Pedal to the Metal: Love's Drivin' but Fate's Got the Pole (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 3) by Eden Connor Page B

spilled from Caine’s eye. “So much for pourin’ my heart and soul into your new ride, as my way of sayin’ how fuckin’ sorry I am for what I done to you, Shelby.” His jaw worked. “Because I never could figure out how to say it. But, I always said you were the smart one in the bunch.”
    I tried to cover his mouth, but he shook off my hand.
    “Until noon tomorrow, when we absolutely have to get in the truck and haul ass to Atlanta, this problem doesn’t exist.” His eyes flamed, burning me alive. “Tonight, we’re Hannahs, hammer down and hell-bent. We get off on speed and sex till we’re drunk on both, and nothin’ else matters. After that, I’ll start tryin’ to figure out how to be your brother. Until then, I’m your crew chief and your man. No games, like I know you been thinkin’, baby girl. This is real, and this fuckin’ night’s gotta last us forever.”
    The salty taste of the drops racing down my cheeks mingled with the tang of Caine’s tears when he pressed his lips to mine, forcing his tongue into me like he was determined to wipe away the ugly truth that had led me to run again.
    Plenty of women chose love over family. When the men I loved were my family? Like a bolt of lightning, I realized why I kept going back to Robert. I went back time after time, because he wounded me in the same places Mom wounded me. I already knew by heart which little lies to tell myself to stop the bleeding.
    But Caine would wound me in new ways. Raised to doubt whether I was worth anything, no matter what I accomplished, could I stay on my feet long enough to concoct new bandages for the fresh wounds he might punch in my soul?
    Running was the only thing that made sense, but in Caine’s arms, I’d never had a lick of goddamn sense, and so, I kissed him back with everything I had to give.
    But I knew, deep down, I’d race. Because what might happen if I raced again was the smaller fear.

Chapter Eight

    I tailed Jonny’s Corvair into the convenience store lot. “Which side’s my gas tank on?” Caine pointed to the curved gauge that hugged the left side of the speedometer—the speedometer that numbered to two hundred.
    “See the gas pump symbol?” I nodded. “See which side the hose is on? That’s always the side your tank’ll be on, no matter what you’re drivin’.”
    “You gotta be kidding.” I stared, open-mouthed.
    He laid his hand over mine on the shifter. “Nope. It’s not rocket science, but damned if it ain’t one of the best kept secrets around. If you see a little arrow and the hose, goin’ different ways, follow the arrow.”
    “I’m almost full.”
    He unsnapped the four-point restraint. Leaning forward, he tugged his wallet free. Withdrawing his debit card, he handed it to me. “Let’s top you off. Jonny says the old man who runs this joint sells gas. So, no gas cans allowed. I doubt it’s market price, but what’s worse, I doubt it’s fresh. No sense in fouling your plugs right off the bat. Plus, we need cash for the bets. Take out two grand. The pin’s your birthdate, month and date.”
    My birthdate. I nearly fumbled the card, trying to breathe through the fresh jolt of pain. Yesterday, I’d have held off the hurt by reminding myself that those same numbers were also Caroline’s birthdate. Tonight, with my half-assed subterfuge swept away on a river of truth, I had no choice but to absorb the ache. Tomorrow I’d start looking for a way to bandage my wounds.
    But we had tonight.
    “Uh, my card has a cash machine limit of three hundred bucks a day.”
    God, that smirk. Caine’s expression hit me below the belt. “And mine has a limit of two grand. I ain’t used it in a week. I’ll pay cash for your gas.”
    Blinking in the harsh light inside the convenience store, I slid the card into the slot and punched in the four digits.
    My pulse galloped like a wild thing when the PIN screen dissolved. What would you like to do? Make a withdrawal. Make a deposit. Check