This is all just getting out of hand, and I’m spending way too much time with him outside of our sessions.
I need to rein this in and get back to what we are. Therapist and patient.
By the time I’m parking beside Kit’s car on our tiny drive twenty minutes later, I’m calm and thinking more rationally.
I’m the therapist. Nothing can or will ever happen with Leandro.
I need to get his handsome face out of my head and ignore the way he makes me feel when I’m around him—like a hot mess of sexual frustration—and look at him as I do all my other patients.
I let myself in the house. “I’m home,” I call out.
No answer.
I drop my bag in the hall and kick off my shoes before wandering through to the kitchen. Through the window, I see our garage door is open. We have an old garage in the back garden as our house opens up onto a wide alleyway. We don’t use the garage for parking, just for storing junk.
I open the back door and go barefoot into the garden. I can hear Jett’s excited voice in there, talking to Kit.
“Hey, what are you doing out here?” I poke my head inside the garage.
Then, I see it.
“Is that what I think it is?” I step inside the garage. “Is that a…kart?”
Jett grins at me. “It is. It’s brand-new, top of the range.”
“And where did it come from?”
I’m not stupid. I know how much these things cost. Mainly because I looked at the prices of them online last night after Jett had told me he wanted to start karting. They cost around two thousand pounds.
“It arrived about an hour ago,” Kit tells me.
“And who bought it? Please don’t tell me you got it for him,” I narrow my eyes at Kit.
He’s been known to make impulsive purchases for Jett in the past.
“Not me.” He holds his hands up in protest, but has a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. “But I’m thinking that Brazilian race car driver has a thing for my sister.”
“What?” The word comes out strangled.
“Oh, he totally does. He told me yesterday that he likes you,” Jett announces.
“I’m sorry. What?” I snap my gaze to Jett.
“Yesterday, I asked Leandro if he likes you, and he said it was complicated, but yes, he does.”
What?
Kit lets out a deep laugh. “Well, I’m figuring he likes you an awful lot as he’s just dropped a couple of grand on a kart for your son, all to impress you.”
“Leandro bought this?” I choke out. I know he has, but I just needed to say the words out loud.
“That’s what the delivery paper says.” Kit thrusts it into my hand.
I stare down at it in disbelief. My head feels like it’s about to explode.
I can’t believe he did this.
“He bought Jett a kart. I just can’t…I mean…why?” I look at Kit, like he has the answer.
“I think it’s pretty obvious why, Indy.” He raises a brow, giving me a knowing look.
I take a step back. I feel like I can’t breathe. “This…isn’t right. I mean, I just…can’t…” My eyes come to Jett’s. “You’re not keeping it.” I jab a finger at the offending kart, and immediately feel a stab in my heart at the crestfallen look on Jett’s face.
This is all Leandro’s fault! How dare he buy my son a kart without even talking to me about it! Not that I would have let him buy him one even if he had.
What the hell was he thinking!
Anger flares in my gut like a volcanic explosion.
My hand curling around the delivery note, I swivel on my heel and march out of there. “I’ll be back in half an hour. Start dinner for me,” I call to them.
“Where are you going?” Kit calls after me.
“To shove this delivery note up a certain race car driver’s arse!” I stomp back into the house, put my heels back on, grab my car keys, and slam my way out of there and into my car, heading straight back to the place where I just came from.
I’VE JUST GOTTEN OUT OF THE SHOWER when I hear the doorbell ringing along with hammering on my front door.
Grabbing a pair of pajama bottoms, I quickly pull them on and jog downstairs.
“Okay, I’m coming. I’m coming!” I call out to the incessant banger and doorbell ringer.
I check through the peephole to see who it is.
India. And she doesn’t look happy.
Fuck. The kart must have been delivered today.
My conversation with Carrick a few days prior flashes through my mind.
“Ryan, I need to buy a kart. Best place to get one?”
“Why? Are you thinking of taking a step back in your career?”
“Funny. It’s not for me.”
“Who’s it for?”
“A friend.”
“Does that friend happen to be a certain therapist we both know?”
“You stalking me, Ryan?”
He lets out a laugh. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. The good doctor tells us that she’s got a kid who is obsessed with Formula One. You take him to watch a karting race. The next day, I’m getting a call from you, asking about the best place to buy a kart. Actually, it does take a genius. Fuck, I’m good at this shit.”
“You’re a prick.”
“A good-looking prick though. Admit it.”
“You’re an ugly bastard. Now, tell me where to get this fucking kart.”