“You’re not suggesting I seduce a writer to get GSR mentioned on some racing blog?”
“Of course not,” she said quickly, her cheeks flushing. “Although that blog has twenty-two thousand subscribers.”
“Including you?” he guessed.
“She’s a good writer and does a nice job showing fans the human side of the sport.” She was also blonde, beautiful and built, but Tristyn tried not to hold that against her.
“Even so, I have no interest in extracurricular activities with Paris Smythe,” he told her.
“It’s none of my business,” she said. “I realize I might have come down a little hard because of what Charlotte saw at the track, but that was more about your lack of discretion than Paris.”
His brows lifted. “So now you’re sending me off to New Hampshire on my own so I can be...discreet? Or are you trying to get rid of me in the hope that some distance might lessen the...tension...between us?”
Chapter Ten
Though she didn’t look at him, Josh saw Tristyn’s cheeks flush with guilty color, confirming his suspicions. Living in close proximity was making it increasingly difficult—for both of them—to deny the attraction that simmered beneath the surface. And it was only a matter of time before the heat between them turned that simmer to a full boil.
“I’m just trying to come up with a plan that works for everyone,” she told him now.
“We had a plan,” he reminded her. “And it was for the girls to come with me on the road.”
“I’m only suggesting a minor amendment to that plan—to spare them another nine hundred miles on the road, which we’d then have to do all over again to make the trip from New Hampshire to Indiana the following weekend. But if we stay here, we’re only a two-hour drive from Indianapolis.”
“Okay,” he relented. “If they want to stay here, I won’t object.”
He wasn’t really surprised when Charlotte, Emily and Hanna unanimously voted to skip the journey to Loudon. Day one of their road trip hadn’t been a lot of fun for any of them—especially Emily. And Hanna. But while he could understand that they weren’t eager to get on the road again—and maybe sitting out the longest leg of the journey was a good idea—they would have to get back on the road eventually. But at least they were equipped with Dramamine now.
Not having to drive nine hundred miles gave Josh more free time with the girls before he left. He was surprised to discover that he really enjoyed hanging out with them—swimming in the pool, playing Candyland, patiently, and repeatedly, explaining the basics of stock car racing in an effort to foster some appreciation of the sport.
It was the time he spent alone with Tristyn, after the girls had gone to bed at night, that was much more of a challenge for him. The RV was spacious, as far as RVs were concerned. But after only a week of sharing that space with a gorgeous, sexy woman, the temptation was proving stronger than his will to resist.
The night before his flight, Tristyn was in the kitchen, making muffins. He’d noticed that she didn’t seem to spend much time sitting still, and he didn’t know if she had a constant need to be busy or if she didn’t want to sit down because there was nowhere to sit that wouldn’t be close to him. Whatever the reason, she was in the kitchen while he was watching a ball game on TV.
During the seventh-inning stretch, he got up to grab a beer from the fridge and, as he turned with the bottle in hand, Tristyn leaned over to put the batter in the oven. Their movements coincided in a way that caused the sexy curve of her behind to brush the front of his shorts. The inadvertent contact nearly made him groan.
Tristyn did gasp as she straightened up again and turned. “You’re in my space.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, making no effort to move away.
A tiny furrow appeared between her brows. “Could you please get out of my space?”
“I could,” he agreed, taking a moment to give her idea some thought. “In fact, I’d say we’ve done a pretty good job of maintaining our separate spaces over the past week.”
“Until now,” she said pointedly.
“Uh huh.”
She looked at him, her gorgeous green eyes filled with wariness—and maybe a little bit of desire.
She was so damn beautiful. But her beauty was only part of the appeal for Josh. She was also warm and sweet and funny and smart. And that whole package was pretty close to irresistible.
“Twelve years,” he murmured.
“Josh,” she said.
A warning or request?
“It’s a long time to wonder, don’t you think?” he asked softly.
“I guess that depends on what you’re wondering.” Her tone was deliberately neutral, but the slight breathlessness gave her away.
“The same thing you are,” he told her.
* * *
The way he was looking at her was making everything inside of her tremble. Not with fear, Tristyn realized, but desire. But going down that path with Josh—especially now—would be dangerous.
“Whether Ren will get the pole in Loudon?” she suggested, desperately trying to shift the conversation to safer ground.
Amusement flickered in his eyes for just a moment before the heat took over, sizzling between them.
“I’m not thinking about the race,” he said. “And neither are you.”
Before she could argue the point, because she had no intention of admitting that he was right, his mouth was on hers. And with the first brush of contact, any thought of resistance—any thought at all—fizzled away.
In that moment, there was nothing but Josh.
Nothing but Josh and the exquisite, intoxicating sensation of his kiss.
The pressure of his mouth on hers was every bit as glorious as she’d imagined—and yes, she’d spent a lot of time imagining his kiss since she’d seen him making out with Missy Harlowe when she was thirteen. More time than she was willing to admit.
Except for the finger and thumb that held her chin immobile, he touched her only with his lips. That was all he needed to hold her under his spell, simultaneously captivating and mesmerizing her. He kissed like a man who knew how to kiss a woman, who could take her to the edge with just the masterful seduction of his mouth on hers.
He didn’t just taste, he savored. And she savored his flavor in return. Twelve years ago, she would have given almost anything to experience his kiss. Twelve years ago, she’d been totally unprepared for something like this. Even now, she wasn’t sure what to do with the desire that spread through her veins, the desperate need that clawed at her belly.
She curled her fingers into her palms, digging her nails into the soft flesh to prevent herself from reaching for him. Because she was afraid that if she touched him now, she wouldn’t be able to stop. She wouldn’t want to stop.
It was Josh who finally, eventually, ended the kiss, easing his lips from hers with obvious reluctance.
She exhaled, a slow, unsteady breath, and finally dared to look at him. He rubbed a thumb over her bottom lip, swollen from his kiss. The sensual caress made her shiver.
“And that,” he said, his gaze lingering on her mouth, “is why I didn’t kiss you twelve years ago.”
She swallowed, but she didn’t respond to his comment. There was nothing really to say, no way to avoid the truth that had been revealed by the meeting of their lips.
That kiss was only the beginning.
* * *
Josh’s flight was delayed because of a storm, and he’d just arrived at the track when his cell phone rang. A quick glance at the display had him cringing—and considering letting the call go to voice mail. Unfortunately, that would only delay the inevitable argument that probably could have been avoided if he’d thought to call his sister and advise her of the change of plans in advance of changing them.
“Hey, Luce—how is
Madrid?”
“Right now, it’s raining,” she told him.
“Here, too,” he said, as thunder rumbled overhead.
“How are my girls?”
“Great,” he said. “They’re having a lot of fun in the pool at the campground.”
“They do love the water,” she confirmed. “What are they doing now?”
“Oh, um, I’m not actually sure,” he admitted. “They’re with Tristyn.”
“And where are you?” she asked.
“New Hampshire.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Luce?” he prompted.
“I’m here,” she admitted. “I’m just trying to figure out what to say in response to discovering that my brother—who I entrusted with my three daughters for the summer—has abandoned them with a babysitter in another state.”
“First of all, you didn’t ‘entrust’ me with your daughters—you dumped them on me,” he pointed out.
“Because there was no one else that I trusted to take care of them.”
“Second, you know that Tristyn isn’t a babysitter.”
“Excuse me—your girlfriend-of-the-week,” his sister amended.
“She’s a friend who’s helping me out because I was overwhelmed by the prospect of taking care of three girls on my own all summer.”
“Those three girls are your nieces,” she reminded him.
“Who barely know me because, for the past six years, you’ve refused to come to Charisma for a visit.”
“You’re supposed to be getting to know them now. Instead, you’re in New Hampshire.”
“I’ll be back in Kentucky tomorrow night,” he promised her.
“I have to go,” she said. “I’ve got another call coming through.”
“I’ll text you Tristyn’s number,” he said.
But she’d already hung up.
* * *
Tristyn and the girls kept busy while Josh was in New Hampshire. They played mini-putt, spent some time at the splash pad and swimming pool, made friends with the neighbors and even went to a movie. She also watched the race on TV, pleased to see that Ren and his team put in a solid performance, consistently in the top twenty, sometimes even breaking the top ten. GSR’s driver seemed poised for another strong finish until the third turn of lap 296, and her heart nearly stopped as she witnessed the 722 car get clipped by the 416 and then, seemingly in slow motion, spin into the wall.
Accidents weren’t an uncommon occurrence on the track, but even the commentators noted that it didn’t look much like an accident and speculated that Curtis Bond, the driver of the 416, was still mad at D’Alesio for sneaking past him on the outside and taking the checkered flag in Kansas City a few weeks earlier. The race officials would review the tapes and decide what—if any—disciplinary measures to take against the driver, but Tristyn knew that was little consolation for Ren and his team, who worked hard to prepare for every race.
As the damaged cars were moved off the track, Hanna climbed into Tristyn’s lap, dropped her head back and slid her thumb into her mouth—a telltale sign that she was sleepy. Tristyn lifted a hand and brushed her soft, wispy bangs away from her face. Cuddling with the little girl, she felt a tug of longing deep inside. She’d always assumed that motherhood was in her future somewhere, but she hadn’t been in any rush to head in that direction. Recently, she’d started to feel differently.
She blamed Lauryn and Jordyn for that. She’d been perfectly happy with her life—she had a great house and a fabulous job and a wonderful family. But the recent marriages of both of her sisters had made her realize that she wanted more. That she wanted to meet someone to share her life and raise a family with, too.
Tristyn had been only twenty-four when Kylie was born—thrilled to be an aunt but definitely not ready to even think about being a mother. Two years later, she’d had a much more hands-on role for Zachary’s birth and was actually in the delivery room with her sister, coaching Lauryn in place of her deadbeat husband, who had already left town with the yoga instructor.
Tristyn had felt the first twinges of longing then, not just because she was the first to hold the baby—after his mom, of course—but because it had been such an awesome and amazing experience to play even a small part in the process of bringing a new life into the world. In addition to having a front-row seat for the birth, she’d had a front-row seat to the chaos that was her sister’s life at the time. Sure, Lauryn had a beautiful toddler daughter and an adorable newborn son, but she also had a mountain of debt and a broken heart. Tristyn had no desire to experience that kind of upheaval and turmoil. Now Lauryn had a new husband and another baby on the way, and Tristyn was thrilled for her.
A few months after Lauryn and Ryder’s wedding, Jordyn had given birth to her twin sons. Marco had been right there, holding his wife’s hand and breathing with her through every contraction, so Tristyn didn’t have the same front-row seat for that event—thank God for small favors—but the pure and sweet love that filled her heart when she held those tiny babies for the first time was the same. Yet it was more than just the babies that had changed her focus. It was seeing Jordyn and Marco cuddling the precious lives they’d created and brought into the world together. That was the moment when it had hit her, when she’d realized that she wanted what they had—the partnership, the commitment, the love.
Someday, she promised herself, as she tucked Hanna into her bunk.
* * *
As a result of Ren’s DNF—Did Not Finish—Josh was in a lousy mood when he got on the plane in New Hampshire, and his disposition hadn’t changed at all by the time he landed in Kentucky. He arrived at the campground just as Tristyn and the girls were returning from the splash pad. His nieces seemed happy to see him and chattered away about everything he’d missed while he was away. Tristyn, sensing his mood, gave him a wider berth.
She’d just finished helping Hanna dress as a knock sounded.
Josh’s scowl deepened when he saw a man standing on the other side of the door, holding a square glass pan.
“Hey, is Tristyn around?” he asked.
“I’m right here, Sean,” she immediately responded from behind him.
The other guy’s—Sean’s—eyes lit up when he saw her.
Josh stepped away from the door but not out of earshot.
“I just wanted to return your pan,” Sean said. “And to thank you again for the brownies.”
“They’re gone already?”
“They were gone the first night,” he admitted. “It just took us two days to get around to doing the dishes.”
Tristyn laughed, a warm, seductive sound that stirred Josh’s blood—and likely had the same effect on the guy who was staring at her with adoring eyes.
“The girls and I are going to make chocolate chip cookies later,” she told him. “I’ll bring some over when we’re done.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Sean said. “But we’ll certainly enjoy them if you do.”
“I’ll see you later,” she promised.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Josh watched through the kitchen window as the other man walked away—a whole twenty-five feet to the RV parked directly beside theirs.
“Who was that?” he asked, as Tristyn moved past him to put the pan in the cupboard.
“Sean.”
“Yeah, I caught the name,” he admitted. “I was looking for a little more detail than that.”
“He’s an electrician from West Virginia. He and Blake and Owen grew up together and they still take a few days to get away together every summer. It used to be a week, but since Owen got married a couple of years ago, they cut it back to a few days.”
“Do Sean and Blake have wives?”
She shook her head. “Blake’s eng
aged, though, and getting married in the fall.”
“And how did you meet these guys?” he wondered.
“They rescued our dinner Friday night,” she told him. “I’d just put the burgers on the grill when the flames sputtered and died. Blake saw me attempting to unhook the tank and offered to throw our burgers on their grill. After we ate, he switched out the tanks for me, so I made them some brownies to say thanks.”
Which was, Josh knew, exactly the kind of thing she would do and absolutely no reason for the petty jealousy gnawing at the pit of his belly.
“And when I took the brownies over, they asked me to be their fourth for euchre, so I spent a few hours playing cards with them.”
“While the girls were...where?” he prompted.
“At the pool,” she said, picking up the wet towels they’d dumped on the table when they came back from swimming.
He frowned at that.
Tristyn shook her head, clearly exasperated with him. “Honestly, Josh—where do you think they were?”
“With you,” he guessed.
“Of course, they were with me.” She pushed open the door and headed outside to hang up the towels.
He followed. “Playing euchre?”
“PlayStation,” she corrected. “Because apparently ‘roughing it’ does not mean living without video games for some people.”
“I hope you had Hanna in bed at her usual bedtime.”
“She fell asleep on their sofa.”
“How late were you there?”
“Since I was unaware that I had a curfew, I didn’t actually make note of the time when we left,” she told him.
“Lucy said it’s important for the girls to have a consistent schedule.”
“A couple of late nights isn’t a big deal.”
“A couple of nights?” he echoed.
“Yes, Josh. We were over there last night, too. While you were banging Paris Smythe into next week, I was corrupting your three young nieces with euchre and video games.”
“I wasn’t banging Paris Smythe—or anyone else, for that matter,” he retorted.
“Well, that might explain your lousy mood,” she acknowledged.
The Last Single Garrett Page 11