Crash into You (Pushing the Limits #3)(68)

“Besides Isaiah,” I say.

“Besides him,” she agrees. “And you.”

“Why me?” It’s a bold question to ask, but everything about this girl is bold.

“Because,” she answers. When neither one of us say anything for a while she finally continues, “Because you like Isaiah. If you like him, then maybe you can like me. Besides, I like bunnies.”

I try not to smile. A strange answer, yet normal for her. We watch as the two guys tinker with the underside of my car. Actually, Abby observes, I avoid looking. “Where do you work?”

Abby pulls hard on her string, causing it to become uneven. “What?”

“At the mall,” I prompt.

She scratches her mouth as if attempting to hide the uneven smirk. “I don’t work at the mall.”

I mull over what she said earlier. No, she said...

“I make deliveries to people at the mall.”

“Oh.” She must sell cosmetics or something like that. “So you have a home business?”

“Who’s the guy with Isaiah? Is he a friend of yours? He’s hot.”

“No. He’s Beth’s friend.” A twinge of jealousy rattles my bones. Abby’s sneakers squeak when she kicks at a nonexistent spot on the floor. While I’ve never asked Isaiah about Beth, Isaiah’s also never offered information. Maybe Abby can fill me in on Beth since Isaiah is closemouthed. “Do you know Beth?”

“Yes,” she says.

Not helpful. “Were you friends with her?”

“Hell no. She twisted Isaiah so damn tight even I couldn’t breathe.”

The overhead heater clicks three times as we all groan. Isaiah turned it off earlier, but we all began to freeze. Cold fingers aren’t good for my baby so he powered it back on. Isaiah swears as he yanks off his T-shirt.

My heart trips. Last night, I dreamed of touching his body. “He has a lot of tattoos,” I say, hoping Abby doesn’t notice how I stare at Isaiah.

“Yeah,” she replies. “He got his first one, the tiger, when we were fourteen.”

Huh. “Does it mean something?”

“Don’t know. Isaiah won’t discuss his tattoos. He gets them and moves on.” “Paint It Black” plays from her cell. Abby presses a hand to her forehead. “I’ve gotta split.” And she disappears, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

She had Isaiah twisted so damn tight even I couldn’t breathe. Abby’s words circle in my mind. What was an attempt to make me feel better has progressed to nausea tearing at my throat.

A whistle draws my attention. Isaiah flashes the craziest smile I’ve ever seen. “Almost done, angel. You’re going to love how she’ll sing for you.”

This time when I smile, I have to force the muscles to comply. How can I compete with Beth—the girl who kept, possibly still keeps, him twisted?

Chapter 39

Isaiah

THE GODS ARE ON OUR side. The weather’s warm—upper fifties—with clear skies predicted for this Saturday night. With my hip cocked against Rachel’s car, I assess the Camaro pulling beside me in the waiting lane behind the grandstand. The big-ass dragsters are having their turn in the lanes. Next will be the street cars.

Rachel stands near the hood petting her car like the pony it is. “Promise you won’t wreck.”

“I’ll take care of your car.”

“Isaiah, I’m worried about you.”

About me? My heart stalls in my chest. Rachel, Logan and I checked out a few races before we signed in and unfortunately, we witnessed a wreck. No one hurt, but it totaled the cars. Rachel’s face faded into an unnatural shade of white when an older guy mumbled how the rules enforced at the track were written by the blood of other generations. Since then, when Rachel’s watched the races, I think all she sees are ghosts.

I meet her violet eyes. “I’ll be okay, Rachel.”

She lowers her head, raises it, then lets it fall back. I can’t read her very well and I wish I could. “What’s going on in your head?” I ask.

Rachel sucks in a breath to answer right as the driver of the Camaro slides out. Doing what I asked of her earlier when a possible bet came into the picture, she walks straight for the grandstands. Her long hair swings forward, hiding her face. My legs twitch with the desire to follow her, kiss her and ask what’s wrong.

When Rachel arrived at the garage yesterday, she was one hundred percent with me, but by the time I finished her car, she became distant again. I’ll dig for the issues tonight. Now I need to focus and win us money.

I glance behind me at Logan. He’s already deep in conversation with his competition: a Dodge Charger. That’ll be a nice race for Logan. That driver always jumps the green light.

The Camaro driver appreciates Rachel’s car. “When did you upgrade?”

He may not know my name, but he recognizes me by my old car. I’m the same with him. “This week.”

“Still think you can take me?” he asks.

“Easily.”

He nods to his car. “I’ve made some updates, too.”

“Not concerned.”

Just as I hoped, he produces a wad of cash from his pocket. “Then you won’t mind putting money on the table.”

No. I wouldn’t.