Page 92 of Race to Me

“I promised you I wouldn’t buy one, but we had this at the shop.” He taps the hood. “And it needed a new motor. I bought you a motor, and the owner gave me the motor casing for free.”

I snort. “Motor casing? You mean … he gave you the car for free?”

“Yeah, we’re close. Anyways, congratulations on your new ride!”

“I’m going to pay you back,” I promise, and I am. I was going to call Mrs. Rita about helping her with the kids, so this gives me more motivation to do so. Plus, it’s near the studio where I’m sure I’ll be spending plenty of time.

“No, you’re not.” Foster opens the passenger door. “Just say thank you, babe.”

I lean on my tip toes to kiss him. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I squeal, feeling a massive sense of freedom at my feet when I crawl inside.

Foster makes his way to the passenger seat. He slides in and starts pointing at the dash. I drown out half the things he says; I’m just too excited.

“This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” I cry.

“Freckles, don’t ruin your pretty makeup.” He gently wipes my cheek. “It’s no Range Rover, but it’s safe and will get you where you need to go.”

My mind rolls back to the memory of how I obtained the Range Rover when I was sixteen. Dad didn’t like my grades, and he took it out on my jaw. Typically, the bruises were never where anyone could see, but he bribed me to stay home for a month without being seen by giving me a Range Rover. I was young and naïve and wanted to fit in with the snotty girls at Crestview, so I obeyed. Mom doesn’t even know about that; she was out of the country on a two-month long girls’ trip.

“This is better.” I tell him. “Way better.”

Thirty-five

“Pull here.” Foster gestures to an empty parking spot.

“But the restaurant’s the next block over?” With a shrug, I turn the wheel and park my beautiful, amazing new car in the spot.

He walks over and opens my door, then pays at the meter. “I know, but the best part of the city at night is the walking.”

Arm in arm, we cross the street, making our way past tall buildings and couples roaming the city. Couples like us. “I needed this so much,” I tell him.

“I did too,” He smiles, and that perfect grin nearly makes me trip over the uneven walkway. Foster straightens me up, as usual. “Careful, baby. Lift that dress. I want a better look at those heels.”

I blush nervously. “They’re a bit tall,” I show him.

His teeth graze his lip, and he pulls me in for a hug, dipping down to whisper in my ear, “Those are going to look great when I have your legs lifted in the air tonight.”

“Foster!” I playfully slap him. “Don’t be so cocky,” I tease. “I may just let you take me on a date, then straight home.”

Playfully and sweetly, he squeezes my side. No bruises, no soreness. Just the delectable feeling of his inked hands on me. Safe and secure. Again, he leans into my ear as we stroll down the darkening city streets. “I’ll bet you five hundred dollars that I’ll have those red lips wrapped around my cock by midnight.”

Everything he says shocks me every single time. I wish I had his confidence. “Oh, there’s the restaurant!” I point to the lush ivy that hugs the brick building.

He chuckles. “You may change the subject, but you won’t deny it.”

“You’re in rare form tonight.” I smile as he opens the door for me.

As we wait for the hostess to seat us, his hand slinks around my side. “How could I not be? I nearly didn’t take you to eat; I just wanted to take you.” A low growl resides in his chest.

I bat my black lashes at him. “So, good choice on the dress?”

“Fucking excellent choice.”

Foster pulls out my chair for me after we’re escorted to our table, and I take a seat. I shouldn’t be surprised by his kindness. The way his obsidian eyes flicker against the golden candlelight as his piercing gaze slices through me makes me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.

The table is set with a thick white tablecloth. In the center, a candle flame dances between us. Red roses in a crystal vase match my dress.

I notice a few people who gaze our way, their narrowed eyes directed at Foster a little too long. I want to rip off my heels and throw them, but I refrain. He doesn’t seem to notice. Well, maybe he does, but his only concern is me.

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