Page 20 of Speeding Hearts

Goddammit, Stella. Your best friend.

I gripped his arms, trying to ignore his biceps, which were flexed hard under my palms to hold me. Stepping forward, I gingerly put my weight on my ankle. There was a twinge of pain, but it passed. I was fine. “I just rolled it,” I said. “Better now than getting injured in the car, right?”

I looked up at Dean’s face for the first time since he’d helped me up, and when my eyes landed on his, a jolt of lightning hit my stomach. A hot, liquid feeling ran right through me, running down my spine and into somewhere low in my stomach. Lower, even.

I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe.

“Yeah,” he said. His voice was definitely hoarse. “This is better.”

Move, Stella. Move away before you say something—dosomething you’ll regret.

I swallowed, stepping away.

“You better get going,” I said, my voice barely more than a breath.

Somehow, he heard me just fine.

“Yeah.”

I backed away, toward my car. “What are you guys doing for dinner?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light. Anything to get the attention off of us. Off of this.

Whatever this was.

“Oh, you know. Cup of soup?”

I laughed, then realized he was serious. “Oh. Right.”

“Did you want to—” he began, his face searching.

“No!” I said, too fast. “No. Thank you. I’m wiped. I’m going to go home and veg out. Pass out, probably. I’ll grab a burger to go from that diner place.”

“Mickey’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t say I’m not jealous.”

For a moment I had a flash of Dean kicking back on my bed with me, us watching some goofy movie and tossing fries in our mouth. Our eyes meeting, shoving everything to the side and…

My stomach jolted again, and I turned away from him. What was I thinking? Not only should I not be fantasizing about Dean ever, let alone with him standing right beside me, but I couldn’t imagine bringing anyone back to my motel room. Last night, there’d been some kind of fight at the other end, and the cops had shown up. I’d been half-tempted to pack up and leave, but where would I have gone?

“Well, maybe we can grab a burger some other time,” I said.

He nodded. “Are you okay to drive?”

“I’ve been driving all day. Think I can manage getting home,” I said, smiling.

But the dodgy reality of my motel room didn’t matter. I could picture Dean anywhere. Everywhere. He made every place better.

I gave him a wave and got in my car before he saw the truth all over my face. That I’d been fantasizing about my best friend. Right in front of him.

Chapter 7

Dean

Over the next week,I was blessedly too busy to think too much about Stella and what had happened at the Back Track last weekend.

Maybethinkwasn’t the right word. It wasn’t that I didn’t think about her—she was on my mind every damn second of the day. But I was too busy to analyze any of my feelings about it. In the mornings I was at the garage at seven, sorting out paperwork. By the time Stu got there at eight, we worked full-steam until pretty much closing time. Word must have gotten around that things were running a bit more efficiently at Oak Bend Automotive, because suddenly we were booked up for appointments, having to turn people away to the big box automotive shop that Dad constantly complained about scooping all his business.

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