Drive Me Wild Read online

  She put her nose in the air. “Well, Auto Repair Barbie better earn her name by learning a skill. Now are you going to teach me one or not?”

  “I will teach you one.”

  She held up a finger. “Without laughing.”

  I shook my head, grinning even wider. “I will really fucking try.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So to review, once you have the two cars pulled up close enough for the jumper cables to reach, make sure they’re both in park, put the parking brake on, and take the keys out of the ignition.”

  Blair nodded, looking back and forth between my truck and the Ford SUV with the dead battery. They were nose to nose in the lot with their hoods propped open, which I’d shown her how to do. “Got it,” she said.

  “Okay, now let’s look at the battery of my truck. Get up on that stool so you can see.”

  She climbed up on the stool I’d brought out for her and peered tentatively beneath the truck’s hood, almost like she was afraid something might jump out and bite her.

  “Know where the battery is?” I asked.

  She pointed at the carburetor. “That?”

  I tried and failed to hide a grin. “Nope. It’s this box over here.”

  “Oh.” She poked my shoulder. “You promised not to laugh at me.”

  “I’m beginning to regret that promise.” I tweaked the cap on her head. “But I’ll keep trying.”

  I explained how to identify the positive and negative terminals of a car battery, then asked her to locate the battery of the SUV—which she did.

  “Good job,” I said, tugging her ponytail. “Now can you find the positive and negative?”

  She pointed to the little red and black tubes on the Ford’s battery. “There. Right?”

  “Good job. You learn fast.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled proudly. “I didn’t think I’d be good at this stuff.”

  “You’d be good at anything. Now let’s look at the jumper cables.”

  Next, I showed her how to attach the alligator clips of the jumper cables to each terminal—starting with red to dead. “Always start with the dead battery first. That’s the safest,” I explained. “Leave the black end alone for now, but don’t let it touch any metal.”

  “Got it,” she said.

  “Next, you’re going to attach the red and black leads to the good battery. Start with red.” I held out the ends of the cables to her.

  “You want me to do it?” she asked, shocked.

  “Yes. I have confidence in you. Just don’t let them touch, and do it exactly the way I showed you.”

  She took the leads from me, careful not to let them touch, and climbed up the stool again. With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she attached the red clip to the positive terminal, then the black to the negative. “Like that?”

  “Exactly.”

  She turned to me and held out her palms. “My hands are shaking.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I feel like one wrong move and your car will explode. Along with my face.”

  I smiled. “I would never let anything happen to that face. You’re doing fine.”

  “Thanks. So now do I attach the last black end to the dead black terminal?”

  My heart rate tripled. “No!” I said quickly, shaking my head. “Never do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It will cause a spark, which could possibly ignite fumes and lead to an explosion.”

  She blinked at me. “I am so not qualified for this.”

  “Yes, you are. Come on. We’re almost done.”

  A few minutes later, everything was hooked up. “Now what?” she asked.

  “Now I’ll start the truck, and we’ll let it run for two minutes.”

  “I’m nervous,” she said, wringing her hands together as we waited.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to fail at this. If my car dies somewhere and I get stranded again, I want to be able to rescue myself.”

  I put an arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “I know. I like that about you.”

  When it was time to attempt starting the Ford, I asked her to do it.

  “Okay,” she said, her voice full of doubt. But she got behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. It struggled, coughing and sputtering.

  Come on, you fucker, I willed the car. She needs this victory.

  It jumped to life.

  “Eeeeeep!” she squealed. Through the windshield, she gave me a blinding grin, and I gave her a thumbs up.

  “Leave it running,” I called out.

  She jumped out of the car and launched herself at me, clinging like a koala. “I did it!”

  “You did it.” I hugged her back, remembering the excitement of doing this for the first time with my dad.

  On her feet again, she looked with amazement from one engine to the other. “I feel like Dr. Frankenstein,” she said, pumping a fist in the air. “I brought a dead thing back to life!”

  I laughed. “I know the feeling.”

  “So I should make sure I have jumper cables in my car, right? Do I have to buy them separately? Or are they, like, included when you purchase a new car?”

  “Not unless you buy a Rolls Royce,” I said wryly.

  She sighed. “That is probably out of Auto Repair Barbie’s budget. At least for now.”

  I tweaked her hat again. “I have some extra cables. I’ll make sure you have some when you go.”

  When you go.

  I said it, but I didn’t want to think about it. And from the look on Blair’s face, she didn’t either.

  But she smiled and thanked me. “I really appreciate the lesson.”

  “You’re welcome. But it’s not over yet. I need to show you how to remove the clips.”

  She paid attention while I demonstrated how to unclip the leads in the reverse order she’d connected them, but the crackle of excitement in the air from a moment earlier was gone.

  We’d brought something to life, and it had been easy.

  But keeping it alive would be impossible.

  Nothing lived forever.

  Saturday morning, I went down to work early.

  Blair had her interview up in Traverse City today, and I was driving her, which meant I could only work until about noon. She’d offered to drive herself if I’d loan her my truck, but after hearing all the horror stories about her driving record, I said I’d take her. After all, it was my fault her own car wasn’t ready yet.

  Six days had gone by since I’d hidden those parts. Six fucking days.

  On the outside, things were fine. Great, even.

  On the inside, I was starting to panic.

  My feelings for her weren’t going away like I wanted them to. In fact, they were growing stronger. I’d thought for sure I’d get tired of her after a few more days and be desperate to have my apartment to myself again, but I wasn’t. At all. I loved having her around, and my mind was starting to wander into dangerous what if territory.

  What if we kept seeing each other after she moved? What if Cole was right and I was crazy to throw such great chemistry out the window? What if I was wrong about being better off alone?

  I tried to wrap my brain around what it might look like. How often we’d see each other. How long it could last.

  But every time I thought about it, my adrenaline started to pump like I was in some kind of imminent danger. For years, I’d managed to keep myself immune from this kind of weakness for someone. But she had this way of making me feel strong and helpless at the same time. She made me want to do everything I could to keep her around, and keep her happy. When she laughed at something I said or I saw her cheering in the stands during a game or she came up with yet another idea to help my business, it just made me feel so damn good—like a chemical reaction inside me.

  I couldn’t deny I had real feelings for her, and that they were growing every day.

  I didn’t know how to cut them off.

  No, t
hat wasn’t true. I did know how—I just wasn’t strong enough to do it.

  I was still brooding about it when McIntyre came in around eight. “Hey, did that trailer hitch kit for the Jeep come in yet? I need to get that done this morning. It’s for Emily’s brother.”

  “I haven’t seen it, but it’s possible. We’ve had several deliveries this week. Check the back.”

  He wandered toward the back, and I didn’t see him for a while. I figured he’d found the hitch and was installing it on the Jeep outside, but about thirty minutes later, he approached me and stood there without saying anything.

  “Find the hitch?” I asked from beneath the hood of a Nissan.

  “No.” He paused. “But I did find the parts for Blair’s car. The packing slip said they arrived Monday.”

  I froze. Didn’t look up.

  “Did you know they were there all week?”

  I continued tightening a bolt. “Yeah.”

  “Uh, so what gives? Why didn’t you do the repair job?”

  I straightened up and looked at him. “I haven’t had time.”

  He gave me an odd look. “Do you want me to do it?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I’ll do it. I want to look everything over myself. Make sure it’s safe.”

  “Okay.” He scratched his head. Something wasn’t sitting right with him, I could tell.

  “I just want to surprise her, that’s all. She doesn’t know they came in, and I thought it would be fun to surprise her once the work is all done. So don’t say anything to her, okay?”

  “I won’t say a word.”

  I went back to what I was doing, but I couldn’t fucking concentrate to save my life.

  McIntyre was silent the rest of the morning too.

  I felt like he saw right through me.

  The entire ride north, Blair kept up a steady stream of excited chatter, expressing her gut feeling that she and Frannie MacAllister were going to hit it off, fretting about finding a place to live she could afford, and hoping when the day was over she’d be able to call her mother and tell her she’d been wrong.

  “I just feel like if this job comes through, that will finally be the thing I need to feel one hundred percent confident,” she said. “Like all the pieces will start falling into place.”

  “What are the other pieces?” I asked.

  “Well, I have a one-year plan, a five-year plan, and a ten-year.”

  “Let’s start with the one.”

  “Okay, in one year I want to seriously reduce my personal debt and be in a position to apply for a small business loan so I can start looking for my own space.”

  So she was going to spend the next year working her ass off. She wouldn’t have time for me anyway.

  “How about in five years?” I asked.

  “In five years, I’d like my business to be up and running. I’d like to be in my own home, married to a handsome prince, maybe even with a baby or two.”

  Even better. There was no way in hell I was that guy.

  I gripped the steering wheel a little harder. “And in ten years?”

  “In ten years, I’ll be celebrating my fortieth birthday. And honestly, all I want is to look around at my life and be grateful for everything I have. Which is, I hope, a comfortable home, a happy family, good friends, a successful business, and some wisdom to pass on to my kids along with my recipes.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, wishing I knew who this handsome prince was she planned to marry so I could find him and kick his ass.

  “What about you?” she asked, shifting to face me on the passenger seat. “Where do you see yourself in a year?”

  I shrugged. “At the garage, listening to McIntyre complain about his wife and busting Handme’s ass to stack the tires.”

  She laughed. “How about in five years?”

  “Let’s see. In five years, I’ll be thirty-seven. I hope I still have six-pack abs and a good throwing arm.”

  “And in ten?”

  Ten years. Fuck, I’d be forty-two.

  Would I still live in my apartment? Would Moretti be married with nine kids? Would Mariah be out of high school? Would Beckett still be able to hit home runs over the left field fence?

  What about my mother? Would she still be around? Would Cheyenne finally get married and give her some grandchildren? Would we all get together for Sunday dinners and talk about Dad and the old days and how much trouble I used to be?

  I could picture everyone at the table—my mom, Cheyenne and whatever clown agreed to marry her, a bunch of their rug rats in high chairs or booster seats, or chasing each other around the table like she and I used to do while my mother yelled at us to stop acting like monkeys and sit down like civilized humans. The memory nearly put a smile on my face.

  But the thought of the future did not.

  Because when I looked at the chair next to mine, it was empty. I was alone.

  I frowned. But that was how I wanted it, right? That was how I’d decided it had to be.

  Alone was easy. Alone was uncomplicated. Alone was safe.

  It didn’t have to mean celibate, although the thought of being with someone other than Blair actually repulsed me.

  “Griff?” Blair leaned over and poked my leg. “Where’d you go?”

  “Ten years into the future.”

  “And? What did it look like?”

  Lonely as fuck, I thought.

  “Fine,” I said, changing lanes on the highway. “It looked fine.”

  A few minutes before four, Blair and I arrived at a place called Coffee Darling. The sign on the door said closed, but when we pulled the handle, we discovered it was unlocked.

  Inside the shop, I could immediately tell Blair would fit right in. It was bright and modern and girly, with black and white photos on the walls, a long white marble countertop, and glass cases full of colorful cookies that made her gasp.

  “Macarons!” she whispered in awe. “Look how beautiful they are.”

  A woman wearing an apron over her clothes appeared behind the counter with a big smile on her face. “Hi there. I’m Frannie. Are you Blair?”

  Blair nodded and held out her hand over the counter. “Yes. So nice to meet you. And this is my friend Griffin Dempsey.”

  Frannie nodded. “Cheyenne’s brother, right? Nice to meet you.”

  I held out my hand as well. “You too.”

  “Well, let me show you around and then we can talk. How does that sound?” Frannie asked brightly.

  “Perfect,” said Blair.

  Frannie turned to me. “We’re closed for the day, so I don’t have a server here, but you’re free to have a seat and I’ll pour you a cup of coffee. Or you can join us for the tour.”

  “I think I’ll just take a walk around town and meet you back here.” I looked at Blair. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Of course.” She was nervous beneath the smile, but I was positive Frannie wouldn’t notice. Grace under pressure was her thing, after all. She’d ace this interview, and the job would be hers.

  She’d move up here, accomplish all her goals, and in ten years, she’d have everything she wanted.

  I’d be a memory.

  Irrationally angry about it, I stomped up and down the streets of downtown Traverse City glaring at happy people, wearing a scowl on my face, confused about what or who I was mad at, and coming to the conclusion that it didn’t matter and I needed to just get the fuck over it.

  Maybe I would only be a memory to her. But I’d be a good memory. The best-sex-she-ever-had memory.

  I’d make damn sure of that.

  She got the job—of course she did.

  “It’s just so perfect,” she chirped on the ride home. “I’ll be the full-time manager and baker for as long as she needs, and when she’s ready to come back after the twins are old enough, I can decide then if I want to stay on or look for a shop of my own.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “And,” she went on, clapping her hands, “she said she
spoke to her parents about renting out her old apartment, which is above the garage at Cloverleigh. Sort of like a carriage house.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yes. It’s small, but I don’t really need a lot of space, and the rent would only be three-fifty a month. With what she’s going to pay me, I can totally afford that, plus I’ll be able to pay off all my credit card debt within two years.”

  “That’s amazing.” I forced myself to ask the next question. “When will you move in?”

  “I told her I can’t move until after Labor Day weekend, and she was fine with that.”

  “If you have to move sooner, it’s okay,” I said, almost wishing she would. No sense prolonging this. “Don’t feel like you have to stay in Bellamy Creek for me. For my shop, I mean.”

  She reached over and rubbed my shoulder. “Hey. I want to stay. After Labor Day is soon enough. I just need my car back by then.”

  “You’ll have it.” I cleared my throat. “I’ll, uh, put another call into my supplier. Make sure he has the right address.”

  “I just can’t believe it,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Everything is coming together.”

  “Good.”

  But I felt like everything was falling apart.

  Seventeen

  Griffin

  “What’s this?” I asked as Blair set a small frosted cake in front of me. It was late Tuesday night, after nine o’clock, but I’d had practice tonight. Afterward, I’d skipped the usual hangout at the pub to come home, clean up, and eat a late supper with her.

  “It’s a cake.” She lit the single candle standing in the white frosting.

  “I can see that, but what’s it for?” I looked up at her. “It’s not my birthday. Is it yours?”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “Nope. My birthday is in June. It’s for our anniversary!”

  “Our what?”

  “Our anniversary. It’s been exactly two weeks since we got married.” She fluttered her lashes and put both hands over her heart. “The happiest two weeks of my life.”

  Laughing, I pulled her onto my lap. She was wearing one of my favorite outfits—the blue dress with the little bow in the front, and somehow she looked even more beautiful than usual in it. “You’re crazy.”