When we reach town, we slow down and head straight for The Three Monkeys. The bar is quiet, but there is only an hour left until closing. Ryder orders two beers for us while I find a seat in the corner. It is nice and chilled after the tense atmosphere from earlier. Ryder hands me a bottle of beer and touches the neck of his bottle against mine. In silence, we both take a drink, the adrenaline starts to fade, but I still can’t get over the fact I won. Five grand—enough to pay for the repairs on my GTO.
“That was some race, huh?” Ryder breaks the silence, and I laugh; that’s an understatement.
“Never again,” I mutter. “That is one race I don’t need to win again.”
“Yeah, the guy in the Mustang was pissed he came in second. It’s a good thing we left when we did.” Ryder pulls on his beer. “I missed not having any support with us, or even a couple of girls to cheer us on.” He looks almost wistful and I shake my head at him. I’ve never seen Ryder with a girl, on the quarter mile or anywhere else.
“It was too intense.” I was glad in a way that Leigh hadn’t turned up, I wouldn’t have been happy at leaving her while I raced.
Ryder leans forward; his elbows rest on the table. “You’re right.” He takes a drink and sets his beer down. “Out of all the girls on the quarter mile, any of them special?” he asks, blue eyes sparkle with teasing.
Of all the times for him to ask… I open my mouth to reply with a smartass comment, but at the last second, I stop.
“Leigh Storm,” I admit with a sigh and watch as the look on his face changes from a playful smirk to one of utter surprise and he chokes on his beer.
“You’re fucking kidding me.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and continues to stare at me as if I’ve grown two heads.
“No,” I say, deadly serious.
“But …”
“Yeah, I know she hates my guts but it’s an act. She’s crazy about me really.” I smile but I’m not one hundred percent sure it is.
“Whatever.” He laughs and takes another swallow of his beer.
“She warned me about the Gauntlet, didn’t want me to race.”
“For real? Not everyone knows about the Gauntlet,” Ryder confesses which intrigues me. How did she know how dangerous it was?
“Well, anyway, I’m hoping she’ll change her mind.”
“About what?”
“Dating me,” I say in a flat voice because I don’t want to think about the prospect of her turning me down again.
“Shit. Max,” Ryder exclaims, finding the whole situation out of the realm of plausibility.
“Yeah, I know, it’s a long shot but …”
“I’ve never seen her with anyone.” Ryder thinks on it and shakes his head. “Never.”
“It’s only a matter of time before they realize,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
“Good luck, man.” He tips his beer to me.
“Thanks. I’m gonna need it.” I realize it’s true. I’d made a small amount of progress, but after she asked me not to race and I did … who knows. With one race, I might have blown any chance I had.
Ryder drains the last of his beer and mine is only half-empty, but I don’t want any more. Truthfully, all I want is to see Leigh but that will have to wait until tomorrow.
“I’m going to head. You coming?” I ask Ryder and he nods, stifling a yawn as we stand.
“Yeah, I’m beat after all the excitement of tonight.” He winks at me and I push him in front of me and follow him out the bar.
When I get home, the lights are on and I’m surprised to find Causey in the kitchen eating leftovers. Ryder had said Causey was busy but I’m betting he didn’t know what he was busy doing. I’m not sure whether to be bothered or pleased that Causey and my sister obviously have something going on. Something which they are keeping hush hush.
“Where’s Meghan?” I ask, trying not to show my shock at finding him in our kitchen in only his boxer briefs.
“In bed. Where you been?” he asks around a mouthful of food.
“Racing.” I reach into the cupboard and pull out a glass.
“The quarter mile?”
“Nah, the Gauntlet.” I pull out a carton of orange juice.
“The Gauntlet?” He chokes on his food and stares at me.
“Yeah.” I lean against the counter and drink my juice.
“And?” He nods, prompting me for more information.
“I won.” I can’t help the feeling of satisfaction when I tell him.
“You won. Well done.” He claps me on the shoulder. It’s hard to take him seriously when he’s standing in our kitchen in his underwear. I nod, but I don’t feel as excited as I thought I would.