Page 34 of Bastard Bartender

Chapter Ten

The other cars’ engines roar. Each rumble and acceleration is a hymn of the world’s best engines radiating around me to make a glorious opera.

“Are you ready?” Nic has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face that makes me laugh.

“Not as ready as you are.”

“You bet. This is a dream come true, so I hope you’re prepared.”

I hold on, placing my head against the headrest. “Fuck dreams. I’m ready to live.”

His laugh tickles my senses. “I knew you’d make this even more fun.”

His words are said so easily, without any hidden meaning, yet they put a huge smile on my face. It’s nice to know he feels so comfortable with me, as I’m getting the same vibes from him.

Each car speeds out of the parking lot, and we get on the road. I grip the handle as we slide around the corner. Nic screams out his joy as he rips through the gears, getting us to fifty miles per hour faster than I ever have. The rev of the engine has me vibrating in my seat as we careen down the straight path to the freeway. The mountains in the foreground are beautiful—orange and dusty brown with a glow of the sun casting down in the bright blue sky.

“Do you mind if I roll down the windows?” Nic asks.

I shake my head, taking out my hair tie and securing my hair in a ponytail as he rolls down the windows, creating an entirely different experience. The sounds not only radiate under us, but now all around us, too, as the wind whips through the car, swirling my hair around. I grab the little tendrils that fell forward and tuck them behind my ear as I watch Nic drive.

One hand is on the wheel while the other clutches the gearshift. His forearm muscles strain on his golden skin as he downshifts us to go faster. Pure happiness is glowing from him as he drops the gear to speed up as we get on the freeway.

Once we get to a cruising speed, he leans back, placing his elbow on the window ledge, and relaxes, driving with his fingers more casually than before. The lift of his chin is accompanied with a smirk. No music plays in the car, but I honestly don’t miss it. With the sound of the engine, the wind, and his pure joy, I couldn’t be more content.

The Grand Canyon is two hours away, so in order to get to drive each car, José stops us after an hour. We pull into a rest stop, where we all switch cars. Nic walks straight to the Porsche 911 GT3 RS, so I follow, excited to get the feeling of this super car and be able to compare the two.

Right off the bat, I notice the differences between the interiors and how each car is unique in their own way. Where the Ferrari was comfortable, this one feels like a race car with the way the seats hug you and the five-point harness seat belts. I grab it then turn to Nic in question.

He laughs as he reaches over me. “This car is all about racing performance. Each piece will meet in the middle.”

As he clicks one in, his closeness wraps around me, and I don’t know if it’s just because we’ve been racing down the freeway or what, but my heart pounds. When I notice his breath hitch, I know he feels it too.

“There you go.” He clicks in the last one and sits back in his chair. He does the same for himself before he cranks the engine.

The rumble is slightly different, and I’m sure a more trained ear could tell the difference, but to me, it’s a pure rush of adrenaline. I never understood the fascination of high-performance cars, but now, I totally do. The feeling of all that power in your hands must be unreal, and honestly, I’m just fine with sitting in the passenger seat, enjoying the ride.

We get back on the freeway, and my head is stuck to the headrest. I don’t even try to lift it off as he throws the gears again.

“This seat belt feels like I’m at an amusement park.”

He looks at me out the side of his eye. “You’re kind of adorable in that thing.”

“Don’t make a girl blush, Nicolás. She could get used to the compliments.”

“If compliments are what you want, then I can top that with how hot you look in short shorts.”

I lightly pull on the edge of them on instinct. “Now, you’re just fishing for me to reciprocate with compliments of your own.”

“Don’t need them.” He grins. “I already caught you checking out my arms.”

I go to hit his arm just as he takes a turn, and I’m thrown against my door. We laugh pretty damn hard as he slips in and out of gear.

The drive is exhilarating and easy at the same time, much like the man sitting next to me.

He’s as extreme as the deserts around us—so hot that you could faint and with a smile as bright as the sun that you could burn your eyes from staring too long. His wit is raw, and there’s a dangerous air to his personality, which could be unnerving to the unprepared.

His foot presses down, and we fly across the flat terrain. The engine is loud, the music louder, and yet we spend most of the drive in comfortable silence, reveling in the beauty of the landscape—passing the Nevada deserts and through parts of Arizona. We spy the Hoover Dam, Lake Mead, and Boulder City.