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Raya

I think I’ll buy a new car today.

That’s the story, anyway. I wore my black v-neck maxi dress today, the one that shows just enough cleavage to still be respectable. It fits my curves just right, but only if you’re looking.

When I walk into Taylor Lexus, people are looking.

My makeup is perfect, hair down around my shoulders. My head is high, shoulders back, and I put a slight sway in my hips, walking in like I own the place.

Maybe one day, I will.

It’s a beautiful showroom, all polished glass and chrome. It smells like fresh leather, coffee, and money. Salesmen are perched at their desks like vultures, waiting for something weak and defenseless to walk in so they can sink their teeth in.

They’ll think that’s me. Bless their hearts.

A bald, eager-looking white guy clocks me the second I walk past his office. He adjusts his tie and walks toward me, but I barely glance his way. He’s not the one I’m after.

“Welcome to Taylor Lexus,” he starts, full of fake energy and reeking of cheap cologne. “I’m Jake. Are you looking for anything in particular today?”

“Yeah,” I say, scanning the showroom like I’m considering my options. “Something reliable. Maybe an SUV.”

He smiles. “We’ve got plenty of those! Do you have an appointment?”

I don’t. I could have made one, but I like the element of surprise. I wanna see the flicker of recognition on his face when he realizes I’m here.

I tilt my head. “Oh, no, should I have made one? I didn’t realize—“

“No, no, no. It’s quite alright,” he says quickly. “Just a question, no worries. I’d love to show you around. We have some wonderful choices, and great financing options—“

“Ooh! What about that one?”

I point to the black SUV closest to Jackson Taylor’s office—a corner suite, of course, with glass walls overlooking the back half of the show room. The closer I get, the better my chances.

Jake’s eyes go wide, and I can practically see the dollar signs dancing around in them. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

He leads me over to what turns out to be an LX 600. It’s sleek, black, and hella expensive. I let my fingers trail over the hood, staring inside like I’m already imagining myself behind the wheel.

“She’s a beauty, right?”

I bring my eyes back to Jake’s. “She is.”

Then I hear it.

“Don’t I know you?”

A deep, sultry voice behind me.

It’s him.

I turn, coming face to face with Ace twenty-five years in the future. I’m momentarily breathless. Daddy didn’t look like this at the cookout.

Then, he wore a t-shirt and basketball shorts. Now, his broad shoulders hold up a perfectly-tailored midnight blue suit with a crisp white dress shirt underneath. A small diamond stud glitters in his left ear, matched by the iced out cufflinks and platinum watch on his wrist.

Even his cologne smells expensive.

“Oh my goodness, Mr. Taylor?”

That sharp jawline, piercing brown eyes, the perfect goatee…it’s uncanny.

But I have to focus.

His full lips lift into a tight smile, the kind that indicates a control Ace hasn’t mastered yet.

“What a coincidence,” he says flatly. His eyes move over my head. “I got her, Jake.”

Poor Jake shuffles away, probably cursing the lost commission that was never actually coming his way. Mr. Taylor watches him go, then brings his gaze back to me. I wait.

His interest isn’t overt like it was at the cookout. It’s curious. Assessing. Like he suspects I’m playing a game and debating whether he wants to play, too. Like he’s used to being in control of every conversation, every deal, every person that walks in here. This is his turf. His rules.

I may be out of my depth here.

“Let’s step into my office,” he says, holding up his arm.

It’s minimalist, but powerful, all sharp angles and expensive taste. Dark wood desk, leather chairs, awards as far as the eye can see.

He takes a seat behind his desk, pointing me to one of the plush chairs on the other side. I sit, letting my smile bloom just enough to be warm. “Nice to see you again.”

I adjust the top of my dress so that the v-neck dips a little deeper. His eyes flicker over me, quick and subtle.

“So, you’re in the market for a car,” he says, folding his hands on the desk.

I nod. “My little Corolla is on its last legs.” I sigh dramatically. “I figured I’d upgrade, and Lexus is basically Toyota’s richer, sexier cousin, right?”

That gets a low chuckle out of him. “Something like that.”

I stare at a framed photo of Ace and his sisters from years ago. My eyes linger on Ace’s face, younger and full of promise, before I drag my gaze back to his father.

“Tell me what you’re looking for.”

I keep my voice soft and a little breathy. “I’d love something sleek and powerful, but not too flashy.” I smile. “I want it to look good and make a statement without screaming for attention.”

Amusement flickers in his eyes. “Sounds like you have a type.”

“All women do.”

His fingers drum lightly against the desk. “I could see you in the LX 600.”

“Mmm,” I hum. “Tell me more.”

He leans back, studying me. “You like control?”

I tilt my head. “It depends.”

“The LX is all about control. High performance. Seamless handling. It makes you feel like you own the road.” His voice is smooth, and a little deeper now. “Does that sound good to you?”

I bite my lip, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “That sounds…perfect.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. He clears his throat and reaches for a brochure, flipping it open.

“Let’s go over financing options. I assume you aren’t paying cash.”

I chuckle. “Maybe I am. Maybe I have a sugar daddy.”

He twists his lips as he slides the brochure to the middle of the desk where I can see. “You’re funny.”

I listen to him talk numbers like my credit isn’t a black hole full of missed payments and bad decisions. I watch the way his fingers move over the big words, the way his watch catches the light. He’s methodical, just like my Ace.

“So,” he says eventually, closing the folder. “How’s my son?

And there it is.

I drop my gaze, staring at the wood grain on the desk top. “I wouldn’t know,” I say quietly. “He ended things.

Mr. Taylor nods. “My son’s a good man.”

“I know,” I say, lifting my gaze, letting my eyes shimmer like I’m about to cry. “That’s why I love him.”

His eyes narrow. “Love?”

“Mm hm.” I let my hand drift to my neck, fingertips grazing my collarbone. “I can’t believe I just told you that. I haven’t even told him that.”

He watches my fingers drag slowly across my skin. I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens, just a little.

“Please don’t tell him I said that.” I exhale softly. “Can it be our little secret?”

He shifts in his chair. “If that’s what you want.”

I let the silence stretch between us, then give him a small, knowing smile. “I appreciate that.”

His eyes narrow again, then he leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk.

“I think you’ll be okay,” he says. “Clearly you’re very smart. Very strategic.”

I swallow hard.

Strategic?

“Tell me something.”

I blink innocently. “Yes?”

He leans back, arms crossing over his broad chest. “Did you really come here to buy a car?”

I let the question hang between us for a beat, then exhale, dropping my gaze like I’m embarrassed. Finally, I admit, “Now might not be the best time for me to make a big purchase.”

His lips press together like he’s trying not to smirk. “Is that so?”

“But my Corolla still needs work,” I say quickly. “I figured I should at least look at my options.”

He nods slowly, eyes still locked on mine. “And in the meantime?”

I poke out my lower lip and stare up at him through my lashes. “I don’t suppose you know anything about fixing cars, do you?”

“I might.”

I let my eyes widen a little, feigning hope. “For real?”

He chuckles, low and deep. “I own a dealership, Raya.”

“Right. But some people just sell things. It doesn’t mean they know how those things work.”

He exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I know what I’m doing, I can assure you.”

“Do you?”

His gaze intensifies. “I do.”

“Mmm.” I pretend to consider this, then lean in, resting my elbow on the desk in front of me. “So maybe you could help me figure out what’s wrong with mine?”

His eyes flicker down, just for a second.

“What’s going on with it?”

“Oh, you know. The usual,” I say. “Weird noises. Squeaks when I brake. And the check engine light’s been on since last year.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s not good.”

“I knowwww,” I whine. “I don’t know anything about cars. They scare me.”

He frowns. “I’m surprised Ace didn’t offer to help you out.”

I shrug, neglecting to mention I never let him get close enough. “So you’ll take a look at it for me?”

Something flickers in his expression. Hesitation, and distrust, but also intrigue. He knows dealing with me is a bad idea. I can see it in his eyes and in the way he leans back in his chair, putting more distance between us, trying to break the tension.

Finally, he sighs, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “I may be able to help you out.”

There we go.

I sigh in relief. “Not Mr. Taylor being my hero.”

His smile is loose this time. Carefree. His guard is down.

And I know I’m almost to the finish line when he says, “Call me Jackson.”