Page 188 of Revv

I kiss her back, one hand settling at her waist while the other slides into her hair, and for a few seconds the paddock disappears again.

By the time she pulls away, we’re both breathing harder than we should be and she’s still holding onto the front of my leathers.

Her smile finally comes all the way back.

“I’m gotta head out,” she says, smoothing a hand down the front of my suit before stepping back. “I need to get home, shower, then go help Mami with dinner.”

I grin. “I mean, I could use a shower too.”

“Cállate.” She points at me as she starts backing away. “I’ll text you the address.”

“Seven?”

“Seven.”

“I’ll be there. I promise, Mama.”

“You better, Papi.”

I grin. “Bossy.”

“You like it.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

I grab my helmet and start toward the exit, looking over my shoulder once before I go.

She’s still watching me.

Still smiling, and for once, leaving the track doesn’t feel like I’m already chasing whatever comes next, cause this time, I already know exactly where I’m going.

Chapter Nineteen

Revel

By the time I get home from the track, shower, and stand in front of my closet trying to figure out what the fuck a man wears to dinner with the mother of the woman he’s sleeping with, obsessed with, and apparently wants to put a baby in someday, I’m already running behind.

Not late.

Just close enough to late that Cece will absolutely weaponize it if I give her the chance.

My phone is sitting on the dresser beside my wallet, showing 6:11 p.m.

Twenty minutes to the address Cece texted me.

Her mom’s house.

Plenty of time.

Except showing up empty-handed feels like a terrible fucking move, and somehow I’ve gone from a man who willingly throws himself around a racetrack at stupid speeds to standing here wondering whether Cece’s mom prefers red or white wine.

This is fucked.

I settle on black jeans and a fitted black shirt because anything more formal feels like I'm attending court, then run a hand over the short hair at the back of my head and check myself in the mirror.

Respectable enough, at least. I hope.

The tattoos on my neck aren’t exactly screaming your daughter is making excellent choices, but those aren't going anywhere.