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At the reminder, Ghost’s head came back, and he sucked in a deep breath before taking a step back. His eyes skated down her, and he ground out, “That was a mistake. It should never have happened. I told you that.”
“A mistake? Is that how you remembered it? Is that all it was to you?”
***
Ghost studied her, recalling that day, a day that was etched in his memory like glass.
She’d just turned sixteen. Had raced home from getting her drivers license, ecstatic to have passed the driving test on her first try. She’d dashed into the garage to brag to Tommy, who’d had to take his test three times. She’d skidded to a halt. The only one there was himself. He was squatted down next to his new motorcycle. The one he’d just bought the previous week. He’d been about to turn twenty-one that year. It was just before he’d moved out of his dad’s house…
Ten years ago…
Ghost looked up from the carburetor he was adjusting. Jessie skidded to a stop, the smile on her face, bright, blindingly bright. His eyes slid down her, taking in the whole package. She was not a little girl anymore, and she had the curves to prove it. Her low-cut jeans hugged her hips; a two-inch gap above the waistband giving him a peek at her bellybutton. Her short pink tank was scooped just enough to give a hint of cleavage swelling above her bra, the baby-blue straps of which showed a bit.
“I got it! In one try! I got my license, Billy.” She was practically jumping with excitement. There wasn’t anything he could do but rise to his feet and sweep her up when she practically threw herself in his arms.
“That’s great, brat. Really great.”
He lifted her off her feet and swung her around. When he set her down, he insisted in a teasing voice, “Let me see your mug-shot.”
She proudly held up the paper copy of her license.
He took it, studying it. There was that bright smile again, staring back at him. Hands down, best DMV photo he’d ever laid eyes on. “Not bad, shorty.”
She snatched it out of his hand. “Not bad?” She pointed to her head. “I did my hair and makeup and everything.”
He grinned, his eyes skating over her face. She was beautiful. “Real pretty, hon.”
Her hand went to her hip. “Well, Billy Taylor, I do believe that’s the first compliment you’ve ever paid me.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is it?”
“Um hmm.”
“Well, that’s because you’ll always be a brat in my eyes.” He grinned down at her.
She smiled back, then bit her lip before saying, “Is that so? Well, then maybe you should look again.”
Oh, oh.
He couldn’t help but drop his eyes to her mouth. Why the fuck did he just do that? She must have taken that as a sign, because she took a step closer, and her palm settled on his chest.
Oh, fuck.
“Maybe you’d like what you see,” she whispered.
When the hell did she acquire that sexy seductive voice? Did teenage girls practice that shit? Or did it just come natural?
His eyes dropped to where her hand touched him, her warm palm burning a hole through his shirt. He blinked once, and then lifted his eyes to her. He shook his head an almost imperceptible inch. “That’s a game you don’t want to play, little girl. Not with me.”
“Maybe it’s not a game.”
“Isn’t it?”
“And I’m not a little girl, Billy.”
No shit.
“Yeah. I noticed.”
