Sebastian Kosta was a charmer.
Decide which one of us can give you what you want.
Was that all? What she wanted couldn’t currently be trusted, because she was with Sebastian…and wishing Asa were here too.
She was dirty. And she was definitely in trouble.
Chapter Six
It had been three days since she’d seen Asa. The first day she’d spent at Sebastian’s house and he’d honored his word—no more flirting. She’d laughed more than she had in a long time, and discovered that, despite Asa’s help on the KII, Sebastian was a genius in his own right.
His projects were visionary. Crazy Batman-Tesla hybrid machines that were the perfect combination of flash and speed. That was his true obsession, he admitted. More than engineering or design…the man just loved going fast. He’d paid to be flown in the fastest jets, he owned his own racecar, and he had a drool-worthy collection of motorcycles in his garage.
They’d talked for hours. He ordered food from her favorite Italian bistro and they’d shared an indulgent amount of tiramisu while watching a reality show about choppers on his theater screen of a television.
At some point in the afternoon she’d fallen asleep. When she woke she was covered in a blanket, and Sebastian had her feet on his lap, rubbing them absently as he stared at the screen.
It was more than nice. It was tempting.
When she’d gone into the repair shop the next day, her loins girded, the Major and Angel had told her that Asa had decided to personally deliver a motorcycle to a customer in Santa Cruz.
She was grateful for the reprieve, she’d told herself more than once. Grateful to spend time with the old men—and with the eighteen-year-old boy who was learning all about motorcycles from the masters. He’d only stopped looking at her breasts when she fixed Angel’s engine issues with a drilled-out pair of pliers to tweak the timing.
Sebastian had taken her out to dinner to celebrate.
Today Asa would be here. And, after hearing the concern in her father’s voice last night, she knew she would have to get down to business. To make her decision.
About the garage? Or the men?
Either way, it was a shitty job.
Sebastian met her in the parking lot and pulled her affectionately into his arms. “Good morning, Delilah. Did you sleep well in that lumpy hotel bed? Less turning?”
She smiled. “Less tossing.”
He laughed, his dark eyes shining through his glasses. “It has now been well over forty-eight hours.”
Delilah shook her head. “Like a dog with a bone, aren’t you?”
“I will try to take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
His voice lowered. “Yes?”
She stepped back. “No. I mean, I’m not implying anything other than admiration for your determination.”
“Yet.”
Delilah reached up, still having to stand on tiptoe in her heels, to kiss his cheek. “I do like your style.”
“Del?”
Asa’s voice had their smiles disappearing. Sebastian turned to face him, an expression of grim anticipation on his handsome face. “Good morning, Wilder.”
Asa didn’t look at him, but he acknowledged his presence. “And to you, Zorba. Hey, I was wondering, would you like to know why your engine still sounds like a cat in heat?”
Delilah opened her mouth to stop Asa from embarrassing him, but Sebastian’s words silenced her. “You know I would. Isn’t that why I offered to buy the garage in the first place?”
Asa nodded. “Then I suggest you hop in your expensive foreign car and head back to your house. Delilah and I will be right behind you.”
Sebastian hesitated, studying both of them for long, tense moments before he nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”
She watched Sebastian disappear, her eyebrows lowered so far down it was making her head hurt. “What just happened? What did he mean?”
“Give me your keys, Del.”
No. “I need them.”
“Now, Delilah.”
“Really? Now? What am I two-years-old? I can—”
“The boys are watching.”
Delilah looked over his shoulder to see the Major and Angel wearing matching expressions of interest and groaned.
She handed Asa her keys. “What now?”
He was already striding toward the driver’s side of her Mustang. “Get in the car, close the door, and buckle up.”
She was grumbling under her breath as she did what he asked, aware of their audience. “Buckle up. Haven’t seen him for three days and he tells me to—”
“What?” Asa slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
“What, exactly, is going on here, Asa? Why did Kosta Ironworks make an offer on Dean’s Garage?”