The Driven Series

by Bromberg, K.

  I break my glare from Colton when something over his shoulder catches my attention. I step to the side so I can get a better look at what it is. I stifle a gasp as I watch Zander, holding his stuffed animal tightly, move slowly around the couch toward us. He has a curious look on his usually stoic face as he approaches.

  Colton turns around to see what I’m reacting to. He starts to ask me a question, and I raise my hand up forcefully, telling him to be quiet. Fortunately, he complies. The other boys in the room have all turned to watch, expectant expressions on their faces, for this is the first time that Zander has ever purposely taken the initiative to interact with someone.

  Zander walks up to us, staring at Colton, his mouth opening slightly and closing several times. His eyes are saucers. I kneel down to eye level with him. I sense Colton next to me trying to understand my reaction.

  “Hi there,” I hear Colton say gently.

  Zander stops and just stares. I fear that something about Colton’s looks or something he is wearing has triggered a reaction in Zander. Some negative memory that is forcing him to come see for himself if it’s real. I’m waiting for the fallout to start—the screaming, the fighting, and the terror to fill his eyes.

  “Zander. It’s okay, baby,” I croon, wanting to break through his trance, letting him know that a familiar, comforting voice is nearby. I turn my head slightly toward Colton, locking my eyes with his. “You need to leave now!” I order him, afraid of what Zander sees in him.

  Against my wish, Colton steps forward and slowly crouches down beside me. I hear his boots squeak on the tile, the house is so quiet. One of the boys must have muted the television.

  “Hey, buddy,” he soothes, “How ya doin’? You okay?”

  Zander takes a step closer to Colton and a smile ghosts his mouth. My eyes widen. He is not scared. He likes Colton. I quickly glance to Colton, afraid to miss anything Zander does, and he holds my gaze, nodding his head. He understands that something is happening. Something important. Something that he needs to be cautious about.

  “Zander is it?” Haunted eyes meet Colton’s, and then he moves his head in a small, discernible nod. I suck in my breath, tears threatening as I watch a small breakthrough happening. “So Zander, do you like racing?”

  I can hear the boys in the family begin murmuring excitedly as they realize who Colton is. The boys get louder until they see me staring intensely at them, and then they become silent.

  Colton holds his hand out to Zander. “Nice to meet you, Zander. My name is Colton.”

  For the second time in three days, I am rendered speechless. My head is reeling from the sight of little Zander slowly reaching out to shake the hand of the man next to me.

  I watch the first steps of a little boy breaking free from the devastating grasp of a violent trauma. This is his first time initiating physical contact with someone in over three months.

  Colton holds Zander’s small hand in his, shaking it gently. When they finish their greeting, Zander keeps his hand there, with no indication that he wants to move it. Colton obliges and holds the tiny hand, a soft smile on his face.

  Tears burn my eyes as I struggle to hold them back. I want to jump up and shout in excitement at this breakthrough. I want to grab Zander and hug him and tell him how proud I am of him. I do none of these. The power of this moment is so much greater than any of these things put together.

  “I’ll tell you what, Zander, if Rylee here agrees to the date with me that she’s trying to get out of,” Colton says, never breaking eye contact with him, “then I’ll take you as my personal guest to the track the next time we test. How’s that?”

  A ghost of a smile returns to Zander’s lips, his eyes lighting up for the first time as he nods his head yes.

  I hold my hand over my heart as joy races through me. Finally! And all because Colton followed me in the house. All because he didn’t listen to me. All because he’s using one of my kids to blackmail me into going out with him. I could kiss him right now! Well, I guess I’ve already done that, but I could do it again. At this point, I’ll do anything Colton asks me to do just to see the smile on Zander’s face again.

  Colton squeezes Zander’s hand again and shakes it. “It’s a deal then, buddy.” He releases his hand and leans in closer. “I promise,” he whispers.

  Zander’s lips curve into a smile. Small dimples form in his cheeks. Dimples I didn’t even know he had. He slowly withdraws his hand from Colton’s but continues to look at him expectantly, as if to ask when this will take place. Colton glances over at me for help, and I step up.

  “Zander, sweetie?” He moves his eyes from Colton’s and looks over to me. “Colton and I are going to go over and sit in the kitchen and plan a time, would you like to join us or would you like to go finish watching the basketball game with the boys?” I ask softly.

  Zander’s eyes glance rapidly back and forth over the both of us before Colton interrupts. “Hey, buddy, I’m gonna stay right here in the kitchen for a couple of minutes with Rylee. Can you go watch the game for me to let me know what I’ve missed when we’re done?”

  Zander nods slightly, locking eyes with Colton, once again gauging if he’s being sincere. He must believe him because he clenches his stuffed doggy tighter and heads back to the couch. Shane’s eyes catch mine, his face blanketed with disbelief before he picks up the remote and turns the sound back up.

  I rise from the floor, noticing that all of the boys except Zander have their attention still focused on Colton. It’s not every day that a celebrity is in our house. Colton notices the pairs of eyes on him and gives them a heartfelt smile.

  “Don’t worry,” he says to them, “you can all come too when I take Zander to the track.”

  A large cacophony of whoops ring out as excitement electrifies the boys. “Okay, okay,” I placate. “You guys got what you wanted. Please turn around and pay attention to the game so Colton and I can discuss some things.”

  They obey, for the most part, as we move to the barstools in the kitchen. I offer Colton a seat, and I walk around the island so I can face him. I notice Shane still observing us though, a protective look on his face, wondering why Colton has upset me.

  For the myriad of emotions that Colton has made me feel in the week’s time I’ve known him, the gratitude I have for him at this moment trumps them all.

  I look up at him and meet his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to keep the tears from filling mine.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. It’s only two words, but the look on his face tells me that he understands how much is behind them.

  He nods. “It’s the least I can do.” His voice is gruff. “We all have our stories,” he says, more to himself than to me.

  “You got that right,” I say, still overwhelmed by the situation. I look over to Zander and smile. He did it. He really did it today. He took a step out from under the fog. And suddenly I feel filled with hope. I feel impulsive from the possibilities.

  “Colton!” I jolt him out of his thoughts. He whips his head up, startled by my urgency. I know I will regret this later, but I decide to go with my instinct. I decide to be impulsive and act in the moment. “I’m off in ten minutes,” I say, and he looks at me as if he is not following my train of thought, so I continue. “I owe you a date, so let’s go on a date.”

  He shakes his head as if trying to make sure I said the words he heard. “Oh— okay,” he stumbles, and I love the fact that I’ve taken him by surprise. He starts to rise, the corners of his lips curving. “I don’t have any reservations or—”

  “Who cares?” I motion with my hands. “I’m not high maintenance. Simplicity is rewarding. I’m good with a burger or anything really.” I watch his eyes widen in disbelief. “Besides, you paid enough for the date, who needs to drop a bunch of money on food that we eat anyway?”

  He stares at me for a beat, and I sense that he is trying to figure out if I’m being serious or not. When I just look at him like he’s being dense, he continues. “You are inc
redible. You know that right?” His simple words go straight to my heart, I can tell that he is being sincere.

  I flash a grin over my shoulder as I head to my quarters to grab my things and freshen up. “I’ll be right back.”

  I return in moments to find Mike staring awestruck, shaking Colton’s hand in the kitchen. Colton turns to me when he hears me come in. “You ready?” he asks.

  I hold up my finger indicating one second. “I’m outta here,” I announce to the boys as they rise to give me hugs goodbye. I think the presence of Colton and my acquaintance with him has suddenly elevated me to rock star status, judging by the way they’re hugging me so tightly.

  As I’m receiving my hugs, I notice Colton walk over to the couch and squat down in front of Zander. He says something to him, but I can’t hear what.

  AS COLTON AND I STROLL out of the house, an odd feeling of calm settles over me. I think this may be the best approach for a date with Colton. I’ve caught him off guard so he can’t do any extensive planning. Extensive planning might equal overstated indulgences and premeditated seduction. Two things that I definitely do not need. It’s hard enough to resist him as it is.

  “We’ll take my car,” he says, placing a hand on my back, the warmth comforting me as he steers me toward a sleek, carbon-black convertible parked at the curb. The Aston Martin is beautiful and looks as if it is meticulously taken care of. It looks like it can really fly, and for just an instant, I imagine getting behind the wheel, flooring the pedal, and leaving all my ghosts behind.

  “Nice ride,” I grant him, although I try not to show any interest. I’m sure he’s used to women fawning all over him and his car. Not me. Let the games begin, I think.

  “Thanks.” He opens the passenger door for me, and I slide onto the black leather, admiring the crafted interior and utter opulence. “I thought it was a beautiful day to drive with the top down,” he says, rounding the back of the car and sliding in next to me. “I just didn’t realize I was also going to be taking you out in it, too. An added bonus!” He says, giving me a megawatt grin as he puts on his sunglasses.

  I can’t help but flash him a smile back. “Whatever happened to good ol’ fashioned pickup trucks?” I ask as he leans forward, opening the glove box, brushing his arm across my thigh and laughing loudly.

  His touch is electrifying, even when it is accidental. He pulls out a worn, molded baseball hat with “Firestone” emblazoned across the bridge and puts it on his head, his dark hair curls out from under it at the nape of his neck. He pulls the brim down low enough to touch his sunglasses.

  I guess this is his “incognito” look, but all I can think is he looks sexy as hell. All smoldering, edgy bad boy wrapped up in a drool-worthy body. I’m seriously fucked here if I actually think that my willpower will prevent me from giving in to any request from him. He reaches over and gives my thigh a quick squeeze before pressing a button on the dash in the center console.

  “Don’t worry, I have a truck too.” He chuckles before the car roars to life, the vibration of the engine reverberating through my body and sending a thrill through me. “Hold on!” he says as he zooms out of the neighborhood, the excited look of a little boy on his face.

  Boys and their toys, I think as I watch him from behind my aviators. I shouldn’t be surprised by his skill maneuvering the car—this is how he makes his living—but I am. I shouldn’t be turned on by his complete competence as he weaves smoothly in and out of traffic, the car accelerating quickly, but I find myself wanting to reach out and touch him. To connect with him, despite knowing that’s a dangerous line for me to cross.

  The roar of the engine and the whipping wind are loud enough that talking is not an option. I sit back, enjoying the feeling of freedom as the wind dances through my hair and the sun warms my skin. I lean my head back and give in to the urge to raise my hands over my head as we zip onto Interstate 10 heading west.

  I glance over to see him watching me, a curious look on his face. He subtly shakes his head, a diminutive smile on his lips before he looks back toward the road. After a beat, he pushes a button and music pours through the speakers.

  The song ends and another begins. I throw my head back, laughing at the song. It’s a catchy little pop tune that I have heard on Shane’s radio enough times. In my periphery, I notice Colton give me a quizzical look, so despite my average voice, I belt out the chorus, hoping he hears the words.

  “You make me feel so right, even if it’s so wrong, I wanna scream out loud, boy, I just bite my tongue.” I raise my arms over my head again, letting myself go, reveling in the thought that I am telling Colton how I feel without telling him. This is so unlike me—singing out loud, letting loose—but something about being with him, sitting next to him in this flashy sports car, has rid me of my inhibitions. As we exit the freeway, I finish the chorus with gusto. “It feels so good, but you’re so bad for me!” Colton hears the words and laughs good-naturedly at them.

  I continue singing the song, with less gusto since the car’s purring engine is quieter now that we are on Fourth Street. He suddenly swerves abruptly and parks the car with adept precision along the curb.

  I glance around trying to figure out where we are as he pushes a button in the sleek dashboard and the sexy purr of the engine ceases. “You okay to sit tight for a sec?” he asks, flashing me an earnest grin that affects me more than I care to admit.

  “Sure,” I answer, and I know at this moment that I am saying yes to so much more than just sitting patiently in the car. I push the fear out of my mind and vow to embrace the idea of feeling again. Of wanting to feel again. I flick my eyes from his, down to his mouth and back up, salacious thoughts running rampant through my mind. His smile widens.

  “I’ll be right back!” he announces before unfolding himself gracefully out of the car and standing to give me an incredible view of his ass. I bite my lip to suppress the urges whipping through my body. He glances over his shoulder and laughs, knowing full well the impact of his actions. “Hey, Ryles?”

  “Yeah, Ace?”

  “I told you you wouldn’t be able to resist me.” He flashes me a disarming smile before hopping up on the curb and walking briskly down the block, long legs eating up the sidewalk without a look back.

  I can’t help but grin as I watch him walk away. The man is captivating in every way and the epitome of sexy. From that boyish grin that disarms me in seconds to his sexy swagger that says he knows exactly where he’s going and what his intentions are. He exudes virility, evokes desire, and commands attention all with a single look from his stunning eyes. He’s edgy and reckless and you want to go along for the ride hoping to get a glimpse of his tender side that breaks through every now and again. The bad boy with a touch of vulnerability who leaves you breathless and steals your heart.

  I shake myself from my thoughts to admire the view of Colton’s broad shoulders and sexy swagger as he strides down the sidewalk. He tugs down on his baseball cap before he walks past two women. They both turn their heads as he passes by and admire him before turning back to each other and giggling, one mouthing the word, “Wow!”

  I know how they feel, multiplied by a hundred. I watch as Colton stops and disappears into a doorway. I can’t see the sign above the entrance on the worn down façade.

  I pass the time admiring the sleek interior of the vehicle and watching people walk by the car and stare at it. The ring of Colton’s cell phone sitting in the console startles me. I glance down to see the name Tawny flashing across the screen. A pang of irritation flickers in me before I rein in my jealousy. Of course he has women calling him, I tell myself.

  Probably all the time.

  “We’re all set,” Colton says, startling me as he places a paper grocery bag behind me. He walks around the car and slides into his seat. As he buckles his seatbelt, he notices his phone’s missed-call message on the screen and thumbs to it. An enigmatic look crosses his face as he sees the caller’s name, and I chastise myself for hoping he would scow
l when he saw it.

  A girl can dream.

  Within moments we are back on the road and headed up the Pacific Coast Highway. I’m admiring the sight of the surf crashing on the beach with the sun in the background slowly ebbing toward the horizon before I realize that we’re pulling into a nearly empty parking lot. I’m surprised there are so few people here considering the weather is unusually warm for this time of year.

  “We’re here,” he says, pushing a button that has the top of the car lifting and closing in over us before he turns off the car. I look at him, surprised; I was hoping for a non-romantic “date,” and yet he has brought me to my favorite place on earth—a near-empty beach just before sunset. He simply is not playing fair, but then again, he doesn’t know me well enough to know my preferences, so I just chock it up to luck on his part.

  He grabs the bag behind my seat and exits the car. He then collects a blanket from the trunk before coming around to my side. He opens the door with a playful flair as he reaches for my hand to help me out of the car.

  “Come,” he demands as he tugs on my hand, a thousand sensations overtake me as he pulls me toward the sand and surf. I am giddy with the fact that he continues to hold my hand in his even though I’ve followed him. The rough calluses on his palm against my smooth skin are a welcome feeling, almost like being pinched to make sure I’m not dreaming.

  We walk out onto the beach past a pile of towels and clothes that I assume belong to the two surfers in the water. We walk in silence, both taking in our surroundings as I try to figure out what to say. Why am I all of the sudden nervous over Colton’s intensity? Over his proximity?

  When we get about ten feet from the wet sand, Colton finally speaks. “How about right here?”

  “Sure, although I would’ve brought my swim suit if I’d known we were coming to the beach,” I say, my nerves giving way to stupid humor as it usually does. If I could roll my eyes at myself right now, I would.

  “Who said anything about suits? I’m all for skinny dipping.”