His lips quirk until I add, “I have an appointment for us this afternoon, and casual clothes will be best.”
He nods, but so many emotions cross his face that I run out the door and grab a can from my fridge and down it so quickly I fight to hold in a burp.
How I still have a job is beyond me, but as he grins at me from his doorway, I suspect he likes my random ways.
His car smells of leather and whatever the hell they pump into cars to make them smell shiny and new. Occasionally, I get a whiff of him: vanilla, sanitiser, and oak. I want to breathe all of him in.
“I’m totally underdressed in this Mercedes,” I say, referring to my joggers and branded hoodie combo.
“I disagree. Coulter Racing turquoise suits you.”
My knickers, which I presume he’s ditched, were the same colour. I sneakily stare at him beneath my eyelashes and moisten my lips. He catches the movement and shifts in his seat. Maybe he thinks about that night, too.
“You drive like every man I’ve ever met.” I change the subject quickly so I don’t demand he tell me I’m beautiful, like he did in Greece.
He’s wearing his cap backwards, and his dirty blond hair peeks from beneath it. He glances at me, and a dimple forms in his cheek. It’s telling me to lean over and put my finger in it. I must be drunk on the new car smell.
“And how is that?”
“With your legs so wide, you’d fit another person between them. Like, what’s up with that? No woman drives like that.”
He smiles as he glances between me and the road. “It’s because men have something women don’t, Rosie.”
We get to a straight bit of road, and he emphasises grabbing the gear lever. “Something like this…”
My face flames. “No man’s dick is so big that they need to stretch their legs that wide!”
“I can’t speak for any other man, but I need to spread my legs wide when I drive.” I glance at his lap and quickly look away. I don’t want to remember our kiss. Not now. He adds, “Well, I can speak for Connor, because we once compared dick sizes.”
“You compared dick sizes with your sister’s boyfriend?”
His face creases. “In my defence, we were young and drunk after a grand prix. We did a lot of random shit under the influence of after-race adrenaline and alcohol.”
I stare at his lips, which are curled in a smile.
“Who was the biggest of the two of you, or were you both so tiny you couldn’t tell?” I tease.
“Oi, cheeky.” He checks the road and then fixes me with his stare. “We were so big the bathroom couldn’t contain us. But so you know, it was me. No contest.” He winks, and I giggle.
“It couldn’t contain the size of your heads.” He raises his eyebrow and smirks. “I mean the head on the top of your body, not the other head. You’re such an arrogant arsehole.”
His grin makes me wonder if I’m getting a glimpse of the Niki I’ve read about.
“I prefer arrogant dickhead, but whatever.” He chuckles while shifting his legs. My attention is drawn to them and what’s between them. His grey joggers tighten over his dick, which does appear big. “Stop undressing me with your eyes, Rosie. It’s very unprofessional.”
“Fuck off.” I fold my arms.
“That’s fuck off, sir.” He winks. His voice is so deep I could drown in it.
“Whatever,” I grumble. In another lifetime I’d be in a puddle, sitting in a car with a hot older man with a big dick and who’s the sexiest playboy in racing. But I’m a single mum who’s never had good sex. We’re not in the same universe. I have nothing to offer him except excellent assistant skills.
He had a reputation for sleeping with models and singers. His longest-term girlfriend, Clara, lasted six months. Sasha and I scrolled YouTube videos of them last night, and I’ve had a stomach-ache since. I can’t imagine myself with that guy.
“As you can tell, I’ve not had an assistant in a long time. Sorry. I like joking with you, but I might be pushing it too far. Senna would kick my arse. When I’m too much of an arsehole, please tell me.”
There’s the Niki I know. Not the arrogant playboy, but the guy whose anxiety rises like a storm in the ocean. “I like joking with you. Maybe we need a boss-subordinate safe word.”
He coughs like his breath is stuck. “Safe word? What is your history, Rosie?”
