“Oh, no you don’t,” I stopped. “You can’t keep things from me now, Jett. If you want this to happen between us, then you better start opening up.”

I could tell he was counting to ten in his head. This was new for him, divulging every last thing. He was a man who kept to himself and took care of business. He didn’t need to spread his problems around or cause drama. It just wasn’t the kind of man he was, and I appreciated that about him, but I was tired of being kept in the dark about things, so it was time for him to open the flood gates.

Finally, he lowered his head to mine and said softly, “The night you left me,” he took a deep breath and continued, “I was hurting; I was a torn man, and instead of keeping to myself, I took it out on Diego and blamed him for your departure. It’s about time I apologize for my wrongdoing.”

“Oh.”

I will admit I didn’t handle that night with the most finesse. I could have spoken to Jett differently. I could have explained to him what I had in mind, but honestly, I knew he wouldn’t let me go if I actually told him what I was doing, and at that point, I had to go, I had to do something to change the way we were living our lives, even if in the end, it did nothing but mess up the one good thing in my life.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Little One,” Jett said, as he grabbed my hand and walked me toward the car.

“But the reason you were mad was because of me, so I do kind of have to worry about it.”

“No, you don’t. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Now, let it go, okay?” he said sweetly.

The sweet tone in his voice was compensating for the dominant demand he was handing out, and damn it if it didn’t turn me on. Would he always be able to do that to me? Control my emotions with his words?

Most likely, he knew me too well.

We walked hand and hand across the park, toward his car, where the man with the keys stood in front of the Aston Martin, protecting it. The whole scene was absolutely absurd, but Jett protected his cars like he protected his girls, guess I couldn’t blame him for that.

The keys were tossed to Jett, who caught them in the air and then held them out to me. I looked down at his palm in shock and then back up at him. He was smiling brightly at me, as if he was offering me the world.

Oh, fuck my heart, he was slowly killing me, one smile at a time.

“You’re serious?” I asked.

“Of course, I would let you do anything, Goldie.”

“My, my, my, you would do just about anything to get in my pants.”

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulled me in tight and said, “No, actually, I would do just about anything to get into that beautiful heart of yours.”

Like second nature, I ran my hand up his chest and gripped the lapels of his shirt. I brought him closer and spoke softly.

“You’re in there already, Jett. You just need to take up a permanent residence now.”

“That’s my goal.”

Lightly, he kissed my forehead and helped me into the driver’s seat. The smooth leather welcomed me as I checked out the polished steering wheel. I really couldn’t believe Jett was going to let me drive his precious car, but hell if I was going to miss out on this opportunity.

Jett got into the passenger side and started giving me instructions, but once I started the car and felt the rumble of the engine underneath me, I blocked out what Jett was saying and took off, letting the wind whip through my hair and the man next to me grip onto the handles for dear life.

26

“I Bet My Life”

Jett

I sat in my car, staring out the windshield, trying to recollect the last ten minutes that just flew by me as Goldie whipped around New Orleans, cutting in and out of one way streets and traffic from the festival. Pretty sure I lost a few years on my life from her “driving.”

“Oh, my God, that was so much fun,” Goldie cooed, as she put the car in park and turned to face me. “I know why you love driving this car so much. You barely have to press down on the gas pedal. Did you see me zip through those streets? It was like we were in some kind of super speed time machine thing. You know what I mean? It seemed like you enjoyed yourself, you weren’t even saying anything, just taking in the sights. Hey, are you okay? You look a little strange,” she asked, as she pressed her hand against my cheek. “You’re all clammy; are you going to be sick?”

I shook my head no and gulped as I looked over at her. “No offense, but you’re an awful driver.”

Insult crossed her face as she took in my words. “I am not! I’m a damn fine driver. If I was a bad driver, I would have hit somebody.”

“We almost took out a street performer, they jumped out of the way before they could be taken out by your absurd driving.”

“Jett Colby!” she practically shouted. “I’m not a bad driver.”

Nodding my head, I got out of the car, but not before I pulled the keys out of the ignition and pocketed them. I didn’t have to turn around to hear her stomping behind me and slamming the driver’s side door shut. I lit the fire and I was about to be burned.

“I’m not a bad driver,” she repeated herself. “I have just as good of driving skills as fucking Jeff Gordon, maybe even better. Hey, I’m talking to you,” she stomped behind me.

Her little finger poked my back as I opened the back door to Diego’s apartment for her. She didn’t proceed inside. Instead, she continued to poke me.

“Say it, say I’m a good driver.”

“Goldie, you’re a terrible driver.”

“How can you say that?” she said in complete outrage.

“You drove on the sidewalk!”

She opened her mouth to retort, but then stopped herself while she thought of what to say. She crossed her arms over her chest and held her chin high as she said, “It was a low sidewalk, and was hard to see. Anyone could have made the same mistake.”

“Okay,” I shook my head and grabbed her hand, pulling her into Diego’s place and leading her up to her room.

I could hear the slight beat of music playing in the main hall, letting me know Diego must be practicing one of his acts, something I very much wanted to watch at some point, not just because it interested me, but because he worked really hard at his club, and I’m sure he’d like to show off his hard work.

Goldie kicked and argued all the way up to her room, and once we were confined in the small area, she turned on her heels in a fit of rage.

“You can’t just manhandle me because you’re bigger than me.”

“Are you done?” I asked, waiting for her to explode even more.

“Am I done? Are you kidding me right now? No, I am not done. I want you to tell me why you think I’m a bad driver.”

“I told you why. You drove on a sidewalk, you almost hit a person, and you, by far, surpassed every speed limit in the French Quarter.”

“So?” she asked, looking adorably frustrated.

“So, you’re a bad driver, but that’s okay, because you still looked fucking hot driving my car.”

Bam, just like that the crease that was forming in her forehead vanished and her eyes lit up from my compliment. It wasn’t a lie; she looked hot as hell in her little green dress with her hair blowing in the breeze as she cornered my car around the narrow streets of New Orleans. It was a shame I was too terrified out of my mind to enjoy it.

“Well, I guess I can accept that,” she smiled.

“Good, now go get ready for bed. I’m going to go talk to Diego.”

“Alright, but don’t be long.”

I raised an eyebrow at her and asked, “Do you have something special planned? Maybe you’re wearing something a little revealing tonight?”

“You wish,” she laughed at me. “I’m going to bed in a turtleneck and corduroys.”

“Have I told you how much a woman in corduroys at night turns me on? Might want to reconsider.”

“I’ll take my chances,” she laughed. “Now, hurry up.”