Chapter 14 Amy #2
He laughs. “Hey, you don’t have to open it now. You could just slip it under your tree.”
He really needs to stop smiling at me like that.
“I’m a twenty-year-old woman,” I snap. “You think I have a fucking tree?”
That was awkward—and completely random, too. But gifts really do freak me out. My birthday is basically my own personal nightmare—just that whole situation where people watch you tear off the paper, staring into your face like they’re peering into your soul. I shudder.
“You are such a pain in the ass, you know that?” He drops the bag at my feet. “I’ve got something else for you, too.” He pulls an envelope out of his back pocket. “This one you need to open right away.”
I glance from left to right. “Hold up—did you just give me an order?”
“Fine! I’m opening it for you.”
Enough with the gifts, dude!
“You can stop thanking me now, it’s starting to creep me out. Like I said—we’re all good. Don’t make me regret helping you out. Or make me lift the ban on Sycamore Heights,” I add ominously.
“Oh, this isn’t a thank-you.”
He lifts the flap carefully, easing a card out of the envelope and holding it up for me to take.
I squint at it. “A racetrack pass?”
“Yup. Somewhere for you to go blow off some steam.”
I stare at the card. He’s gifting me time on an actual, real-life racetrack?
“But why?” I whisper.
“Because that’s how you get your kicks. And this way, at least it’ll be legal. I told the guy that you’re wild, by the way. I think it kinda turned him on. They’re closed over Christmas, but—”
“Stop!”
What is going on, here?
“What are you playing at?” I ask.
“Wow—you’re welcome…”
I take a step back. “What’s your game?”
“There is no game.” He frowns. “I thought that this way, you’d be able to focus on the job, at least.”
What is he even talking about? It’s like I’m missing a major part of the puzzle.
“What job?”
“Yeah, that’s the other reason I dropped by.”
“Something tells me the gifts were meant to warm me up.”
“Oh, so you do want to keep them, then?”
I eyeball him. “Get to the point, buddy. What do you want from me?”
“Why are you looking at me like I just killed a puppy? We had a near-death experience in Brooklyn together—doesn’t that mean anything?”
Yes. Or at least, that’s what I hoped, for all of twenty seconds, out there in the motel parking lot.
I sigh. “Spit it out or get lost.”
“Play nice, Hitman,” he warns. “Because I’m here to give you another shot at joining the Campus Drivers.”
“What?”
“But you need to know this does come with a few strings attached.”
I hold up a hand. I need him to shut up for a minute—I need to savor this moment.
“Slow it down, will you?” I pause. “Are you saying you want me to start training again?”
There’s a tangle of feelings about to explode inside me.
“Yeah, but—”
I lean back against a pile of tires. “What happened to me not being good enough for you?”
“Let’s just say, I see things differently now.” He shrugs. “What I saw in Brooklyn made me want to give you another chance. But I’m warning you—it’ll be your last. I’ve still got my eye on you, Hitman. No more races. No more weekend getaways to New York…”
He’s counting them off on his fingers, and with each new item, I feel a little of the initial shine rubbing off. I’m overcome with the sudden urge to snap his hands right off—which is something I do know how to do. Call it lived experience.
“The only reason I went back to New York was to help you out. You get that, right?” It’s taking every drop of my self-control not to lunge for him. “Guess you don’t mind my extracurriculars when they work to your advantage, huh?”
“You really want to discuss your ‘extracurriculars’ again?”
“Say the word ‘crochet’ one more time, and I’m taking you behind the barn.”
He throws up his hands. “I get it, okay? That’s exactly why I changed my mind.
But I’m hoping you get why I had to make sure things were crystal clear between us.
I am so, so grateful for how you went back on the promise you made yourself…
all just to dig me out of that shit. But it can never happen again—I still care about our reputation. I care about how our business looks.”
Yet again, Lewis has the shittiest way of making things “crystal clear” between us. What were you expecting? Did you really think that Brooklyn would be enough for him to onboard you without being a little bitch about it?
“What do the others say?”
“They’re cool with it.”
“What about Amir?”
“I’m keeping him as my plan B—just a backup, in case you fuck up.”
Or so you think. Maybe Amir and I need a little quality time together…
I nod slowly. “Hit me with the rules.”
“No illegal stuff. Which shouldn’t be too hard, since you’ve put all that behind you and you have this to help you unwind now.” He waves the pass at me. “Take it or leave it, baby.”
This gig makes sense, but there are so many other little parts to my life that don’t tie neatly in with it all—the jobs I do for RJ, some of my bad, bad habits…
I thought I’d screwed up my chances with the Campus Drivers, and I’d even started thinking that maybe I just wasn’t the right fit, after all.
Can I really see myself doing this? Doing more driving isn’t the issue; the issue is following somebody else’s rules.
That could be a major problem—I can sense it.
On the other hand, maybe this is the final nudge I need to move on from my whole New York chapter.
Part of me feels like I’m turning my back on myself, or worse still, turning my back on Dad—on everything he was and loved.
But the other part of me understands that he’s dead, and that he won’t be coming back.
I’m sorry, old man! My life would be so very different if he were still around.
Raven and I would never have been kicked out of our home, I would never have ended up so lost, looking for the fresh start I still haven’t quite found.
What if today could be the first day of the rest of my life?
“I’ll do it,” I hear myself say.
“Then you’ve got yourself a deal.”
He holds out an arm, and this time, I don’t freeze—I don’t think twice. I slip my hand into his, the heat of his skin sending electricity coursing through me, my nipples stiffening in response. Looks like my body really likes this deal.
When he drops his hand, I swallow hard.
“When do we start?”
Say “right away.” Say “right away”…
“Early January. I’m heading to West Virginia; I’ll be back in time for New Year’s Eve.”
“Sure.”
Okay, maybe that’s for the best…
I’m doing my best to talk myself down—shrug off the disappointment. That gives me a whole two weeks to ditch all the parts of my life that won’t work with the new job. When he said “no illegal stuff”… does that include the hacked Prime Video account?
“Got plans for New Year’s Eve?”
My heart starts racing.
“Don’t know yet,” I say coolly.
“Great—you’re spending it with us.”
I’m toughing it out, but deep down inside, I’m in free fall. He’s stirring up all these new feelings in me, all just by inviting me to some fucking party. Knowing my luck, I bet it’ll be some fancy-dress bullshit, too. That’s where I draw the line!
“Thanks, but no thanks, Conley.”
Amy Hitman—the girl who turns down invites to parties she really wants to go to.
“Let me rephrase,” he starts. “As a Campus Driver trainee, the party isn’t optional.”
“You really need to work on your ‘Don’t fuck with me’ voice. Where’s your big-dick energy at?”
“Didn’t you get some the other night? I’m pretty sure you were feeling it then.”
I gasp.
It’d been a whole four minutes since I last thought of that.
And yeah—I definitely felt it. I’ve been reliving it ever since.
“Dude, weren’t we supposed to never mention that again? Remember your whole parking lot speech?”
Say you don’t remember.
“I remember. Which reminds me—if Donovan ever asks, that never happened. Okay? It’s against the rules.”
I open my mouth to shoot something back, but all that comes out is this weird, vaguely bitter laugh.
So smooth.
“So, let me get this straight—you bust my balls over sticking to the rules, while you do whatever the hell you want? Is that how this works?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “You weren’t on the team when we slept together. No rules broken.”
What a little bitch. If he thinks I’m going to let him weasel his way out of this one, he can think again.
“Don’t worry, Lewis. It didn’t exactly leave a lasting impression on me—your secret’s safe with me. You’re the one who keeps bringing it up, by the way.”
Nice.
He takes a step toward me, and I tilt my chin defiantly. Standing here in my sneakers, he towers above me, and it’s funny how all these guys are the same. Undermine their dicks, and they snap into defensive mode.
“You’re full of shit, Amy. I heard the way you were screaming. I’m pretty sure the entire motel did.”
His confidence is overwhelming—in a good way. He’s oozing alpha vibes, and my body is electric. The stuffy, straitlaced Lewis of five minutes ago has exited the building, and here I am standing eye to eye with the guy from the motel room, and it’s all coming flooding back.
“I’ve got the scratches on my back to prove it,” he adds.
His face is inches away from mine, his breath hot against my lips, and suddenly the tension between us is tightening, my mind spinning out of control as my pulse quickens. I’m pretty sure he’s imagining taking me right here against a wall, just to prove a point. I want that.
Somewhere at the far end of the garage, a door slams shut. Lewis’s eyes dart to the side as he takes a step back, and I steady my breath, overcome with an urge to kill whoever just shattered our moment. He rubs his eyes, takes another step back, and sighs.
“I come up here to give you a gift, offer you a job, and invite you to a party. How the hell did that turn into a fight?”
“No idea.”
He rolls his eyes. “So—where was I?”
“Something about forcing me to come to your place.”
He nods. “The Campus Drivers are having a New Year’s Eve party, and we’re getting the new recruits involved. That means you need to be there as part of your training.”
Asshole! This is so not my vibe—I can’t think of anything worse than spending an evening making small talk with strangers and hugging random people just because it’s midnight, but on the other hand…
If I want to be part of the team, I know I’ll have to make some kind of effort.
And I definitely do want to spend time with him…
“I’ll try to swing by,” I offer.
God, I hate this version of me.
He balances the racetrack pass on top of my head and shoots me a smug smile before turning back to his car, and as I watch him cruise away, I turn the conversation over in my mind.
So much contradiction. He wants me to play by the rules, but he’s giving me the racetrack pass as a way of blowing off steam.
He’s telling me that time we had at the motel can never happen again, but his body language tells a whole other story.
The guy is exhausting, to put it mildly.