It's About Time (Blossom Peak #4)(44)

“Okay…” As I recount his growing list, I’m realizing that Elliot is being oddly specific about the details. But then again, he is a lawyer, so I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that much. “Do you plan on us having sleepovers?”

“I—I don’t know, but it wouldn’t make sense that we’re engaged and not staying the night at each other’s houses at some point. Tori and my dad would definitely pick up on that.”

“Fine.”

He nods at me this time. “Okay, I think that’s all I had. Would you like to add anything?”

I consider his request for a minute. If I knew he was going to take this task so seriously, I probably would have given this meeting more thought. Pacing the floor, I turn back to find Elliot looking far more relaxed than he did a few minutes ago.

“Rule four: respect my time in the shop.”

A pinch in his brow develops. “What do you mean by that?”

“ I mean, I have a little over five weeks until Motorlux, and I still have a ton of shit to do on the Porsche. So, if I tell you that I’m working late, or I don’t pick up or answer your text right away, I’m probably working on Betty.”

His brows lift at that detail. “Betty?”

Smirking, I cross my arms over my chest. “Yes. The Porsche has a name, and I don’t need your opinion on it.”

He leans back against the couch and mimics me, arms folding across his torso. “Do you name all of your cars?”

“Yup. Just like all men name their dicks.”

He fights a smile. “I haven’t.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I’m serious.”

I give him a skeptical look. “Isn’t talking about your dick right now against the rules?”

“You brought it up.”

“And you’re arguing with me about it.”

He bites his bottom lip and then says, “What did you name the Camaro?”

I glance out his front window at my day-to-day car, the one I restored just after high school with Nick, my foster dad, and have been driving ever since. “Raven.”

Elliot nods. “Since she’s black? That’s not too original.”

“I’m sorry, but again, I didn’t ask for your opinion. And not that it matters, but it’s not just because of her paint job.” Pausing, I think of the most rational way to explain this. “Ravens symbolize wisdom and transformation. The Camaro was the first car I restored, and she taught me so much. I feel like after that…” When my eyes meet Elliot’s, he’s staring at me so intently that it catches me off guard. “Never mind.”

“ What?”

“Rule number five,” I start, avoiding his confusion and moving back to the point of my being here tonight. “When we are around other people at Motorlux, or anywhere else, I need you to be supportive of me.”

His brows draw together more. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“Wow. That’s specific. Thanks for clearing that up.”

“You don’t have to understand my rules, just like I don’t have to understand yours, Elliot. Now, can you do that? Can you back me up and show some, I don’t know…” Searching for the right word, I land on, “Admiration for what I’ve done?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, staring at me for a few moments before he stands and walks over to me, so slowly that I can see every line in his forearms flex as he walks. His jaw is dusted in dark stubble, which he doesn’t usually sport. He’s clean shaven in the mornings for his job, but right now? He doesn’t look like Elliot Thorne, the lawyer.

He looks dangerous, intense, and nothing like the smug pain in the ass I’m used to.

And his lips—how come I never noticed how soft they look?

Jesus, Dilynne. Get a grip.

“Admiration, huh?” he asks when there’s only a few inches of space separating us.

“Yes, a man that doesn’t tear me down, but is proud to be with me. A man that isn’t threatened by my knowledge, my expertise, my…”

He presses a finger to my lips, cutting me off. “I have a hard time thinking any man wouldn’t be threatened by you. Hell, Dilynne…you’re an expert at your craft in a male-dominated field. No matter what you do, babe…men are gonna take notice.”

Did he just call m e, babe?

Our eyes meet as Elliot’s finger still rests on my lips. “Is that the only thing that you need from me?”

His finger falls and I struggle to take in a breath before replying, “Yes.”

His nod is short and sweet. “Then I can do that.”

“Good. Uh…great. Thank you.”

When he blinks, something in his demeanor shifts. He goes from the intense and focused man who was just complimenting me back to the man on the verge of a panic attack. “Okay. Well, I think that settles it then.”

“Good.”

“Shit,” he mutters, pushing a hand through his hair before meeting my eyes again. “I forgot to tell you that my dad wants us to come over and have dinner with him and my mom soon.”

My eyes nearly fall out of my head. “Oh, Jesus. Not sure that’s a great idea given the bra-spinning incident.”