“I don’t know.”
It seems crazy to me now.
“I wasn’t interested in watching men race cars, I guess.”
“You would have seen me if you’d been there,” he says in a teasing tone that does something weird to my heart. “And you would have gotten wet.”
I give him a playful shove, unable to dim my smile. Why even try? He lightens the dark with that glint in his eye and a panty-dropping smile.
“I would’ve had to watch you with other girls, Kane.”
Just the thought of it makes me wonder if I’m a girl’s girl, after all?
His smile grows. “Is my little thief jealous?”
I scoff, shaking my head as he beams like he’s won a prize. Me? Jealous? Never.
“I’m not jealous.”
“No?” He grins, his lip trapped between his teeth.
It’s a deadly combo because it puts his deep dimples on full display. I hate those dimples a little. Okay, fine, a lot. Why? Because they make my ovaries perk up.
I flip him off. He laughs, low and free, and the sound sends a slow heat curling through me.
He’s so beautiful it’s hard to fathom why he’s here with me. I have no makeup on, and my hoodie features the masked killer from the Scream franchise. He’s got heart eyes. The pink text beside it reads, ‘No, you hang up first.’
I’m not exactly Heights material, to be honest, but Kane doesn’t seem to care at all. He’s smiling at me, and I like how it feels to have his attention. A lot of women would kill to be in my position.
The thought sobers me. How long until Kane gets bored and moves on? How long until he realizes he can do better?
“Did your friends never drag you here?” he asks. “That girl, Rain, seems like the adventurous type.”
My smile turns coy. “I’m not saying I’ve never been.”
His smile returns. “So you have seen me?”
“Perhaps.”
“Did you get wet watching me race?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I pined for you from the sidelines.”
He makes no secret of his dirty thoughts as he trails his eyes down my body, his gaze turning salacious. “I would have liked that a lot.”
I laugh lightly. “You wouldn’t have noticed me.”
It’s the truth. Kane is so used to attention that he’s blind to it.
I lean in slightly. “You only noticed me because I pulled a gun on you.”
“It was unexpected,” he agrees with a lazy grin.
Heat still clings to the dry air, but the edge of evening slips in cool on my neck as I roll down the window.
The lingering scent of gasoline mingles with hot asphalt and oil. A torn grocery bag has gotten caught on the fence, its retail branding faded from hours in the sun. The light breeze flaps it against the metal with a gentle rustle, almost like a pile of dry leaves drifting across the ground in fall.
I love it here. Possibility clings to the air, dreams and ambition lingering long after the roads empty of spectators and racers. It’s so potent, you can almost smell it.
