Revived

I’m not stupid. I know how much these things cost. Mainly because I looked at the prices of them online last night after Jett had told me he wanted to start karting. They cost around two thousand pounds.

“It arrived about an hour ago,” Kit tells me.

“And who bought it? Please don’t tell me you got it for him,” I narrow my eyes at Kit.

He’s been known to make impulsive purchases for Jett in the past.

“Not me.” He holds his hands up in protest, but has a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. “But I’m thinking that Brazilian race car driver has a thing for my sister.”

“What?” The word comes out strangled.

“Oh, he totally does. He told me yesterday that he likes you,” Jett announces.

“I’m sorry. What?” I snap my gaze to Jett.

“Yesterday, I asked Leandro if he likes you, and he said it was complicated, but yes, he does.”

What?

Kit lets out a deep laugh. “Well, I’m figuring he likes you an awful lot as he’s just dropped a couple of grand on a kart for your son, all to impress you.”

“Leandro bought this?” I choke out. I know he has, but I just needed to say the words out loud.

“That’s what the delivery paper says.” Kit thrusts it into my hand.

I stare down at it in disbelief. My head feels like it’s about to explode.

I can’t believe he did this.

“He bought Jett a kart. I just can’t…I mean…why?” I look at Kit, like he has the answer.

“I think it’s pretty obvious why, Indy.” He raises a brow, giving me a knowing look.

I take a step back. I feel like I can’t breathe. “This…isn’t right. I mean, I just…can’t…” My eyes come to Jett’s. “You’re not keeping it.” I jab a finger at the offending kart, and immediately feel a stab in my heart at the crestfallen look on Jett’s face.

This is all Leandro’s fault! How dare he buy my son a kart without even talking to me about it! Not that I would have let him buy him one even if he had.

What the hell was he thinking!

Anger flares in my gut like a volcanic explosion.

My hand curling around the delivery note, I swivel on my heel and march out of there. “I’ll be back in half an hour. Start dinner for me,” I call to them.

“Where are you going?” Kit calls after me.

“To shove this delivery note up a certain race car driver’s arse!” I stomp back into the house, put my heels back on, grab my car keys, and slam my way out of there and into my car, heading straight back to the place where I just came from.

I’VE JUST GOTTEN OUT OF THE SHOWER when I hear the doorbell ringing along with hammering on my front door.

Grabbing a pair of pajama bottoms, I quickly pull them on and jog downstairs.

“Okay, I’m coming. I’m coming!” I call out to the incessant banger and doorbell ringer.

I check through the peephole to see who it is.

India. And she doesn’t look happy.

Fuck. The kart must have been delivered today.

My conversation with Carrick a few days prior flashes through my mind.

“Ryan, I need to buy a kart. Best place to get one?”

“Why? Are you thinking of taking a step back in your career?”

“Funny. It’s not for me.”

“Who’s it for?”

“A friend.”

“Does that friend happen to be a certain therapist we both know?”

“You stalking me, Ryan?”

He lets out a laugh. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. The good doctor tells us that she’s got a kid who is obsessed with Formula One. You take him to watch a karting race. The next day, I’m getting a call from you, asking about the best place to buy a kart. Actually, it does take a genius. Fuck, I’m good at this shit.”

“You’re a prick.”

“A good-looking prick though. Admit it.”

“You’re an ugly bastard. Now, tell me where to get this fucking kart.”

“Look, in all seriousness, do you think it’s a good idea to buy her kid a kart? You might want to fuck her, but she is your therapist. And it’s an extravagant gift.”

“I’m buying it for Jett, not her. And it’s not an extravagant gift.”

“Said like a true rich kid. And trust me, nothing says, ‘I want to fuck you,’ like buying a woman’s kid a two-thousand-pound kart.”

“Look, are you gonna help me get the kart or not?”

“You know I’ll help. One thing though, can I be there when it’s delivered, so I can see her reaction?”

Buying it was the wrong thing to do.

I fucking hate it when Ryan’s right.

I can’t admit I was wrong about it now though. I have to see this through to the end.

Manning up, I unlock the door and pull it open.

God, she looks gorgeous. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold. The breeze is blowing her hair into her face. She pushes it back with her hand.

Her gaze immediately falls on my bare chest. Her pupils dilate, her eyes filling with obvious lust.

She wants me.

I have to hold back the smug grin I feel.

“You’re wet,” she says, sounding breathless.

Well, I am kind of hoping you are wet, too, baby, and that is why you are here.

“I was in the shower.”

“Oh. Right…” Her eyes are still fixed on my chest.

And even though I’d be quite happy to let her stare at me all day, I need to know if she’s here to yell at me for buying the kart, or if by some miracle she’s here to thank me for it.

I’m really, really hoping for the latter.

“India, did you need me for something?”

She seems to come back to her senses. “Oh, yeah, I did—I mean, I do!” Her eyes flick up to mine, the lust gone, replaced with fire and ire. “What’s the meaning of this?” She thrusts a piece of paper in my face.

She looks even more beautiful when she’s angry.

“What’s the meaning of what?” I ask, taking the paper from her, I look at it.

It’s a delivery note for the kart.

“The kart, Leandro. Why would you buy my son a kart?”

Here we go…

“Because Jett said he wanted to get involved in the sport. Having his own kart will make that easier for him.”

She looks at me, eyes wide. “Do you not see how wildly inappropriate buying a kart for my son is?”

I fold my arms over my chest. “No. I really don’t see the problem here.”

“You don’t see the problem here?” She screeches, gesturing wildly with her hands. “I’m your bloody therapist! That’s the problem!”

I glance around, making sure there was no one to hear that. Last thing I want is my private business to be spread about.

“Clearly, you’re pissed off, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t shout my business in the street.” My voice is low, angry. Now, I’m pissed off.

A flash of guilt passes over her face. “I shouldn’t have said that…I’m…sorry.” She looks contrite.

“Come inside. We can talk in here.” I stand aside, letting her in, and I close the door behind her.