Page 77 of Rear View
“Show me Xavier.”
Xavier chuckled.
I opened my mouth to chastise my brother, remindhim which of us was older, but his expression turned to stone, unrelenting as he gave me a look that said, “You know why.”
Sighing, I swiveled the phone X’s way.
“Hey, man,” Miles said, the tension from his tone gone. “Good luck tomorrow.”
X tipped his chin up. “Thanks, boss.” He dropped the shifter into third. “I’ll take care of her.”
“Appreciate it,” Miles said, then to me, “Hey, Ry?”
I swung the screen back my way. “Yeah?”
“Stop bothering the guy when he’s driving?” he taunted.
I jabbed the screen with my finger and the two of them laughed.
“Message me when you get there.” His smile was proud. “And have fun.”
“I will.” We disconnected.
Xavier flicked his signal light on and slowed as we approached a gas station on our right. “He’s protective.” It wasn’t a complaint or criticism. Just an observation.
“Yeah,” I twisted the sleeve of my coat between my fingers. “He worries.” A fact that was my fault. I was glad he knew, that he cared. That he watched out for me, but in the same breath, I hated that he had to. That should’ve been my job.
Xavier veered us across the lot and up to the pump. He pulled out his wallet and grabbed a stack of cash. “Get whatever you want in there, darlin’.”
“I’m okay. Just need the washroom. You want anything?”
He shook his head. “All good.”
Climbing out, I headed inside and stopped dead when I eyed a rack of key rings a few steps away, homing inon one in particular. One that reminded me of my rally driver. Biting my lip, I picked it up and smiled.
* * *
I drew an easy breath as I shifted on the cream-colored leather couch of our palatial hotel room. One Xavier had apparently upgraded us to while I’d packed.
The place was all warm tones and rich woods. Comfortable. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the moonlit, ice-rimmed harbor I’d already taken a thousand pictures of. Our dishes from the room service he’d ordered after we arrived two hours earlier sat on a rolling cart off to the side. His meal lean and healthy to ready his body for the next day. Mine a greasy feast fit for a five-year-old queen.
Adjusting my laptop in my lap, I peered at Xavier where he stood across the room, a ball in his grip as he trained, practicing hand-eye coordination drills while I told him, for the twentieth time, “You really didn’t have to do this.”
He stopped, then shook his head. “I grew up in a real fancy house. Everyone thought we had money. And my old man did, but Ma, and Fallon, and me…we never got shit.” His laugh was dark. “I ate the same bare-bones thing every day, wore the same clothes through high school. Dad used cash to control us, ’cause he knew we couldn’t leave if we didn’t have it.” Those arctic eyes collided with mine. “I’m doin’ good for myself now, and I finally got someone to share it with. Let me do this for you, yeah?”
His words practically hit my soul. God, he’d deserved so much more.
He shifted his stance, squaring himself to the wall again, showing off the cut of his ribbed, black sleevelessshirt and gray sweats. The tattoos running down his arms and across his broad and densely muscled chest on full display. The sight of him like that, so focused, it was mesmerizing. Throw. React. Throw. React. His movements were rapid-fire. Stare intent. And the sheen of sweat that slicked his skin as he worked made my mouth run dry.
That body. I bit my lip. What I wouldn’t do to run my hands under—
He eyed me over his shoulder. My cheeks heated at my being caught blatantly ogling him. He tossed the ball my way.
I jolted and clumsily grabbed it, the rubber warm against my skin.
“What’s with the tape?” he asked, flicking a hand to where it covered my computer’s camera.
My chest tightened and I fought to keep my expression easy. “I just…don’t like knowing people can see.” Becausehecould, and he had.
