Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 72828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Come on… Piano. Judo. What else?”
He sips his wine thoughtfully. “I also play the guitar, and I thought about playing baseball in college, but then I decided that college wasn’t for me, so I went to a vo-tech school to learn about cars.”
“You play guitar.”
He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal, you know. I have an artistic family, so I was never lacking in help if I needed it.”
“I’m impressed,” I admit and sip my wine. “You can play songs by ear, without any sheet music. And you’re a badass, with the whole Judo thing.”
“Yes, I’m a total badass.”
He smirks and waves it off, but I just shake my head at him.
“And you’re modest, too.”
“What’s your favorite car?” he asks, completely out of the blue.
“Huh?”
“You’ve learned a lot about me today, but there’s still so much I don’t know about you. What’s your favorite car?”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever thought about it. I don’t have a car.”
That makes him frown and lean forward in his seat. “What do you mean, you don’t have a car?”
“I don’t need one. I’m gone a lot, and when I’m on tour, I have a driver that’s been with me for years. If I need to go somewhere in Nashville, like to run errands or something, he drives me.”
“Do you have a license?”
“Of course.” I grin at him.
“Okay, this is so far out of the realm of normal for me, my head is spinning.” He sets his wine aside. “If you could buy any car, what would you buy?”
“I don’t know. I think I would want an SUV or a truck so that I’m sitting up high. I don’t like cars that sit low to the ground.”
“Now we’re narrowing it down. Is there a brand that you like?”
I frown, thinking it over. “My friend Miranda has a Porsche Cayenne. That’s a sweet car.”
“A damn sweet car,” he agrees. “Is that Miranda Lambert?”
I smile smugly. “She lives not too far from me. I guess I’d buy one of those, but I don’t have any idea how much they cost.”
“They’re in the six figures.”
I choke on my wine. “For a car?”
That makes him laugh. “Honey, that’s not just a car. That’s a fucking experience. If the rumble doesn’t make you come when you’re driving, you’re doing it wrong.”
“I can honestly say that riding in Miranda’s car has never given me an orgasm.”
“That vehicle is wasted on her.”
“Stella told me once that you’ve restored cars for the likes of Jay Leno and Matthew McConaughey.”
“Among others.”
“How much did they pay for those cars?”
“I signed nondisclosure agreements,” he replies. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
“Come on.” I cross to him and sit in his lap. “You know I won’t tell anyone.”
“Can’t do it.”
“Was it more than the Cayenne?”
“Quite a bit more, yes.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Double?”
He clears his throat and plants his hands on the globes of my ass. “Give or take.”
“Wow, that’s a lot. What kind of car do you think I should drive?”
He inhales sharply, as if just the thought of it turns him on.
“1969 Corvette Stingray ZL-1.”
“That’s incredibly specific.”
“It’s a honey of a car and rare. Sexy. Smart. Handles like a fucking dream. It’s you, in car form.”
“Maybe I should buy one.”
That makes his lips turn up in the corners. “If you have an extra three million hanging around, I say go for it.”
My jaw drops. “Three million? Dollars?”
“Not pesos, I’ll tell you that.”
“Why is it so expensive?”
“It’s very rare.”
“Have you ever seen one?”
“Yes.”
“Have you driven it?”
“Yes.”
I tilt my head to the side in interest. “Whose did you drive?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Ah, that pesky NDA thing again.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I chew my lip, watching him. God, he’s fucking incredible. Sexy as hell, smart, gifted. He makes me laugh and makes me feel safe.
He’s the best thing that’s come into my life in a very long time.
“What are you thinking?” He brushes my hair off my face and drags his fingertips down my cheek.
“I think we should get naked.”
Sex distracts me from how much I enjoy him outside of the bedroom.
And all the reasons that it’s a bad idea.
Chapter 8
Keaton
“What—and I mean this in the most loving way possible—in the actual fuck?”
I open one eye and peer up at my cousin, Liam, whose Hawaiian shirt could scorch the corneas of a blind man from a mile away.
“What?” I slip my sunglasses on and scowl up at him. Liam and I are the same age and were pretty much raised as siblings, just like all the cousins.
We also couldn’t be more different.
Where I tend to be quiet and reserved, Liam is boisterous and outgoing. He’s never met a stranger. And he’s not afraid, not in the least, to speak his mind.
“Why is it that we’re all here, every single male member of this family, at Uncle Will’s casita, and you’re lying on this chair, sleeping like a goddamn sloth?”