by Lisa N. Paul
She answered, “Hey, Gage, what’s up?”
“Hey, friend, how’s your morning going?”
“Uh, nice.” She smiled at her clever response. “What’s up with the call? You need something?”
“Getting right to the point. No bullshit.” He sounded amused. “I’ve got something I want to show you. Think you’ll like it.”
Grateful for the phone between them, Lyla could hide the goofy smile stretching her lips, “Wow, is that the line you usually use with the ladies? It seems so elementary. Now, if you included a dick pic, maybe…”
He laughed. “Funny woman, you are. I’ll pick your ass up in five minutes.”
“Five minutes!”
“Yep, I’m in your driveway.”
Lyla lunged from her chair and ran to her bedroom. She yanked open the shades, and sure enough, his black GMC Sierra was parked in her driveway. The man in the front seat had a phone to his ear and a cocky grin on his face.
“I look like hell, Gage,” Lyla said, her face breaking into a smile for reasons she couldn’t begin to understand.
“Perfect.”
“Shit, I have to at least shower.”
“If you can get it done in”—she saw him look at his dashboard—“four minutes, go for it. Clock is ticking. I’ll be at your door in three and a half minutes. Go.” The phone disconnected.
“Shit.” Lyla threw her cell as she raced into the bathroom for the quickest shower in history. She was rinsed off and drying as she heard the door bell ringing. “He wants to play? I’ll play.”
Lyla took the stairs two at a time and opened the door. Gage’s wide eyes and audible swallow when he saw her standing in nothing more than a sheer robe was worth the biting chill that the first week of February brought to Pennsylvania.
“Sorry”—she batted her eyelashes—“I obviously need more than three minutes to get ready. Take a seat on the couch. I promise to be only a few minutes more.”
With the heat of his stare burning through her robe, she added extra sway to her hips as she ascended the stairs. Take that, Mr. Sexy-All-The-Damn-Time.
***
HIS COCK WAS so damn hard, he had to adjust it in order to sit semi-comfortably on the sofa. That little vixen. Sebastian smiled as the last few minutes replayed in his mind.
Seeing Lyla hadn’t been part of his plan today. After working since before dawn to finish repair jobs on both a car and a motorcycle, he decided to leave the garage for a bite to eat. However, instead of stopping at the coffee shop just down the street, he found himself pulling up in front of Lyla’s house with to-go containers of warm bagels and coffee and a plan to spend a couple of unplanned hours with Lyla. Surprise her, keep her on her toes and off her game. Little steps, right?
But the surprise was clearly on him. Leave it to that woman to open the door practically naked. No, worse than naked. She’d had on just enough to jump-start his imagination. Her hair had been knotted at the top of her head, leaving her long neck exposed. Images of running his tongue up the smooth column of skin, inhaling her brown sugar scent flashed through his mind. Under the light fabric of the pale blue robe, her nipples had been drawn into tight pebbles, either from the gusty temperatures or, hopefully, his nearness. Either way, Sebastian wanted to cup her breasts. Wanted to rub his thumbs of her erect nubs and watch her reaction. Would her eyes flare? Would she press against him, begging for more as she did that night at the bar? Or would she take control and let the silken barrier fall to the floor and finally end the purgatory between them?
Lyla had cast her spell and sashayed away, leaving him aroused like a teenager with nothing more than words stuck in his throat and his dick throbbing in his jeans. Damn, she was good.
“I’m ready.”
Dressed in jeans, an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, and a pair of suede boots with some sort of furry lining, Lyla looked downright edible in the most earthy “I didn’t try at all” kind of way. It was one of the many things he found so attractive about her. Whether she was dressed up or dressed down, she owned herself, exuded confidence (regardless of if she felt it), and made no apologies if her style wasn’t to someone else’s liking.
“Great, let’s go. Have you eaten yet?”
Grabbing her winter coat from the rack by the front door, she mumbled, “Had a protein bar a few hours ago. I could eat.”
Sebastian plucked the coat from her grip and held it open. He was satisfied when she slid her arms through the sleeves without any comments regarding the gesture. “I have some food in the truck.”
With his hand on the small of her back, he led her out of the house. She got in the truck, reaching for the cup in the console.
“Mmm, how’d you know this was my favorite coffee?” She took another sip of her raspberry-flavored drink.
“Come on, really? I already told you when I want something, I get it. Especially when it comes to making my friend happy.”
Her eyes narrowed at the word “friend,” but they both turned their attention to the bagels. Music played in the cab of the truck as they once again zipped through Sebastian’s playlists.
“You know, Bon Jovi is my favorite band of all time,” she admitted upon seeing that he had every Bon Jovi title ever released. She selected “It’s My Life” and looked out the window. “Gage, where are we going?”
“Wow, eight minutes. I can’t believe it took you that long to ask.” His comment was said in jest, but he was actually surprised that she hadn’t demanded the destination the minute they pulled out of her driveway.
Her eyes darted to the floor. “I just realized I had no clue.”
Trust. That comment right there was a small symbol of her trust in him. Was he a total fucking pussy for feeling like a goddamn king? “Have you ever been to the Winston Track?”
“No. Obviously I’ve heard of it, living here the past few years, and now that Max and you are partners, I know that it was your family business or something, but to be honest, I don’t get involved in other people’s stuff.”
Sebastian hoped the quick side-eye he tossed her conveyed he knew she was full of shit.
“You know what I mean, Gage. I get involved with their personal lives—Christ, if I didn’t, they would all be sad, pathetic, and lonely.” She shrugged. “It’s the truth. Without my brilliance, your boy Max would have been in the doghouse with Janie. Don’t even get me started with Ryan, and Kyle? Man, was he a disaster. What I meant was, I stay out of people’s professional lives. I was keeping my own secret. I may be a bitch, but I’m not a hypocrite.”
There was so much information in what she’d just said, as well as what she left out. He had to respond before too much time settled. “No, you aren’t a bitch, Ly. I think you just play one on TV.”
The musical sound of her laughter carried through his truck, creating a warmth the heater could never supply.
“Anyway, the track has always been a haven to me. Even when I was young, my grandfather would take me there, put me behind the wheel of whatever car was on the oval, and let me drive. All that speed at my command and asphalt beneath me… it’s exhilarating. Freeing.” He felt her eyes on him, her curiosity trying to peel back his layers. Layers he’d kept tight for decades were now loosening around the edges.
“Did you need freeing, Gage?”
“Everyone needs freeing at some point.”
With his comment hanging in the air, they pulled into the mostly empty parking lot and he turned off the engine. It was time to introduce Lyla to his first true love.
***
HAVING WRITTEN A series of romance novels based on racecar drivers, Lyla had had an elementary, albeit glorified, education on racetrack etiquette and the drivers themselves. She had even visited a track in Georgia when she and Janie took a road trip several years back. For the purpose of her books, she’d only researched a couple different types of cars, and none of those appeared to be at the Winston Track when they arrived.
The oval was a sight to behold. It was perfectly
paved asphalt—which Gage explained helped the cars go faster—complete with elevation changes that, according to Gage, allowed both the racers and the spectators to experience a more exciting race and high-tech lighting for night races, which was important on the east coast where the days were short half of the year. Even with the temperatures at the freezing mark, in the pits where they currently stood, heat lamps kept her toasty warm.
“This place is awesome. Thanks for bringing me here.”
His confused blue stare had her wondering what she’d said wrong. “I didn’t bring you here to look. I brought you here to drive.”
“Wait, no. I don’t need to drive. I’m good.”
His confusion morphed into excitement as Gage pulled helmets, jackets, and gloves from the lockers behind where Lyla stood. “Yeah, you’re good. Damn good. But you’re still getting behind the wheel of that 1965 Lotus my guys and I just finished rehabbing and taking a test drive.”
Gage fastened her helmet and zipped her jacket while Lyla stood stone-still. Even with her heart pounding, she couldn’t get herself to move, not to fight, not to acquiesce. Nothing.
“You’re gonna be fine. I’ll be by your side the whole time.” Gage’s reassuring tone helped to chip away at her fear. “Here, put these on.” He slid a pair of headphones over her head, and a small microphone landed just to the side of her mouth. “It’s loud in the car. This way we can talk to each other while you’re driving. I promise, Ly. This is safe.”
With Sebastian’s own gear in place, they walked onto the oval where a few staff members—Lyla assumed by the shirts they wore—greeted them.
“I can’t do this, Gage. This may be your freedom, but I don’t think it’s mine.” Driving she could do just fine, but Lyla wasn’t a daredevil. If she were a cat, she would be onto her seventh life by now. No way would she waste one speeding recklessly in the name of fun.
“Look at me.”
Almost against her will, her eyes met his. His face, usually steadfast and determined, was filled with understanding and compassion.
“You’re scared, okay? I understand, but you are safe with me. I’d have it no other way.”
Whether it was his words or his eyes that eased her fear, she had no idea, but she found herself being eased into the racer and belted in by his capable hands. Once he was secured next to her and the team gave the go-ahead, the engine began to rumble and she started out.
Lap one around the oval was comically slow. The odometer barely hit thirty miles per hour, and Gage couldn’t sit still as his foot hit the imaginary gas on the passenger side.
By lap two, Lyla could no longer contain her smile. Not because the driving brought her immense pleasure—because while it was relaxing, it was clear the track wouldn’t be her Zen place. No, her smile was due to her passenger.
“You know this is a Lotus?” Gage’s voice crackled into her ear.
“So you’ve said.” Like five times.
“This baby can go over a hundred eighty miles per hour, you know that, right?”
“That’s what you told me.”
His deep breath sounded through the headphones. “But you aren’t gonna go any faster than sixty-five are you?”
Slowing down to take the curve, Lyla quickly peered over at her passenger, whose eyes were stuck on her. “You did say this track was your first love, right?”
“I said the speed was what I loved. The speed, Lyla.”
“Hmm, you ever think maybe it’s not always about the speed? Maybe sometimes it’s about the passion.”
The earphones went quiet. The only sounds she heard were coming from the spectacular car under her command.
“All right,” his gravelly voice finally responded. “I’ll give you that. Passion.” She could feel his heated glance igniting her skin. “You’re right. Sometimes a slow burn is better than a burnout. This may be one of those times, friend.”
FEET PLANTED FIRMLY on the ground, Lyla removed her racing gear and got back into her own coat and gloves. Her cheek tingled where Gage’s lips had touched her after they stepped out of the racer. He had been right—even at the slower pace, having an open path to drive was therapeutic—but it was having him next to her that made the experience memorable. He’d made her feel safe. Protected. But she wasn’t sure if letting her guard down with him was good or bad, and until she knew for sure, it needed to stay up.
That said, she wanted him around, because if she was being honest, letting him go wasn’t something she was ready to do. At least not for any length of time.
Standing in the heated pit, the headphones still resting on her ears and connected to Gage (as well as the rest of the crew this time), she listened to technical jargon pass between the men before Gage slid into the driver’s side of the Lotus and revved the engine. His claim about needing to “test” the engine personally before signing off on the finished job would have held more weight had his smirk not alluded to the thrill he was about to claim.
“All right, baby, sing for me.”
“So I’m your baby now, huh?” Lyla responded into the microphone.
Multiple chuckles rang in her ear as she remembered Gage was no longer her only audience, even though he was the only one to reply. “You can be anything you want to me, but I was talking to the Lotus.”
Wishing the ground would swallow her, Lyla closed her eyes and choked out, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, baby.” Gage’s sexy purr made her damned insides quiver—or maybe it was the car. Yeah, it was totally the car. Holy shit could that thing go.
If anyone could swagger as they drove, it was Gage. No doubt some people would see him as cocky, others as an asshole, but all Lyla saw was breathtaking confidence and intelligence. A self-aware bear of a man in a panty-melting package. And as the Lotus thundered around the track at breakneck speed in what appeared to be complete control, her panties did, in fact, melt.
“Damn,” she sighed.
A deep chuckle sounded in her ear.
Vibrating in her pocket pulled Lyla from her Gage-induced lust and to the cell phone going off. Since hers was tucked in her purse, she knew the one that had yanked her from the delectable dirty thoughts was Gage’s, which he’d asked her to hold onto it while he drove. The name Wendy flashed across the small screen, bringing with it pangs of curiosity and stabs of jealousy. Who the hell was Wendy and why was she calling Lyla’s ma… Gage? Why was she calling Gage?
The questions rolled around like marbles in her head until the phone went still in Lyla’s gloved hand. This is why I don’t let people get close. They all lie. It doesn’t matter how fucking gorgeous they are. As Lyla berated herself in silence, Gage’s phone buzzed again, indicating a text from the same woman. Gee, Wendy, does he make you feel all safe and cozy too?
Unable to stop herself from reading the text, Lyla’s heart froze.
Wendy: Florence fell. You may want to get over here.
During their dinner at JP’s Diner, Gage had told Lyla about his grandparents. She knew they’d raised him from early childhood, and while she didn’t share the commonality, that connection didn’t go unnoted. He told her his grandfather, Peter, had died a few years back and his grandmother, Florence, was at the end stages of pancreatic cancer and had a live-in nurse named… “Shit.”
“You okay? Ly?” One word from her and the calm was instantly gone from Gage’s voice.
Peering up at the track, she watched the Lotus pick up speed as he headed around the oval. “Gage, please slow down.” Even she heard the tremble in her tone.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’ll talk when you get out of the car. Please drive slower.”
The car made the final turn and only had straight road ahead when he demanded, “Talk.”
“Gage, please. Get out of the car and then we can talk.” There was no way she would drop any sort of bad news on him while he was behind the wheel.
“Slow down, boss,” an unfamiliar voice came through the headset. “Pull up and we’ll
drive ‘er around a few times to cool ‘er off. Go do what you need to do.”
The grunt she heard must have been Gage’s agreement because he was by her side before she could take her next breath.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his hands on her shoulders.
Oh, God, he thought it was me? “No, I’m fine. I was holding your phone like you asked and Wendy called. I-I didn’t pick it up because I thought she was… well, it doesn’t matter. She texted. Here.”
Gage’s large hand shook as he stared at the screen and tapped in a quick reply. “Fuck. I gotta go. I’m sorry, Ly. I’ll call you a cab to take you home. I… shit.”
A cab? Home? “I’m going with you.”
For a moment he stood frozen, his sapphire eyes boring into her. When he ran his hand through his inky hair, he released a breath. “You sure? Not certain what we’re walking into or how long it will take.”
“I’d have it no other way,” she repeated his words from earlier that day.
The way his nostrils flared and his grip tightened around hers, her meaning was clearly not lost on him.
Chapter Fifteen
Who’s Barry Fisher?
THE RIDE TO Gage’s grandmother’s house felt different than the other times Lyla had been in the truck with him. The music still played, but she let him choose the tunes, which alternated between grunge rock and heavy metal. It wasn’t the songs that threw off the dynamic though; it was the tense, quiet man to her left.
While she didn’t know him well, he had been in her life, in some capacity, nearly the entire time she’d lived in Charistown. First as a sexy stranger she kept her eye on at the bar, then as Max’s mysterious best friend, before turning into the mind-melting kisser who invaded her thoughts and sometimes prettied up her heinous nightmares. Then he became the hero in the alley when she woke in his arms after fearing for her life, and finally he was the man who wanted her badly enough not to fall victim to her bullshit. She knew damn well that during all those months, all those times, she had never witnessed Gage as he sat currently. She knew she needed to do something to help.
