Page 18 of And Everything In Between (Love By Any Means #3)

They left the store, and Giovanni followed her to her townhouse to drop off her car and she got in with him.

He wasn’t in an old school today, but his orange Dodge Challenger.

Whatever she rode in or that he touched was a masterpiece.

And whether she wanted to admit she liked him.

He was nice, kind, but also all the things she didn’t need, commitment, complications, someone else to worry about.

They made it to the Coupeville Speedway’s midnight drag races in no time, even though it was on the outskirts of town.

The perfect Saturday night distraction. He hadn’t let go of her hand.

Not even for a second since she got in the car.

Her hand was soft, tender completely different from his hardened hands.

She shivered when he played with one of her rings.

He just wanted to feel connected to her by any means.

Find out more about her through osmosis, because she had been the only thing he thought about for a week.

They’d lost precious time, and he needed that back.

Paige picked the song as he looked over at her, Give It Up 2 Me by Ojerime, played through his speakers. He’d never heard the song before, but it was a vibe. A vibe he liked.

The speedway parking lot was packed. Custom rides lined up bumper to bumper, hoods popped showing off gleaming engines while speakers thumped so hard they rattled license plates. The smell of burnt rubber, smoke clouds, and racing fuel hung in the air.

Paige had never been one for the racing scene, or into cars much, but now she understood the appeal.

The roar of engines, the adrenaline, the way everybody moved like family.

It was exhilarating. She felt her pulse quicken whenever he'd accelerate and handle the wheel with so much control.

And if she had to bet, he knew she liked it too.

“You race here?” she asked as they walked toward the entrance, her bag of snacks now dangling from her fingertips.

“I’ve never been into racing. I come to watch them drift and chill after a hectic week. And sometimes I sponsor some of the cats who run here. This is family.”

“Always investing in somebody else,” she said with a smile.

“Says the woman who takes care of everybody in her world. Takes one to know one, P. Speaking of, how is your pops?”

She paused, her steps slowing as they moved through the crowd.

“He’s good,” she said. “Better. I can breathe again. Thank you for asking.”

Giovanni nodded. “Let me know if y’all need anything. Home dialysis, another doctor, a better setup. Whatever gives you some peace.”

Paige glanced at him. Not surprised by the offer, but by how calm he was about it. Nothing he rattled off was cheap or a quick fix. She wasn’t even calling the man back, and he was still offering to help her and give her a break.

“I mean that,” he added. “I know you handle things. You always will. But handling it all alone will drain you. We don’t need that now, do we?”

“No, we don’t. I’m trying, though.”

“I know. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. One day at a time,” he said, pulling her behind him, their hands still joined.

People greeted him as they passed, head nods, daps, and a few quick words were shared depending on who he was talking to.

This was how it was anytime she was around him.

He was the people’s champ. And she loved that he wasn’t cocky about it.

It showed the nature of his heart. She smiled to herself, thinking of how rare it was and how she didn’t know if this was a cruel joke or if Giovanni was her twin flame.

They found seats near the front of the risers, close enough to see every move on the strip.

But also giving them privacy. Paige sat sitting between his legs and getting settled.

His arms rested across her thighs; hands busy opening chips she’d handed him.

She cracked open her Calypso and took a slow sip.

It felt natural. Like this was their weekend tradition.

He dipped his head near her ear, close but not crowding her.

Engines roared. Tires screeched. The crowd buzzed with energy, but Paige barely noticed.

Giovanni’s presence lingered closely as he pointed out drivers, explained details she never would’ve cared about on her own.

But his voice, low, patient, a little proud, made her listen.

He loved this, and she loved it for him.

She also appreciated him granting her access to his space… again.

“You know this ain’t my scene,” she said after a while. “But I’m glad you asked me to come.”

Giovanni leaned in, chin almost resting on her shoulder. “I figured, and I’m glad you said yes again.”

“Did I say yes?” she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder with a smirk.

He nudged her chin up with his fingers until her eyes met his. “Shh. I’m glad I caught you. That’s all that matters.”

She didn’t respond. Just popped a Milk Dud into her mouth and turned her attention back to the strip. But her thoughts weren’t on the cars. They were on him.

His hand still lingered on her thigh. His weight behind her made her feel safe.

She couldn’t figure out how he made her feel this content with him.

Her mother’s car show suggestion had brought him into focus, but since then, he kept showing up.

She had half a mind to ask if he was tracking her location, but she didn’t.

“I know what you’re doing,” she murmured.

Giovanni chuckled behind her, eating a Starburst. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Showing up too much. Making it too easy. Trying to make me soft and fall in love with you.”

“You already soft,” he said into her neck. “You just don’t show it. Next.”

She turned to catch his expression. “You sure about that?”

“Absolutely. I seen it,” he uttered sliding his hand between her thighs resting just before her reached the softest place on earth. “You forget, I was there. That first night. That morning. You let me take care of you. That wasn’t a front.”

Silence wrapped around them again. She gulped and thought she’d melt. That was starting to happen a lot. He’d leave her breathless and speechless, say the right things. And then another brick would fall.

“I ain’t gon misuse that softness. Let me in.”

Then a red Mustang launched down the strip, the crowd erupting. Paige leaned back into him without thinking, head resting beneath his chin.

“I’m scared,” she said quietly.

Giovanni didn't flinch. Didn't ask why. Didn't ask what he could do.

He knew what she needed. Consistency was a love language he spoke fluently.

While other men rushed to fix or explain away fear, Giovanni understood that some wounds needed intentional presence more than empty solutions.

So, he simply held her, his silence a sanctuary, his arms a fortress.

Each moment he stayed it became another brick in the foundation he was building beneath her feet, solid ground where she could finally feel safe enough to be still.

Giovanni's hand moved, fingers sliding along her collarbone before coming to rest at the base of her throat.

His thumb traced the arch of her neck, tilting her face upward to meet his gaze.

Time slowed as he closed in, the space between them sizzling like a hot plate.

His lips, still damp from his drink, found hers with perfect precision.

She yielded instantly, her mouth opening to welcome the slow, confident exploration of his tongue.

When he finally pulled back, the look in his eyes had shifted - something possessive now dwelled there.

He was feeling things he had no business feeling about a woman he barely knew.

Here he was, Giovanni Dowlen, kissing her in public, letting his guard down, abandoning his usual restraint.

This wasn't him, and yet it felt more authentic than anything he'd done in years.

“I got you,” he mouthed. “Even if you don’t call me tomorrow. Even if you send me to therapy or church.”

He laughed softly and shook his head at her.

A lump rose in her throat at his words, that felt like way more than words. When she didn’t know what to say back, he reached for her hand and laced their fingers together.

“Twenty one questions?” he suggested, thumb tracing circles on her palm.

What started as simple curiosity evolved into stories neither had shared with many others.

She told him about the time she snuck out with Blake for a college party and Brooks shut the party down.

Like the maniac he was. He confessed how he'd hidden his art sketchbooks under his mattress like other boys hid porn, afraid his father would find out he was still drawing and dreaming.

“Blue or red?” he asked.

“Purple,” she countered. He made mental notes of everything she said. This information would come in handy one day. Because he could promise he was going to work harder than any man had to see this through with Paige.

“Tasia or J-Hud?”

“Tasia, like Fantasia?”

“Yeah, don’t start stalling again.”

“How could you even ask that question? Whew don't make me choose between queens. That’s unfair.”

“Fine, you lucky I fuck with you. Mustard or mayo?”

“Both, with ham stacked, on Hawaiian bread.”

“A woman after my own heart. Must have pizza topping?”

“Mushrooms.”

“Banana Peppers,” Giovanni answered.

“Favorite hobby? And don’t cheat and say cars,” she asked with a giggle enjoying the back and forth, the adult conversation. His smile would grow, showing all his teeth, and her heart would flutter.

“Playing pool. You?”

“Reading Black romance books but it's more of a lifestyle. A hobby minimizes the love I have for it.”

“Explain,” he encouraged, genuinely interested.

Paige shifted, eyes lighting up with passion.

“It’s about seeing ourselves loved right, you know?

For so long, we weren’t even in the stories, and when we were.

..” She shook her head. “We were sidekicks, stereotypes, suffering. But these books? They show Black women being cherished, protected, desired, not as some exotic fantasy, but as full human beings worthy of love stories that don’t center around our pain, trauma, cheating although we need a little drama popping off.

Love and representation are the plot. I’m talking to much huh? ”

“No, I could listen to you speak all night. Tell me more.”

She smiled again and pulled her knee to her chest. “And the authors get us. They understand our language, our culture, our hair care routines,” she laughed softly.

“The little details that make us feel seen. When a character wraps her hair at night or has a skincare routine or code-switches at work, that's real life. That’s me.”

Her voice softened, and He inched closer. “Plus, in these stories, there’s always hope. No matter what obstacles come up, love wins. Black joy wins. In a world that constantly reminds us of our struggles, sometimes I need to remember that happy endings are for us too.”

“That's beautiful,” he said, his voice reflecting genuine understanding. He reached for her hand, studying her face like he was seeing something new there. “You deserve that kind of story, P. We all do.”

“One day.”

“Yeah, one day.”

They spent the rest of the night laughing and getting to know each other through music, snack choices, and passions. With each revelation, the invisible thread between them unraveled loosening the grip they both had on their hearts.

The ride back was different from the one to the track.

Less anticipation, more reflection. The radio played low, some neo-soul that fit the mood perfectly, and Paige found herself humming along, her head resting against the seat as she watched the city lights blur past. She pushed the middle console up and slid over to the middle before resting her head on his shoulder.

This wasn’t what she’d planned for tonight.

Not even close. But somehow, it felt exactly right.

When they finally pulled up to her building, neither of them moved right away. The engine idled, filling the silence between them.

“Thank you,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

“For tonight. For showing me your world. For...” She hesitated, searching for words. “For not pushing but not letting me hide either.”

Giovanni smiled, the kind that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. “You don’t gotta thank me. I wanted you there. I want you anywhere I am.”

The honesty of it made her head swim. How did he do that? Say exactly what she wanted to hear?

He walked her to her door, his hand in his pockets. When they reached her threshold, he stepped back slightly, giving her space. Giovanni was once again the perfect gentleman. She fought not to ask him inside. Slow down, Paige.

“Ball’s still in your court,” he said, voice low and sure. “I’m ready whenever you are.” Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead—a gesture too soft for the way she made him feel—and turned to head home.

But then he hesitated, his hand lingering on hers for a second longer than necessary. “You know what happens when you hold onto fear too long right?”

She shook her head, keys dangling from her fingers.

“You miss the ride,” he said simply. “And I promise you, Paige Bishop, I’m the kind of ride worth taking.”

With that, he turned and walked back to his car, his silhouette cutting a line through the moonlight. He didn’t look back, didn’t try to steal one more kiss, didn’t try to wheedle his way inside. He left her with a promise and the space to decide what to do with it.

Paige watched until his taillights disappeared around the corner and went inside.

She melted against the door with a smile on her face.

Under no circumstances would she allow herself to fall in love with Giovanni Dowlen.

But as she pressed her fingers to lips still warm from his nearness, she knew it was possibly already too late.

“Shit.”