Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
“I…how…what makes you think that?” Lydia stuttered, goosebumps appearing the length of her arm, just like they always did when he got too close.
Joey was only slightly ashamed of taking advantage of how his nearness seemed to confuse her just to elicit a confession.
He inhaled deeply, letting his senses consume her and making his blood surge in a primal scream.
His cock hardened at the feel of being nestled in her backside.
There was no question of their intense attraction that had only burned stronger over time.
Eight years her senior, he had worked hard to keep his distance from her.
She had proved relentless in finding ways to sneak into his thoughts and feelings.
If it wasn’t for his suspicions that she was spying on him for his former mentor, he would give in to his incessant need for her.
“I always take notice of your moods, especially what makes you happy. The stains on your fingers,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips, “give away that you are working with food, not ink. And that unmistakable spicy vanilla scent of yours is everywhere. It puts me in a chokehold, stealing my mind, and telling me to devour you like a creme brulee.” He ran the tip of his tongue up her dark, slender neck, realizing too late that it only made him salivate for more.
“You never tell me anything about you,” she murmured, leaning her head against his chest. He spun her around, searching for the truth in her golden eyes.
“I only wanted to know you better.” There wasn’t anything in the garage to give her any insight into his past, and she hadn’t found a way into his small apartment over the garage.
“Why? Why me? You could have any man your age. Am I just some exotic curiosity to you?” Her statement had seemed sincere, but there were reasons he had avoided any entanglements, and he wasn’t ready to risk everything for a fling.
When she got what she wanted, and his eccentricities became flaws that could be used against him, would he survive the fallout?
“You claim to know me, but after all these years, you still have no idea?” she yelled, pushing her way out of his hold and walking toward the bay door.
“Sure, when I was eighteen, you were my tall, dark, and dangerous crush. Believe it or not, I’ve grown up since then.
We’ve spent hours hunched over various engines, talking about life and our dreams. I thought we had become close, and maybe we could be more to each other.
I guess I misunderstood.” Her voice trailed off into a whisper before she disappeared around the corner.
He should run after her. Tell her that she wasn’t wrong.
Berate himself for being so insensitive.
Proclaim…. what? He wasn’t sure how he felt.
If her words were anything to go by, she didn’t care if he was just a mechanic or a chauffeur, but he couldn’t start a relationship with her until he could be honest, and there were still too many questions he needed to answer for himself.
Closing the bay door, he glanced around the space and realized she hadn’t taken the cash box for her booth. He doubted her stubborn temperament would let her come back for it, so he would take it to her, but it would have to wait until later, when he had to fill his shift at the festival.
At the stairs to his living space, he opened the multiple locks on the door he had installed when he’d first noticed signs of an intruder.
A large shoe print and familiar heavy cologne had pointed to one of his old adversaries.
The entrance to his apartment was similarly guarded, with the addition of cameras concealed throughout the building.
With all of the security measures back in place, he dropped his overalls onto the floor, his still erect cock bouncing against his stomach as he walked across the simply furnished space to the second bedroom.
Leaning against the window frame, he could see the preparations for the festival in the distance, but with the one-way film on the windows, he was confident no one could view him in his natural state.
He missed the cooler temperatures of his home, cradled between the mountains and the bay.
Even in the mid-70 degrees Fahrenheit, like it was for the festival, it was warmer than the hottest summer day in Oviedo.
His thoughts turned back to Lydia, as they increasingly seemed to do.
He stroked himself, imagining her standing by the waterside, the breeze plastering her dress against her curvaceous body and her long dark curls.
How would she react if he lay her down in the wildflowers on the rolling hills and made love to her?
Love? Yeah, it was time to admit what this was with her and figure out how to move forward.
Opening a large carved wooden armoire, he unfolded the shelves into a long table and spread his papers out.
An old, discolored news article stood out against the rest of the clean white pages, reminding him of his why for so many things, including his need for anonymity.
He traced his finger over the picture, thinking it might be time to start over somewhere else.
The ache in his chest at the idea of losing Lydia argued that he needed to share his story with her.
What would she think of the teenagers kart racing through the streets, like he did when he was younger, and the noises echoing off the medieval buildings?
Would she feel the thrill of it, like she did when they got an ancient motor to come back to life?
The alarm on his phone, sounding from the floor by the front door, reminded him to get ready.
It amused him that Gladys had assigned him to the only driving task in the festival.
It might not be cars, but the horses and customers would help distract him for a little while.
Before he could do that, he would relieve some stress by indulging in one of his favorite fantasies of Lydia pressed up against his shower wall, begging him for more.