Quarter Mile Hearts(70)

“American muscle,” my dad says confidently, “especially if Tom has anything to do with it. Zach does as he’s told.” He looks pointedly at me. There’s a dig in there somewhere, and if it were anyone else, I’d flip them off but not my dad.

“There're to be no modifications and no nitrous,” Aaron adds, and Dad’s head jerks around to glare at him.

“No way in hell is she’s getting into a car with nitrous,” my dad booms and startles us. He looks from Max to Aaron, and I might as not well be there. Beth casts me a worried glance. She looks a little pale, and I mouth ‘kitchen’ to her.

They don’t even notice we’ve left as they start talking about what car and how it will need to be stripped so it’s light.

“You okay?” I ask Beth as she pulls out a chair and sinks into it.

“Just feel a little sick.”

“Aaron let it slip that you’re pregnant.” I pour her a glass of water and hold it out. She offers me a weak smile and takes a sip.

“He never was very good at keeping a secret.”

“Have you told anyone else?” She shakes her head.

“Not yet. We’re waiting until after twelve weeks.”

I nod, as if I understand, but I’m clueless. “What about the wedding?”

“We’re moving it up.”

“By how much?”

“A few months.” She drinks some more water and then pins me with that look she has, the one that says she means business. Maybe it wasn’t my dad I should have been worried about. “I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Why the hell do you think? Zach Anderson doesn’t mess around. He’s out for blood. Do you think he’ll take it easy on you ‘cause you’re a girl? He’ll be worse. There is no way he’s going to let you beat him.”

“What do you think is going to happen to me? We’re racing on a proper drag strip. It’s not the quarter mile we’re talking about or some race through the streets.” She doesn’t look convinced. “Let me worry about the race, just you look after yourself and that idiot cousin of mine.” Somehow, I manage a smile. I’m just not sure if it’s the reassuring one I’m hoping for.

Aaron sticks his head around the door. “Everything okay?” He looks back and forth between the two of us before walking over to Beth and pulling her into his arms. “I’m going to take Beth home.”

“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.” I pat his arm, but he stops and rests his hand on top of mine.

“I’ll race for you, if you want.” He looks so serious, and I know that he would protect me from anything if he could.

“Thanks, I know you would, but I need to do this.” I give his hand a squeeze, and he nods his understanding. I follow them out and lean against the closed door. My dad and Max watch me closely.

“You don’t need to do this, Leigh,” my dad starts, and I hold up my hand.

“Sure, I do. I’m not losing the garage to the likes of Zach Anderson and his dad. We do this and we’re even.”

“And if you lose?” he asks in a quiet voice.

Did he seriously just ask me that?

“She won’t lose.” Max speaks up, and I flash him a grateful smile. “I’ve seen her race. She knows what she’s doing.”

My dad holds his hands up. “I’m just checking.” He picks up the remote control and turns on Fast and Loud, what else.

“You coming?” I ask Max and jerk my head in the direction of the door. His face shows a split second of confusion before he nods and follows me outside.

I pull open the garage doors and wheel out the Harley and toss Max the spare helmet. He turns it in his hands while I grab my own helmet and pull it on.

“Where are we going?” he asks when I straddle the bike.

“For a ride.” I start up the bike and the roar of the engine seems to make his mind up because he pulls on his helmet and climbs on behind me. Wrapping his strong arms around my waist, it’s almost too distracting, and for a minute, I wish it were him driving.

I roll the bike down the drive and onto the street before twisting the throttle and taking off down the road. I’m driving far too fast for a residential area, but I need to get away. I need to quiet the thoughts crowding my brain.

The events of today are starting to take their toll and the magnitude of what I’ve agreed to is starting to sink in. Do I really have a hope of beating Zach in a quarter-mile race at Willow Springs? Maybe my dad has a point. Not once have I stopped to consider what will happen if I lose; not just to me, but to the business. I twist the throttle harder and the bike surges forward carrying us further out of town and up the winding road that leads above the quarry.