“But you do like her?”
I look down at him. “Yeah…I do.”
“Cool ’cause I’m pretty sure she likes you, too.”
I don’t chance to question him further because India reaches us.
“He didn’t want to join us. He’s eaten already,” she tells us.
“Just the three of us then.” I pull open the door to the pub, allowing India and Jett through first.
The pub isn’t busy. Just a few locals by the looks of it. We grab a table by the window in the back. A waitress comes over, handing us some menus, and she takes our drink order.
“I’m just going to the ladies’ room,” India tells us.
I have to force myself not to watch her walk away. It’s harder than you’d think.
The waitress brings over our drinks.
Lemonade for me. I take a sip and then say to Jett, “So, Jett, you enjoyed karting?”
“Loved it. I mean, I’ve really enjoyed karting when I’ve been with my friends and Uncle Kit, but I never really thought about doing it beyond fun—you know, racing seriously like those lads were today.”
“Karting is where a lot of Formula One drivers start out,” I tell him.
“Is that where you started?” he asks me.
“No, I started in rally driving before moving on to Formula One. My dad was a rally champion.” I’m surprised at how easily I can talk with Jett. I’ve not had much experience around kids. But he does seem mature for his age. “Carrick Ryan started out karting.”
“I think I did know that. He was karting champion at one point, right?”
“Yes, he was. Look, if you’re interested in getting into karting a bit more, I can help. There’s Carter’s place where you can kart, but there are more local places around you as well. Carrick will know a lot, and I know he’d be happy to help.”
I haven’t asked him yet, but I know he would.
“I forgot you were friends with Carrick Ryan. Weren’t you guys, like, rivals once upon a time?” He leans forward with interest.
“We still are, to a degree.” I laugh. I think Carrick and I will always have rivalry, but now, it’s in good humor, whereas we were complete shits to each other before. “We’re good friends now though. Carrick and his wife, Andi, were around a lot after I had my accident. They didn’t have to be—we weren’t even friends then—and it showed me the type of people they were.”
“He seems cool.”
“He is. Just don’t tell him I said so. I’d never hear the end of it.”
Jett laughs before taking a drink of his Coke through the straw. “I think I do want to get involved in karting. Do a bit, and see if I’m any good.”
“Cool. Then, I’ll help. As long as your mom is okay with it.”
“She will be,” he says confidently. “So, your accident was pretty bad, huh? I was watching on TV when it happened. You died for a while, right?”
How is it that kids just have this way of asking questions that make them hurt less?
“It was bad, and yes, I died for a short while.”
“Must be weird, dying like that, and then being brought back to life,” he muses, chewing on his straw. “When you died, did you see a white light and stuff, like people say?”
“No light.” I shake my head. “Honestly, I don’t remember anything about it. Just the crash and then nothing until I woke up in the hospital.”
There’s a short pause and then he asks, “Do you think you’ll ever race again?”
I take a drink before answering him, “I want to race again. And I’m trying to get to that point.”
“I really hope you do. I missed watching you race on TV this last season.”
“Well, hopefully, you’ll watch me next year, and this time, in the stands at Silverstone.”
“That’d be amazing.” He smiles.
“What are you boys talking about?” India asks, arriving back at the table.
“About me going karting. Leandro said he’d help me get into it, as long as it was okay with you.”
India shoots me a look. I see the motherly worry in her eyes.
“It’s safe, low speeds,” I assure her.
“You really want to get into karting?” she asks Jett.
“Yeah, I think I really do.” He smiles at her.
“I’m not saying no, but it’s an expensive sport, Jett. You need to be serious about it.”
“It’s not that expensive, and it’s not like I want you to buy me a kart. I’ll just rent one.”
Is money a problem for India? She has a good job, but London is an expensive place to live, and she is a lone parent.
She stares at him for a long moment. I can see her mind working. It makes me want to help her, take care of her.
“Okay, we’ll figure it out. But no taking up any of Leandro’s time. He’s a busy man.”
Guess that’s me being dismissed from helping.
India and her fucking rules of ethics are pissing me off. I’m getting whiplash from her today. One minute, she’s okay with things, and the next, she’s backing right off.
It’s like one step forward and two massive steps back with her.
An idea sparks to mind.
Well, I might not be able to help Jett with karting, but there is one thing I can do for him.
“ARE YOU OKAY?” I glance at Leandro.
He blows out a staggered breath through clenched teeth. “Yes…no…yes.”
“You don’t have to do this. Not yet. Not if it feels too soon.”
He looks at me. “Time is creeping up on me. It’s the middle of December now. I need to be back in the cockpit in a few weeks, a month max, or I’ll never race again. I have to be able to drive a standard car before getting into a race car. I’m sick of being a mental cripple, India. I have to do this.” He gives me a stare that screams desperation and determination.
The desperation concerns me. “I just don’t want you to rush yourself, Leandro, and set yourself back weeks. You’ve been making excellent progress.”
“And that progress needs to speed up now—rapidly. It’s now or never, India.”
“Okay.” I nod, accepting his wishes. “Just take deep breaths. Might feel the need to rush, but you don’t need to rush this particular moment. And remember, I’m here with you. You’re not alone.”
He gives me an appreciative soft smile, and then he fixes his eyes on his hands gripping the steering wheel.
We’re in my car, which I got back fixed and working better than before, even though it cost me a pretty penny. Leandro is adamant about wanting to drive it. As he was my last appointment of the day, I drove us to a large car park that I knew would be quiet at this time of day. I thought it would be safer here, in case he froze up at the wheel.
“I can do this.”
“You can do this,” I assure him. “You’ve driven cars that go speeds I can’t even imagine. You lived through a crash that could have been fatal. You’re a survivor. You can do this.”
I touch his arm to reassure him, ignoring the pang of energy I feel at the contact with him.
“I can do this,” he repeats.
Eyes focused on the windshield, he grits his teeth and blows out a breath between them. Then, he slips the gearstick into first, and we start to slowly move forward.
I don’t say anything. I just leave him to it. He knows I’m here, if he needs me, but this is something he needs to do himself.
Then, he’s moving a bit faster, moving up through the gears. I intently watch him, seeing the tension leaving his body.
“You’re doing it,” I say softly.
“I’m doing it.” I can hear the tremor of relief in his voice.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good.” He exhales, a smile in his voice. “I’m feeling…really fucking good.”
After a few minutes of him easing us around the car park, I ask him, “Do you think you could go out into traffic and drive?”
He glances at me. There’s no a
pprehension on his face. “Yes.”
“Why don’t you drive yourself home then? Save me from driving you there.” I smile.
“Only if you will come in for a drink with me, to celebrate me finally getting back behind the wheel.”
His eyes are on the road as he pulls out of the car park and onto the street.
I stare at his side profile. “I probably shouldn’t.”
“That ethical line again, huh? So, it is against the rules for a therapist to toast a big success with her patient?”
“When you put it that way, then no, I guess not. But only one drink, and a small one. I have to drive myself home.”
“One small drink it is.”
I feel him pressing down on the gas, propelling us forward into the thick of traffic.
Leandro drives us into Mayfair. He pulls my car into a parking space in front of an integral garage to a gorgeous-looking house. He turns the engine off and looks at me. There’s a light in his eyes.
“You did it.” I smile at him.
“Yes, I did it.”
I feel the sudden urge to hug him in this momentous moment, and I guess he’s thinking the same thing because he’s suddenly leaning over the console and wrapping his arms around me, pulling me to him.
Shock freezes me in place. That, and his smell. God, he smells good.
“Thank you,” he whispers into my hair.
The feel of his breath brushing through my strands, whispering onto my skin, has my arms sliding around him, hugging him back.
“It was all you.” Is that my voice that sounds all breathy?
He pulls back a touch but doesn’t let go. He’s staring into my eyes, and I feel a tremble deep inside me.
“No.” He softly shakes his head. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
I can’t speak. His eyes are moving over my face, settling on my mouth.
Oh God.
I think he’s going to kiss me.
I want him to kiss me.
With gargantuan strength, I pull out of his hold and clear my throat. “So, is this your house?” I gesture to the house through the windshield, my eyes pinned on it.
I can’t look at him. I don’t dare look at him.
“It is.” His voice sounds rougher than normal.
I hear the click of his door opening, pushing me into action. I climb out of my car. He’s waiting for me at his side of the car. I walk to him on unsteady legs. My heart is beating a mile a minute.
Using the remote sensor, he locks my car and hands me the keys. His fingers graze over mine, making me shiver.
What am I thinking? I’m his therapist.
He’s just grateful for me helping him. He’s confusing that with wanting me.
Clenching my keys in my fist, I drop them in my bag.
“Thanks for trusting me to drive your car.” He smiles at me as he walks to his front door.
“You don’t have to thank me. There was never any doubt in my mind that you could do it,” I say from behind him. “So, how did it feel, driving out on the roads?”
He unlocks the door and turns on the hall light.
“Once I got past the initial apprehension, I started to feel okay. I am not saying I wasn’t having thoughts about the accident, but I pushed them aside and got on with it. That was when I remembered that feeling I always got when I drove. It felt good. But I know it’ll be a whole different ball game when I take a car out on the track.”
I step inside his house and close the door behind me. “Baby steps.” I offer him a gentle smile. “And if you need any support out on the track, let me know. I can be there.”
He takes a step closer to me. My heart starts to thrum in my chest.
“You’d do that?”
“Yes.” My voice has gone all breathy again. He’s your patient, India. “I mean, of course, it’s all part of the therapy service.” I straighten up, changing the tone of my voice.
“Of course it is.” A frown crosses his face like a dark shadow. He turns from me and begins walking down the hall. “What would you like to drink?” His tone sounds hard.
Feeling off-balance and confused, I kick my heels off and follow him. As I walk, I ask, “What do you have?”
“I don’t have much alcohol in here anymore since I cut back, but I do have a bottle of champagne.”
“Champagne works for me.”
I walk into his kitchen. It’s modern, all glossy white cabinets and silver countertops.
“Wow. This is a nice kitchen.”
“Thanks.” He takes his jacket off, hanging it over the back of a stool at the breakfast island. Then, he moves across the kitchen and gets a bottle from the fridge. “Do you like to cook?”
“Not really. I just like kitchens. They’re my thing. I want to have a kitchen just like yours and have someone cook for me. Then, I could just sit here all day, eating amazing food, while staring at my pretty kitchen.” I grin at him, and he returns it.
I remove my jacket and take a seat on a stool at the breakfast island, and set my jacket on my lap.
Leandro puts two champagne glasses down in front of me. He holds up the bottle as he unwraps the foil from the champagne.
Bollinger. Very nice.
He pops the cork with ease.
“I’m impressed,” I say at his cork-popping abilities.
“Years of practice on the podium.” He pours out the champagne into the glasses.
“And you’ll have many more years of it, too.”
He picks up his glass. “Here’s to hoping.”
I pick up my glass and chink it against his. “You will. I’m sure of it.” I take a sip of my champagne. Delicious.
“You know, this is my first drink in weeks.” He leans his hip against the counter.
“I shouldn’t be encouraging your drinking.”
He lets out a deep chuckle. “I’m not an alcoholic, India. I just used it as a tool to make me feel better.”
“But it didn’t.”
“No…but I do feel better now. Because of you.”
That makes me smile. “Leandro, all I’ve done is listen and guide.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “You have done so much more than that.” He puts his glass down, eyes fixed on me.
My belly starts doing flips. I look away.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I can make you something to eat.”
“As appetizing as that sounds, I have to get home. It’s my turn to make dinner tonight. I can’t leave Jett starving.”
I finish off my champagne, fully aware that he’s watching me.
“Thank you for the drink.” I slide off the stool.
My legs feel wobbly, and it’s not because of the champagne. It’s because of the beautiful man standing before me. I pull my jacket on.
“Sorry to drink and run.” I turn and head out of the kitchen.
“Don’t apologize. You have a son to get home to.”
He’s behind me as I walk down the hall to the front door. I’m fully aware of his nearness, and his delicious scent. He’s driving me to distraction.
I really need to get out of here before I do something stupid.
I slip my feet into my heels and turn to him. He’s a lot closer than I expected.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a few days.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.
“You will.”
We’re staring at each other, and I’m pretty sure I just looked at his mouth.
Time for me to go.
“Okay…well…” I fumble for the handle behind me.
He leans into me. I close my eyes, my lips parting on a breath…
Then, I hear the door click open.
I blink my eyelids apart. He’s watching me, a hint of amusement on his face.
Oh god.
Embarrassment floods me.
“I’ll see you in a few days,” I mumble, then, I’m out of there, lickety-split.
“Good night, India,” he calls from behind me.
&nb
sp; Flustered, I get my keys from my bag and climb into my car.
He’s standing in his doorway, watching me.
I start the engine and slam the car into reverse. He lifts a hand in good-bye, so I throw a quick wave at him and peel out of there.
Oh my God, I’m mortified!
I really thought he was going to kiss me. And worse, I was going to let him.
This is all just getting out of hand, and I’m spending way too much time with him outside of our sessions.
I need to rein this in and get back to what we are. Therapist and patient.
By the time I’m parking beside Kit’s car on our tiny drive twenty minutes later, I’m calm and thinking more rationally.
I’m the therapist. Nothing can or will ever happen with Leandro.
I need to get his handsome face out of my head and ignore the way he makes me feel when I’m around him—like a hot mess of sexual frustration—and look at him as I do all my other patients.
I let myself in the house. “I’m home,” I call out.
No answer.
I drop my bag in the hall and kick off my shoes before wandering through to the kitchen. Through the window, I see our garage door is open. We have an old garage in the back garden as our house opens up onto a wide alleyway. We don’t use the garage for parking, just for storing junk.
I open the back door and go barefoot into the garden. I can hear Jett’s excited voice in there, talking to Kit.
“Hey, what are you doing out here?” I poke my head inside the garage.
Then, I see it.
“Is that what I think it is?” I step inside the garage. “Is that a…kart?”
Jett grins at me. “It is. It’s brand-new, top of the range.”
“And where did it come from?”
I’m not stupid. I know how much these things cost. Mainly because I looked at the prices of them online last night after Jett had told me he wanted to start karting. They cost around two thousand pounds.
“It arrived about an hour ago,” Kit tells me.
“And who bought it? Please don’t tell me you got it for him,” I narrow my eyes at Kit.
He’s been known to make impulsive purchases for Jett in the past.
“Not me.” He holds his hands up in protest, but has a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. “But I’m thinking that Brazilian race car driver has a thing for my sister.”
Revived Page 9
