“Well, what do you think?” Cautious hope settled over Dax as he waited for Brooklyn to weigh in on his cars. His brother Colton couldn’t understand why Dax held onto these final three, but he’d just as soon cut off his hand than part with them. Before the accident, he’d amassed a collection of ten cars that he kept in a storage facility near Beverly Hills. Now he only had a three-car garage, and it seemed silly to rent a space, knowing he couldn’t drive them. He sold seven, but when it came time to part with his favorite three cars, he just couldn’t do it.

“They’re incredible,” she said, a trace of awe in her voice.

A beam of pleasure shot over him. He hadn’t realized it before, but it was important to him to that Brooklyn understood this part of his life. Even though he’d never raced in these cars, they were the last tangible fragments of his former life.

He ran a hand along the fender of the one closest to them. “Can you tell the makes and models?” He heard the eagerness in his own voice, and knew she’d pick up on it. He was a kid in a candy shop.

“Hmm … let me see,” she purred, and he imagined she’d brought her finger to her lip. “You certainly like the color the red.”

He laughed. “Yes, I do … did. But that’s a given.”

“This one’s a type of Camaro, right?”

A broad smile split his lips. “Yep. A 1969 Super Sport. 550 horsepower, heavy duty 3-speed transmission.”

“I like the candy apple red. It’s so shiny I can see my reflection. I’m not the least bit surprised about this one. In fact, if one of these weren’t a Camaro, I would’ve been disappointed.”

He tilted his head, loving the direction this conversation was taking. “Oh, yeah, why’s that?” he said lightly. Yes, he was fishing for how much she knew about his racing.

“You’re known for racing Camaros.”

“What else do you know about my racing history?” His voice went husky as he stepped up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. He brushed her hair over to the side and nibbled at her earlobe. Then he planted a string of light kisses down the soft, silky skin on her neck. He inhaled the strawberry scent of her shampoo, letting it fill his senses.

She laughed. “You’re making it very hard to concentrate.”

“That’s the idea,” he murmured, a feeling of desire swirling over him. He loved getting lost in the essence of Brooklyn.

She turned to face him. “Let’s see … your history … what can I remember about the Nascar Tom Cruise?”

He growled. “Please tell me it’s more than that stupid nickname.” It always annoyed him that people dubbed him that. He preferred to be known for his accomplishments, rather than the fact that he happened to resemble an actor.

“You do look a little like Tom Cruise, but I like that you’re taller and thinner. Much better looking.”

“That’s good to know.” He wrinkled his nose. “But can we please not talk about Tom Cruise?”

She laughed “Okay.”

He pulled her close.

“You know, I hate to tell you this, but I don’t really know all that much about Nascar.”

He’d expected as much. Even Cassidy didn’t know all that much about racing, and the two of them had been dating at the time. Most women weren’t into Nascar.

She laughed. “You should see the look of disappointment on your face.”

“What?” Heat crept up his neck. Was he that transparent? Before the accident, he’d prided himself on being able to keep a poker face. But it was harder now that he couldn’t see expressions.

“Okay, let’s see. What do I remember about you?” Her voice took on a faint edge of teasing. “In 2011 you scored your first nationwide win at Talladega.”

His eyes went wide. “You have been paying attention.”

She put a finger to his lips to shush him. “This win came on the heels of the incident in Bristol where Jackson Mills turned into you on lap thirty-five, sending you into the wall, causing a nine-car wreck. That same year, you went on to win three more races.”

A laugh rumbled in his throat. “Well, aren’t you something?” He felt deliriously happy. Like heaven had ordered the perfect woman for him. “I had no idea you were into Nascar.”

“I’m not.”

His brows drew together. “But, you know all of that … about me,” he added, and then it hit him. Brooklyn had followed his career, not because of Nascar, but because of him. “You’re amazing,” he uttered, a rush of tenderness coming over him.

She touched his jaw. “I might’ve followed you here and there,” she said lightly, “whenever I happened to see something online.”

Brooklyn had kept up with him since high school. The knowledge was surprising … and touching. He tilted his head, growing thoughtful. “What else do you know about me?”

“I know you’re a sucker for mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

This was getting better and better, he couldn’t stop the large grin from spreading over his lips. “How do you know that?”

She patted his jaw. “Don’t let it go to your head. I saw the ice cream when I got ice out of the freezer after the icemaker got clogged.”

He laughed. “Ahh, makes sense. Admit it, you’ve been scouring my house, going through the blind guy’s sock and underwear drawers.”

She gasped, and he felt her go tense in his arms. He figured her face was flaming. “Have not,” she countered indignantly.

Brooklyn was so much fun to get a rise out of. “I’m just teasing.” He was still marveling at the fact that she’d followed his career. She couldn’t know how much that meant to him. Since the accident, he’d lost that part of himself. And sometimes, he felt that nobody remembered anything he’d accomplished. On the rare occasion when he got together with his racing buddies, he felt like a has-been, out of touch with what was currently going on in their lives. It was refreshing to know that Brooklyn remembered. “Do you know what the other cars are?” He let go of her waist.

“Well, I’m guessing they’re both Chevys.”

“Yep, the old one’s a 1957 Chevy Bel Air.”

“I like the white accent on the back panel. But this other one … now that one’s stunning. What is it?”

“A 1963 Corvette Stingray. Split Window Coupe.”

“It’s beautiful. I should’ve known Mr. Nascar would have a Corvette.”

He rewarded her with a radiant smile. “Of course, it was the first car I purchased.”

“You’ve invested a lot of money in these cars,” she said, lowering her voice. “Are you sure it’s safe to keep them here in your garage?”

He shrugged. “I figure they’re safer here than they would be in a storage facility.”

“You’re probably right.”

“So, now comes the million-dollar question—can you drive a stick?”

She chuckled. “Actually, I can.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Really?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” she quipped. “My dad’s a car guy. He taught my sister and me how to drive one.”

“Smart man. I like him already. What type of car did you learn to drive on?”

“A 1985 BMW. My dad restored it.”

“Nice. Which one do you want to drive today?”

“Pardon?”

“I thought we’d go for a drive.” He could hardly contain the excitement in his voice. Even though he couldn’t drive, the thought of riding in one of his cars was thrilling.

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d feel comfortable driving one of these. What if something happened?”

“Nonsense.” He waved a hand. “I’ll be right beside you the entire time.”

She chuckled. “Oh, boy. A side-seat racecar driver. I don’t know if I can handle that.”

He held up his hands. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Promise. No barking out commands.” He pumped his eyebrows. “And if you’re feeling really brave, we could venture into the canyon. Maybe have a picnic dinner.”

“Do you have a dinner put together already?”

“Maybe.” He’d gotten Callie to pick up items for it when she was running errands.

“You’ve got this all planned out, don’t you?”

“Well, you know, a guy has to be prepared.”

“I’d like that.” She paused. “Wait a minute. What were you gonna do if I couldn’t drive a stick?”

He grimaced. “Then we would’ve been forced to take your Hyundai.”

“Forced? You make it sound so terrible. I’ll have you know, I like my car.”

“Yeah, it’s okay … for a girl.”

She laughed, giving him a playful shove. “For a girl? I see how it is. So, which car should we take into the canyon?”

“For the canyon, there’s only one choice.”

“Oh?”

“The Camaro SS.”

“Ooh, the candy apple red one. I’m digging on that.”

He rubbed his hands together, not trying to hide the eagerness in his voice. “All right. Let’s get her packed. I’ll go inside and get Tucker suited up. And on the way, you can tell me the latest about work and your family.”

She groaned. “Do I have to?”

He smiled. “Yes, I wanna hear everything.” Dax’s life had been rather dull before Brooklyn came into it. She’d be surprised to know how hungry he was to learn everything about her.

* * *

Brooklyn scooted into the curve of Dax’s shoulder. They were sitting on the hood of the Camaro, facing the Tibble Fork Reservoir in American Fork Canyon. Tucker was resting on the ground at their feet. From the moment they’d gotten on the road, Dax soaked in every detail of the experience, like something monumental was taking place. The steady purr of the car engine was music to him as he coached Brooklyn on how to operate a three-speed transmission. He listened intently as she told him about the upcoming wedding she was preparing for, Madison’s unexpected visit and how she would be living with her. Then she admitted how much she was dreading her mother’s visit. She’d talked so much about herself she feared she was boring him to tears. But Dax was genuinely interested in what she had to say. Everything about her intrigued him, which seemed crazy because she wasn’t all that exciting. She appreciated how Dax savored small, ordinary moments. However, the brilliant sunset before them was anything but ordinary. “I wish you could see this. It’s breathtaking.” For an instant, she regretted drawing attention to what he was missing.

“Describe it to me,” he said wistfully.

She gathered her thoughts to put the splendor into words. “The sun is setting, scattering tufts of orange clouds across the sky that look like cotton candy. And the water’s as smooth as a sheet of glass. Along the left edge there’s a reflection of evergreen trees. The jagged mountain range in the distance is washed in a hazy gray.” Suddenly, tears stung her eyes. “That’s about it.” She blinked to hold them back. It surprised her how describing the beauty around her made her really see it.

“The air is crisp, and it smells clean. I’m sure it is beautiful,” he said quietly as a somber silence settled between them.

“It must be hard.” The words seemed to float up between them, getting lost in the evening air.

He nodded. “Yeah, it is … sometimes.” A nostalgic smile tipped his lips. “What I miss most are the little things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, take Tucker for example. He’s at my side 24/7, and I’ve never even seen him.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that. He looks like all other golden retrievers.” She thought for a minute. “Except for his eyes. He has soulful eyes that seem older than his years.”

“I’m not surprised. Tucker’s my guardian warrior. He has this uncanny way of anticipating my needs before I even voice them. Before you came along, he was my closest friend.”

She was surprised by his admission. But she felt the same way about him. Somehow, they’d skipped the preliminaries and became close in a short period of time. Time seemed irrelevant where their relationship was concerned. Maybe it was because Dax wasn’t constrained by convention. When she was around him, she felt like anything was possible.

He angled to face her. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here with me … taking a chance on me.” He stroked her hair.

Her breath came faster. “I’m here with you because I want to be. I care about you.”

“I care about you too. In fact, I’m crazy about you.”

Warmth spread in her breast. Oh, how she loved hearing those words. A thousand tingles danced circles down her spine when he traced the curve of her cheek. Then he trailed a finger down her skin, across the hollow of her neck, and along her collarbone. His touch was light, tantalizing, distracting.

“I’m so grateful you came into my life,” he continued.

A smile tugged at her lips. “You mean you’re grateful I’m a crappy rollerblader.”

He laughed. “That too. Come here,” he murmured, cupping her cheeks.

Her breath froze when his lips touched hers in a delicious sensation. His touch was soft and tender at first, but then he deepened the kiss, as a river of flames leapt up between them, sending a heat wave swirling wildly over her, then down through her toes, making her go weak with passion. She clung to him, feeling complete and utter belonging. No one affected her the way Dax Preston did. He was the most fascinating man she’d ever met, and yet he was kind and tender. In that moment, it dawned on her—she was falling in love with him.