Page 45 of Austin

“Fourth date?” I ask just as the waitress is arriving with ketchup for the table and extra napkins.

We’ve been talking for so long, I almost forgot we came here to actually eat. When she walks away, I notice Austin is taking another drink, as if he didn’t just declare we’d be going on another date.

“Fourth date?” I ask again.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he sees my slack-jawed expression. He slightly leans in and states clearly, “Dating is like racing a car. First, you have to see the track, feel it. In this case, taste it, like I already have.”

My mind drifts back to that kiss, and a tingle runs up my spine.

“On the second date, you do what’s called tracking the curb. You commit every delicate detail to memory. You want to feel every curve, so you can ride it with your eyes closed,” he says. “When it comes to us, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you another one of my secrets and you’ll let me explore every peak and valley of your smooth skin.”

I let out a tiny gasp as I imagine what it would feel like to have his hands on my breasts.

He continues, “The final lap is called the cooldown because the brakes are hot enough to melt rubber. The key is to use all of your fingers, gripping the wheel to get the best response. That’s what happens on the third date.” He pauses as he comes even closer to me. “Do you want me to tell you what it feels like when you cross the finish line on the fourth date?”

Yes.

I swallow hard and barely whisper, “No.”

I’m sitting here with my nipples hard as rocks and my breaths coming out in tiny pants as the food comes out and I sit back in my chair, needing the breather and distraction from the moment.

I’ve never been so turned on by words, but the way his voice turned deeper, I could feel my body craving the wild rush of the ride he was offering.

11

AUSTIN

My suspicions were right. There’s something different about this girl.

When our lunch came, I watched as her eyes lit up at the sight of her meal. The burger I’d ordered was the biggest, messiest piece of heaven on earth, and I’d wondered how she would react to it.

I hate a girl who can’t eat in front of a guy, but she didn’t seem to care one bit. After cutting it in half, she picked it up and devoured every last bite. The little sounds she made once the grease explosion hit her mouth were some of the sexiest noises I’d ever heard over food.

Afterward, I played it cool, and we walked back to the office, saying good-bye in the hallway and heading in our different directions. I wanted to kiss her again. Hell, I wanted to take her back to my place and strip her bare, but I know I’m fucked for going as far as I did. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’d be wise to stop it before it goes any further.

Unfortunately, I’m not wise.

To blow some steam, I head to my personal auto showroom, attached to the garage of the Sexton building. It was part of the loading dock that I had converted to a sanctuary for my babies. And by babies, I mean, cars.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Gregg says as he opens the steel door.

“Wouldn’t exactly call you Sherlock Holmes,” I say, running a cloth along the red paint of my Corvette ZR1.

Even though this beauty is the fastest horsepower you can get in a manual transmission from a production car—actually shooting flames out the tailpipes—her wheels have never met a race.

Gregg laughs as he snakes a pack of smokes out of his shirt pocket and pulls a cigarette with his lips. “Not the worst thing I’ve been called today.”

“Fight with Julie?”

He lights it and takes a deep inhale. “She kicked me out.”

I’m not surprised. Gregg and Julie have been going out for three years, and they have yet to go three months without Gregg landing on my couch for a night.

“What did you do this time?” I ask as I buff out a smudge I see on the taillight.

The smoke billows out of his mouth as he answers, “Asked her to marry me.”

I look up at him. “You monster.”