“Come with me.”
“With you where?”
“I want to show you what it’s like,” he explains.“Why don’t you ride with me?”
“What?”
“Ride with me.”
Nibbling the edge of my lip, I look around the various cars lined up as rap music blares through the speakers.Honestly, I feel so out of my element it’s not even funny.And sitting in the passenger seat instead of standing on the sidelines?Pretty sure it’ll only feed my anxiety.
“You scared?”There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but a softness, too.Like he genuinely wants to know.The question is, what will he do with that information?
“Is that even allowed?Bringing a passenger?”
He quirks his brow as if to say,come on.
Good point.The man literally makes the rules around here.If he says it’s allowed, it’s allowed.Still, I’m not convinced this is a good idea.
“Okay, have you ever wrecked it?”I ask.
“Twice.”My jaw drops.With a laugh, he adds, “But I won’t wreck tonight.”
“Oh, you won’t?”
“Nope.”
“Because you have power over those kinds of things?”
“Precious cargo,” he clarifies with a wink.
I laugh and look around the crowded street.I’m not sure why.Ford talking to a girl isn’t exactly out of the norm.Even after everything that’s happened between us, from the outside looking in, I’m just another nobody.Whether it’s an actual fact or an easy assumption for everyone around us, the perception stays the same.Or maybe it doesn’t.Maybe he’s slowly shifting me from his precious little secret to something else?Something…more?
“You sure I’m not taking another girl’s seat?”I ask.
“Are you asking if I let any girl ride with me?”
My heart squeezes behind my sternum.“Are you saying you don’t?”I whisper.
His cocky expression makes my stomach tighten before he pushes away, giving me space to, you know, breathe.The hinges are smooth as butter as he opens the passenger door a little wider and urges me inside.“Come on.It’ll be fun.”
I must be delusional because, for some reason I can’t figure out, I actually give in and climb into the passenger seat.Instead of closing the door behind me, he leans into the cab, crowding me against the cold leather and stealing my breath all at once.He smells good.Leather and sandalwood.My eyelids flicker as I attempt to stay present instead of getting lost in his warm emerald gaze.
“What are you doing?”I whisper.He’s close.Maybe a little too close.His chest skims mine, and the heat of his body warms me as his fingers graze the seatbelt.Slowly, he moves the nylon around me, latching it into place, but not before his fingers brush my hip.“There.Gotta take care of my precious cargo, right?”
Myprecious cargo?
With a gentle push, he closes the door behind him and rounds the hood, taking his place behind the steering wheel.The race is going to start any second now.It has to.It’s the only explanation as to why everyone’s climbing into their own race cars while the audience moves to the side, leaving the black asphalt free and clear of people.I wipe my sweaty palms against my pants when engines begin rumbling to life, including Ford’s.
Is this a bad idea?It feels like it might be, but I can’t convince my tongue to work.To tell Ford I’d prefer to stay and watch with the rest of the crowd.Even if I did, would he listen?I’m not so sure.He has a way of pushing me out of my comfort zone, and even though I want to hate him for it, it’s only making me fall harder.
Shifting the car into gear, Ford pulls up beside a blue car.I couldn’t tell you the make or model of this one, either.It’s pretty, though.Leaning forward in the seat, I try to catch a glimpse of the driver.
“Keep your head back,” Ford warns.
I press the back of my head to the headrest, my attention catching on a stoplight at the edge of the starting line.It flicks from red to yellow, and I wait with bated breath.
With his gaze glued to the light, Ford counts down.“Three, two?—”
