Burnout (Jack 'Em Up Book 0) (8 page)

I laughed. It wasn’t
nothing
, but close.

Trace’s brow turned down in a confused frown. “Seriously?”

“Pretty much,” I replied, setting down the part in my hand. “You already know the coast is a few miles away, and other than that, there’s the strip mall with a Smoothie King and the abandoned lot off Main where everyone brings their classic cars on Saturday nights. Though it’s the same old cars every week.”

His surprised eyes pinged back and forth between me and Jesse as if waiting for the punchline to my joke. When it didn’t come, he huffed out a laughing sigh. “Huh. Well . . .”

We all laughed, and Jesse mentioned his family’s Christmas party that weekend. “Hey, moose boy, it’s better than the car show.”

“Moose boy?” Trace said.

“Yeah. Isn’t Alaska the land of the moose?” Jesse replied with a smirk.

“Uh, I guess.”

Before he was called away by Mr. Dixon, Trace said he’d think about coming to the party.

“You do that, Moose,” I said, earning myself a subtle middle-finger salute. He might turn out to be all right, after all.

Delilah

I
choked down a couple of aspirins and forced myself to school on Wednesday. Missing two days was enough, and this stupid cold or whatever I had was finally easing.

As I neared Government class, I suddenly wondered if Blake had caught it. I hoped not. I sneezed and sniffled and trudged to my desk, plopping down very ungracefully.

Blake sauntered in a minute later, his deep eyes automatically zoning in on my seat. His expression softened as he approached. He slid into his desk, his gaze never leaving me, making me feel somehow branded. Or cherished. He offered me a small smile and I lifted my limp hand in a half-hearted wave as Mrs. Dunbar called the class to order and started lecturing.

Blake immediately yanked a piece of notebook paper from his binder and scribbled a note. He passed it to me when Mrs. Dunbar had her back to us, writing on the dry erase board.

Are you OK? Where have you been?

I fiddled with my pen a moment as the teacher turned around and faced the class. Her eyes slid over us momentarily, but she quickly moved on with her talk. The Judicial Branch . . . fascinating.

I’m fine. Just caught a stupid 48-hour bug.

He read what I wrote, scrawled a reply.
Missed you.

My heart fluttered in my chest. I swallowed and met his eyes. His serious expression both thrilled and terrified me. How did I answer that? That I’d missed him, too? Play it cool? Not let on that I was feeling entirely too much too soon?

I settled for: S
orry. I would’ve rather been here.

With me?

His smile nearly broke me. YES! I wanted to write. Instead
: Self-confident much? I’ll have you know that I have friends.

We waited while the teacher questioned the class about something and a couple of kids raised their hands to answer. When she turned back to the board, he slid his answer to me.

You know what I mean.

Yes. I did. That was the problem.
Fine. Yes, with you, too. : )

His dimpled grin made me hold my breath.
You coming to work on the car Saturday? I found a new bumper.

I grimaced.
I’m so sorry! And, yes, I’ll be there. P.S. You sure you won’t let me pay for anything? I’m sure a bumper and a . . . whatever you call it . . . are expensive.

No.

I studied his profile for a clue. His jaw was firm, but he didn’t turn his smiling eyes to me like I’d hoped.
Alright. What time?

Two? And it’s a quarter panel. : )

I nodded, but stuffed our note away as Mrs. Dunbar began walking the aisles as she talked.

When the bell rang, he jumped up, but waited for me to slowly move out of my desk and head to the door. He followed and held it open for me.

He reached out and brushed his thumb under my eye once we were out of the classroom. “You look tired.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re still gorgeous, Princess.”

I rolled my eyes, secretly loving his praise. We walked side-by-side down the hall, earning a few curious stares. He didn’t seem to notice or care. “So, where you off to next?”

I glanced up. “Physics.”

He made a disgusted expression, but remained quiet, walking me down the science hall. I’d never seen him come this way, so I was curious. “What about you?”

“English.”

“Isn’t that clear on the other side of the school?”

That devilish grin graced his face again, making him look like a mischievous kid. “Yeah.”

I stopped in the middle of the hall, making a couple behind us bump into me. “Won’t you be late?”

He shrugged as if it were of no consequence. And, maybe to someone with his reputation, it wasn’t. I could not imagine having such a devil-may-care, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants attitude. I shook my head and kept going.

He walked me all the way to my classroom door. I lifted my eyes to his. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but he just smiled.

“Thanks,” I said.

“My pleasure, Princess.” He leaned down and pecked my lips. “See you later.”

Uh . . . what the heck just happened? Had I missed the I’m-Blake-Travers’-Girl memo? It sure seemed like it, if the open stares from the other girls were any indication. Their glares ranged from envious to downright hateful, but I had no words.

I was still in a state of confusion when I made my way to lunch that afternoon. I moved through the line, unable to think about eating anything other than a cup of soup and some crackers, and found a quiet corner table.

A few minutes later, as I had my head buried in my folded arms, my best friend, Rachel, plopped her tray down across from me. I lifted my head and glared at my bubbly, red-headed friend.

“Ssshhhh,” I said, feeling my headache coming back.

“You look like horseshit.”

Wow. I must look bad. “I know.”

She bit her burger, grinning at me.

“What?” I demanded.

“Blake Travers, huh?”

My tummy flopped at the sound of his name. Or maybe it was the food. I think it was Blake. “What about him?” I asked, trying for nonchalance.

She laughed and grabbed a fry. “Uh huh. It’s all over school that he walked you to class and kissed you. Is it true?”

I felt it the minute he walked into the cafeteria. Even from across the room, our gazes collided, and I thought I could almost read his mind. This was scary. He started our way just as Rachel glanced behind her and saw who’d caught my attention. “So it
is
true?”

I shrugged, not sure what to say. I had no clue what was true where Blake was concerned, other than he made my blood rush hotly through my veins and he seemed to see me for who I really was.

Rachel was openly grinning when Blake sunk into the seat next to me. “Hey.” He glanced over at Rachel, but otherwise, he was focused 100% on me.

“Hi,” Rachel answered, a cocky smile in her voice.

“Feeling better?” he asked me.

“Sorta. Not really,” I admitted, shoving my half-empty soup cup away.

He leaned in fractionally and his unique scent drifted to me, easing my stomach. I suddenly wanted to wrap myself in the comfort of his leather jacket again. “Think you’ll feel better by this weekend?”

I opened my mouth, noticing how his gaze tracked to my lips. “I hope so. Why?”

“Well, I still want you to come by the shop, but I was also hoping afterwards, you’d come with me to a party.”

I shot a surprised glance to Rachel. She was still smirking, her focus on her food. I looked back to Blake. “A party?”

“Yeah. My best friend, Jesse, and his family put on a big party every year for Christmas. It’s pretty nice, lots of food. And I want you to come. With me.” His hand had clasped mine under the table, and when I forced myself to relax, he interlaced our fingers. “Will you?”

“I—”

“Of course she’ll go,” Rachel interrupted.

Blake’s dimples winked again. “Great.” He glanced across the table. “You’re welcome, too. Jesse’s family won’t mind, it’ll be fun.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

I still had no idea what was happening. I was holding Blake Travers’ hand while he and my bestie made my weekend plans.

But, as he ducked his head and brushed a kiss to my nose, I found I didn’t care. Not one bit.

Blake

I
made sure to write notes and flirt with Delilah Jackson every day in Government class, then walk her to Physics, pecking kisses everywhere but her mouth each time. Somehow, that seemed like something private between us, not to be shared with anyone, and I would forever link her in my mind with the beach and moonlit nights.

Yeah, I was playing with fire.

Call me a pyro, but I couldn’t stay away from her. And I could tell she liked it, no matter what other kids said or how they stared at the resident punk and the town princess together. I couldn’t help but wonder what her daddy would say . . .

Now, like an addict, I was at the auto shop on a Saturday morning, thirty minutes early, waiting to see her.

I wasn’t lying, I had found a new bumper. Not that she’d really done anything to mine other than a small scratch. I just found a killer deal and wanted to replace it, along with the quarter panel we were making good progress on.

I smelled her first; so out of place in a garage, her sweet berry scent wrapped me up like a blanket.

I pivoted. “Hey, Princess.”

“Hi.” She grinned and glanced down at the bumper leaning against the wall. “So . . . is that our project today?”

The need to kiss her rushed through me, but I banked it. I needed to slow this way down. “Yeah.”

“And the quarter thingy?” she asked as she shrugged out of her jacket, revealing a form-fitting yellow thermal top.

“Quarter panel?” I laughed at her shrug. Cars and Delilah just did not mix. “It’s being painted.”

Nodding, she approached, her eyes on the bumper. But my eyes were on her. She glanced up and caught me staring. “What?”

“I’m just trying to figure a way to keep my hands off you.”

Ocean blue eyes widened as a sweet pink blush stained her cheeks. I knew then, without a doubt, that she wanted me to touch her again. Really touch her. Not holding her hand, not friendly little kisses to her cheek.

No, touch her in every way possible.

And I wanted nothing more than to oblige, but something held me back. She was perfection, the damn Mona Lisa, and I was a grease monkey from the other side of the tracks. Literally. I didn’t care about much in this world, but even I cared enough not to soil a perfect rose.

“Why?” That one word came out in a breathy whisper from her lips. And, suddenly, the garage felt like a closet.

“Why what?”

Her gaze dipped, met mine again. “Why are you trying to keep your hands off?”

Good God.

I squeezed my temples and sucked in a breath. “Nothing good can come of us, Princess. Sure, we can have a little fun, but if we go any further than we have already, it’ll be trouble for you.”