Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(49)

“What are you even rambling about?”

“Have you ever seen the movie?”

“No.”

She looks up at the ceiling. “It seems I have two things to pray about now. It’s no wonder you’ve been single for so long. Do you even know how to woo a woman?”

I blink at her. “I do not need to woo.”

“Everyone woos. You’re breaking my eighties-loving heart.”

“Really? How many men have you wooed?”

Her cheeks flush. “Uhm…I don’t woo. But that’s different.” The words rush out of her mouth.

“Of course it is. Double standards tend to be oddly convenient.”

Her mouth parts. “Excuse me? There are no double standards. I just was never interested in wooing someone before! That’s totally different.”

“Because your eighties-loving heart set your standards for love too high?”

“Exactly. You’d understand if you grew up around my mother and her crappy boyfriend. I’d rather have high standards than that dumpster fire mislabeled as a romance.”

“Wait. Have you not been in love?” I don’t know why I’m shocked. I’ve never been in love either, but Chloe…she’s different. Someone should’ve snatched her up by now. At least for a little while.

She focuses on the steering wheel. “No. Have you?”

“No,” I answer honestly.

“See, maybe if you wooed a girl, you’d be in love already.” She flashes me a grin.

I shake my head and return my attention back to the task. “Stop distracting me so I can explain how this is done.”

I go through each step with her, explaining the gear shift, the pedals, and all the other basics she needs to know.

She grips onto the gear shift and tries to move it. Her brows pull together as she releases an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I guess since the car is broken, we should just quit now before anyone gets hurt. Better safe than sorry.”

“You forgot to turn the car on.” I cover my smile with my fist.

“You’re enjoying my struggle way too much. I knew you were demented, but this is a whole new level of fucked up, Santiago Alatorre.” Chloe rolls her Rs perfectly.

My dick perks up at the way she says my name. I’ve yet to share my nickname with her, which is new for me. I kind of like how Chloe’s one of the few people to call me Santiago rather than Santi. Might as well keep it that way. I shimmy in my seat, adjusting myself while explaining how to turn on the car.

I pluck her hand from the gear shift and show her the movements. The addictive smell of her invades my nose as I lean in. I want to stay in the position, with my dick throbbing and her driving my car becoming an erotic dream.

Yeah, I’m a horny fucker. I got it. Anyone would be after being in a relationship with their right hand for as long as I have.

“Did you just sniff my hair?” Chloe’s incredulous voice snaps me out of my fantasy.

“No.”

“Oh my God, you totally did!” Her giggles become a full-blown belly laugh.

“You’re delusional. I was trying to check for any gas leaks.”

“In my hair?” She turns toward me. Her chest brushes against my arm, reminding me of everything I’m tempted to touch. “You’re shy.” She traces a finger across my heating cheeks.

Her touch ignites a fire in my veins, forcing more blood into the very cheeks she strokes.

Fuck. Since when have I been shy?

Since you became a freak to the public, the small yet effective voice in my head offers.

I cover up my dark thoughts with an eye roll. “No. Men like me aren’t shy.”

She pokes my chest before dragging her finger down the muscles of my stomach. “You totally are. Tell me, why do you like sniffing my hair?”

“Truth or lie?”

Her gaze meets mine. “Truth. Always the truth.”

“Because you smell annoyingly good and I wanted more, okay? Are you happy now?”

“Absolutely thrilled. Sniff away, you creep.” Her laugh drowns out the car booting up.

Her mood is infectious. I absorb it, allowing her positive energy to pulse through me. I’m growing to enjoy Chloe’s presence as we spend more time together. And honestly, part of me wonders what more I can do to have her stay a bit longer around me.





22





Chloe





I mindlessly sweep the coffee shop’s floor.

What am I supposed to wear this weekend?

What am I supposed to say?

But, wait, how am I supposed to live in the same hotel room with Santiago for days and keep things between us solely platonic?

“Chloe, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

I jump at the sound of Matteo’s voice. The broom slips from my hands and clatters against the floor. “God. You scared me!”

He chuckles. “I’m sorry. I called your name a few times, but you didn’t hear me.”

Oh. Stop daydreaming on the job.

I turn toward him. He gestures for us to have a seat at one of the empty tables.

Is he going to fire me? He’s never this formal, and after our dinner from hell, things between us have been a bit tense. I try not to hold it against him, but I’m still slightly bitter.