by Jen Greyson
“I wondered what got you started. You’re a tiger at the auctions. I was impressed.”
“What about you?” There, now I could get the topic far, far away from me.
He stared at me, then stood and held out an open palm. “I want to show you something.”
My pulse quickened. Friendship didn’t need to include touching. I smoothed my shorts and stood. “Should I change?”
A smiled played at the square side of his mouth. “Never.”
I rolled my eyes. Did he really just want to be friends? While I could count my girlfriends on a single hand, my male friends were considerably less. There had been Jimmy in the second grade, and then Nial in Jr. High... but since then, I’d kept men to the bare minimum in my life. And with good reason.
His nearness still unnerved me. I gathered my keys and took a last sip of my cold coffee, then closed the doors behind us. I tipped my head as we walked through the hallway, but nothing moved or moaned. The medic must have knocked those girls out with something strong.
He led me down several halls to the top of a staircase I didn’t know existed. during my search for lunch, I hadn’t made it this far below deck. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” Mateo jogged down the steps, trusting my curiosity would override the fear. I wrinkled my nose and drummed my fingers on the wall. At the bottom of the short flight, he turned. “Coming?”
“Do I have a choice?” I hadn’t seen a cameraman today. Had Stuart hidden them this far away from the main areas? I glanced over my shoulder, but only saw one at the far end. If nothing else, this would be another nice reprieve. He grinned and unlocked the door, swinging it wide.
I lost momentum the second he flipped the lights. A collection of stunning cars fired to life under the stark fluorescent bulbs. A covered one far in the back, a 66 ‘vette—the split window coup, a 1934 Rolls Royce Phantom II, a 1953 Jaguar XK120... “A Bentley? Here?”
“1953 Continental R, one of—“
“Two hundred and seven.” My head swiveled. This ship really had come with everything... And I thought the office had been a ridiculous treat. “A ’53 Bentley...” My jaw dropped and I stared at him. “No. Way.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Check it out.”
I eased toward the car of my dreams. “A 1967 Shelby GT-500 Fastback.” I shook my head in disbelief. “How—where did these come from?”
Mateo winked. “Figured since we were headed to Key West, I’d do a little work on the way.”
My fingers trailed over the Shelby’s hood, then I jerked them back.
He chuckled. “It’s okay. You can get in.”
I clutched my fingers to my chest and shook my head. He might as well have offered crack to an addict. “I shouldn’t.”
He cupped my elbow and tugged me around to the driver’s side. I dug in my heels. “No, really. It’s okay.”
“C’mon. All the cool kids are doing it.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and slid my bare feet across the smooth concrete. The smell of leather and rubber melted my resolve. I dipped into the seat and it wrapped around my hips.
Mateo got in the other side, making the shocks squeak. I fingered the gear knob and traced the steering wheel. At the apex, I wrapped my hands around the leather and sighed. This was a better sanctuary than the office. “Okay, we can totally be friends now.”
He laughed and it reverberated through the storage area.
Then through my belly.
I leaned my shoulder across the tight interior. “Can we still talk cars?”
He laughed again. I liked how it echoed inside me. “Yeah, lets.” He slid the seat back and propped his elbow out the window like we were cruising down a country lane. “How much do you want for your ‘Cuda?”
I snorted, imagining a pile of leaves blowing up behind us as we raced down the straightaway. “Not a chance. What’s the most you ever spent on a car?”
“Two and a half million. How about the Charger?”
I downshifted and took a corner wide. “Nope. What’s the most complicated deal you ever did?”
“Had to take an elephant on trade from an Arabian sheik.” I jerked away from the imaginary road. “I’ll give you six figures for the Goat.”
I blinked. It was worth less than half that in its current condition.
“D-did you get the car?”
“Yours or the Sheik’s?”
“Sheik’s.”
“Yep, that’s the Midnight Blue Rolls I had in the auction. They’ve got a thing for them over there.”
“And the elephant?”
“Gave him to an elephant sanctuary. Now about your cars... “
I got out and used both hands to gently close the door, then I peered across the interior. “Not... For... Sale.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “We’ll see.”
I shook my head and smiled. He couldn’t quench my mood. Now I was glad we’d stayed up late and drank too much. Today hadn’t been horrible. We’d had some bumps, but I was letting go. He’d been nothing but nice to me since the auction. It was my own fear turning that experience into something big I could keep between us, but I was slowly loosing my grip on it and before long there wouldn’t be anything left but him and me.
We walked among the remaining cars and I didn’t mind the few times he settled his hand between my shoulder blades to guide me.
I stopped at the Vette and flattened my palms on the roof. Horses trembled beneath my touch though nothing in the room moved. My heartbeat evened out and my breathing deepened. I drew air down to my belly button. “Sometimes I think I should’ve been a mechanic, not a lawyer.” My hushed voice still sounded loud in the echoing room.
Mateo stepped closer and tugged a loose strand of my hair. “Pretty big gap between those two.”
I exhaled and laid my cheek against the cool metal. He leaned a hip against the door. “There’s still time, you know.”
Oh, if only, but I’d made promises. I gave him a watery smile. “Not for me.”
He lifted a hand to my cheek and I closed my eyes as his fingers drifted across my cheekbone. “Why?”
Our whispers multiplied and ricocheted off each other. “My dad wanted me to be someone important, not a mechanic.”
“Was he?”
A heavy sigh lifted my cheek and my lids fluttered open. “Of sorts.”
Mateo’s lips compressed until they nearly vanished and he looked away. What was that about? The pain evaporated as quickly as it had appeared and I let it go.
“I’ve always liked cars, but it’s genetic. I was under cars with my dad before I could walk. Cars were a passion, he lived for them.” Before I could pull them back, the words tumbled out, like dirty children hoisted out of mother’s clean kitchen. I straightened and walked toward the Jaguar, trailed my fingers over the hood. “Everyone knew if they wanted to spend time with him, it was in the garage.” I shrugged, and drifted to the past.
“I got into horses for a while and that pulled me away from the cars. I, um, had an accident, and I—“ My throat constricted and I opened my palm to the metal, drawing strength. Mateo stood silent, letting me exorcize my demons in this crypt. “I couldn’t ride for a while but I was restless. Working on cars settles me...Makes everything okay again.” I looked up and the intensity of his gaze startled me. My voice wobbled, but I needed to purge this. “My passions consume me, so I try to be careful what I let myself get lost in.”
“Far uglier things could have consumed you.” He studied me and I wilted beneath his scrutiny. I’d purged that for myself, not for his approval. And yet... something about this space made me want to share the event that triggered my landslide. He waited, expectant and open to whatever I wanted to reveal.
I inhaled and straightened. Whether by design or accident, he’d closed the distance on my hesitation.
But not that much.
My face must have changed, because he gave me a short nod of acceptance. “Did y
ou ever get back into the horses?”
“For a little while.” I walked to the Bentley, but wrapped my arms around myself so I wouldn’t touch it. “It’s so public. I needed something a little more solo, and the travel weighed on me.”
“Wish I could say the same.” Mateo paused and touched the Vette where my hand had been moments before. My stomach fluttered making me quicken my pace past the Bentley and putting another few feet between us. It was getting harder to remember why I didn’t like him.
“Do you travel a lot? I mean, beyond the auctions.” And random boat rides when you’re vying for the attention of six women. We headed back toward the entrance, but I didn’t want to be done with his cars yet, or at least that’s what I told myself.
“I do, but I enjoy it. I’ve seen some amazing places.” He veered left instead of following me. “Tough on relationships though.”
We intersected near the door, and I hesitated. Some of the girls were probably up by now, but I’d actually enjoyed our time together. There was no reason to stay down here—other than I felt more at home here than anywhere else, even the office, which was a shocker.
Was it the cars, or the soothing darkness, or the company?
“Wouldn’t know.” I gave the room one final longing gaze. Now that I knew it was here, I’d have a tough time forgetting it. As I turned to follow him out, I glimpsed the covered car. I’d forgotten about that one when he’d distracted me with the Shelby. “What’s that?”
Mateo gave a nonchalant shrug. “Nothing.” He made a pronounced check of his watch and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Was he teasing me?
I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, we should probably go.”
“Probably.” He glanced at the mystery car, then twisted the doorknob.
He knew there was no way I could resist, right? He might as well have handed me a personal invite to snoop. Was he waiting for me to ask about it? I wavered, then grinned and raced toward it.
I made it halfway before he gave chase. I shrieked, dodged the Jag, and sped up. A giggle burst out. My fingers brushed canvas before Mateo grabbed my waist and swung me around, lifting me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
Horrible memories of a dark night and darker attacker surged over my head, drowning me and stealing my air. I wheezed and sucked in air.
“Be quiet.” Mateo laughed and smacked my bottom.
I flailed, struggling and fighting to get down—to get away. Adrenalin held my sensibility beneath the water and I couldn’t calm down. The space between Mateo’s elbow and ribcage widened, and a vision from another night overlapped. My vision tilted and darkened.
“No!” I fought to keep the panic out of my voice. His hand stilled, halfway to the canvas.
Memories rammed against each other in my mind’s eye. Hot sticky breath against my ear, rough hands pinning me against the unyielding interior of another car.
Another car, I yelled at myself. A different car. A different noise. Not this car, not this man.
Not this man.
Nausea surged and I gasped for breath.
The fabric slid again, mimicking the sound of my dress scratching over my nylons.
A choked sob wrenched from my throat, instantly stilling Mateo’s hand. He lowered me gently to the ground, cradling my face between his palms. “Sangria? Look at me. Are you okay?”
I stilled, my breath frantic. Mateo set me on the hood, making the canvas slither across metal.
I sucked in a cleansing breath. Not this man. Not this man.
“Breathe, baby.” He stroked my cheek. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Tears burned my eyes. Breathe in, exhale, breathe in. I forced myself to see Mateo standing in front of me. My hands trembled, but I lifted one to his chest. Felt the heartbeat beneath my fingertips.
Not. This. Man.
I sucked air like a wheezing engine.
He smoothed my hair off my forehead. My heart thundered in my ears. He’d only been teasing me. I’d started it.
“I shouldn’t have—“
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t mean to freak out.”
“What happened? Where did you go there?” His hands dropped to my thighs and I flinched. He lifted them and settled one against the windshield and the other further down the hood.
I shook my head. “I was thinking about something else.” Duh. I scrambled for an explanation. I brushed the canvas beneath me. I shivered. “I’m probably scratching the paint.”
His eyes roamed my face, concern evident in his dark eyes. “It’s fine.”
I squirmed. His attention was making me uncomfortable, and completely at war with the panic still electrifying my body. “I’m fine.”
He touched my chin gently and forced me to lift my gaze. “Are you sure? I’m sorry. Truly. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I forced a smile and hoped it was believable. I hopped down and tried to step to the right and create some space between our bodies. My hand straightened the canvas. I didn’t care what lay beneath. The fun had evaporated. I wanted to go to my room and cry, or the office and figure out how to forget what happened.
Both then and now.
He stepped back, but didn’t move toward the door. I needed to convince him that I was fine. “I have one that stays covered too.” I turned my head and absently stared across the car’s lines. “Protected.”
He didn’t invade my space, but his fingers clenched and unclenched and I think he wanted to draw me against his chest. I almost wanted him to. Luckily, he restarted the conversation. “I struggle with covering them. I only covered this one at the request of the buyer. Magnificence should be on display to enjoy.” His hand eased toward my face and the escaped tendrils of hair. I tried hard not to arch away. “It’s wasted if no one gets to see it.” His soft voice lulled me.
As his hand neared, fear crept nearer too. “I guess that’s a downside of protection—in order for it to work, nothing can come close.”
His hand stilled. “Not everything that touches, hurts.”
Were we still talking about cars? Had we ever been? Today he’d blurred a lot of lines I’d held firm for a long time. I wanted to believe it was just because of our common interest in cars, but I wasn’t sure this was the time to start trusting people. Especially a guy who was contracted to propose to one of five other women at the end of six weeks. He was guaranteed heartbreak... Even if I was interested.
I lifted my chin, my strength and courage returning. “But is it worth risking the finish to find out? New products are always risky in the beginning.”
His fingers brushed feather-light against my skin, the silken strands of my hair floated over his fingertips as he tucked them behind my ear. His words were softer still, “But imagine if the inventor of a chamois never took the risk. Then where would we be?”
I quivered with fear, but tried to fight it and keep from bolting. From somewhere deep inside a desire to lean into the pressure called quietly, but I ignored it. “Buffless?”
A soft chuckle escaped Mateo, and the moment was broken. He stepped away from me and held out a hand. I stared at it. There was no point in muddying this situation any further.
For either of us.
I was here to play a game.
And he was too.
But we weren’t playing for the same team.
I hugged myself and nodded to the cars. “Great collection. Thanks for sharing it with me.”
I turned on my heel and fled.
CHAPTER
SOUR WHISKEY BREATH clogged my nostrils. Warm, wet saliva soaked into my pores. Clammy lips pressed against my skin.
I screamed and woke myself from the nightmare. Sweat-drenched sheets tangled around my legs, and relief flooded my body as my room materialized from the darkness.
Shaking, I untangled myself and stripped the wet T-shirt I’d fallen asleep in. My stomach growled and I fumbled for a clock, but couldn’t find one. I’d obviously missed dinner and was surprised Stuart that hadn’t
come looking for me. Maybe Mateo had said something. Either that, or he caught it on tape. I hadn’t seen cameras in the storage room, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. My head pounded and I tabled the puzzle for now. I wrapped myself in a soft, voluminous robe and drew a bath, loading the steaming water with pomegranate-cherry scented bubble bath.
The nightmares hadn’t come for a while. And I’d gotten complacent—had let myself believe they’d gone forever.
Slipping into the water, I ignored the scalding heat. After a night terror, it was the only way I could warm myself. The cold penetrated to my bones, and showers never worked.
I inhaled the fruity steam, begging it to infuse me with warmth—and some courage.
I sank deep and practiced my breathing exercises. They’d seemed so stupid and useless during the therapy sessions, but after they calmed the first nightmare years ago, they hadn’t been so stupid.
On each exhale I told myself it was just a nightmare, but it took a dozen before my psyche settled. Danger didn’t exist here—well, not that kind of danger. I slipped beneath the water, blocking everything but the muffled pings of the water droplets cascading from the faucet. Bubbles trickled from my nose, and I waited until the pressure on my lungs screamed for a breath. Heat seeped into my body, shoving the bitter cold away.
Afraid to sleep again, I toweled off and found a toasty pair of flannel PJs. Suitably warm and covered, I headed to the library.
A few crewmembers shuffled silently through their tasks along my path, but otherwise the boat remained deserted. No surprise at two in the morning. At the top of the stairs, the captain raced by on his way from the bridge. I jumped and squeaked. He bowed, apologized, and swept out of my way. I smiled and hurried past. My heart threatened to beat out of my chest, and I paused in an empty hallway and drew in a few slow, deep breaths. As the air eased out, my trembling subsided and I stretched my arms over my head, then rolled forward and touched my toes. Hopefully Stuart wasn’t showing my calisthenics to the entire world.
Nothing else jumped out and I made it safely. A peaceful calm washed over me as the glass door slid closed, as if I’d just sealed the bay door on my personal space capsule. For whatever time I could manage, I was alone in the universe.
