Falling Under
Page 12

But instead of going with them, Duke took Carmella’s elbow. “Walk with me.”
She nodded and let him steer her away from the crowd and toward the quieter area on the other side of the tents housing food and beer.
“Now then.” They paused at a bale of hay with some fabric on it. “I can hear myself think back here.” He’d had a light jacket under an arm and he spread it over the hay and the cloth. “That’ll be easier and probably warmer.”
“Thanks.” It was such a gentlemanly, old-school thing and perfectly Duke.
Duke sat close enough that their thighs touched. “I didn’t expect to see you in the stands tonight,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Carmella said automatically.
“Hey.” He took her hand. “What for? It’s a good surprise. I knew you were coming, but it was cool to see you up there watching me race. You apologize a lot.”
It kept the peace.
She shrugged. “I’d say I’m sorry, but, uh …”
He laughed and kept her hand. “If you step on my toe, or scratch my door, you can apologize. But not for being there looking so damned good when I got out of the car after winning a race.”
“Oh. Okay.” Carmella clamped her lips against another automatic apology and he noticed, grinning.
“They have burgers here and all, but I’m all out of patience for people and fried food at the moment. Want to escape the madness and grab dinner? I’ve had this totally weird craving for some pancakes and eggs. You in for breakfast for dinner?”
She should say something about how this was odd because they worked together. But he went out with people at the shop all the time, right? So it was cool.
Plus, breakfast sounded really good.
“All right. I’m pretty hungry.”
“I rode in with Asa, you got room for me in your car?”
Boy oh boy, how she went from zero to totally over her head with this man in such a short period of time she wasn’t sure other than his near-perfect charm.
And she guessed she’d get to know him better as they drove to breakfast in her truck. “If you don’t mind dog hair.”
It was like watching this all happening on-screen as he helped her to her feet, called out his good-byes, and steered her to the parking lot.
“Thing is, Carmella.” He paused like he needed to taste his words, savor them even after he’d given them to her. She found herself leaning toward him, wanting more.
One corner of his mouth tipped up and she walked past her truck and had to backtrack. She knew her blush was bright pink. “Oops. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”
“’ Seventy-seven Ford F150. I’ve been flirting with your truck for the last year.”
“It was my first car,” Carmella told him as he took the keys, and unlocked her door.
He slid in on the passenger side and handed her keys back. “Just like I was about to say back there. There’s no dog hair in this truck. You’re too fastidious for that.”
“There’s a blanket behind the seat where Ginger hangs out.”
He hummed what was probably agreement. But it sounded a little like a come-on. A tiny bit like a sex sound.
She turned the engine over and pulled slowly out of the lot.
“So this was your first car, you said?” Duke continued once she got on the road.
“Yeah. Craig and my uncle bought it for next to nothing and then they cleaned her up and gave her to me for my sixteenth birthday.” It enabled her to get to a job. A job she could keep and pay the rent. If her mother went into one of her dark times, Carmella would have a way to earn a living. Or as her cousin had told her, to come to their house, where she was always welcome.
“It’s handy having lots of mechanics around, huh?”
Headlights shone around him, casting him in shadows that only made him more attractive. More mysterious.
“It’s very handy.” A car meant everything and it was the one thing she always knew she’d have access to once she started working for her uncle’s shop. “I was assuming you meant Beth’s to grab a bite?”
“Sounds perfect.” He leaned back. “You’re pretty close with Craig, huh?”
“Craig is three years older than I am and the youngest of four brothers. I was like the little sister in the group. He’s always been my protector.”
“Right on.”
“You have to tell me where you’re from,” Carmella said. “The accent is killing me.”
“New Hampshire until I was fifteen. Then California. Then Iraq for longer than I cared to be there. When I got out, I ended up out here.”
Duke’s family, newly upper middle class, had ended up in a four-bedroom house with a pool, just three miles from the beach. He’d found a community with the kids he greeted at the beach every morning. There were girls to kiss, waves to surf, and beer to drink.
After the isolation of his life in New Hampshire, Southern California had embraced him and given him a place to fit.
And then, like a dumbass, he’d enlisted and it had all gone in a totally unexpected direction for about ten years.
“I’m glad you made it back here safe and sound. I hear you saved Asa’s life more than once,” Carmella said.
Asa needed to stop sharing those stories.
Duke grunted to give an answer and then wanted to change the subject. He liked the way Carmella drove. Liked, too, the way this truck was taken care of and kept up. So many people threw things away long before they were worn out. This truck was a perfect example.