Page 54 of Drive Me Wild
“Just your pretty smile. They were a gift.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and press my lips to his.
“Thank you for the gift.”
“That’s what good boyfriends do, right?”
“Caleb, you don’t have to buy me gifts to be a good boyfriend. Not that I’m saying I don’t want them.” I grin and plant another kiss on his chiseled face. “But you just have to keep being you.”
He backs me up against the wall and presses his hips into me. I can feel the bulge starting to form.
“You mean, being your sex-pert?”
He chuckles, but I sense something that doesn’t feel funny underneath his laugh. I’m not sure what it is, so I change the subject.
“Hey, how about we go to the racetrack? I want to see some of those cars you built.”
“Really? You want to do that?”
“I do. I want to know that part of you, too.”
“What about tomorrow afternoon? My buddy Tommy is racing a car I sold him a few months ago.”
“If I finish the section of my business plan that I’m working on, then yes.”
“And if you don’t?”
“Then you’ll have to punish me with some sort of torture.” I waggle my eyebrows at him, but instead of getting a cute response, I see a flash of something again. It disappears as quickly as it emerges, so I can’t put my finger on it. Which means I don’t think I can ask him about it—yet.
I stay up late, flipping through the books Caleb brought me to see if any nuggets of wisdom in there will improve my application. I worry that I haven’t been in business enough years to seem like a good bet for the bank. I worry I don’t have enough of a down payment. I worry about a million other details that I can’t control, so I try to focus on what I can.
Solid financials from Mabel. A clear vision and goals. The growth projections need work, but I think I’m getting there.
I can barely keep my eyes open when I finally shut down my laptop and get ready for bed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Caleb
Ifinish polishing my truck and toss a couple of blankets behind the seat. Even though the sun is out, the air is crisp and downright cold in the shade.
There are a few people walking around downtown with their coats bundled up, and I spot Mrs. Treadwell, the high school principal, walking a dog. I give her a wave, and she smiles and waves back.
That might be the first time in my life Mrs. Treadwell smiled at me.
I take a quick shower and drive to pick up Zoe, my freshly shaven face stretched in a grin. It feels good to have people look at you with respect.
When I knock on Zoe’s door, she doesn’t answer, so I try again. Nothing. I text her and wait, but still, there’s nothing.
I walk over to the main house and see Cole and Renée sitting outside on the patio, cozied under a wool blanket, drinking from steaming hot mugs.
“Have you two seen Zoe? She’s not answering her door or text messages.”
Renée shakes her head, and Cole shrugs.
“Want some cocoa? There’s still some on the stove.”
“It’s October.”
“What’s your point?”
