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"I haven't made it back there in a long time," he admitted, and I couldn't read his tone.
"Do you miss it? Racing?" I clarified.
"Yes. And no. And yes again," he admitted. "Being in a club has given me the adrenaline surges that have always been my main reason for enjoying racing," he explained.
"But you miss the glory," I finished for him.
"It's ridiculous," he admitted.
"No, it's not. I would bet good money on you still being able to wipe the floor with anyone on the scene. Especially in this baby. God, it must sound good at full tilt with the dual exhausts."
"It has a deep wail instead of the shriek of some of the other supercars," he agreed.
"God, that's sexy," I admitted, sighing as I reached across the engine.
"Hey," Che said, arm extending. But not toward the engine, toward me. In particular, toward my chest. "What's this?" he asked.
I realized what he was reaching for just a second too late.
Because his fingers were closing around the necklace dangling under the low scoop of my neckline, the tips brushing my skin as he did so, sending a shiver of anticipation across my skin.
"Sass," he said, voice low, smooth, as his gaze lifted to mine, eyes deep and unreadable.
"I kept it. You know... just in case," I said, trying to find a logical excuse for wearing the fake wedding ring he gave me when I was barely an adult around my neck almost ten years later. "It comes in handy in a bar when you don't want to be bothered, too," I added, even though I'd literally never done that.
He really needed to stop looking at me like that.
And tracing his finger over the ring.
And touching my skin in the process.
I was finding it hard to think.
"Did you toss yours?" I asked, trying to change the topic, trying to make him drop the ring, take a step back. It was getting harder and harder to breathe with him so close.
"No," he said, voice soft, a soft caress over too-sensitive nerve endings.
"I, ah, you know, live out of duffle bags. This way, I knew I didn't lose it. In case we needed it," I repeated.
"Needed it for what, preciosa?" he asked, holding my gaze, almost seeming to dare me to feed him another lie.
And I was too busy analyzing the way my heartbeat skittered when he called me preciosa.
"You know, ah, proof. Of our marriage," I added.
"We're past that," he reminded me. Of course we were. And I knew we were. But what else could I say to him that would make it make any sense?
You were an important part of my life, and I wanted to keep a part of that with me.
No.
I couldn't say that.
Even if it was the truth.
"It's a good luck talisman," I told him..
"A good luck talisman," he repeated, brow quirking up, clearly not believing me.
"Since you taught me almost everything I know," I prattled on. "I figured it would be good luck to have a part of you with me when I went off on my own. I'm, ah, superstitious that way."
"No, you're not," he corrected.
He was right. That had never been me.
"Maybe I am now," I said. "You don't know me anymore, Che," I reminded him.
"You're the same girl," he insisted. "Older, wiser, but still the same."
"Che, I..." I started, not even sure what I was going to say, but knowing I needed to.
But before I could even come up with anything, his fingers were closing around the ring, pulling until I had no choice but to move with the ring, or risk the chain snapping.
I moved around the hood, stopping only when I stood right in front of him as he straightened.
"Tell me the truth," he demanded, fingers gathering up the chain, gathering it tighter and tighter around my throat until his knuckles were pressed against my skin, making it impossible for him not to feel it when I swallowed hard.
"You were important to me," I admitted. "I was really lost and really angry and really reckless back then. And you helped me find my way, and helped soothe over the rough edges of my anger."
"And the recklessness?" he prompted, eyes warm, knowing it was clearly still a very big part of me.
"You gave me the skills I needed to not let that recklessness get me killed. Well, mostly," I conceded. "We will see how this week goes," I added, trying for levity because the look in his eyes was making my stomach flip-flop and my pulse skitter around erratically.
"Nothing's going to happen to you," he told me.
"You don't know that."
"I won't let it happen to you," he said, giving my chain a little tug, making my chest brush against his.
His head started to duck as my mind tried to comprehend that this was actually happening.
It was the beep that did it.
