Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(60)
She looks away, failing at hiding her smile. Interesting. She is enjoying herself. The little criminal is a pretty good faker after all.
After a few laps, Chloe’s squeals shift from fear to enjoyment. Her reactions push me harder to drift at curbs and force the car to a new breaking point.
It hits me out of nowhere that I’m having fun. For the first time in the longest time, I’m enjoying myself while driving. It’s such a damn good time, I don’t avoid hitting almost one-hundred and seventy miles per hour. It’s the fastest I’ve gone since I was in an F1 car racing.
The real deal feels intoxicating. I forgot how much I was obsessed with the speed and adrenaline. It’s like a shot of excitement to the veins, with my heart pumping fast in my chest. Anything I’ve done since my accident to replace this feeling is only a cheap imitation. I love it. I miss it. And I absolutely want more of it.
Racing today didn’t diminish my need, it created a new one. I cross the finish line with the biggest grin plastered across my face.
“You won!” She lifts her arms in the air and laughs.
“Fuck yeah!” I smack my palm into the steering wheel, grinning as I stop the car.
She laughs as she removes her helmet. Her dark hair is a mess of waves and loose strands.
I tug on a piece. “You shouldn’t have doubted me.”
“I never did.”
“Then why make a bet in the first place?”
“Because how can you focus on being anxious if you’re too focused on winning something you want?”
My gaze darkens as I focus on her lips. “I won more than a race today.”
She winks. “And don’t you forget it.”
If I didn’t already know I liked this girl, today would’ve sealed the deal.
27
Chloe
“Good morning.” Santiago’s rough voice greets me as I exit the room. He sits on the hotel room’s couch, shirtless while reading on an iPad.
How does he always wake up way before me?
I scan his upper body, my eyes getting stuck on ridges of muscles across his stomach. Good God. I’ve never met a guy who actually looks like he belongs on a magazine cover until now. I cough, recovering from my perusal. “Did your shirt get lost somewhere?”
He chuckles. “I don’t sleep with one.”
“Well, you can always wake up with one.”
His smile expands. “And miss the look on your face as you check me out? What kind of man do you take me for?”
“Are you sure you want to hear my answer?”
He laughs. “Maybe it’s best I don’t.”
“Good choice.” I grin.
“So, I have a surprise.”
My smile disappears. “No.”
“Hear me out.”
“I don’t do surprises. Ever.”
“How about if it involves shopping?”
“Especially if it involves shopping.”
He dares to laugh. “I’m sorry then. Really I am. But my sister and mom want to take you shopping for a dress for the gala tonight.”
“Ugh.” I throw myself dramatically on the couch. My legs flop over his thighs, and he secures them to his lap.
“I tried to talk them out of the plan, but they’re pretty dead set on it.”
“You’re throwing me to the wolves on day two!”
“I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”
“Right. And let me guess. You’re not coming with.”
He frowns. “I could if you want me to. It’s just that I never go shopping with them, and they seem excited to have some time alone with you.”
“This is a disaster in the making. They’ll figure out our ruse in an hour or less.”
Santiago shakes his head, trying to hide his smug grin. “No. They’ll be focused on you and shopping that they won’t notice anything amiss.”
“Anything I make up about you in front of your family is your own fault.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. The more outrageous, the better.”
“Oh, I plan on it. I’ll start with how you secretly love frilly bath bombs.” I smirk.
“If they ask, please only recommend the kind that smell like lavender or citrus. Anything else makes my skin itchy.”
While the grumpy version of him was tolerable, a joking Santiago is rather addictive. One so beautifully toxic, I wouldn’t mind overdosing from the experience.
I feel like the biggest fraud, clutching a glass of champagne as we walk through a luxurious store with a name I can’t pronounce. My scuffed-up sneakers squeak every time I move across the marble flooring.
We’ve bounced between stores, with Santiago’s mom, who asked me to call her Daniela. She spent the whole morning sharing funny stories about her son while Maya talked him up like a contestant on a love show. It’s not as if I need someone to convince me Santiago is a standup guy. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes and it’s not exactly something I’ll forget anytime soon.
“What about this one?” Maya hands me a silky dress. The material feels lush and unlike anything I own.