Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

Santiago takes a seat on the couch, saving a bit of space between us. I’m thankful for it because I’m seriously doubting my self-control around him tonight. He’s acting too sweet for my taste.

He passes me a full glass of wine. His hand brushes mine, sending a current of energy up my arm.

I rip my hand away. “What car do you plan on restoring?”

“A 1951 Jaguar C-Type.” He smiles to himself.

“Sounds...luxurious?” The only thing I know about cars is how the ones with the loudest muffler usually signal how there’s a man with a small dick nearby.

He laughs in a way that has my toes curling inside of my shoes. “Based on how it looks now, you wouldn’t say that.”

“Really? Why buy it then?”

“Because the fun is in fixing it up.”

“How long have you been doing this hobby?”

He looks away. “Since I could afford it.”

I try to hide my surprise. “And when was that?”

“When I made it with racing. Before that, it was a struggle for my family to make ends meet. All of this”—he waves around the room—“took hard work. My parents weren’t exactly financially set in life. At least not until I fixed them up with enough savings to live the rest of their lives comfortably.”

“Oh. Wow. I didn’t know that about you.” That small fact about himself has me looking at him in a new light. Maybe we have more in common than I initially thought.

“If you google me, it’s probably one of the first things that shows up.” He shakes his head. “Wait. Don’t google me. That’s never a good idea.”

Well, technically I didn’t google him.

His eyes narrow as he scans my face. “You did, didn’t you?”

I glance away, melting under his scrutiny. “Umm...not me. Brooke did though. But she didn’t tell me much.”

“What did she say?”

I look everywhere but the source of my embarrassment as if his eyes can detect my thoughts. “Just that you have a net-worth comparable to a small country.”

“That’s it? Okay, that’s not too bad.” He scrunches his nose in an adorable way. Good God, adorable? Chloe, please rein in your ovaries. They’re wreaking havoc on your brain.

“Mm-hmm.” I grip my wine glass and chug half of the contents in one go.

His head tilts, and a ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “I like how you can lie to everyone but me. It’s rather endearing.”

“What?” I sputter.

“I’ll give it to you. You’re impressive at lying. To my sister, my brother-in-law, your father. It’s something that caught my attention about you. But when I have you on my own, you give everything away. So, I’ll ask you one more time. What did your roommate say?” The authoritative tone in his voice has my lower half clenching.

“Brooke told me that you have a huge dick worthy of poems.”

Santiago’s head drops back as he lets out a roar of laughter. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Google me all you want. The naughtier the articles, the better, please.”

I lean over and give him a shove. My hand lingers on his forearm before I tug it away, chiding myself for being touchy. “Hey. I didn’t research you. Brooke did.”

“Brooke is my new favorite person. Maybe I’ll be the one to send her the thank-you basket, instead.”

My eyes flick from his face to his jeans, curiosity eating away at my politeness. “So, you’re not denying it then?”

“A man would be stupid to deny those kinds of claims. Especially if they’re true.”