Page 11 of Britain

Inside the glass door I find Jeremiah typing away on his phone. The guy never stops, but that’s why he’s fucking amazing at what he does. “What’s up, Jer?”

He shoves his phone in his suit pocket and gives me a back-slapping hug. “Nothing much. Just checking on some ad space for that spa I told you about. We’re doing a total rebranding, and I want to host a spa day where people from the newspaper and maybe some bloggers can come try out services. Then if they love it, they advertise it.”

“What if they don’t?”

“Trust me. I went in and got the full treatment, and swear I felt so good afterward that I spent the whole night at Heathens. That sub Sadie and I played all fucking night. We both could barely walk afterward.” Jeremiah loves the whip and is a master at kissing a sub’s skin with it. I watched once while he did it to a sub over and over until she came so hard that she passed out. It was one of the most intense scenes I’ve ever seen.

If he found someone to be his sub twenty-four seven, he’d be in heaven. I know he’s been looking, but hasn’t found anyone that has fit what he’s looking for yet. Stefan and I have both been happy just having fun, but Britain’s got me thinking…about what, I’m not sure.

Fuck it—I’ve got a guy who can find her number. I send him a quick text, giving him her name. Hopefully soon I’ll have it, and yeah, I know it’s borderline creepy, but what’s a guy supposed to do? Well, okay, yeah, I could just go to her family’s garage.

“Si?” Jeremiah waves his hand in front of my face. “Where did you just go?”

“Sorry, just got some shit swirling around in my head.”

He looks at me closely. “Do you need to talk about it?”

I shrug my shoulders, but before I can answer him Stefan shows up and we head to the elevators.

***

I pull my SUV into the parking lot of Lancaster Family Automotive. Britain’s Chevelle is in the parking lot so I know she’s here. My friend did end up finding me her number, but if I was going to convince her to take a chance on me, then I was going to have to do it the right way. I wasn’t going to give her a reason to not trust me not to be a creeper.

Trying to appear casual, I’m wearing basketball shorts, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes. Normally I only dress like this when I go to the gym, but I didn’t go this morning. I’m hoping that by being dressed like this, I’ll be less intimidating. Fuck, maybe this was stupid. I look toward the big bay doors and find Britain standing in the opening with those fucking coveralls on. I can’t leave now.

I climb out and walk toward her. “Hey. Sorry to just drop by, but I didn’t have your number.”

“That’s okay. What’s up?” Britain wrings her hands together in front of her.

“I wanted to see if you wanted to go out for coffee?”

“Yes,” she answers me immediately. I love it—no playing games, pretending to think about it…just a straightforward, “yes.” “I’d really like that.”

“Okay, awesome. Do you want to meet me there at six?” I figure the first couple of dates, or whatever this is, I’ll let her meet me there so she feels like she has the power to go home whenever she wants.

“Um…yes, that’d be great.”

I’m not ready to leave her yet. “Are you having a good day?” I feel lame asking her, but this seems like something I should be asking her.

“I am, thanks. We’ve been busy, but I was able to get the new rims put on my car…finally. Do you want to see them?”

I nod, and she leads my over to her baby. The rims are sweet: black, shiny, and sleek-looking. “These look great.” I glance at her and smile. “Did you put them on yourself?” I know basic maintenance of cars, but the rest of it is foreign to me.

“No, my dad did it. I’m not very good at that stuff.”

She rubs the back of her hand across her forehead and leaves a black smudge there. I reach out, rubbing it away with my thumb. Britain looks at me with her brow raised. I show her the black grease on my thumb, and I swear that her cheeks turn the most delicious shade of pink.

“I should probably get back to work.” Her voice is soft, unlike any of the other times I’ve heard it. “I’ll see you at six.” She stands up and I watch her walk away, not missing the way her coveralls hug her body.

I stand up myself and head to my Porsche. Before I climb back inside, I turn to look at the open bay doors. Britain’s brother and an older man with the same body type—I’m assuming it’s her dad—stand there staring at me. I give them a chin lift and head out.

At six on the dot, I’m walking into the Coffee Hound. I look around and don’t see her. The love seat is open—it’s beginning to become our spot—and I sit down. I’m thumbing through emails when I hear the door open. Looking up, I see Britain walk toward me. How can jean shorts, a Bears jersey, and Converses be sexy? I don’t know, but they totally are.

I stand when she reaches me. “Hey, how are you?”

She gives me a tiny smile. “I’m good, thanks. How are you?”

We make small talk as we walk up to the counter. I’m trying everything to calm her nerves, because I very clearly make her nervous. I don’t like it, because I feel like I’m not going to like the reason I make her nervous. I’d prefer to have her throw her sassiness at me. We order our coffees and a chocolate chip cookie for her. Neither of us speaks as we wait at the other end of the counter.

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