the magic button?”
“I can’t help you find your magic button, baby,” I tell her.
Heidi growls. “We already went over that. I mean on the car.”
I laugh. “There’s no button. It’s always on. You step on the brake to close the doors. Then you put it in gear and hit the pedal.”
“That’s just weird,” she grumbles as the doors close. She moves the lever into reverse.
“No, it’s awesome. My baby is always ready to play. She’s—”
The car leaps backward so fast that I’m thrown forward.
“Whoops!” Heidi says as we halt just as fast. “I guess those Tesla engineers aren’t fooling around.”
I’m absolutely terrified now. “Maybe you should let me—”
“Nope,” she snaps, guiding the car out of the parking space more carefully now. “I’ve got it.” She touches the control panel, shutting off the air conditioning. Then she touches it again to lower the windows. “I want to hear the silence.”
“Okay,” I say with a sigh. Everyone does.
She glides gently past the row of parked cars. “That is super cool,” she says. “We’re in stealth mode.”
“Stealth mode is awesome,” I admit. Everything about this car turns me on, including watching her drive it. Not that I’d say so.
“Does it really accelerate as fast as they say?” she asks.
“Totally.”
“Awesome,” she says, passing the entrance to the turnaround.
“Where are you going?” I ask as she puts on her turn signal.
“To try it out! Duh.” Heidi makes a right onto the country road.
“Oh. Well. There’s a gas station about a half mile from here. You could turn around there.”
She says nothing. And when we reach the gas station a minute later, she blows right by it.
“Uh, Heidi?”
“Don’t worry. I’m just going to have a little fun. I have to get my kicks somewhere. I mean—I’m totally down with giving you a blowjob instead right now. But I think you said that’s already off the table.”
My poor brain is instantly filled with images of Heidi unzipping my tuxedo pants and bending over me, her hair sliding around on my body as she takes me inside her mouth…
The car turns onto the highway entrance ramp and accelerates further. “Holy shit. Where are we going?”
“Can’t go ninety on the side streets,” she says. “That’ll be dangerous.” She taps a button to close the windows. They slide up as the car shoots forward onto the sparsely populated roadway.
Thank God it’s a Wednesday night and not rush hour. Because we are flying. I watch my speedometer climb to eighty and then ninety.
“Jesus, slow down!”
“You are wearing your seatbelt, right?” She puts her hands at ten and two on the steering wheel. “How does she handle at high speed?”
“You don’t need to know! Let’s go back now.”
But Heidi ignores me. There’s a Taurus in the left lane that isn’t moving quite so fast, so Heidi slips into the right lane and passes it.
“Careful. You don’t want a ticket,” I say a little breathlessly. “Wouldn’t that be a bad way to finish the night?”
She slows the car, and I’m immediately grateful. We roll along at a nice quiet fifty for a moment. I’m breathing a little easier, but then she asks, “Have you done a hundred? I bet you have. Hey—time this. Count of three.”
“What? Don’t—”
“One, two, three—” She floors it.
The only thing I’m timing is how quickly my balls recede into my body as Heidi rips forward down the highway. It’s one thing to press down the accelerator yourself. It’s quite another to be at the mercy of someone else.
Heidi gives a little shriek of joy as we hurtle down the road at high speed. The speedometer lurches upwards, through seventy and eighty in a heartbeat. Then ninety.
It’s dark, for fuck’s sake. So many things could go wrong. A deer in the road. A drunk driver coming home from happy hour. My heart is in my throat as I glance at Heidi in the front seat. Her eyes are locked onto the road, her sleek arms gripping the wheel like she’s a NASCAR driver in formal wear. She’s completely focused.
“A hundred,” I gasp as the speedometer shows triple digits. “You did it. Feel free to slow down.”
“Yes!” She eases back on the pedal.<
br />
And that’s when we fly past the police cruiser in the median. “Uh-oh. Shit.”
“Cop?” she squeaks. She doesn’t freak out, though. “Did he pull out?”
“Well…” I crane my neck to watch the road behind us. “He was facing the other way. Like he’d have to do a K-turn to get you.” We’re making tracks away from him. But just when I think we’re out of the woods, I see cruiser lights flip on. “Uh-oh. He might be coming.”
Heidi doesn’t say anything. She makes a lane change that’s sudden yet smooth and heads off the upcoming exit. “Hey!” I gasp, grabbing the seat in front of me. I’d be impressed if I weren’t busy preparing for my sudden death.
It’s a short exit ramp, and she has to break hard at the bottom. The tires squeak as she makes a short radius turn, heading away from the highway.
“This is just going to get you into more trouble,” I complain.
“Possibly,” she grunts as we head down a street dotted with low-slung buildings. “But the universe owes me one.”
“It doesn’t work that way for me,” I point out from the backseat.
Although maybe it does for her. Because Heidi pulls into the entrance of an automated carwash and drives around to the back.
This will never work. Those are my thoughts as her sleek arm reaches out of my lowering window, a credit card on offer. She dips it into the waiting instrument panel and the carwash door begins to lift ahead of her.
Heidi taps on the screen several times at top speed. And then my car glides into the bay as she raises the window again. “Now you won’t have those dead bugs on your windshield,” she says as the door closes behind us.
“I’ll be in jail, but at least I’ll have a clean car. There’s a window on that door. See? The cop will be sitting out there waiting when it opens.”
We both stare at that window as the water begins to spray the car. My heart rate is accelerated, and the buzzy feeling in my chest has returned. I feel more alive right now than I have in a long time.
“What do you think the citation is for evading a police officer?” I ask, because I’m a dick. “Misdemeanor or felony?”
“Gosh. Stop it,” she says, reaching back to slap my leg.
But I grab her wrist and hold on tightly. She turns around, fire in her eyes.
I feel lit up and happy. It makes no sense at all. Neither does my next move—reaching out to palm Heidi’s jaw with my free hand, and tugging her closer.
Our mouths fuse before I even realize what I’m doing. But it’s already too late. She tastes like cherry lip gloss and heat. My first kiss is slow, and she makes a soft sound of surprise. Emboldened, I lick her lower lip. She opens on a hot gasp that goes straight to my crotch.
Damn it all to hell. Why does this girl get under my skin? As soapy water rains down on my car, I try to figure it out by weaving my fingers into her hair and exploring her sweet mouth with my tongue.
But there aren’t any answers here. Only the click of teeth as I get even closer. Her hands grasp tightly to my shoulders. She wants this, and yet she shouldn’t. She ought to understand that this is a bad idea.
My kiss turns punishing, my tongue scraping against hers. My grip tightens on her hair. Run, little girl. Or I’m going to hike up that soft pink silk and do you right here on my premium upholstery.
She moans.
So it’s like that? I’ll give you something to moan about. With my free hand, I cup her breast. It’s heavy in my hand. And as I give her one more impossibly deep kiss, I pinch the nipple through the fabric.
“Yes,” she pants against my mouth. “More.” She ups the ante by skimming a hand clumsily down my chest. She’s twisted around, trying to reach me, basically trying to climb into my mouth from the driver’s seat.
Fuck. I’m torturing both of us. I’m the stupidest man alive. With a groan I ease back, breaking our kiss.
That’s when the carwash door opens automatically, revealing the police cruiser outside. The cop is standing there, arms crossed, waiting.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathe.
“Let me handle this.” Heidi hits the dash control to open her door, then hops out.
Still a little stunned, I scramble to open my door, which takes me a second because I’ve never sat back here before. Then I hop out, too.
The cop is ranting. “—and you thought you’d just take a joy ride in the dark, on a public highway?” He takes in Heidi in her strapless silk dress and heels. And his eyes scan me as well. I hate wearing a tuxedo, but when you have to face down a cop, I guess it’s better than a hoodie and ripped jeans.
I open my mouth, but she’s already apologizing. “I’m so sorry, officer. My boyfriend just bought this car, and I wanted to teach him a couple things about torque and traction so he’ll be extra safe when poor weather arrives. But he complained about the dead bugs on the windshield, so I offered to get a carwash, too.”
Wait, what?
The policeman’s eyes widen. He clearly doesn’t know what to make of her. That makes two of us. “Back up, now. Where are you coming from tonight?”
“The East Hampton Beach Club. We were at a fundraiser,” she says sweetly. “I apologize, sir, for going over the speed limit. I wanted to demonstrate the cross effects of acceleration and transient force, and the road was so quiet. Still, I should have waited.” She digs into her pocketbook. “Here’s my license. Oh—and my racing license.”
My jaw is on the asphalt.
He studies both of them carefully. “Let me run your license. One second.” He trudges back to his cruiser and gets inside.
“Your racing license?” I sputter when he’s out of earshot.
Heidi shrugs those smooth, bare shoulders. “I went to racing school one summer. That’s what bored rich girls do when they’re sick of tennis camp. Nashville has a speedway.” She bites her lip in contrition.
I’m officially speechless, but no less horny. I’ll be trying to fall asleep tonight while picturing Heidi zooming around a racetrack in a strapless dress.
The cop comes back with her license and a smile. “No outstanding warrants. No tickets. I’m gonna let you off with a warning.”
“Oh, thank you officer,” she says, giving him a big smile. “I promise to be good, sir.”
My dirty mind proposes recreating this scene later. Naked. I’d need some handcuffs…
“You have a nice night, now,” she says.
“Drive slow,” he adds, tipping his hat to her before he climbs back into his vehicle.
He pulls away, and we just stare at each other for a moment. “I thought you had no marketable skills? Getting out of tickets is nothing to sneeze at.”
She rolls her eyes. “I have a lifetime’s practice appeasing men. Now you’ll take me back to your hotel room, right? I’ll let you drive.”
I groan. “No can do.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” Her face falls.
“We are not going to happen,” I say quietly. “I just spent the day telling everyone that you and I are not a thing. Rebecca. Tommy. My agent.” Now there was a fun call. “So we can’t be a thing. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“But I liked it.”
“Oh baby, I know you did.” I liked it a lot, too.
“We’d be so good together.”
“I’m sorry,” I grunt. “We’ll have to live with the mystery. Hand over that key fob. I’m driving back.”
“You’re a cold man, Jason Castro.” She pouts.
“You’re right. Exactly.” It’s time she knew. “Now get in the passenger’s seat, Miss Pepper. I’m going to enforce your curfew now.”
The ride back is silent. But at least nobody’s in jail.
8
Heidi
I’ve never tried to fit my whole life into a suitcase before, and it isn’t pretty. Most of my belongings are going to have to stay here in Daddy’s apartment. Do I leave behind my Theory cardigan, or my Burberry trench coat? It’s like choosing a favorite child.
/> My parents have no trouble choosing a favorite child. They’d pick Jana any day of the week. On that happy thought, I zip my giant wheeled suitcase closed.
As I wheel the suitcase out of the room, I realize what a pain it will be to haul this sucker down the subway stairs. I can’t afford to Uber to Brooklyn. I can barely afford dinner after laying out my first month’s rent.
“Heidi Jo? Where are you going with that bag?”
I freeze at the sound of my father’s voice. He’s not usually here in the middle of a workday. But when you run the entire pro hockey league, your schedule has some flexibility. So there he is, holding a copy of the Wall Street Journal and a mug of coffee.
Crap. I’d planned to make my exit while he was out, even though I hate myself a little for sneaking around. I’m twenty years old, I shouldn’t care what he thinks.
“I’m leaving,” I say, lifting my chin.
“I can see that. For where?”
“An apartment I’ve rented in Brooklyn.”
“You can’t afford an apartment in Brooklyn.”
“Not a very nice one,” I admit. “But I can’t stay here.”
“Sure you can. Don’t be foolish.”
Ah, but there’s the problem. “I’d rather not be foolish. But you insist on making me look foolish just to amuse yourself.” It’s been two weeks since he ruined my internship with the Bruisers. During the first week, I was assigned to the janitorial contractor at the stadium. I cleaned the women’s bathrooms during and after a Grateful Dead tribute concert. And last week I sold hotdogs during the hockey team’s preseason events.
I survived. It’s honest labor. No reason to be ashamed. Yet every time I come home on aching feet, smelling like hotdog water and spilled mustard, Dad is waiting here with a smug expression.
Like the one he’s wearing right now. “You can quit anytime, you know,” he says. “You can go back to school if you hate it so much.”
Trying to humiliate me into going back to school won’t work. That’s my father’s idea of parental love. So I’m outie. “Bye, then.” I roll my case a little nearer to the entryway.
“Where are you going?”
“I told you. Brooklyn. A rental.”
His face is full of confusion. It has never occurred to Daddy that I’d actually defy him. But that’s on me. Twenty years of obedience is a habit that’s hard to shake. “Where’d you find this apartment? Are you moving in with friends?”
