Revived (Revved Series Book 2) (9 page)

Story of my fucking life at the moment.

Every time I touch India, I feel something that I haven’t ever felt with a woman, even before the accident. Sure, I’ve sparked and connected with women in the past, but what I feel every time I touch India is pure exhilaration. Like I’m about to start the greatest race of my life.

“I know who you are. And call me Kat.” She gives me a flirty smile, just like the maître d’ did moments before.

“What can I get you to drink?” a waitress asks, appearing at our table.

I glance at the table and see what everyone’s drinking. Carrick’s on the whiskey, like usual, Andi has a beer, and Katrina has a glass of red wine.

I want to keep my mind clear tonight, so I’m not going to drink. “I’ll just have a lemonade with a slice of lime.”

“Are you driving tonight?” Kat asks me.

“No.” I pretend not to see the smile on Andi’s face. I know she thinks I drink too much.

I did drink too much.

Kat turns in her seat to me, pressing her knee right up against my thigh. “So, why aren’t you drinking?” she asks, like it’s a given that I should be drinking. That’s probably because of what she’s read and heard about me recently.

Something uncomfortable moves in my chest.

“I just like to keep a clear mind when in the company of such beautiful women.” I turn my charm on to stop her from asking any more questions that I’m not in the mood to answer.

“What’s everyone having?” Andi says, opening her menu.

I flicker an appreciative look to her, to which she smiles.

I’m not an alcoholic because coming off the drink hasn’t been too hard. But I was using it as a crutch, and until I know I can drink for the enjoyment again, I’m staying off it. I just don’t want to have to explain myself to a complete stranger.

I open my menu, noting the fact that Kat hasn’t moved her leg from against mine. Then, I see her hand drop into her lap, and she starts to inch it toward my leg.

Okay. She moves fast.

Not that I have a problem with fast. I’m just not going to go there with her.

No chemistry, no fucking.

Her fingertips have just made it to my thigh when the waitress returns with my drink, so Kat retracts her hand, placing it on the table.

When I lift my eyes, I catch Carrick grinning at me.

I give him a fuck-off look, to which he chuckles.

“I’ve decided.” Carrick slaps his menu shut. “What are you having, babe?” he asks Andi.

“I can’t decide.”

“What about the veal?”

Smiling, she shakes her head, and he laughs, clearly sharing a private joke. Taking her hand in his, he kisses it.

I feel a small pang in my chest at the realization that I might never have that with someone.

“Hey, Carrick, look. Dr. Harris is here.”

Andi’s words have my eyes snapping up from the table.

Turning his head in the direction where Andi is looking, Carrick says, “Oh, yeah.”

My eyes search her out, but a pillar is blocking my view, and I can’t see her from where I’m seated.

“Who’s Dr. Harris?” Kat asks.

“She’s my therapist,” Andi answers with ease.

The Andi before India would have had a problem answering that question. She was secretive and kept things to herself—her words, not mine—but since India has being treating her, Andi is more open, less afraid to tell people things about herself.

“I’ve had—sometimes still have—worries over Carrick’s racing, and she’s helps me deal with it,” Andi explains to Kat.

I slide a glance at Carrick, and the fucker is grinning at me.

I know it’s not because he’ll say anything about me seeing India, and neither will Andi.

Then, about two seconds later, I see the reason for his grin when India comes into view, and so does the man she’s with.

She’s on a date?

I feel like I’ve just been punched in the chest.

Is this the guy she was on the phone with the other week? The one she said, “I love you,” to?

The guy looks like a dick. Sure, I can’t see him properly from here, but he’s definitely not good enough for her.

No man could be.

She’s amazing.

And she looks beautiful tonight. She always looks gorgeous, but tonight, seeing her out of her work clothes, makes her look different.

Her hair is down, like usual, the blonde ends brushing her shoulders, and her lips are painted red.

But she’s wearing a pretty white dress. It’s fitted over the bust and waist and flares out at the bottom.

She looks like a fucking angel.

“I’m gonna go over and say hello.” Andi rises from her seat.

I watch as she walks over to India. I see the real smile that India gives Andi and feel the envy at the hug she receives from India. And I stare unabashed as India introduces Andi to the dickhead she’s with.

I sip my lemonade as Andi turns, pointing to where we’re sitting. India’s blue eyes meet with me, and I feel a jolt go down my spine, careening straight for my dick.

Andi says something to her, and then they’re moving toward us.

How do I handle this?

Do I pretend not to know her?

I don’t want Kat to know I’m seeing a therapist. I don’t know the chick, and she could tell someone or sell it to the press. I don’t want that shit spattered all over the news.

Leandro Silva Seeing a Shrink.

Yeah, no, thanks.

Then, India’s standing by our table with the dickhead, and all rational thought leaves my mind.

I have to force myself not to stare. So, I give the dickhead a quick once-over.

Gray suit. Floppy blond hair. He looks like he just fell out of a Hugh Grant movie.

Prick.

“Dr. Harris, it’s nice to see you again.” Carrick is on his feet, greeting her.

He kisses her cheek, and I feel the urge to punch him.

“I’m still just India.” She laughs.

The sound greets my dick like a sweet kiss from her red lips.

“Yeah, never could get used to calling you by your first name.”

I decide to take decisive action—or should I call it, playing games?

Standing from the table, I reach a hand over it and say to India, “Leandro Silva. Nice to meet you.”

As she brings her eyes to mine, there’s no flicker of surprise, so maybe she expected me to act like I didn’t know her.

It kind of pisses me off that she was expecting it.

She slides her hand into mine, and I feel like she’s burned me.

“India Harris. It’s nice to meet you, Leandro.”

Our eyes lock.

She looks away first and looks straight at Kat.

Is that jealousy or disapproval in her eyes?

I hope for jealousy.

Her lips press together, the way they do when I tell her about something or someone I’ve done that she thinks is a bad choice for me.

Definitely disapproval then.

The knowledge bothers the fuck out of me.

A hand in Kat’s direction, I say to India, “This is Kat—”
Fuck, I don’t know her surname.

“Kat Whisker.” She stands up beside me, reaching a hand out to India.

Kat Whisker?

I have to hold back a laugh, and it’s hard going. I can see that India has humor dancing in her eyes.

She would never laugh though. She’s too kind to laugh at someone in that way.

Carrick’s not so obvious or kind because the bastard laughs, which he quickly turns into a cough. Andi shoots a look at him.

Kat doesn’t seem to notice as she’s too busy eyeing India while shaking her hand.

“This is Dr. Daniel Walker,” India introduces the prick to everyone.

And, of course, he’s a doctor. I bet the asshole works with sick kids or something.

“Please, just call me Dan.”

He smiles at us, and I want to punch him.

“Dan’s an ER doctor,” India tells us. She sounds proud.

I feel a stab of jealousy, which is ridiculous.

Why would I be jealous?

“An ER doctor with a rare night off.” He smiles at India, his hand moving to rest on her lower back.

Now, all I can think about it ripping his hand off the small of her back and crushing it until he gets the message never to touch her again.

“Leandro’s a Formula One driver, like Carrick.” Kat slips her hand through my arm, curling her fingers over my bicep. “I’m sure you must have heard of him.”

“Leandro Silva, of course.” Dan clicks his fingers. He turns to Carrick. “And you’re Carrick Ryan. Great to meet you both. I don’t get a chance to watch much racing, but when I do, you two are always my firm favorites.”

Ass-licker.

He shakes my hand first. I make sure to give a firm squeeze. If he notices, he doesn’t let on.

“Well, we should leave you to it and get to our table.” India indicates to the waitress, who’s been hovering this whole time.

“Why don’t you join us?” Andi says.

I feel Kat’s hand tighten on my arm.

“That’d be okay, wouldn’t it?” Andi asks the waitress. She looks back to India. “If you want to join us, of course.”

India looks to Dan.

He smiles. “Of course. As long as you don’t mind us crashing your party.”

I feel like raising my hand and saying that I mind.

I mind a fucking lot.

I don’t want to sit here and watch them fawn all over each other. Not that there’s been much fawning.

“Of course not,” the waitress replies.

Clicking her fingers, she gets the attention of a waiter, who brings over two more chairs and two place settings for them.

By now, I’ve managed to extract Kat’s hand from my arm, and I’m sitting back in my seat.

We’ve all had to move around a bit, so Kat is practically sitting on my lap, and somehow, India has ended up in the chair next to me.

Well, this is going to be a fun night.

How the fuck did I end up on a couples night with my shrink?

Maybe I should have that drink now.

I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE WRITTEN THIS NIGHT OFF
.

First, my car broke down on my way out shopping to buy a new pair of stockings, as I hadn’t realized I had run out, and I was stuck waiting for the RAC to come fix my car. They couldn’t, so it’s currently at the garage.

Then, my heel snapped while I was at the shop, buying the stockings, so I had to go and buy a new pair of shoes. That wasn’t too bad, as I ended up also buying the ones I’m wearing now as well as the new dress I’m wearing.

Then, after getting caught in the rain and having to hail a taxi home, I’d just run a bath when a patient called. Of course I took the call, and by the time I was done, my bath was cold. So, I had to take a shower.

Then, my hair straightener wouldn’t work, and to round it off, I broke my favorite lipstick.

It’s been a shithole of a day, so of course, I would see Leandro Silva here on a date.

It’s good that he’s dating, and he’s clearly not drinking, judging from the lemonade he just ordered.

But his date is a bit handsy. I have a full show of her hand on his thigh, inching its way up. He has to keep stopping when she gets too high. Really, he should just tell her to knock it off. I mean, of course, it’s not bothering me. I just don’t think you should grope someone in public at dinner.

An image of Leandro’s hand sliding up my thigh flashes through my mind, and I feel myself grow hot.