Shifting Gears (16 page)

One night at a time.

Chapter 14

Grady needed to calm the fuck down. Annabelle had just pulled into his driveway, right next to his truck, and was already getting out of her car. But he took a second longer to pick up his bag and open his driver's side door, trying to settle his nerves.

Shit.
A gorgeous woman was about to spend the night at his place and it was making him so worked up that he was starting to sweat.

And to think that he'd been the Hart Racing crew chief for the past four years. He could finally see how good it was that he was transitioning out after so long. His heart probably wouldn't have held up for much longer. Annabelle was his savior in so many ways.

And Annabelle was a choice he so desperately wanted to make.

That thought finally propelled him out of the car and to the front path where she was waiting for him, carrying the same overnight bag that she'd brought on the trip to Dover. He tried not to grin when he saw it, but it felt so significant, somehow.

Like she was moving in and not just staying one night.

She'd changed out of her coveralls and into one of her skirt-and-blouse outfits before they'd left the office, and she looked fresh and lovely in the evening light. He stopped right in front of her and took the bag from her shoulder, making her laugh. “It's only ten feet to the door, Grady.”

He dropped a soft kiss on that smiling mouth and grinned back at her. “No guest of mine should carry her own bags.”

But her smiled faltered a bit at those words, and all he could think was that she didn't like being reminded that she was a guest, even though he didn't mean it like that. He didn't mean it like he was extending some sort of special exception to her that would require her to be on her best behavior, or-or—

“Thanks, Grady.” She kissed him again.

Calm the fuck down.

He nodded and gestured for her to walk ahead to the door. He'd had an electric keypad installed some time ago, since he was always forgetting his house key inside, and until this minute he hadn't realized that there was another benefit: giving Annabelle access to his house without having to make it seem like a big deal by copying his key and handing it to her.

“Do you mind punching in the code? It's 0-6-1-3. Then you just turn the bolt.”

There was a second's hesitation, but then she brought her hand up and typed it in, and the unit beeped. She looked over her shoulder as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“They say you're not supposed to use your birthday as a passcode for anything, you know.”

He felt a rush of pleasure. “You remembered my birthday.”

She turned back to face the entrance, speaking into the foyer. “Well, you know. It's hard to forget that time your birthday was on a Friday the thirteenth and Kerri pranked you all day until you thought you were marked for death.”

He grinned. It had been a terrible experience at the time, but now he found that memory pretty funny. But more importantly, it pleased him that Annabelle remembered it, too. It made him feel like, even though he was still getting to know her as an adult, their shared childhood gave them an automatic bond that he'd never felt with anyone else.

They stepped inside and he set both their bags down in the entryway, then stepped out of his shoes. She'd already noticed that he had a row of shoes by the door and was slipping off her heels, too.

That simple action sent a shudder of arousal up his spine. What was it about a woman in bare feet that caused such a reaction? He tried to push it away, tried not to think of her slipping out of the rest of her clothes. Because in the end, he didn't
expect
sex out of her, no matter what had happened between them so far. She was here because she needed a place to stay, and he didn't want to take advantage of that.

Also, he was nervous about what she'd think of his place. He took a second to look around, trying to see it through her eyes. God, it was a mess. He hadn't expected anyone to come over, so there were books and magazines on all the tables next to empty glasses, the couch pillows were in disarray, and there was a sock on the floor by the doorway to the kitchen.

He resisted the urge to clap a hand over her eyes and lead her to his closet so she could wait there while he tidied up, but then she turned to him and said, “This is a really nice house.”

Either she was blind or lying.

He shrugged. “I'm sorry it's not cleaner.”

She shook her head. “It's yours, right? You can afford to pay for it yourself and do whatever you want in it. I think it's perfect.”

Oh. Right.
Damn.
He hadn't thought about where she was coming from. He felt kind of like a jerk for forgetting her situation, but he'd also meant what he'd said. He was sorry it wasn't in better shape for her. She deserved the best.

But he didn't know how to say that without sounding too smothering, so instead he just reached out and put his arms around her, hugging her close. She nestled her head against his chest for a moment, but quickly enough her hands started running up and down his back, and she made an appreciative sound before tipping her head up to kiss him.

Hell yeah.

He loved kissing her. He could stand here all night and kiss her, in fact, if it weren't for the way she was now untucking his shirt … slipping her fingers beneath the hem to stroke over his skin …

He broke away from her, already breathing hard. His erection was starting to strain against his pants, and he wanted to slow down a little. Talk to her first. It didn't matter that she'd initiated the kiss. It was important to him that she feel like he wasn't expecting sex out of her, and that she could depend on him to care for her and help her out, even if she seemed to be fighting the urge.

Still, he couldn't resist placing little kisses along her neck, near her ear, making her smile and giggle.

“That tickles.”

“Sorry,” he murmured against her skin, making her laugh and push at him.

“I don't think you really are.”

He looked at her and nodded. “You're right. But I am sorry for forgetting my manners. Why don't you come in and sit down?” He forced himself to step away from her, leading her into the living room. “Do you want something to drink? Some dinner?”

He stacked a few magazines and set them aside, then plumped up the cushions before she sat down. But even after she settled onto the couch and he was still standing there, waiting for her answer, she didn't say anything.

Instead, she looked a bit lost. He tried again. “Maybe, if you're tired, do you want to just watch TV or something? I want you to feel free to make yourself at home here.”

A little furrow appeared between her brow and she looked up at him. “Grady, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make things weird. I just … I've never been with a man who wasn't my husband. I wasn't even allowed to be alone with a man in his home before I got married. So when you offered me dinner just now like it was no big deal, it kind of hit me how new this is for me and how … how
odd
I must seem to you.”

She'd never been alone with a man who wasn't her husband? Seriously?

He blinked at her, not sure how to respond to that, and she let out a wry laugh. “Now I've gone and made it even more weird.”

“No, you haven't.” He rushed to reassure her. “More like, I'm not sure how to fix it. Do you—would you rather I leave and go stay somewhere else?”

Her eyes went wide. “No! Oh, goodness, no. I'm not about to kick you out of your own house. I'm just trying to explain why I might, um, struggle with some things and I hope … well, I guess I'm just hoping that you'll forgive me.”

At that, he sank down on the couch next to her and took her hands. “There's nothing to forgive. I'm just happy you're here. I've wanted you forever, you know. Since we were teenagers. I had it bad for you even back then.”

“You
did?
”

He laughed. “Yeah, well. You were pretty hot back then. But now…” He trailed off, looking at her. “Now you're even more sexy. Beautiful and capable and—”

She shook her head. “But I'm almost thirty and I have nothing to my name.”

“That's not true. You have yourself, Annabelle.
You
are your greatest asset. Not like me.”

Oh, shit.
He hadn't meant to say that last part, but it had just slipped out. She was looking at him in surprise like she wanted to say something in reply, but he didn't want this to turn into a discussion about him. He quickly added, “You'll get through this tough time. You've already done so much. You're a strong woman.”

She sighed. “I guess … it's hard for me to think of myself that way. I was always so scared to fight against the restrictions that my parents placed on me growing up. And then Donnie … well, I never thought I had it in me to make it on my own. I'd always had someone else there, even if that someone else wasn't as supportive as I would have wished. But it never even crossed my mind to try breaking free.”

She looked down at their joined hands. “When I got to Texas with Donnie, things were a little different. I mean, I didn't have a choice about taking charge of the garage. I had to step up and do it or end up starving or homeless or something. And I guess, in a sense, that I'm grateful for that desperation, because it opened my eyes up to all the things I could do, and had never been given the chance. But I still don't feel as strong as I want to be. I did that because it was necessary, not by my own choice. I don't feel completely out of the woods yet and it scares me to think that I still have so far to go.”

He kissed her, then, unable to stay so far apart from her. “You'll get there. I know you will.”

“We'll see.” She cocked her head, her look changing from forlorn to something more calculating. “But what did
you
mean just now, when you said you weren't your greatest asset?”

He should have known she wouldn't let that one go. For all that she insisted she wasn't strong enough, Annabelle was pretty damned tenacious. Especially when it came to her concern for others.

He wasn't all that excited to talk about it, but she'd opened up to him and he didn't want to betray that confidence by not sharing any of himself with her. He leaned back against the cushions and looked up at the ceiling. “I'm my own worst enemy, I think. I get worked up easily about things, and when your job is to be a crew chief for a sport that involves your brother and sister driving around at a hundred fifty miles an hour, getting easily worked up is not a positive. I love cars and I love mechanical engineering—that's what my degree is in—and I love racing, but I don't love
working
in racing. I hadn't planned to, either, but money was tight when I finished school and I took up some responsibilities at Hart Racing to help with the finances. And then Dad died, so I stayed even longer, and then I made a complete mess of things … even after Ranger came on board and turned the team around, I think I hung on longer than I should because I felt guilty about being such a failure.”

He huffed out a breath. “Still do, really. I never felt like I had success as my own man. I never felt like I was doing something really special. I mean, not like I had to be a millionaire or anything like that. But I at least wanted to feel like I was good at whatever I was doing.”

“And that's why you started Carbon Works?”

“Yeah.”

She was quiet for a minute, but then chuckled. “We're quite a pair, aren't we?”

He laughed, too, but inside he was thrilled. She thought they were a pair. It made him want to kiss her again, so he did, and this time neither of them pulled away.

After a long moment, he deepened the kiss, his arms coming around her back to stroke up and down over her shirt. She was a delicate woman, all fine bones and soft curves. But she had a spine of steel. All the things she'd gone through were testament to that.

She arched into his touch and put her own hands on his shoulders, smoothing them down his chest and making him shudder at the feel of her.

“Grady,” she whispered, yanking open one of his shirt buttons.

Yes.

He didn't wait for her to undo the rest of them, but pushed against her gently, easing her back until she was lying on the couch, breathing fast and staring up at him with so much heat that he grew clumsy, pushing up her skirt like a brute instead of taking it off with care. He groaned as her panties were revealed, delicate pink silky things that brought out the creamy color of her skin.

Goddamn, she was beautiful. And he wanted her with a desperation that he'd never felt before. He wanted her on this couch, skirt rucked up around her waist, those bright blue eyes watching him with so much heat.

“Grady, please.” She reached for him, but he drew back, pulling the pink silk down over her hips and off her legs in one swift motion that made her gasp, the he began kissing his way up her legs.

First the arch of her foot … then her ankle … her knee … up to her thigh …

All the while, she was moaning and humming and making all the right noises that made him feel like the greatest man in the world.

We really are quite a pair.

And that was his last coherent thought for quite some time.

*   *   *

Annabelle finished adjusting the roller valve lifters on Lee's engine and stepped back, blushing just from thinking about the way Grady had pleasured her so many times last night that she'd essentially passed out in his bed after her fifth orgasm and slept like the dead from sex exhaustion. Sexhaustion.

She giggled to herself.

“Something funny about Lee's truck?”

Annabelle whirled around to find Kerri stepping into the garage from the upstairs office area, but before she could stammer out an excuse for why she'd been laughing to herself, Kerri put up a hand.