It's About Time (Blossom Peak #4)(75)

Laney groans. “God, I miss wine. But that mocktail was really good.”

Vie nna nods. “It was, but nothing beats the real thing.”

My mind instantly veers toward my drawer of sex toys that are getting more boring by the day.

And then I think about Elliot’s dick again.

Yup, Vienna is right.

Nothing beats the real thing, and now I think I might just need to find out how much further Elliot is willing to go.

***

My phone vibrates in my pocket for the fifth time in the past hour. When I pull it out and see another text message from Elliot, I roll my eyes, turn the phone on silent, slide it back into my pocket, and then get back to tinkering with the electrical wires in the dashboard of the Porsche.

I have one more week left to finish up the car before the transportation crew is scheduled to come pick her up. Betty is almost ready to make her Motorlux debut, and right now, I’m grateful for this distraction because it allows me to focus on something else other than Elliot and that freaking kiss last night.

The texts he’s been sending me echo the memory as I tighten the screw I’m focused on.

Elliot: How’s it going?

Elliot: I can see that you’ve read my text, Dilynne.

Elliot: Oh, so now you’re just going to ignore me?

Elliot: We need to talk.

Elliot: Pretty sure communication is vital in any relationship, even a fake one.

It ’s that last one that has made me even more resolved to ignore him until I get my head on straight.

After speaking with the girls in the bathroom at the winery last night, I returned to the main tasting room, hung out for a little longer while avoiding Elliot’s gaze, and then made up a stomach ache to leave so I didn’t have to be there any longer.

The truth is, my stomach was in knots. Still is.

And try as I might today, I haven’t gone longer than ten minutes without thinking about that kiss.

Once the adrenaline wore off last night, something else replaced it though—fear.

I know I was riled up while talking with the girls, but once the fog lifted, reality settled in.

Elliot is one of my brother’s best friends.

He’s also the guy that made me doubt myself at a very young age—not in my abilities, but in the ability to find a guy who would accept me for who I am.

He’s annoyed me for years, pissed me off more times than I can count, and has made me consider becoming a lesbian a time or two.

But now…

Wait. Now he’s…standing outside of my garage, waving his phone around?

Peering through the front windshield of the Porsche, I see Elliot’s face in one of the small rectangular windows on the steel bay doors straight across from me.

My eyes dart over to my Camaro that’s parked inside the garage, wondering how the hell Elliot knew I was here.

But then again, I guess it wouldn’t take him long to track me down.

I s tand from the Porsche and head over to the bay door, pulling on the chain that lifts it from the ground just high enough for Elliot to walk through.

“So, you are alive.” With his phone still in hand, he takes a few steps further into the space while I slowly lower the door back down.

Twisting to face him with my hands on my hips, I say, “Yup. Still breathing. And now that you’ve confirmed that, you can go.”

“You wouldn’t answer my texts.”

“Well, maybe there was a reason.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Which is?”

I fan my hand out toward the Porsche. “I’m busy, Elliot. I told you that when I’m here, I need you to respect my time.”

He turns to glance at the car and then back at me, narrowing his eyes. “No, I don’t think it’s just that.”

Sighing, I take a step around him and head back to the car. “Look, I don’t have time for this tonight, all right? I need to get things done before we pick up the gauges this weekend, which is the last thing I have to do before the car is picked up.”

He follows me slowly, tucking his phone away and sliding his hands into the pockets of his gray slacks. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone and a black leather belt. I only have one of the fluorescent lights on in the garage right above the Porsche, which makes the shadows of the lines on his face more pronounced. Dark stubble dusts the curves of his jaw and lips, and for one split second, I feel my pulse spike with the desire to feel him kiss me again.

But I quickly snap myself back out of it.

“Looks like you’re on the finishing touches,” he says, attempting to argue with my reasons for ignoring him. “You can’t have that much more to go.”

“ I’m sorry. Did you become a car expert overnight or are you just speculating?”

He huffs out a laugh. “You know I don’t know jack shit about cars, Dilynne.”

“Trust me, I’m very much aware,” I say, leaning into the car to retrieve my tools that I left on the seat so they don’t poke a hole in the fresh leather.

“I’d like to learn one day, though.”

I pop back up and meet his gaze. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s kind of embarrassing that I don’t even have some basic knowledge. I tried to change a tire once when I was in high school, but it didn’t go over well.”