“Dean? If you wanted setup tips, you need to be a bit sneakier than just standing in the shop parking lot,” I say in a taunting but teasing tone.
“Har-har. I think we have managed to figure it out on our own. But if you’re offering, Brady…” he taunts back, the usual bite in my name gone.
So is this how it’s going to be now? All flirting and no actual taunting? This is new territory for me, for us. My cheeks heat and I flick my eyes up to meet his again. He licks his lips as if remembering how I taste on them. Makes me want to taste them again, too. Taste all of him.
I somehow refrain from doing so. I take a step back from him. I can’t keep wanting him this much, he’s still my rival. No matter what happened behind closed doors.
“Any other reason why you’re here, Dixon?” I ask, bringing back a slight bite in my tone.
He winces and rubs the back of his neck, nervous energy coming off him.
“I was wondering if you wanted to go to the gala with me?” He lets out a breath and smiles at me. That’s not what I was expecting him to say. I really don’t know what I had been expecting, but asking me to the gala was not on my list. I’d forgotten about the gala until earlier this week when Leslie texted me, asking to go dress shopping together.
I usually don’t like these events; getting dressed up just isn’t my favorite thing. I should say no to going with him, right? No one knows about what happened at Richmond—unless he’s told someone. Wouldn’t someone find it weird if we showed up together? I’m about to say no when I hear my mouth saying the exact opposite.
“Sure. I’ll go with you.” Dean absolutely beams at my response. The only time I’ve seen him this happy is when he wins a race. “As friends,” I clarify.
“Right. Of course. I’ll pick you up.”
He basically dances back to his truck and takes off. What have I just agreed to?
All week, my mind has been reeling that I agreed to go to the charity gala with Dean. Eventually, I’m going to have to tell people. If we just show up together, people’s reactions are going to be off the charts. Unless he’s told people already. He was pretty excited when I told him I’d go with him. I should just tell him I’ve changed my mind, that we shouldn’t be seen together. That in the eyes of the racing world, we are to be seen as rivals only and nothing else.
Another late evening at the shop, like the rest of this week, and everyone else has gone home while I remain. Just ensuring things are as perfect as they can be and to keep my thoughts about Dean at bay. The shop door opens and closes with a bang while I’m lying under the car, then a foot pulls me from under it on the flat roller.
“What the hell?” I snap. Dad is looking down at me with a worried look on his face. He knows something is up with me, but I’m not having that conversation with him. It was bad enough in middle school having the sex talk with him. Needless to say, we pretend that part of life doesn’t exist.
“Why are you still here? Everyone else has left,” Dad observes.
“I just need to be sure everything’s perfect. Dixon is getting too close in points. And with Hicks getting close as well?—”
“Regan, stop,” he says calmly. He extends a hand to pull me up to my feet. “Everything is fine. The crew has it. We have time to double check everything. The race isn’t until after the gala, anyway.”
I sigh. There’s no arguing with Karsen Brady. I begin to pack up my tools and clean up the area I was working in when his next question stops me.
“Was Dixon here earlier this week?”
Shit!
“Uh—yeah. He was,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. Dad raises a suspicious brow at me.
“What did he want?”
“Oh…um. He was just trying a new tactic at getting in my head,” I lie.
I’m not sure if Dad fully believes me or not. By the look on his face, he doesn’t believe me at all, but gives a knowing nod.
“Get out of here. Go relax.”
Once I’m home, I decide on a nice, hot shower, getting all the grime and grease off me from the shop. I’m climbing into bed and about to grab a book to relax when my phone buzzes. I beam at the phone when I see Dean’s name on the screen. How can just a text make me feel so giddy? Especially when it’s Dean Dixon.
Dean
Hey! Race ready yet?
Me
I think so. You? Still scheming for tips? Lol
