Chapter One
Mia
“Is this it?” I asked, turning to stare at my dad. “Is this the one?”
“That’s her,” he said, his craggy face splitting open in an enthusiastic smile. “Look, here she comes. Oh, gosh. Just beautiful.”
His mostly salt eyebrows rose higher and higher as the car was slowly and carefully driven onto the stage, which was set up in front of the bleachers. We sat midway up the stands, where, according to Dad, the “best view of the beauties” could be had.
“Lot 571,” the announcer said. “A 1971—”
“‘71 Chevrolet Chevelle SS,” my father whispered. “Four-barrel big block V8 engine, Muncie M20 4-speed manual transmission. Finished in beautiful Tuxedo Black SS with SS body stripes and a factory cowl-induction big-block hood.”
I listened to a mixture of him and the auctioneer as they whispered the same thing. More specs were listed, but my mind had turned to mush. I knew the important thing, 1971 Chevelle SS —which meant Super Sport, I now knew— in black with racing stripes.
“Just beautiful,” I admired, grabbing my father’s wrist and squeezing it. “I can see why you loved it so much.”
“I did,” he admitted. “I did.”
Do, I wanted to correct. It was there in the reverence in his tone and his starry-eyed gaze.
“Today might be the day,” I excitedly said as the bidding started, gripping our paddle tighter. “You never know.”
He laughed. “We both know it’s out of my price range.”
“Our price range, Daddy,” I said, leaning against him. “I told you, I want to contribute to this. I know how much the car meant to you, and I can only imagine how tough it must have been to get rid of it.”
He snorted. “Easiest decision of my life, darling.”
I struggled against sudden tears. My dad had sold his ‘71 Chevelle SS thirty-two and a half years ago. Five months before I was born. He had to because he and my mother needed the money for baby supplies. For me.
“Wasn’t even a decision,” he amended. “Nothing would ever come close to being as important as you are.”
“Thanks, Dad. Now you’re making me cry at a public car auction,” I said, sniffling.
“So?”
“So?” I said. “So people are going to think I’m crying over cars!”
My father coughed into his fist before he began to laugh. “Now that would be a travesty, wouldn’t it? Can’t have all these strangers thinking you get all emotional over a hunk of metal.”
I elbowed him.
“Oof.” He chuckled.
“I just know how much the car meant to you,” I said. “I’ve seen the pictures of you and Mom in it.”
He nodded as the bidding went past twenty thousand. “It’s true. Took her on our first date in it. God, I felt like such a king that night. I saved up for years to buy it. For the speed and for the girls. But until your mother … Well, no one ever felt right in that seat next to me until her.”
I smiled, enjoying it when he reminisced about her like that. The nostalgia, but more importantly, the love they had shared, filled me with warmth. It set the standard for what anyone should hope for.
“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” he said. In the background, I could hear the auctioneer announcing the bidding at more than thirty thousand.
“I know,” I said, holding our bidding paddle tight. We wouldn’t get involved until the upper limit of our budget. No point in helping drive the price up faster. “But this car helped you win Mom. And now …”
I choked up, unable to continue, cursing myself for souring the mood. His hand on my knee gripped a bit harder, and he just nodded, staring at the car.
One day, I vowed, I would get him that car. If it was the only thing I did, to bring him back to the early days of his love with her. To make him feel young again. Whatever it took.
I wouldn’t lose him, too. Not anytime soon. One parent was enough.
Shaking my head, I focused on the car. Eyes in the prize, as my dad would say. The bidding was now at forty-five thousand and starting to slow. Most of the others had dropped out. The only person left was an older gentleman several rows behind us … and a man near the front.
I focused on him. I couldn’t make out much about him as he raised his hand to increase the bid to fifty thousand.
The most noticeable thing, however, was the pure whiteness of his hair.
Not gray, but actually white. Was it dyed?
I didn’t see any roots, but it was such an unusual color I had to wonder.
He wore a royal blue suit that seemed to fit him like a second skin. That, and the casual way he motioned to up the price, indicated someone with too much money on their hands.
We’re not going to get the car. We went into the day knowing it was unlikely that we’d be able to afford the car. But with every auction we went to, our budget grew a little more. We were nearing the point where, on a lucky day, we might actually score one.
“Fifty-two thousand. Fifty-two. Fifty-two thousand, do I hear fifty-three? Fifty-three? Does anyone have fifty-three thousand for this lovely 1971 Chevy Chevelle SS?”
The older man behind us looked irritated but not out. He was considering it. I took advantage of the lull and raised our paddle.
“Fifty-three! Fifty-three from the father-daughter duo!” the auctioneer crowed, then began repeating it about sixteen different ways in the span of three seconds before turning around to ask for fifty-four in the same rapid-fire staccato way.
At the announcement of new entrants to the bidding, Mr. Suit turned at the waist to look into the stands.
Time and space lost all meaning as I made eye contact with two orbs surrounded by stormy gray irises.
The color, somehow visible from several rows up, was stunning.
It matched the rest of his diamond-like face, with a strong but narrow jaw molded to his head like it was cut from marble.
Everything about him, from his tanned skin to the windswept look of his white hair, made him seem rugged.
Not the usual rich-guy look. My body was fucking tingling with desire just from locking gazes with him.
I withdrew my hand from my father’s before he started to ask why I was suddenly all clammy.
I didn’t need to tell dear old Daddy that all I could imagine right then was getting absolutely railed in the back seat of the car by the guy in the front row.
Some things should be kept to myself. That seemed like one of them, even as my mouth dried up and other parts of me turned into the rainforest. My breathing came in shallow gasps.
I could sense it. But I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
The man was commanding me with just a look, imploring me not to turn away.
Then he grinned.
He knew. The fucker knew what sort of effect he had on me, and he’d done it on purpose. Then he lifted his hand and bid again, just before the car was sold to me. His smile, despite being patronizing, was blinding, reaching into parts of me that hadn’t been alive in a long time. Not since—
The sudden memory of my mother passing away practically in my arms the year before cast a long shadow over Mr. Suit’s horny eyes. I tore myself away in time to see the older gentleman behind us lift his paddle to get back in the bidding.
“Jesus fuck!” I hissed, looking down and away.
“Mia? Darling? Are you okay?” my dad asked, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Uh, yeah, Dad. Just, uh, cramps. You know.”
“Ah, yep,” he said, sitting upright.
Love my father to pieces, he was the best dad I could have ever asked for, but he had absolutely no idea how to handle “feminine problems.” Even if I was faking them to disguise how tightly wound I’d become.
“Sixty thousand!” the announcer crowed. “Do I see sixty-one?”
Gritting my teeth, I raised the paddle.
“Mia!” my father said sharply. “That is above our budget.”
“Not by much,” I said, doing my best to glare down at Mr. Suit and his perfect mane of white hair as he pushed it to sixty-two.
“Yes, but not by much is still over budget. That’s how budgets work.”
“I’ll find a way,” I said, lifting the paddle at sixty-three as well.
“No, you won’t,” he said, gently taking the paddle away from me. “I can’t let you do that. We’ll wait for another one.”
I sat back, watching as Mr. Suit and the elderly man bid until the car went for seventy-two thousand to the man up front. Twelve thousand over our budget.
My clit started to tingle as Mr. Suit turned to flash a victorious smile. We were sitting between him and the other bidder, but somehow I knew the smile was directed at me. He’d won double that time. Our car and my body. He’d bid for—and won—both, and what made it worse? He knew it.
“Asshole,” I muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” I said to my father, shaking my head. It didn’t matter that Mr. Suit didn’t like how we’d gotten involved late as unexpected competition, but he did enjoy rubbing in our faces that he had more money than we did.
“Well, that’s the only one in black today. Shall we get going, Mia?”
I frowned, chewing on my lower lip. Whoever he was, the man in the suit had been sitting there for some time.
He’d been there when we’d arrived half an hour ago and had bid on two other cars in that time and won both of them.
Now, he’d won a third. What was his plan, I wondered? He clearly didn’t seem to want the car.
“Hey, Dad?” I said, getting up.
“Yes?”
“Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back.”
Then I headed down the bleachers in the direction of Mr. Suit, who was off signing something with the auctioneer.