Chapter 18
Holy fuck. Luke was killing me, or at the least, testing my restraint. Granted, I considered myself to have a shit ton of patience, but this was pulling on my reserves.
It’d been two weeks since I had my hands on him, and a car show was where he chose to reunite? Huge production, sure, but I’d hoped for something a bit more intimate. A bit more me getting my mouth on Luke’s cock and less me keeping my distance for hours.
With finals over, the dorms emptied for Winter Break, and I’d packed a bag and moved home. Weird, not gonna lie. Home would always be a place of acceptance, but more and more, it didn’t hold the same permanence it once had. I’d become a visitor.
Nevertheless, Christmas was its usual event of new toys and clothes and useful items covered in enough wrapping paper we could encase the entire house with it.
The only thing out of the ordinary was the quiet Christmas night we spent with Ben’s dad.
Barely a shadow of the man was left. Still, he had a smile for us grandkids.
When Luke texted me with this invite—hands down, my favorite gift—I’d said my goodbyes to everyone and planned to spend a few days of my break at Aunt Penny’s. A second home, but more importantly, a home closer to Luke.
The weather had officially moved into hard winter. The sky was clear, thank goodness, but the open field before me did little to stop the wind from piercing through my jeans or crawling inside the neck of my sweater.
Areas had been roped off for parking, toilets, and food trucks.
This thing went into the afternoon, when they would announce prizes for best in show and others.
A big deal, by the turnout. This wasn’t pretty cars lining the Walmart parking lot over in Hickory Cove.
Rows and rows and rows of cars and trucks glinted in the morning sun.
However, all of those rambling thoughts would have to take a back seat.
As soon as I’d arrived, I called Luke, who gave me directions to where he was parked. As ever, his spotless Range Rover put the other cars to shame, as if it should be on show today, but it was the man standing next to it with two cups of coffee who I couldn’t stop staring at.
My dark shades hid my perusal, but nothing would hide the drool.
“So you can do casual,” I said when I reached him.
His cocky grin suggested he knew exactly what I hadn’t said, which was a resounding daaaammn. Luke was fine as fuck.
Dark jeans, a cream, fitted sweater, and an open, dark gray wool coat covered his sexy body. He had on boots instead of oxfords, and hell yeah, I took more than one lazy top-to-bottom-to-top scan of him.
A dark stain colored his cheeks under tinted aviators. “Do that again, and I’m going to have a little problem to deal with.”
“Heh. There’s nothing little or problem about it.”
Luke shook his head and handed over one of the coffees. “Playboy,” he chuckled.
I accepted the coffee with thanks, then said, “I was promised breakfast.”
He nodded, then jerked his head toward the car show main area. “Do you like crepes?”
“Never had them.”
Luke smiled, fisted his free hand instead of reaching for mine, and said, “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
The last two months had been unreal in several ways.
Meeting Luke, first and foremost, but also the fancy-pants events Savannah dragged me to were something I’d never foreseen in my future.
Family time during my break had been nonnegotiable and a good reminder of my roots, but now I wanted a reminder of my reach, my branches straining for Luke, the sun.
We walked side by side. Luke set the distance, and I didn’t push it, no matter how my reflexes kept trying to.
Since deciding we had something worth exploring, we’d talked or texted nearly every night.
Being in person with him like this was both normal and not at the same time.
And becoming harder than I imagined to keep platonic in the eyes of everyone around us.
Luckily, car shows were something more of a man’s pastime. I didn’t make the rules, okay, but there were many more men walking around, talking and cutting up in groups, so we blended in with the macho oozing in the atmosphere. So maybe not all that strange of an idea for a daytime date.
Crepes turned out to be sweet breakfast tortillas.
Luke insisted they were more like pancakes, but they had so many options for fillings and toppings, tortillas made more sense.
Luke had his stuffed with ham and egg, while I had mine with thin-sliced strawberries, whipped crème, and drizzled with chocolate sauce and sugar. Yum.
We sat at a little table to eat and finish our coffee.
“Like it?” he asked.
I nodded with a mouth full. “Have you been to one of these before?” I asked.
“Many, actually.” Luke blotted at his mouth in a boring way when I wanted to lick off the shiny remnants of his food instead. “Cars are something of a passion of mine.”
The Bentley, the Mercedes, the Range Rover … “Define passion.”
“How about I show you?”
And show me he did.
Once we finished eating, Luke took me up and down the lines of cars, stopping at each and giving me history lessons about design choices, engine specifications, and modifications common at these shows.
He knew factory colors, which ones were well maintained, and those that were only well maintained on a surface level.
The morning chill had warmed a bit, making the late-December Saturday downright pleasant. The attendees became boisterous, and the good vibes were infectious. Much better than those snooty-britches charity events.
At one particular Mustang he’d gone on and on about, as if it were a beloved family member, I turned to face him and crossed my arms over my chest.
He trailed off once he saw me staring at him rather than the car. “What?”
“This is more than a passion for you.”
His sunglasses hid his eyes, but his mouth did that sexy lopsided twitch. “The Dorset Family Trust might have a small collection.”
“Hmm, might?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
“Who owns this one?” I nodded to the car but kept my eyes on him.
“Uh.”
“You know,” I said and stepped closer to the old muscle car, running a finger up the edge of the open hood. All these cars had their hoods up, showing off the engines. “I don’t know a lot of particulars about cars, not like you do, but I happen to know this car.”
“You do? Uh, this one?” Luke stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked with me as I slowly rounded the car.
“Mhmm. You see, my cousin Red—well, his real name is Russet, but everyone calls him Red—he had a car like this once.”
“This one? You’re sure?”
I bent at the waist and scanned the black leather interior. The insides had been restored to the original style, as were many of these classic cars. “Yep.” I straightened and caught Luke staring at my ass. “Pay attention.”
He slowly lifted his chin and grinned. “I am.”
I snorted and stepped toward the back fender. “Anyway, Red, he likes cars. Huge gearhead. When our great-granny passed, him and his parents were the first over at her place to see what they could steal before her kids got a chance to settle it all.”
“What? That’s fucked-up.”
“Right? Yeah, we all thought so too.” I smiled at the car with its unique white paint and dark blue racing stripes.
I didn’t know the names of the colors, but no other car seemed to have the same shades.
“A car like this was in Granny Pearl’s barn, covered in dust and dirt and probably horse shit, who knew. ”
Luke stopped and cocked his head to the side. “This— I mean, a car like this?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Did you know these were under five grand in 1965, and one in this condition is probably over four hundred grand now?”
“I did,” he drawled. “How did you know that?”
“Told you I knew this car.”
“What happened to the one your cousin found?”
“Stole, you mean. Well, he boasted about it enough he finally had to hide the damn thing. He never got a chance to fix her up as he’d wanted and eventually had to sell it to pay off an ex-wife or some shit.”
“What did he sell it for? I want to say I hope he got what it was worth, but I’m not sure I like this cousin.”
I chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, he’s not a favorite of mine. I think he sold it for twenty, maybe.”
Luke swallowed. “You, you really know this car?”
“My whole family knows this car. It was quite the scandal.” I traced over the hood with my fingertips a hairsbreadth away from the cool metal.
“1965 Shelby GT350. Modified Windsor V-8 putting out 306 horsepower, 329 pounds per foot of torque at 4,200 RPMs. Less than 600 were made that year, and only a handful of the race car version. Zero to sixty in seven seconds and a quarter mile in fifteen.” I turned to face Luke.
“Who needed the race version with an engine like that?”
“Only wealthy collectors.”
“Like you.”
Luke’s face froze for a second. “Me? You think I own this car?”
“For the two years my cousin had his hands on it, no one was allowed to ride in it. He was greedy like that.” I shrugged.
“Thief. It tracked. Anyway, to this day, Red talks about this car. He’s got kids he knows less about, and not a single one of his wives he talks about in a fonder way.
I was pretty sure he slept in this car while he had it and probably mourns the loss of it like a close friend. ”
Luke licked his lips. “Yeah, she’s got enough personality. I could see someone caring for the car in that way.”
“Like you do.”
He rocked back on his heels and grinned. “Fine. You’re right. This one’s mine. God, you’re insufferable when you think you know something.”
I hopped and hooted. “I knew it! I saw you light up when we got to it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to sway your opinion. I was planning on asking you what your favorite car was when we got to the end, and I didn’t want you to choose this one just because I owned it.”