“As much as I’d like to continue catching up, I need to get ready for a race.” He continues to stare down at me but doesn’t move. I suppose I could get out from under him if I really wanted to, but right now I don’t.
“You sticking around?” He lifts one eyebrow, and it makes him look even sexier. I manage a shrug. I plan on it, but I don’t want him to think it’s because of him.
“You always were my good luck charm.” His finger trails along my jawline before his large hand cups it, so he can drag his thumb across my lip. Under that fleeting, whisper of a touch, my breath stutters in my chest. Then he pulls back, and with the distance he puts between us, I can finally breathe. My legs feel like they’re ready to crumple and leave me sitting in the dirt.
After a deep, fortifying breath, where I pull myself together, I find I am more annoyed at myself. After only a few minutes in his presence, he has turned me into this weak-willed woman, ready to lie down on the hood of his car and let him have his wicked way with me.
Beth laughs when I stagger back over on my high boots. “Still manages to get your panties in a knot, huh.” She wraps her arms around Aaron's neck, leaning up to kiss him good luck. He grips her ass and hauls her into his body. She squeals with delight as he dips her backward and kisses her.
I roll my eyes skyward. “Get a room,” I mutter, but Aaron lifts his head, taking a break from sucking on Beth’s neck.
“Jealous, little cuz?” He chuckles.
“Fuck off,” I growl ungraciously and stomp off to the back of Beth’s car to pull out a soda.
Chapter Three
The four racers get into position behind the starting line. It’s Sunday, and by the looks of the crowd, there’s not much money up for grabs. The weekend is the time for the bigger races; sometimes in different towns, but mainly, they come to ours. Our quarter mile is famous around here, the stuff of legends. Numerous accidents, as well as some legendary wins, have happened here. Most of them were before my time, but my dad could tell you a few stories.
Hank Storm was one of those legendary racers, before and after I was born. By day, he was a mechanic turned garage owner, but by night, he was a street racer. I have grown up around cars and racing. They’re in my blood, but I fight against it as much as I can.
It didn’t help that my dad was so well known in our small town, and all the boys from school used to hang around the garage as soon as they got their license. Then Aaron, my cousin, started working there, and suddenly, Beth developed an interest in cars. It didn’t take long before we were all hanging out at the garage and the inevitable happened. As soon as we could drive, it was up to the quarter mile to race.
At first, I resisted, and because I’m a girl, none of the guys took me seriously—certainly none of the older ones. But then one night, I encountered Max Morgan. Sure, I knew who he was and had had a few run-ins with him. The first time I saw him race was forever ingrained in my memory. He was older than me by about three years but it wasn’t until his first race that he hit on my radar. After that, he was everywhere, and I stayed out of his way as much as I could until the night of Aaron’s first race.
Aaron, Beth, and I stood looking under the hood of Aaron’s Mustang, checking that everything was in mint condition and running as it should when Max called from behind us.
“You’re finally racing tonight, Aaron?” A deep voice washed over me, making me all warm inside. The three of us turned around and I cast a quick glance over at Aaron, who gulped. I’d seen that awestruck look on his face before whenever he ran into any of the older racers at the garage. He couldn’t do enough for them, and it pissed me off.
“Yeah, he’s racing.” I spoke up because Aaron was incapable of getting his mouth to work.
“Leigh Storm.” He leaned back slightly to run his eyes over me, and I suddenly felt totally underdressed and out of place. Beth had at least dressed up, but then, it was her boyfriend who was racing. I’d come straight from the garage and was still wearing my dirty jeans with ripped knees and a tight white tank top. A totally impractical color to wear when working in a garage, but hey. No doubt there were streaks of grease across my face and my hair was pulled back into an elastic band that I found lying on the garage floor. Stripped of make-up, I barely looked old enough to drive.
“Fancy seeing you here.” His tone riled me.
“Why wouldn’t I be here?” I took a step forward, ignoring the way Aaron implored me with wide eyes to shut the fuck up and stop mouthing off to Max Morgan.
“Didn’t think it was your scene.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and I mirrored his actions.