Chapter 23 Dean
TWENTY-THREE
DEAN
Me
I’m here
Is everything ok?
I’m sitting in Regan’s driveway, waiting for her to come out.
I hope she isn’t having second thoughts about going to dinner.
I just want to break the tension between us after we kissed.
Thinking back, this might not have been the way to do that.
I spent a good twenty minutes spiraling, wondering if I had asked my rival out on a date after kissing said rival.
It’s not a date. It’s two people going to dinner. That’s it.
Since we didn’t decide on a place, I dressed a little nicer than what I usually would, a nice pair of dark jeans and a grey button down.
I’m about to send off another text when she storms out the front door, slamming it.
One look at her and my mouth has gone dry: she’s in a figure hugging red dress.
So far, it’s my favorite thing I’ve seen her wear.
Shows off her perfect curves and tits, showcasing her toned legs in a low pair of heels.
I’m still taking her in, but her face is scrunched up; something’s wrong.
She climbs in and buckles her seatbelt without uttering a word. Before I pull out of the driveway, I start to say, “So, where do you—” she cuts me off.
“Just drive, please.” Her tone, flat.
I nod and back out of the driveway and head, well, somewhere.
What could have upset her this much between now and when I saw her earlier today?
I hope it isn’t something I’ve done. Did I send too many texts when I got to her house?
We ride in silence, my mind still spiraling as to what has put Regan in this mood.
The AC swirls her perfume and her usual vanilla scent around me.
I inhale it, and somehow the familiar smell eases my nerves.
“You alright?” I finally ask.
“I’m fine,” she snips. “Just pick a place.” If there is anything I know about women, when they say they’re fine—they’re not fine.
Her fingers fiddle with the hem of her red dress, exposing more of her thigh.
I want to reach out and touch it, to try to calm her and to selfishly touch her again.
Then I think of the perfect place to go, and I start in that direction.
“Did something happen?” I try again.
She sighs. “It’s my dad.” She takes a breath before explaining further. “He just had to grill me with a ton of questions before I left.”
Meaning, Karsen Brady knows she’s out with me. That makes every cell in my body clam up. Holy shit, Karsen Brady, racing legend, knows his daughter is out with her rival. The nerves instantly return at that knowledge.
“He forgets that I’m an adult, and he’s so overprotective,” she says. “Just because I live at home doesn’t mean I have to tell him everything.”
I grip the steering wheel hard, a bit of anger at the man that I was fearful of a few minutes ago and a bit of something else I have yet to identify.
She’s right—she’s an adult and can make her own decisions.
The other part—jealousy. That she has a parent looking out for her, something I so desperately wish I had.
“I’m sure that’s hard,” I manage to say.
“I would live on my own, but it’s just easier with him being my crew chief and all.” She places her head into her hands. “I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t be ranting about this.”
I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. “No, you’re fine. It’s just—” I can’t say it out loud, though she already knows.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I’m such an asshole.”
“You’re not an asshole. You have a right to your feelings.” This time I give into the urge to touch her, and reach over to take her hand, lacing our fingers together. To my surprise, she doesn’t pull away.
“Where’re we going, anyway?”
“The Pink Balcony. I’ve heard it’s amazing.”
Her eyes grow wide in excitement. Maybe I can turn this night around after all.
“I haven’t been there, either. I’m excited to try it. I hear the food is to die for.”
The Pink Balcony is more known as a local date spot, not the reason I brought her here, but Regan deserves to be taken somewhere nice. To be treated like the woman she is. To be pampered and shown she’s special.
But it’s still not a date.
I park the truck, and she turns to me before we climb out.
“You look nice, by the way.” She scans me and I really like the way it feels with her eyes on me and only me.
It makes my cock twitch behind my zipper.
I think back to how she felt on my lap, how warm her skin felt, how she grinded down on me.
I need to get a grip or I’m going to have a hard on before we even enter the restaurant.
“You look amazing, Regan,” I compliment back with a smile. I saw her when she got into the truck, but up close is ever better. I scan her once more as she did me, and I know she likes it by the way her tongue darts out over her bottom lip.
Fuck, I need to get out of this truck before I do something unsavory.
We walk inside and are seated by the hostess almost immediately. We are handed our menus and we both start to look them over. The waiter arrives to take our drink orders. Regan orders her Modelo like I knew she would, and I get a local draft.
Glancing up from behind her menu, a small smirk deigns her features.
“What?” I muse.
“You and your local drafts,” she trills.
“You and your Modelo,” I mimic back to her.
She sticks her tongue out in defiance. The very same tongue that I had been tasting earlier today. One I’d like to taste again.
Stop thinking about her tongue. She’s your rival.
“Don’t come for my Modelo. It’s delicious every time.”
“Fair,” I agree. “I enjoy the risk of getting something different.”
The waiter returns with our drinks and takes our food orders. Once we are alone again, I’m not sure what else to talk about, so I ask the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you ready for Richmond?”
The look on her face says it all.
Way to blow it.
“Um—yeah. We still have some time to finalize things before race weekend.” She sips her beer, not wanting to talk about racing.
Then a laugh bubbles out of me, and she looks at me, confused. “Do we really have nothing else to talk about besides racing?” I continue to laugh and she joins in. It’s not funny in a ha-ha way, but in a sad way.
“I guess not,” she says, still chuckling. “Outside of our ride to the Glen, we never had to.”
I mostly talked about my life on that trip. She just kept asking me questions and some kind of force kept allowing me to answer. I don’t know too much about her and who she is.
“Did you always want to race, or did your dad push you into it?”
“I’ve always wanted to race. I came to the track a lot when I was little.
When my mom was still alive and not sick, we stayed at home while he traveled.
After she was diagnosed, we all went on the road together, and after she passed away,” she pauses, “it was just me and my dad after that. That’s when I really dove into it. ”
I take note of her eyes going glassy, like she’s holding back tears. “I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sure that was hard at such a young age.” I fight the urge to go to her and pull her into my chest and just let her cry, but we aren’t at that place yet.
“What was your brother like?” she asks before I can respond. The question takes me a bit by surprise. I guess it shows on my face, as she follows with, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I do want to. Usually people ask about how he died or how I’m doing. Not who he was.” She nods, allowing me to continue. “Daniel was an amazing person and an even better racer. Probably better than me.” She grins wide and lets loose a small laugh, knowing it must be true if I admitted it.
“He was more into Sprint cars than anything else. He wasn’t interested in racing in SCORS. He never wanted fame or money. He just loved racing and wanted to have fun.”
My mind starts to swim with memories of Daniel and how much I wish he was still here. Now I’m the one fighting back tears. I blink to keep them back.
Regan reaches across the table, grabbing my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. The look she gives me isn’t pity like I usually see when anyone finds out about Daniel. It’s genuine sadness, sadness for me, for my loss, because she knows what it’s like.
“Thank you for telling me about him. He sounds like he was an amazing person.”
I nod, looking at our joined hands, not wanting her to pull away from me yet.
“You’re the first person in a while I’ve talked about him to.
He’s why I’m pushing myself so hard this season.
He always wanted me to achieve all my dreams.” I squeeze her hand back and we just look at each other.
Her hazel eyes shine in understanding. No one has ever looked at me like that before.
When our meal arrives, the conversation seems to flow naturally.
We talk about everything and nothing at the same time.
It’s the most relaxed I’ve been with someone in a long time.
Maybe it’s because for once, I’m not stressing about the next race, or that I was able to open up about something so personal to me.
Even Chase and Taylor don’t know as much about Daniel as I've told Regan.
The check arrives and the waiter places it in the middle of the table, so as to not assume who’s picking up the tab.
I reach into my back pocket for my wallet, but Regan stops me. “No, no. I got it. You paid for all those parts. It’s my treat. No arguments about it,” she says, placing her card into the bill holder.
I want to fight her on it, but the glare she’s giving me tells me I shouldn’t, so I don’t.
“Thanks. I could have gotten it, though.”
“You can get the next one.” The next one? So she wants to do this again? I didn’t screw up whatever this is? I think I would like to do this again.
We leave the restaurant, and I take her back to her place. I pull up into the driveway and park. There’s a beat of silence before she says, “I had a good time tonight, actually.”
“Actually?” I chuckle. “You didn’t think you would?”
She shrugs. “Could’ve gone either way.”
“Fair enough. I’ll see you around. And thanks again for your help today.”
“No problem. Sometimes asking for help is hard. But I’m glad you did.”
She makes no effort to get out of my truck. Her hand is on the door handle, but she doesn’t seem eager to leave the confines of my truck. It’s like we are both waiting for something to happen that we are both too nervous to start.
Finally, she opens the door and is about to get out, but I stop her.
“Regan?”
She turns to face me. I lean forward and place my thumb and forefinger on her chin, pull her further across the center console, and give her a gentle kiss. She sighs, leaning a bit further into me. I pull away, although I want to keep kissing her soft, perfect lips.
“Goodnight, Regan.”
“Goodnight, Dean.”
She smiles and climbs out of the truck. I wait until she’s inside and a beat longer, just in case, before pulling away. My heart is still fluttering my whole drive back home. This may make things more complicated going forward.