âI happen to like them,â I say. âWhat, did they kick you out or something?â
He shakes his head.
âSaid you were too wholesome, maybe?â I snap.
Dmitri stares at me.
âOh, I know,â I say, tilting my head to the side and looking at him. âYou were too chicken to run with them, werenât you, Dmitri?â Boy, Iâm on a roll now. Jackknife Jenessa, right in your face. âLittle too safety-oriented, should we say?â
This finally punctures his cool veneer. Anger flickers in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak. His eyes meet mine and hold me there for a few seconds. Then he looks down at the cup in his hands. He releases a long breath.
When he looks back at me, his eyes are almost calm.
âRight,â he says. âWell, have a good night then.â
I watch, my throat aching, as he walks down the driveway and gets into his car.
Donât go, Dmitri. Come back.
The words are in my head, but I canât get them into my mouth.
Iâm sorry.
He starts the Camaro up. Steers it out of the cul-de-sac without looking back. I wait for the sound of his engine to disappear before closing the door.
I jam my feet into my flip-flops and grab a hoodie. Snatch my keys off the hook.
I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror for a long time. Then I give it the finger.
And then I throw my extra-hot Americano at it.
I slam the door behind me, leaving the coffee to drip like dark tears.
Chapter Thirteen
A couple of weeks later, Iâve raced a few times. Tires squealing, engines throbbing, hands sweating on the wheel. I take on the whole gang, one by one, and even though they dust me every time, I have fun. The guys are generous with their encouragement.
Most of them.
Iâm standing with Cody on a warm night in May, pleasantly buzzed off a few beers. Iâm trying not to think about the fact that Dmitri had suggested I go to the track with him this weekend to kick off the drag season.
Weâre late getting started tonight. Everyoneâs enjoying themselves, talking and drinking. Codyâs running his hand up and down my back under my shirt. Heâs in a good mood tonight.
He tosses his empty into the cooler and looks at me, his eyes glittering. âYouâre up,â he grins. âFirst race tonight.â
I laugh and shake my head. âNo way,â I say, pointing to my stomach. âToo many beers in this belly. I gotta wait awhile.â
He ignores my words. Instead, he leans over and puts his mouth to my ear. His breath tickles when he whispers, âLetâs show these pussies what youâre really made of. Just me and you. Pull it out and show them how kick-ass you are.â
I feel a glow that he thinks Iâm good. But I donât want to race right now. Iâm drunk.
I smile and turn to kiss him. âDonât want a DUI, thanks,â I tease.
He pulls back and looks around. âI donât see any pigs here. Do you?â
I glance around us. A few cars have passed, but that was a while ago. No oneâs on the road now. The lookout would have signaled, anyway, if heâd seen cops.
âNope. No pigs.â But I still donât want to get behind the wheel.
And I have a feeling he isnât going to make it easy for me.
I scramble for a way to handle this before it gets heavy. âYou go, babe. I want to watch you race Rishad now that heâs turbocharged his engine.â I lay on a bit of flattery to sweeten my rejection. âYouâll still punk his ass.â
Cody stiffens, and I know the conversationâs headed the wrong way. He raises his voice. âI said, I donât see any cops,â he says. He addresses the group standing over Rishadâs car. âAny of you guys see any police out here tonight? Huh?â He squeals loudly, startling me. âSee any pigs?â
âNo pigs, boss,â says Mark quickly. âWeâre clear.â
Cody looks back