Page 45 of Rear View
He tipped his chin up. “How come you don’t have social media?”
I tapped a clump of snow with my boot while I tried to play it off. “So, youwerecreeping me.”
His ice-toned eyes held mine as he angled forward and rested his elbows on his legs. Closer. “Yes.”
God, the intensity of that gaze, it heated every part of me that it touched—the warm kind of heat that burrowed deep. I rubbed my hands together. “Why?”
“Because you’re interesting, darlin’. And I’m interested.”
The man was just so…honest. It was wildly intimidating in an endearing and wholly refreshing kind of way. There weren’t any pretenses. No lines to read between. He said what he thought, and I liked it. A lot. It made breathing easier.
What was it like to be that self-assured? To see what you wanted and just go for it? It had to be freeing. I wished I knew.
Trailing a gloved finger over the seat, I uttered, “I don’t like everyone knowing my business.” It was true enough. It was more one person in particular, but without knowing who said person was, it made that information dangerous in anyone’s hands. My circle of trust was small. It was better that way.
He inclined his head, looking set to ask more. And I unequivocally was not ready to share the sheer level of disaster my life was. I didn’t know if or where things were going with us, but I liked it. My situation had already cost me Christian, so I wasn’t about to fill Xavier in and sabotage myself, which meant I needed to change the subject. Fast. Not difficult, considering therehadbeen a question plaguing me. One he’d vaguely answered atthe car show. A topic he’d dodged of his own. “Why’d youreallyget into rally?”
He looked away, and back, then down at the space between us. Those icy eyes muted. “The truth, yeah?”
My stomach twisted while I dug my fingers into my palms. I didn’t know what door I’d just pushed but it was clear that whatever lay behind it wasn’t good. “Only if you wanna give it.”
He rolled his shoulders and sat a little straighter. “My brother died some years back. The two of us were shit disturbers. Always in some kinda trouble.” He laughed as if he were caught in a memory. “After he was gone, I made a list of stuff I needed to do.”
My heart broke. I wanted to throw my arms around him, take the pain deep in those arctic eyes away. Help him the way he helped me. Tugging my jacket tighter, I breathed, “You wanted to live?”
“I wanted to feel.” His stare locked on mine. A smile pulled the corner of his mouth, but it was thick. Forced. The sight of it hurt my soul. “I was numb for a long time. The cars”—he gestured around us—“all this, it helps.”
He was just so alive. I couldn’t fathom him unplugged. “Were you two close?”
His head bowed. “We were real tight.”
My fingers flexed before I reached out and settled my palm over his, stroking his warm skin. “I’m sorry.”
He stared down at where I touched him. Twisting his hand, he took my own, practically swallowing it whole.
His heat burrowed into me, sending a warm shiver up my arm. And it felt good. There I was, trying to comfort him, but the strength of his hold, it grounded me. He’d unlocked a space in my heart I hadn’t known existed. Iopened my mouth to ask what happened, how his brother had died, but he released me.
“Face forward,” he said.
I twisted my expression. “Huh?”
“It’s your turn.”
My brows shot up my forehead. “To what?”
“To drive.”
My voice rose when I pointed at the machine. “This thing?”
“Damn right.” He leaned over and grabbed my helmet. “Don’t worry. I trust ya.”
My cheeks burned. His attention roved over them, and I swore his lip twitched.
Swiveling, I threw my leg over the seat and settled myself into place.
His boot nudged my heel. “Push your feet all the way forward on the footboards.” He pointed. “Into those slots, there.”
I did.
