Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3)(48)

I snort. “Because that worked out so well the first time.”

He flashes that breathtaking smile, then it disappears so quickly I’m not sure it was there to begin with. “Street racing was a mistake I don’t plan on repeating, and neither will you.”

Isaiah pauses as if he’s waiting for me to protest. I’m not. Lesson learned: no street racing. He continues, “Have you ever heard of The Motor Yard?”

“No.”

“It’s a one-eighth of a mile dragway in the southwestern part of the county.”

“Is it legal?”

“Yeah. And that’s where I’m going to win us the money we need to pay off Eric.” Standing in the middle of the garage, Isaiah radiates confidence. I envy him.

“How is racing there going to be any different from the streets?”

“Because the place is legit and family-oriented. The guys racing there are generational—dads, uncles, grandpas, great-grandpas. I’ll make the money off side bets. The money per bet won’t be large, but I hope to win enough to compensate.”

I’m already shaking my head. It doesn’t sound like much of a plan. “So the two of us are going to race and hope to win some side bets along the way and all of this will hopefully total five thousand dollars?”

“Not the two of us,” he says with no apology. “I’ll be racing and winning with your car.”

I blink. “My car.”

“Yes,” he says with absolutely no hesitation. “Your car.”

There’s no way he can do it—make that much money in races he hopes to win. My lips shift to the right as I mull over what he said. He believes, but I...can’t.

Isaiah focuses on my mouth. In two easy strides, he crosses the distance between us and places his fingers under my chin. His warm thumb sweeps across the edge of my lips and my heart flutters. He performs the enticing movement one more time...but slower and my mouth responds by relaxing. I quit breathing and thinking. I have so missed his touch.

“I told you not to worry,” he whispers.

I choke on the sarcastic laugh and turn my head to breathe in air that’s free of his scent. Worrying is all I’m good at. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he responds quickly. “When I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”

Not true—he said he’d call and he didn’t. I fiddle with a wayward thread on the cuff of my sleeve as my heart sinks. What do I do if he bails on me? What do I do if I don’t work with him? Maybe I could ask West and Ethan for help. Maybe they have money.

I lift my head to find him staring at me. “I’m glad you’re here, Rachel.” He slides his fingers around my wrist and the brush of his skin against mine melts my muscles like hot dripping butter.

Disgust immediately weaves through me. I’m so pathetic. He never called. Isaiah never freaking called, and with a few words and a few caresses I fall right back to where I started: as a stupid naive girl.

I step away and push my bangs from my face. I can’t do this. I can’t let him toy with me. I’ve got a couple hundred dollars saved from my birthday and Christmas. I’ll pawn some of my jewelry. I’ll beg Eric for more time. Anything other than having my heart ripped out. “This is a mistake. I’ll figure it out on my own.”

As I walk past him, toward my coat, toward the door, Isaiah grabs my hand. “What’s wrong.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand.

“You said I was a one-night stand.” I jerk my hand, but he doesn’t give. Anger flares through me and I jerk harder. “You said I meant nothing!”

His hand slips away. “I never said you were a one-night stand. Rachel...I could never think of you as a f*ck.”

I wince from the word leaving his mouth and hate how he inclines his head in pity as he notices the weakness.

“But Eric did,” I say. “And you didn’t argue.”

“I’m sorry,” he says simply as if that will wash away a week’s worth of ignoring me.

My throat burns as tears threaten my eyes. I should keep my mouth shut and bolt. Instead, I stay and say the stupid words. “I waited for you to call. You said you would. You said you liked me. And then you tell Eric I meant nothing.”

“I showed for you.” A bit of irritation leaks into his voice. “I got into Eric’s face for you.”

“Because you owe me! Because I stopped my car and let you drive it until we ditched the police.”

His expression becomes a brewing storm. “It’s not like that.”

I throw my arms out in a mock parody of not caring, but the truth is I do. I care so much about this guy that he’s tearing me to shreds. “So you don’t owe me?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters as his hands fist at his sides. “I do owe you.”

He wants to say more, but I can’t listen to lies. “Just say it, Isaiah. Cut the crap and say that I was a game. Tell me how I was the stupid, pathetic rich girl you tried to sleep with. Just say it and then we’ll figure a way out of this mess without you having to charm me into doing what you want.” Without you breaking what’s left of my soul. “Just say it!”

But before he can say anything, the door to the garage creaks open. I turn my head reluctantly in time to catch two people who look roughly our age shuffling in. The guy is tall, looming over the girl who, if it’s possible, is shorter than me. Her eyes dart between me and Isaiah and finally settle on him. “Hello, Isaiah,” she says.