Page 115 of Down Shift (Driven 8)
Chapter 36
ZANDER
“You should have seen the place. It was packed. Even the tourists were rooting for you, Zander! It’s like you’re the hometown hero, even though this isn’t your hometown.”
The pang I feel as Getty’s laugh fills the line is undeniable. I write it off, though. Deny it. I’m exhausted. I’m antsy. I’m high on the rush of the race. And I smile at the thought of the Lazy Dog, picturing the packed bar like she’s described.
“How’s your cereal?”
Again she laughs. And the pang deepens. “How do you know I’m eating cereal?”
“Because you always eat cereal when you come home from work.”
“Huh,” she says more to herself, apparently surprised that I know her that well, and even with the simple sound I can hear her smile clear as day through the line.
I can envision the red bowl on the coffee table, where it will sit with the last bit of milk in it until she finally gets up to take a shower. And then that leads me to another train of thought. Of her naked. Of how she feels when my soaped-up hands slide over her wet skin under the stream of hot water. And the heat of her body, the press of her curves against my dick, while we fall asleep.
Just the house, my ass.
Colton’s words come back to me. My refusal to admit the reason I need to head back to the island. It’s so much more than just keeping my word to Smitty and finishing the last of the to-do list. And that more is currently sitting on the couch, legs most likely still in those damn knee-high socks curled up beneath her on the couch, after a long day on her feet behind the bar.
The knock on the open door to my room pulls me from the enticing visual. “You coming, Zee?”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I tell Jon. I know the rest of the crew is ready to go out and party it up. Our typical MO after a good race. Bottle service in the VIP section. Rowdy and loud.
“You gotta go?”
Is that disappointment in her voice? Does she want to talk more? The guys can wait for all I care.
“In a minute. All the hotels are full with the race in town. Some of the guys on the crew had a suite here at the Four Seasons, so I’m commandeering one of the rooms in it.”
“Pulling rank, are you, Golden Boy?” I roll my eyes and snort at the d
amn nickname but can hear the exhaustion in her voice. Those brown eyes of hers are probably closing slowly too.
“Something like that.”
“You guys going out to celebrate?”
Why do I hesitate to respond? I’m tempted to stay here with a few beers in the cooler and sit and talk to her.
“Yeah. Just going to go out and have a few drinks. I need to spend some time with my guys—my crew—make some apologies and mend some fences after what I did. Everything’s been such a whirlwind, I haven’t had a chance to address them, and nothing quite says I’m sorry like when another man buys you beer.”
“I work in a bar. I can understand that.”
“Oh, and tell Liam I’m representing.”
Her strong laugh belies how tired she must be. “You’re really wearing the Lazy Dog shirt?”
“Yep. I told you I would.”
“Hmm.” Her response comes out so soft I can barely hear it. Almost as if she’s listening to me but thinking of something else. She clears her throat. “I’m really happy for you. I mean . . . it sounds like your mom and dad understood where you were coming from and you’re on the way to fixing that. You had a great race today. I’m just . . .” Her voice fades off and I sit up immediately. Something’s wrong.
“Hey, Socks? Everything okay?” My gut twists at the sudden suspicion that maybe that prick Ethan came back for her—snuck past the sheriff’s watchful eye—and she’s not telling me. And I’m not there to help her.
I sit forward on the couch, elbows on my knees, and wait for her answer, but she’s stayed quiet. I hate that I want to be here at the race, back in my regular life, but I also want to be there on the island. No, not just on the island. There with her.
The realization hits me harder than it should, considering she’s constantly been on my mind since the moment I kissed her on the head and left for the airport.
