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Authors: Lorelie Brown
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appealing. She wanted to watch him drive in more extreme circumstances. Off-roading in Baja, maybe. Or driving one of the fast cars she’d pictured him in.
“I’m so surprised you don’t have a sports car.”
“I do.” He cracked out a smile, almost unwillingly it seemed, because he quickly doused it. He flashed a quick glance at her. They were rolling down wide, smooth highway, and the streetlights surged and waned between, but it never was completely black. Such were the benefits of California toll roads. “I have an Audi R8.”
“Then why aren’t we driving that?”
“You didn’t seem like the sports car type.”
For some reason, she went stiff, wedging herself out of her comfortable corner. The back of her neck tightened. “I’m not cool enough for the fancy car with the non-name?”
“You sure do get sullen fast.” He reached into the space between them, covering her hand where it rested on her knee. “I thought you’d like my Bronco better. That’s all.”
She stared at his hand. The bones were long, and he was full of grace. He was so tanned that she looked even paler than her normal shade of porcelain by comparison. Her heart took a sickly lurch. He was dealing with so much. His injury was bad enough, and she’d put him through a wicked workout this morning, culminating in side arm lifts that had stretched his shoulder to its full capacity. As reward for her physical punishment, he’d brought her to a glamorous sports-world event, thinking they’d have a great time, but then he’d been delivered awful news. With all that on his plate, here he was, comforting her because she’d been unreasonable about which overly expensive car they were driving.
“How much did the Audi cost?”
He chuckled. “Has anyone told you it’s rude to ask stuff like that?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re paying me a three-million-dollar bribe for physical therapy. I think we’ve moved beyond rude.”
“You don’t even know rude, sweetheart,” he drawled, completely taking the piss out of the words. There was nothing serious behind his intent.Just more and more teasing until Annie thought she might strip out of her skin.
“You’d be surprised what I know,” she retorted. Except she didn’t know shit, not really. She wasn’t the flirty type. There had been that long period after she’d been on the competition circuit, through college, when the thought of sex and flirting had been more terrifying than intriguing. Therapy had worked her through lots of those issues, but it had left her with a different problem. Guys either thought of her as their little sister or they were hot-shit players who didn’t glance at her even for a second.
It was completely obvious which category Sean fell into. He was too gorgeous for words, much less for Annie.
Yet his hand still rested on hers. The cuff of his shirt hinted at dark, crisp hair. His wrists were thick. Man wrists. The kind of hands she’d been scared of a long time ago. But Sean’s were different.
Or at least they felt different to her.
She swallowed the tight knot in her throat. “The car,” she prompted again, because that was so much safer than where this conversation could end up if they didn’t have nearly as many barriers between them. “How much was the car?”
“Close to a quarter mil. After taxes, at least.”
She nodded as if that made perfect sense in her everyday world. She struggled to pay her bills in addition to the center’s bills. The groceries alone were enough to make finances downright painful. Part of the goal of turning her ad hoc backyard setup into an official center on Seventeenth was splitting her life more definitively. Her days were absorbed by eitherwork or the kids. The plans included a salary for a director, and though Annie intended to keep direct control, she couldn’t wait for a little more time off.
She wasn’t asking for much. Maybe one Saturday a month, to start with. She’d had to jump through
“I’m so surprised you don’t have a sports car.”
“I do.” He cracked out a smile, almost unwillingly it seemed, because he quickly doused it. He flashed a quick glance at her. They were rolling down wide, smooth highway, and the streetlights surged and waned between, but it never was completely black. Such were the benefits of California toll roads. “I have an Audi R8.”
“Then why aren’t we driving that?”
“You didn’t seem like the sports car type.”
For some reason, she went stiff, wedging herself out of her comfortable corner. The back of her neck tightened. “I’m not cool enough for the fancy car with the non-name?”
“You sure do get sullen fast.” He reached into the space between them, covering her hand where it rested on her knee. “I thought you’d like my Bronco better. That’s all.”
She stared at his hand. The bones were long, and he was full of grace. He was so tanned that she looked even paler than her normal shade of porcelain by comparison. Her heart took a sickly lurch. He was dealing with so much. His injury was bad enough, and she’d put him through a wicked workout this morning, culminating in side arm lifts that had stretched his shoulder to its full capacity. As reward for her physical punishment, he’d brought her to a glamorous sports-world event, thinking they’d have a great time, but then he’d been delivered awful news. With all that on his plate, here he was, comforting her because she’d been unreasonable about which overly expensive car they were driving.
“How much did the Audi cost?”
He chuckled. “Has anyone told you it’s rude to ask stuff like that?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re paying me a three-million-dollar bribe for physical therapy. I think we’ve moved beyond rude.”
“You don’t even know rude, sweetheart,” he drawled, completely taking the piss out of the words. There was nothing serious behind his intent.Just more and more teasing until Annie thought she might strip out of her skin.
“You’d be surprised what I know,” she retorted. Except she didn’t know shit, not really. She wasn’t the flirty type. There had been that long period after she’d been on the competition circuit, through college, when the thought of sex and flirting had been more terrifying than intriguing. Therapy had worked her through lots of those issues, but it had left her with a different problem. Guys either thought of her as their little sister or they were hot-shit players who didn’t glance at her even for a second.
It was completely obvious which category Sean fell into. He was too gorgeous for words, much less for Annie.
Yet his hand still rested on hers. The cuff of his shirt hinted at dark, crisp hair. His wrists were thick. Man wrists. The kind of hands she’d been scared of a long time ago. But Sean’s were different.
Or at least they felt different to her.
She swallowed the tight knot in her throat. “The car,” she prompted again, because that was so much safer than where this conversation could end up if they didn’t have nearly as many barriers between them. “How much was the car?”
“Close to a quarter mil. After taxes, at least.”
She nodded as if that made perfect sense in her everyday world. She struggled to pay her bills in addition to the center’s bills. The groceries alone were enough to make finances downright painful. Part of the goal of turning her ad hoc backyard setup into an official center on Seventeenth was splitting her life more definitively. Her days were absorbed by eitherwork or the kids. The plans included a salary for a director, and though Annie intended to keep direct control, she couldn’t wait for a little more time off.
She wasn’t asking for much. Maybe one Saturday a month, to start with. She’d had to jump through
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