Page 72 of Demitri

“Demitri! You don’t hide a car like that. You show her off, you show her love, you treat her right!”

“Oh, shit,” Nola says from behind us. “Here we go.”

Demitri turns to look at her, but I’m on a roll now.

“This is a nineteen-sixty-seven Ford Shelby GT500. Carroll Shelby designed it, and it’s still thought of as a superior racing machine today. She’s sleek. She’s fast. She’s got a big-block V8 engine. She’s got not one, but two 600-CFM Holley carburetors. She’s sexy. Fuck, Demitri, can I touch her?” I ask, practically jumping out of my skin.

He stares at me, slack jawed, and I swear I see love in his eyes. He cracks a grin, and with a husky voice, replies, “Yeah,Krasotka, you can touch her.”

I think I hear the other guys laughing, but I pay them no mind. I slowly walk to the car, sticking my hand out, and finally run my fingers along her body.

“We should just go,” Grace says quietly. “We’ve lost her. She’s not leaving that car.”

“I didn’t know she had such a big thing for cars,” Demitri whispers loudly behind me.

“Not cars.Onecar.”

“Why?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

I know the others are leaving. I hear car doors and engines start, but I’ll worry about them later. I can’t take my fingers off the beautiful front quarter panel.

“Wanna go for a ride?” Demitri breathes into my ear, making me shiver.

“Can I drive her?”

“One day.”

I turn to him with a pout and sad eyes, and that bastard just laughs.

“It was really windy on the pass coming over. And other people are stupid when it’s windy on the mountain. I don’t want you or her to get hurt, okay? I promise I’ll take you out and let you drive her all fucking day, okay?”

“That makes me feel marginally better.”

“How about I let you squeeze the stick the entire ride back?”

“I feel like there’s an inappropriate joke there somewhere.”

“Probably.” He grins, shrugging one shoulder. “Your chariot awaits, milady.” He holds his arm out for me and walks me to the passenger door, opening it and helping me sit down.

I’m pretty sure I moan when my ass hits the buttery leather seats. And there’s no way in hell I can keep my hands to myself. I touch everything. The door handle, the gear stick, the dash.

Demitri gets behind the wheel and turns to grin at me. “Care to tell me why you love this car so much?”

“My uncle had one. We’d spend entire weekends tuning it up and cleaning her.”

“That’s nice. But why do I feel like there’s something not so nice coming?”

“He was killed in a car accident. Some kid high on meth ran him off the road and into a tree. He was killed instantly, and the car was totaled.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. More than the car, he was the only relative I had that tried to protect me.”

“How old were you when he died?”

“Fifteen. The summer I grew boobs. Bad timing on the tweaker’s part, that’s for sure.” I turn my head against the seat and look at Demitri. “This car reminds me of him and the good memories. Thank you.”

---