“What’s up?” I ask and pull my head out from under the hood of the car I’m servicing.
“Nothing, just in a good mood.” He smiles widely, and I roll my eyes at him, wondering what’s put him in such high spirits, besides the obvious.
“What did you do this weekend?” His smile drops into a frown when Max moves closer and his eyes dart between Max and me.
“Ah, you know.” I wave my hand around being deliberately vague, trying to avoid his eye.
“What she means is, she was with me. Weren’t you, Storm?” Max supplies helpfully, to which I stick my tongue out at him, unable to fight the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I don’t know who is more surprised that I’ve not gone off on one of them at the use of my nickname, but I don’t care anymore.
“So, you two…” Aaron motions back and forth between the two of us. “After the other day and then at the barbeque…” Max wraps an arm around my shoulders before planting a kiss on the top of my head.
“Yup, what can I say, it’s only taken her this long to admit that she’s crazy about me.” He laughs when I elbow him in the ribs.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, but he’s nailed it.
A car door slamming outside interrupts us before we can get into it further and all three of us focus our attention on Zach Anderson and Tate Miller as they stroll into the garage as if they fucking own the place. Max feels my body tense, my insides coiled tight, ready for a fight, and he leans down to whisper, “Keep calm,” into my ear. I nod, I’ll try my best, and he drops his arm to my waist, not letting me go.
“Leigh, Aaron, and Max. Good, you’re all here.” Zach’s eyes settle on me, and I bristle.
“What do you want, Zach?” I snap; just the tone of his voice is irritating the hell out of me. His eyes widen with mock offense and that just pisses me off even further.
“I’ve come on behalf of my dad.” He pauses for dramatic effect but none of us bats an eyelid. I wish he’d just cut to the chase and get out of here. I cross my arms over my chest, demonstrating my impatience, and wait.
“And?” My heart hammers in my chest; it feels as though our future is hanging on the next words out of this prick’s mouth, and he seems to be enjoying making me sweat.
“And he’s agreed...” Another pause for dramatic effect.
“Fucking get on with it, Zach,” I snarl and hear Aaron’s intake of breath. Max’s grip on me tightens slightly, a warning not to piss off Zach. He’s unpredictable and could quite easily go against his dad’s wishes.
“He’s agreed to another race.”
“Another race?” Aaron echoes.
“Yeah, at Willow Springs; a proper drag race, one winner and no rematch.” He looks at each of us in turn, a silent warning in his eyes that this is our one and only chance. The superior smirk on his face reminds us that we are at the mercy of his dad.
“Okay, but…” I know there’s more and hold my breath for the huge ‘but.’
“She has to race me and win.” He nods in my direction and that’s when all hell breaks loose. Aaron and Max start shouting, and Tate, who obviously came as muscle, takes a step forward.
“No fucking way,” Max bellows and rushes toward Tate, his hands already curled into a fist. I pull on one arm, trying to hold him back because even though they are the same height, Tate is solid muscle.
“Like hell she will,” Aaron backs him up and my other hand reaches for his wrist, snagging it to stop him from getting in Zach’s face.
“She races or all bets are off.” Zach laughs and shrugs his shoulders indicating we can take it or leave it because it’s of no consequence to him. He is enjoying this way too much, and I could quite happily smack him in his smug face.
“Fine, I’ll race,” I shout above the noise and watch the sly smile that spreads across Zach’s face, making him look even more menacing and sleazier than before.
“Storm.” Max protests at the same time as Aaron wails, “Leigh,” and drops his head.
“I win, and your dad still owes us. You win, and you’re free and clear.” Zach holds out his hand.
Without hesitation, I step forward and stand toe to toe with Zach. “You’re on.” Ignoring the protests from Aaron and Max, I shake his outstretched hand quickly and then resist the urge to wipe it down the front of my jeans.
“What are the rules?” Max snarls from behind me.
“Race a car you would on the quarter mile. Cars will be checked before, no modifications allowed and no nitrous. First one over the line wins.” His eyes never leave mine, even though he’s addressing Max.