Traction - Dani Rene Page 0,38
“Well, my dad taught me to drive in his old Beemer, an M3 he had since I could remember. But when he finally made it big, and his company started raking in money, he went out and bought himself an Aston Martin Vanquish in gunmetal gray, and not long after, a black Maserati pulled up to the estate.”
“You’re like super-rich,” Haelee remarks, and I nod. I hate talking about my father’s money, but the cars were always a highlight.
“My father was rich. I’m just the son who inherited his father’s fortune,” I state easily. I never saw my father’s fortune as my own. Granted, I didn’t want for anything when I was growing up, but it was more him helping me rather than me parading around like the rich kid.
“What was your first car of your own?”
This makes me smile because I recall the moment I saw it. Nothing could have ever topped the emotion I felt when my dad handed me the keys. I was sixteen. Still couldn’t drive it on the roads without him present, but the power of the rumbling engine was enough to solidify my choice of career.
“When I turned sixteen, my dad bought me a red Ford Mustang. It was an older car, but at the time, it was sought after. There were only a few kids in my school who had one, so it was almost as if I had a special edition.” I pick up my drink and take a long sip, the bubbles trickling down my throat.
“Do you still have it?” Haelee asks before wrapping her lips around the straw and slowly sucking down her orange juice. The action does nothing to calm my need for her, and I have to look away and not focus on the hardness against my zipper.
“I do. It’s at home, sitting in a garage. I haven’t touched it in years. It needs fixing, but with the racing season kicking off, I don’t have the time to spend on it.” I wish I could race it one more time. It’s been years since I sat in the driver’s seat of my beloved Mustang.
“I can help,” she offers suddenly, her excitement shining in those dark eyes I keep getting lost in. “My dad and I used to fix up cars all the time. And once yours is fixed, you can help me with mine.”
“Yours?”
Haelee nods. “On my seventeenth birthday, Dad took me out for lunch before stopping at a dealership, and he bought me a secondhand car. My choice.”
“And what was your choice?” I sit back, watching Haelee. The expression on her face lights up with happiness when she looks up at me.
“It’s a 1966 Mustang GT Convertible, and it’s currently gray, but I want so much to restore it to the natural color once I’m done fixing it,” she speaks animatedly. “The seats are leather; still the original, and they’re in great condition, so those will stay. Black leather. Can you imagine? I wanted to update the engine so badly, and we got most of the parts for it before …” Her words taper off into silence, and the hurt in her eyes is evident.
“You don’t have to speak about it if it hurts too much,” I appease her, hoping she’ll listen to me. But if I know anything about this girl by now, she’s not one to back down. Even when it hurts.
She’s silent for a long while. Her throat bops with a swallow before she blinks away the unshed tears that glisten in her eyes. “Before my dad passed away,” Haelee whispers.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Reaching out, I take her hand and bring it toward my mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m here if you ever want to talk. If you want to cry, I have big shoulders.”
A glimmer of a smile tickles her lips, lifting the corners to brighten her face. “Thank you, Kayden.” With her free hand, she swipes at the lone tear that traces a wet path down her cheek, making my chest ache with the need to protect her. “It’s still hard to talk about him.”
“But there are times you remember him and smile, recalling the good times.” She nods at my insistence, and I can’t help but feel happy that she has happy memories. “Then think of those. If he were here now, he would be smiling because he is so proud. You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman, and you’re also utterly tempting right now with those pouty lips and