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“Race it,” he repeats, and I get the briefest flash of Eli and Mateo in the back of my mind before Bodhi continues. “That’s the fastest way to make the money that you need to help your mom.”
I stand there and silently scrutinize this man, who one second, I want to throttle, and the other second, I want to… well, not hug, but maybe shake his hand.
Maybe not.
“Well, that, and whatever else you need it for, but you know what I mean.”
“What’s the catch?” I have to ask. I will not be so stupid as to repeat my brother’s mistakes.
“No catch,” he says easily, the quick shrug of his shoulders his only movement.
“There’s always a catch,” I cock my head to the side, eyeing him in a way that says I don’t quite believe him.
He pauses, a contemplative look veiling his features for a moment before he pulls his gaze back to mine.
“Take me home after?”
“Huh?”
“Well, this was a kind of spur-of-the-moment idea, and if I lend you my car, I have no way of getting home. So, we go to the race on the south side, you kick ass and cash out, then drive me home after.” He says like this whole situation is completely normal.
“You’re serious?”
“Oh, I’m always serious,” he says, fixing his expression with a stoic furrow of his brow, but I don’t buy it for a minute and nearly let loose a laugh.
“Spur-of-the-moment decision, huh?”
“Yeah, sort of,” he shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
“Something tells me you do that a lot.”
“Yeah, pretty much.” His light-hearted nature is contagious, and I can’t help but scoff and shake my head, looking down at my shoes to hide the smile creeping up the corners of my mouth.
After a moment of consideration, I decide that one race won’t hurt, and I do really need the money.
I tell myself that this is not a handout — he owes me — and it would be the same as me borrowing a friend’s car. Except Bodhi is most definitely not my friend, no matter how semi-thoughtful a gesture this might be. Plus, if he starts acting weird, I can always return the keys and wait it out until Milo finishes with the Camaro.
“Okay, fine, let’s do this,” I concede, rolling my eyes dramatically.
Bodhi claps his hands together before rubbing his palms back and forth, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning. It’s almost endearing, but something tells me I need to be extremely cautious around this man.
“I’m driving,” I say, holding out my hand as we approach the car, gaging just how serious he is about me using his car.
“Well yeah,” he says, pulling the keys from his front pocket and dropping them into my hand. “How else do you expect to get a feel for it?”
The metal is warm to the touch, and as I close my fist around them, I nearly squeal with excitement. This is such a nice car, and even though I prefer the long lines of American muscle, this beast is going to haul ass.
“Shot gun,” Bodhi calls out, sliding into the passenger seat.
I stop and stare, watching the muscles in his back shift beneath the snug white shirt, wondering who this guy is, and where the Bodhi from that night went.
A small smile plays at the corner of my lips for half of a second before I’m shaking my head and straightening my spine. This guy is crazy, even if he is acting like a total goof. I wonder why up until now he’s held the number one place for world’s biggest dickhead. What’s changed?
Making my way around the car to the driver’s side, I think to myself that it probably won’t be long before I find out.
Chapter 15
We haven’t even made it out of midtown yet, having just stopped by her bank, and the silence is going to kill me. I can’t tell if it’s an awkward silence because we don’t really know each other — though you think given our love of racing, we’d have something to talk about — or if she still pissed at me and just refusing to engage in conversation. Either way, I feel like I’m about to burst at the seams.
