He only cared that it made her off-limits.
He wanted another nudge of her finger against his. He wanted to tug her into his lap, other restaurant diners be damned, and find out if her mouth was as soft and sweet as it looked.
Yeah, it was definitely time to take the princess home. And then he could knuckle-drag his blue-collar ass back to his one-bedroom apartment just off the 215, between the Dunkin’ Donuts and a run-down auto parts shop.
They took just a few steps out of the restaurant when a loud rumble caught their attention from the street.
“Hey, that’s the Mustang from the track, right?” Monica asked.
Josh waved, to be friendly, and the driver took a sharp turn into the parking lot. He pulled up behind their car and rolled down his window. “I looked for you at the track. Thought you wanted to race me.” His grin flashed bright, even in the shadows of the dark car interior. “This must be fate.”
Josh shook his head and brushed his hand up Monica’s back. “Go on, get in the car.” Then he raised his voice to tell the guy,not tonight.
But Monica stood her ground. “You could take him.”
And she said it loud enough to carry.
Of course he could. That wasn’t the point.Hekept his voice low. “Street racing is illegal and I’m here on a work visa. Don’t try to get me deported.”
“Oh.” She winced, and he opened the passenger door for her. “Sorry,” she whispered before she quickly buckled herself in.
The other driver gave him a raised eyebrow look. Like,you wanna impress your girl or not?
Josh swore under his breath. “Not here.”
“Rolling start on the freeway?”
He nodded.
Then he popped his trunk and grabbed his helmet.
6
“Put this on,”Josh said after wrenching open his door. “And buckle up with the whole five-point harness.”
Monica stared at his helmet. “But you’re—”
“You’re the more valuable person in this vehicle. Put that on if you want to do this.”
“What are we doing?” But she knew. Her pulse sped up. “Are we racing? Josh, we don’t need to—”
“In the name of your racing education, we’re going to do something only slightly less dangerous than a street race.” He started the car, gunning the engine.
She twisted her head quickly, trying to figure out where the other car was.
“Monica. Helmet.”
“I didn’t mean to pressure you to…”
“I’m not sorry, so don’t worry about it. This is going to be fun.” He gave her a wicked grin and turned up the volume as a Nickelback song, “Animals”, started playing on the car stereo.
She took her sunglasses off her head and tucked them under the passenger seat, then jammed the helmet on as he tore out of the parking lot.
It wasn’t racing per se, not yet, but it was fast. There was a new energy in the car. In Josh. His arms flexed as he shifted gears, his gaze locked on the car ahead of them.
They followed the Mustang to the on-ramp to the 210, then merged into eastbound traffic. The Mustang moved over a lane, and Josh pulled up abreast of the other car.
They both slowed down, just a little, creating a bit of space in front of them. And that space grew as they flowed down the highway, past the next exit.
