I stop the bike and kill the engine, before climbing off. Max takes off his helmet and helps me with mine.
“This is turning out to be our place,” he jokes and brushes hair over my shoulder. “Talk to me.” His dark eyes watch me, and I can’t hide anything from him.
“Do you really think I can win?”
“Yes.” There isn’t even a second’s hesitation.
“But what if I don’t.”
“Then you don’t and we find another way to get the money to the Andersons.”
“But…”
“But nothing. This isn’t your burden to shoulder all on your own. We’ll get you a car, and we’ll get it race ready, and you...”
He pulls the jacket collar away from my neck and plants a kiss on my neck and then another. Slowly unzipping the jacket, his lips trail kisses down my chest until he stops at the material of my tank top. A hand snakes up the front of my top and cups my lace-covered breast before pushing the tank top up to expose my breasts.
“I think you’re pretty much ready as it is.” His soft breath brushes over my skin, which breaks out in goosebumps as the cool air hits. Or maybe it’s the tenderness of his touch that causes my shiver. He leans me over the bike and pulls the material away from my breast. Sucking a hard nipple into his mouth, he nips it gently with his teeth. The resulting jolt of electricity nips through me and I tug harder on his hair. Reaching down between us, I run my palm over his hard dick and feel him groan against my breast. His lips find mine and murmur against them.
“We’re not doing this here.”
“Take me back to yours.” I pull his bottom lip into my mouth and suck. With a groan, he pulls back and straightens my clothes before flashing me a wicked-as-sin grin and hands me my helmet.
He climbs on the bike first, and I get on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and hold on. Max takes off down the winding road, at a slower speed than usual. I’m touched by the faith he has in me, him sticking up for me in front of my dad. He’s seen me race, but that was a long time ago. I just hope I don’t let any of them down.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Turns out my dad’s friend has a car which he claims is perfect for us, and they make arrangements to have it transported to the garage so that we can work on it. It shouldn’t take too long to get ready, especially as Zach has stipulated that there are to be no modifications. Dad’s friend has assured us it can run and drive, but I’m not getting my hopes up. Over the years, I’ve seen the cars that dad’s ‘friends’ have sent his way and none of them were ever in good shape. This time I’m hoping I’m wrong.
The car arrives on a trailer and the guy comes out to talk money with dad before Max and Aaron are able to roll the car off the back. It is covered, which at first I thought was a bit dubious; god knows what kind of shape it’s in hidden under the tarp. But when Aaron pulls it off to reveal a ’67 Camaro Z28, red with a black stripe down the front, I stand and stare in awe. Even Max and Aaron seem blown away by the car that Dad’s come up with. None of us knew what to expect. Dad just said he’d ‘handled it’ and went back to watching TV.
The body looks okay, not that it’s the main concern; we’re more interested in how it is mechanically and whether it will be fast enough to win. Dad assures me it’s got a lighter body than some and that should make a difference, especially since we can’t modify it. While Dad waves his friend off, the three of us push the car into the garage and get to work.
There was no way we were getting out of the house this morning without dad coming with us. He wouldn’t listen when we said that we could handle it. So Aaron has set up a lawn chair and a table with refreshments on it to one side of the garage. Now Dad can keep his beady eyes on us and shout orders whenever he feels like it. Soft rock pours out of the speakers and I’m itching to change it, but this is dad’s station of choice. It is beyond me how Max and Aaron can work with him when he’s shouting at them as if they don’t know what they’re doing. I mean, he’s my dad and I love him, but jeez, give it a rest.
Max and Aaron don’t seem to be bothered and just get on with it. They work well together, in sync. They don’t need to speak a lot of the time, just pass tools without having to ask.
“Be careful when you take out the seats. I want to be able to put them back in. As long as the car isn’t totaled.”
Hearing his lack of faith in me is infuriating, and I crawl out of the back of the Camaro, hands fisted on my hips.
“Seriously? Are you for real? I’m not going to total the car, for fuck’s sake.”