Fueled (Driven, #2)(84)
“Nope,” she agrees before I disconnect the line.
“Fucking great!” I mutter aloud before reaching for a tootsie roll in the bowl on my desk. I think I’m going to need the whole lot of them to help me cope with the rest of my afternoon.
“We’re almost there,” Sammy says from the driver’s seat. “About ten more minutes.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sammy,” I murmur as I take in the beautiful interior of the G-class SUV. This must be yet another one of his collection of cars. I fight the smirk that wants to come. I don’t think it matters how many he has; Sex is definitely my favorite.
Sammy glances at me in the rearview mirror, and I smile at him. I was shocked when he was the one who came to pick me up. I told him so, expressing that I was surprised Colton had left him behind on his trip. I thought that they were inseparable. Sammy had just given me a non-committal shrug without saying a word. And now my overactive imagination starts to roam on the ride over, and I begin to worry about Colton. What if he needs help to keep some crazy, irrational fan away from him and Sammy’s not there to help protect him? I shake my head, telling myself I’m crazy. Colton admitted to me he was quick to throw down in his youth. I’m pretty sure he could hold his own if he needed to.
My phone beeps a text and I pull it out of my purse, a smile spreading on my face when I see it’s from Colton.
Beckett scolded me for not giving you romantic gestures. RME. He says I need to give you the flowers and poetry variety. Here’s the closest I get and the best we could come up with. Roses are red. Violets are blue. Sitting in Nashville. Thinking of you.
I laugh out loud at the image of Beckett and Colton sitting in Nashville and having a discussion about me. I can very clearly see Colton rolling his eyes at Beckett’s big brotherly recommendation of romantic gestures, all the while making up a nursery school rhyme to send to me instead. I quickly pull up the web on my phone and search for different versions of the preschool poem. After a few different links, I find the perfect one.
How sweet! And you said you didn’t do romance. Be still my beating heart. Those must be some really boring meetings. Now, I have one for you. Roses are red. Violets are blue. I’m using my hand, while thinking of you. Xx.
I smirk as I hit send, pleased with my witty response and wishing I could see his face as he reads it. We drive a couple more minutes when my phone chimes again.
FYI – Dick’s hard like a teenage boy. My turn—typing with one hand now: Roses are red. Lemons are sour. If you open your legs, I’ll be there in an hour.
I bite back the laugh that bubbles up in my throat, squeezing my knees together to stifle the ache our little text tête-à-tête has stirred up. I look up and meet Sammy’s eyes in the mirror, my cheeks blushing as if he knows what I’m reading, the dirty thoughts I’m thinking. I quickly avert my eyes and reply.
Quite the poet, Ace. Too bad you’re not here. The flight’s at least four hours. I don’t know if I can wait that long. Might just have to take care of myself. xx Gotta go. I need my hands for other things now.
I hit send as we pull into the parking lot of a large, nondescript, gray three-story building with a mirrored glass exterior. The building spans the better part of the block, and the only marker denoting its occupants are the letters “CD Enterprises” in electric blue at the top row of windows.
“Here we are,” Sammy murmurs, and my anxiety ratchets up at the thought of having to sit across from Tawny. I close my eyes momentarily and inhale a long breath while Sammy moves around to my side of the car to open my door. I need to keep my cool with Tawny because the last thing I need is to be known as Colton’s bitch of a girlfriend. Thank God I had my little texting distraction to ease the dread.
Within moments he’s taken me in a side entrance and leads me up the stairs to a waiting conference room. “Someone will be right with you,” he says as he walks out.
“Thank you, Sammy.”
“My pleasure, Ms. Thomas.”
I turn and appraise the conference room I’ve been ushered into. There is a long, typical looking conference table in the midst of the room with walls painted a warm coffee color, but the focal point of the room is the wall opposite the doorway. It’s a wall of tinted glass, and as I step closer to it, I realize that the opening looks down upon a massive garage of sorts. Around several race cars there is a flurry of activity with men moving here and there. Snap-on tool boxes in cobalt blue line one wall of the garage with a chair rail of sorts, made of stainless steel diamond plate across the midsection, with various posters and banners above it on the wall. I step closer, fascinated and feeling the energy from all of the activity below.
“Roses are red. Violets are blue.” The voice at my back startles me, but I whip around knowing that rasp anywhere. “It better be only my hands on you.”
“Colton!” His name comes out in a breathless rush of air and despite every nerve in my body tingling at his proximity, my feet remain cemented to the floor. I swear my heart rate doubles at the sight of him, and although my intention is to remain cool and mask the excitement wreaking havoc on my system, I can’t help the wide grin that spreads over my lips.
“Surprise!” he exclaims, holding his arms out to the side. He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him.
It’s seeing him in the flesh that makes me realize how much I’ve missed him. How in such a short amount of time I’ve gotten used to him being a part of my day-to-day life. We both take a few steps toward each other, drinking the other in. The hungry look in his eyes steals my breath and hints at things that make my center ache with liquid heat.