Chapter 25
Rosie
I’ve spent the last days face-palming every time I remember what I said to Niki. Thankfully, he’s not mentioned it. Why did I keep calling him sir and offer to help him regain control?
I nibble my lips. I know why I said it. I was wearing the retro Niki Coulter T-shirt to bed.
It was like I was branded with his name while speaking to him.
Knowing I’d helped ease his anxiety made me feel powerful, and I wanted him to feel the same.
And I was wired because the T-shirt was the same colour as the underwear I’d worn when I dived into the ocean with him.
He returned from Japan with a smile and a bag of presents, including a watercolour painting for me and a husky plushie for Tabi.
We’ve got a couple of weeks until the next race, so I’m finally implementing my secret plan.
I’ve cleared his calendar and filled the afternoon with a meeting under the subject, “Future planning.”
I’m so giddy that when I walk into his office and see him in a suit and tie due to his meeting with investors earlier that morning, I shout, “I need you to strip.”
His eyes widen, and I cover my giggling mouth. “That came out wrong.”
His lips quirk until I add, “I have an appointment for us this afternoon, and casual clothes will be best.”
He nods, but so many emotions cross his face that I run out the door and grab a can from my fridge and down it so quickly I fight to hold in a burp.
How I still have a job is beyond me, but as he grins at me from his doorway, I suspect he likes my random ways.
His car smells of leather and whatever the hell they pump into cars to make them smell shiny and new. Occasionally, I get a whiff of him: vanilla, sanitiser, and oak. I want to breathe all of him in.
“I’m totally underdressed in this Mercedes,” I say, referring to my joggers and branded hoodie combo.
“I disagree. Coulter Racing turquoise suits you.”
My knickers, which I presume he’s ditched, were the same colour. I sneakily stare at him beneath my eyelashes and moisten my lips. He catches the movement and shifts in his seat. Maybe he thinks about that night, too.
“You drive like every man I’ve ever met.” I change the subject quickly so I don’t demand he tell me I’m beautiful, like he did in Greece.
He’s wearing his cap backwards, and his dirty blond hair peeks from beneath it. He glances at me, and a dimple forms in his cheek. It’s telling me to lean over and put my finger in it. I must be drunk on the new car smell.
“And how is that?”
“With your legs so wide, you’d fit another person between them. Like, what’s up with that? No woman drives like that.”
He smiles as he glances between me and the road. “It’s because men have something women don’t, Rosie.”
We get to a straight bit of road, and he emphasises grabbing the gear lever. “Something like this…”
My face flames. “No man’s dick is so big that they need to stretch their legs that wide!”
“I can’t speak for any other man, but I need to spread my legs wide when I drive.” I glance at his lap and quickly look away. I don’t want to remember our kiss. Not now. He adds, “Well, I can speak for Connor, because we once compared dick sizes.”
“You compared dick sizes with your sister’s boyfriend?”
His face creases. “In my defence, we were young and drunk after a grand prix. We did a lot of random shit under the influence of after-race adrenaline and alcohol.”
I stare at his lips, which are curled in a smile.
“Who was the biggest of the two of you, or were you both so tiny you couldn’t tell?” I tease.
“Oi, cheeky.” He checks the road and then fixes me with his stare. “We were so big the bathroom couldn’t contain us. But so you know, it was me. No contest.” He winks, and I giggle.
“It couldn’t contain the size of your heads.” He raises his eyebrow and smirks. “I mean the head on the top of your body, not the other head. You’re such an arrogant arsehole.”
His grin makes me wonder if I’m getting a glimpse of the Niki I’ve read about.
“I prefer arrogant dickhead, but whatever.” He chuckles while shifting his legs. My attention is drawn to them and what’s between them. His grey joggers tighten over his dick, which does appear big. “Stop undressing me with your eyes, Rosie. It’s very unprofessional.”
“Fuck off.” I fold my arms.
“That’s fuck off, sir.” He winks. His voice is so deep I could drown in it.
“Whatever,” I grumble. In another lifetime I’d be in a puddle, sitting in a car with a hot older man with a big dick and who’s the sexiest playboy in racing. But I’m a single mum who’s never had good sex. We’re not in the same universe. I have nothing to offer him except excellent assistant skills.
He had a reputation for sleeping with models and singers. His longest-term girlfriend, Clara, lasted six months. Sasha and I scrolled YouTube videos of them last night, and I’ve had a stomach-ache since. I can’t imagine myself with that guy.
“As you can tell, I’ve not had an assistant in a long time. Sorry. I like joking with you, but I might be pushing it too far. Senna would kick my arse. When I’m too much of an arsehole, please tell me.”
There’s the Niki I know. Not the arrogant playboy, but the guy whose anxiety rises like a storm in the ocean. “I like joking with you. Maybe we need a boss-subordinate safe word.”
He coughs like his breath is stuck. “Safe word? What is your history, Rosie?”
I chuckle. “I’ve seen the world.” In truth I’ve watched a lot of late-night television with a baby with colic. “Our safe word should be banana.”
“But what if I’m telling a dick joke and it includes the word banana?”
“How about banana hammock?”
“Okay, Rosabella. I expect to hear you say banana hammock when I cross professional boundaries, including asking you anything that makes you uncomfortable. I’m saying it the next time you tell me to strip in my office.”
“I look forward to it, sir.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. I may have a praise kink, but Niki Coulter likes it when I call him sir. I’ll never find out what he’s like in the bedroom, but in my imagination, he’s the boss who tells me to get on my knees.
He changes the subject. “You haven’t told me where we’re going beyond the little village we’re nearing. Casual clothes and countryside. Are we strawberry picking?”
“In April? No. I’ve sorted your staff, but we’re missing something crucial.”
He gives me a side-eye before taking a tight corner with the skill of a racing driver. I didn’t realise sitting next to him, with his vanilla scent caressing my skin, would be so damn sexy. “What are we missing?”
“A dog! You’ve got a dog walker, and I’ve booked us to go shopping for dog baskets, toys, and all the other plethora next week—unless you want to do it alone or leave it to me.”
“I’d like to do it together. I expect you’re the only one who can stop me from buying silly stuff.”
“I’ll ensure we have a good half-day. Make a list of what you might want while you’re travelling. Obviously, I’ve already researched and have a sensible list.”
“Obviously.” His eyes twinkle. “Have you booked us to meet new puppies? I’m not sure what kind of dog I want.”
“That’s the beauty of this trip. Turn right here.” We drive down a small road and near the sign at the end. “Fawley’s a dog shelter. You need a dog that’s like you.”
“Rejected because no one wanted it?” He says it as a joke, but I suspect there’s truth behind it, like many of his jokes.
“No. Changed by its experiences, but more valuable than gold. One that needs someone to take a chance on them, because with the right amount of love, they’re perfect.”
As he drives through the gate to the car park, the car is silent. Every experience I’ve had of Niki tells me he’s an incredible man who’s trying his best even though he’s dealt with a lot of shit. I want to build his confidence and help him see what others do.
He parks the car and whispers, “Thank you. It’s a really good idea.” His fingers brush the top of my hand.
My skin tingles.
That action would usually scare him, as touch scares him, but it’s switched on something I can’t allow to thrive.