I wonder why he seems to hate his aunt so much. I decide not to pry.
“Look, Lex, I’ll understand if you don’t show up to the race tonight,” Coen says as he turns his back to me and leans over to rest his arms on the railing. “I don’t know what came over me today. There’s just something I can’t quite put my finger on. I feel drawn to you.” I can’t see his face, but he lets his head fall to his chest and takes a deep breath.
“Coen, what race are you talking about?” I ask, confused. “And don’t worry about the kiss. It was nice,” I say. Maybe “nice” wasn’t the best choice. It was definitely a lot hotter than nice.
Faster than I can blink, Coen grabs me by the waist and pulls me tight against him. His lips are so close, but not touching, and he’s gazing into my eyes so deeply I fear he can see my soul. God, he smells so good.
“The quarter mile tonight. There’s a race.” He winks. “And as for the “nice” kiss, next time you’ll be seeing stars, Princess.” He slowly runs his tongue up my neck, nips at my earlobe, and grinds his hard cock against my waist. Our breath is ragged. Part of me wants him to just pick me up over his shoulder, carry me inside, and fuck me until I can’t walk. But another part of me says this is insane, and we need to slow the hell down.
He stares into my eyes for a few moments longer, and lets me go. “I have to run, but I do hope I’ll see you later tonight, Lexi.” He’s back to looking serious again. What is his deal? Coen starts down the front porch steps to leave.
“Hey, Stalker.” He stops at the sound of my voice, and turns to look at me with that sexy smirk on his face.
“Yeah, Sweet Cheeks?”
I drag my teeth across my bottom lip. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.” Coen winks and continues back over to Derek’s. I go inside and peek out the blinds. While I wait for Coen to leave, I give Brea a quick call.
“Hey, Chick!” she answers.
“Hey, Brea. I can’t talk long, but what the hell was up with you at the tattoo shop earlier? Did Coen say something to you?”
Brea’s quiet for a minute, which makes me even more suspicious. “He caught me while I was on my way to the bathroom and asked if I would give him a few minutes alone to talk to you. He’s seriously got the hots for you, Lex. I really think you should give him a chance,” Brea says.
“I think I just might. I’ll explain later.” I hear Coen start his car. Now’s my chance. I hope this doesn’t backfire. “Meet me at the quarter mile at eight. You aren’t going to want to miss this.”
“What are you up to?” Brea’s on to me.
“Gotta go. See you at eight!” I hang up without giving her a chance to ask me again. I know she’ll try to talk me out of it.
Once I’m sure Coen is gone, I head over to Derek’s. This day has been a whirlwind of emotions and crazy coincidences, so I figure maybe Coen’s right. Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something. I must be absolutely insane to allow a man to get close to me so soon after breaking up with Patrick. But something about Coen just feels right.
I’ve been into drag racing for as long as I can remember, but I haven’t been in years. I’ve been known to race show-offs at a stop light on occasion, though. My Shelby can definitely hold her own.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and knock on Derek’s door. I must look like a mess after cleaning my car in this heat. I’m sure the heavy make-out session with Coen didn’t help, either. I hear him yelling from inside,
“What did you forget assho—” He opens the door in a pair of shorts, still dripping wet from the shower. “Oh, hi Lexi. I thought you were Coen.”
“It’s all good. I’m hoping I can cash in that favor you owe me. I was wondering if you have a contact for the organizer of the race tonight?” I ask, biting the inside of my cheek. Crap. I’m picking up Brea’s habit.
“Uh, yeah, Lex. You’re lookin’ at him. Why do you ask? What can I help you with? Do you need directions?” Derek looks puzzled.
“No, actually I was wondering if you could pair me against Coen.” I raise my eyebrows slowly and give him a nervous smile.
Derek laughs. “Are you serious, Lexi? He’ll smoke your ass in the Hellcat.” He stops laughing when he realizes by the blank look on my face now that I’m dead serious.
“I can give him a good run, Derek.”
“Average buy in is $500, Lexi. Can you do that?” He looks doubtful.
“How about $250? You know, since it’s my first race and all?” I ask.
He lets out a deep breath. “Coen will be pissed, but I’ll let you run, Lexi. But only this one time, okay? You want to race after that, you’ll have to pay the regular buy in, just like everyone else. And don’t tell anyone I let it slide. It’ll be bad for my rep.” He gives me a “don’t let me regret this” look. “I saw the way he was looking at you earlier, Lex. That’s the only reason I’m letting this happen. Just don’t…” He stops talking. It’s like he isn’t sure if he should say was he was about to or not, but then he continues. I can see the worry in his face. “Just don’t break his heart, Lexi. He may look like a badass on the outside, but inside, he has his heart under lock and key. If he gives you that key, know that you have something rare.”
Unsure of how to respond to that, I thank Derek and run back home to shower and get ready.
I’m sitting in my car, parked behind one of the empty warehouses along the quarter mile. I’ve put almost my entire inheritance into buying this car and making sure it’s something my dad would have been proud of. Now I’m about to find out if all the hard work has paid off. If I can at least keep up with Coen’s Hellcat, I’ll be happy.
Derek said he would send me a text once Coen is in position. I brace my hands on the steering wheel and push myself against the seat, taking in a deep breath. I relax my body. His car will most likely leave mine in the dust, but if I want to have any chance of not making myself look like a complete idiot, I need to stay relaxed and focused.
I reach down and scroll through the songs on my iPod. There’s nothing quite like the perfect song to get your blood pumping. I stop scrolling when I get to “Everlong” by the Foo Fighters. I don’t know if it’s the lyrics or the wicked drum beats, but this song has always given me the feeling of wanting to put the pedal to the floor and not look back.
As I sit here in my car, eyes closed, drumming the beat on my steering wheel and singing along, I start thinking of everything that’s happened today: the diner, the tattoo shop, my driveway…
Maybe Coen’s right. Maybe the universe, or the man upstairs, is trying to tell us something. Maybe it was meant to be that I broke up with Patrick last night, so I wouldn’t be attached while bumping into Coen three times today.
Just as the song ends, my text notification sounds. It’s Derek. Coen’s in position, and apparently isn’t impressed about this being a cheap race. Something tells me that once he finds out it’s me, that won’t matter anymore.
I have butterflies in my stomach as I drive around the building. As I turn the corner, I see about 20 cars lined up, and the ass end of that sexy-as-hell HellCat of Coen’s.
I swallow the lump in my throat. Our cars are now side by side, the engines idling. My windows are tinted—there’s pretty much no way he can see me. I’m glad, too, because I want an honest race. I don’t want him taking it easy on me because I’m a woman.
Derek is standing in front of us holding the walkie-talkie up to his ear. I’m guessing he’s waiting for the all-clear. I quickly sneak a glance over at Coen’s car. He’s gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are white. His brow is furrowed. He really doesn’t seem too happy. I’m hoping he won’t be mad once he finds out it’s me he was racing.