by Shey Stahl
“Jameson,” Mom pushed him off her. “Arie is in the bed next to us.”
Dad turned his head to stare at me, frowning.
Throwing my blankets back, I sat up. “I’m going to get some food.”
“Bring me some blueberry pancakes,” Dad yelled over his shoulder, pulling the blankets up over him and Mom. “And give us an hour. It’s my birthday.”
An hour? Yuck.
“Gross!” Reaching for my shoes and bag, I practically ran out of the room without brushing my teeth or going to the bathroom.
Deciding I need to do all of that, and, hopefully, get a shower, too, I made my way to the lobby of the hotel and their fitness center. Lucky for me, they had bathrooms at least, right next to their gym. Only problem, there was mirrors everywhere. Unfortunately, I was forced to look at myself closely.
Staring at my body, and remembering how in shape Rager was, I felt like I needed to get some exercise. So not only was he making me feel things I hadn’t felt in a while, he was now inspiring me to workout.
Hmmm.
Thinking of him, my heart kicked, beating a little faster and wishing he was down here with me. Not for sex or anything else, I just wanted to have him near me.
Lifting my phone up in front of my face, I checked the time and to see if he’d sent me a message. It was just after nine that morning, and no messages from him or Easton.
Along the windows facing the indoor pool were three treadmills. I didn’t exactly have workout clothes on. In fact, I was still wearing the same jean shorts from last night and flip-flops.
But if I at least stretched my legs and walked, it’d help the soreness.
Within a few minutes of trying to find a song on my phone, Casten walked into the gym and smiled. “What’d up, sis?”
I knew what the grin on his face and his lively demeanor meant. He’d probably gotten laid the previous night and was energetic. I was jealous of the energetic part.
Rolling my eyes, I knew he was up to doing something stupid today. He just had that look about him.
He smiled again, this time it was a little coy, like it was when he was younger and up to no good.
“Why are you in here?”
He lifted his shirt, revealing his washboard abs and pointed at them. “I didn’t get this by accident.”
Jerk.
Glaring, I pressed the button on my treadmill and set the incline and speed at a pace I was comfortable with.
Letting his shirt down, he sighed. “And I can’t sleep. Tommy has a pig in bed with him. Fucking thing is louder than him.”
Ah yes, Pork Chop.
I didn’t feel the need to tell him I already knew about the pig because then he’d ask why.
Casten walked over to the stereo in front of me and plugged his iPod in. I knew I was in trouble when Casten changed the song to “Up Town Funk”.
My brother thought he was some kind of professional dancer. In my opinion, he was not. But he did have moves and I had a feeling he did this often, because who else could dance on a treadmill and not kill themselves?
Casten.
He could.
During the opening beats, he strutted toward the machine and jumped on in an exaggerated motion, waving his hands out to the side.
What I witnessed next was something I had never, or ever would, see again in my life. I was sure of it. No way could he repeat this.
Have you ever seen one of those dancers with the white faces?
You know, the ones who couldn’t talk but did mechanical moves? Casten was good at that. Had the moves down completely. Like robot moves.
Nearly tripping over my own feet while my brother jumped around on the treadmill next to me, it sort of made me feel completely incompetent.
How come I didn’t have balance like that?
After the opening beats, he walked a little faster, his head bobbing to the pulse as he had a certain swag to his moves. Then he twisted, jumped up and did a straight up choreographed dance on the damn thing. He knew I was watching in disbelief too. The smirk told me so. It only provoked him.
He twisted, jumped, flipped once, and I couldn’t keep from staring at him. After two minutes, he stopped and began walking normally on it as if he hadn’t just pulled out some straight up Michael Jackson shit from “Thriller” on a treadmill.
When he felt my questioning stare, he grinned. “Jealous?”
“Concerned.” I tried to turn back and stare at the magazine in front of me, but I couldn’t. I still couldn’t believe what I just saw.
“Denial.”
“Stupid.”
He tugged at the front of his tank top, like he was hot. “Sexy.”
I gagged, covering my mouth. “I threw up in my mouth. Excuse me.”
SUNDAY WAS MY dad’s fiftieth birthday. After the race that night, we made the drive north from I-94 Speedway to Detroit Lakes where they rented a houseboat for three days, and then it was onto LaSalle Speedway in Illinois.
There was a good part of me that was nervous being on a boat with twenty other people—my family mostly—because of one person.
Rager.
How could we manage to keep this a secret when my family was around everywhere we looked? The sleeping quarters weren’t exactly private. There were three bedrooms and the rest was just sleep where you could on couches and twin beds.
It certainly wasn’t going to be easy.
When we arrived there, mid-afternoon on Sunday, Mom asked me how come I wasn’t with Easton.
“Well, now that I have the job with the Outlaws…” I thought maybe she’d take that as an answer, but she wasn’t letting me off that easily. Handing me a bag of groceries, I carried them with her and Emma to the dock where we were loading the boat with food, water, and, of course, alcohol.
In front of us, Hayden, Bailey, and Aunt Alley were carrying more bags and kids.
“He’s racing today in Sonoma.”
“I know the schedule.” Mom smiled. “But I thought you guys were trying to work things out and have a baby.”
What should I tell her? We’re taking a break? We’re separated?
I couldn’t tell her any of that.
Wrapping my arm around her, I smiled. “We’re fine, Mom. He’s busy and so am I.”
Casten ran past us chasing Gray with sunscreen, their feet pounding against the weathered wood. “Come back here, pretty girl.” He laughed as she did the same.
“So you’re not having problems again?”
I hated the way she said again, like this wasn’t something I did these days. She obviously didn’t mean anything by it, but it shut me down immediately.
I wanted to say, “Yeah, we’re having problems and he’s fucking around with some model. Oh, and I’m doing Rager.”
I obviously said none of that.
Dropping my arm from around her, we stepped onto the boat. “I guess we are.” I left the conversation at that. Mostly because once we were on the boat, Mom was distracted trying to get everyone on and my dad to listen and not try to kill Spencer for tripping him on the dock.
The houseboat they rented couldn’t even be classified as huge. A word like that didn’t even do it justice. It was more like a cruise ship than a houseboat with a few bedrooms, couple bathrooms, full size bar, a hot tub, and a slide off the back.
While I sulked with my decisions, I avoided everyone for a couple hours until we were ready to leave the dock.
Stepping onto the main deck, I saw Rager again by the bar he had finished stocking for the party tonight. Around us, about fifteen people mingled, talking, voices louder than necessary; a product of the liquid in their plastic cups.
Rager lifted his eyes from the beer in his hand, just enough to acknowledge my presence, but said nothing to give us away. If people could hear the thumping of my heart and the gentle way my body tried to unconsciously lean toward him, they’d know.
“Hey,” he said, so simple, and nothing like our situation, his voice soft compared to those around us
.
Turning to face him, he handed me a beer and cracked the top for me with his bottle opener on his key chain.
He sensed my nerves immediately and frowned, his brow scrunching together in the cutest way. “You okay?”
“My mom asked if Easton and I were ‘having problems’ again.”
“Well, you are, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but the way she said it made me feel like it was something I did.”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know she didn’t. I’m just being overly sensitive about it.”
“Well, come have a drink with me, and I’ll make you forget about it. Besides, it’s your dad’s fiftieth birthday. Time to party.”
It was time to party, and anytime you were with the Riley family, that was exactly what you did. Thankfully, Casten was a little tamer these days and there weren’t any fireworks onboard. Last time we were on a houseboat, he set the damn thing on fire like the little pyro he was.
I thought he wouldn’t say anymore, you know, since were avoiding everything these days, the beer in hand lifted to his lips, but he didn’t take a drink, only side-eyed me. “Have you heard from Hollywood?”
Hollywood?
“E?”
Rager nodded, wordlessly.
“No. I haven’t heard from him since that night I was with you.”
Before he caught himself, he smiled, and then it was gone, like it was never there.
I hadn’t spoken to Easton; I wasn’t lying. And I didn’t even care to after seeing that commercial, or the articles printed in the various gossip magazines. Most of them were speculating of an affair on his part, and at that point, I was starting too as well. They had pictures of them holding hands in Los Angeles. It was more than likely taken when they were filming the commercial and maybe even on set, but the fact that he hadn’t called after I said I was done, only cemented my feelings for the situation.
THERE WAS ONE thing I loved about floating in a lake in a tube. It was one person and my brother couldn’t annoy me while in it. On the boat, Casten seemed to think this was annoy his sister day. Everything he did pissed me off. Might have had to do with the fact that he poured sunscreen in my hair, dumped an entire beer on me, and pushed me off the boat, all within the first hour we were in the middle of the lake.
Stupid fucking jerk.
So for his safety, I sat in a tube with my beer staring up at the fading blue sky. The sun was beginning to set, smells of barbeque cooking and Chase Rice playing in the background. With the boat a few feet from me, the occasional wave created by a passing boat or someone plunging into the water off the side, rocked me gently.
Whistles broke out to my left when Casten and Hayden were dancing inappropriately to Nelly’s “Country Grammar” as Cole recorded them. It was surprising to see Cole here, but I knew his parents weren’t going to leave him home alone, and Dad didn’t want him around the shop alone either. Dude had a major drug problem these days. Word was he was spending something like a grand a week on shit.
Such a shame. He was so talented at making videos, but he’d rather blow the money. He’d even been to rehab, twice, but still hadn’t cleaned up.
The sun beat down on me, my skin soaking up the rays; I loved the peace it gave me. It was relaxing despite the invasive crowd surrounding the boat.
The party was kicking up on the boat when someone yelled shots for the birthday boy. My dad was already completely shit faced. Could barely even stand to do the row of shots laid out for him. And my mom was right there with him.
Made me smile seeing them laughing and having a good time when just six months ago, barely any of us smiled.
Running around on the boat was the JAR Racing mascot now, Pork Chop. Or Porkie as Gray called him. Damn thing thought he was already part of the family.
Scanning the deck, I caught sight of Rager then, only his back was to me, all defined lean muscles with his black and gray board shorts hanging low on his hips; if he did turn around, I knew that faint dusting of dark hair he had on his lower stomach would be seen.
Rager’s body was one to stare at. Like drool over. Standing next to Casten, he was taller than him, but smaller in some ways.
Casten was leaner these days, but still had bulk on Rager. While Axel was not much taller than me, Casten was around six foot, about the same height as Dad, but took after Uncle Spencer in the ability to gain muscle mass. If I had to speculate, I would say he was around two hundred pounds.
Rager on the other hand, he was about six foot one and maybe a one eighty-five. He was one of those guys who carried very little body fat.
Which was why I wanted to exercise any time I saw him without a shirt on.
Just made me drool and want to eat nothing but salad and drink water.
Dipping my toes in the water, I pulled my shades over my eyes, keeping myself near the boat, I laid my head back and stared up at blue, wondering where the blue I wanted to get lost in had disappeared to. Rager kept his distance, discrete in every way today, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he found me.
When the sun was swallowed by the trees, leaving the sky painted in purple and pink, I heard the splash and the rock of my tube and smiled knowing, without even looking, Rager had jumped in the lake.
Yanking my sunglasses off, I decided to let him know how uncomfortable I was. “I’m so fucking sore, Rager,” I said when he swam closer. My smile couldn’t be helped.
Raising his hand, he splashed water at me. “Sorry.”
“No you’re not. You take pride in that.”
“I have needs, baby.”
Believe me, my body knows that, dude.
“Yeah, well, at least your knees didn’t give you a black eye.”
“You don’t have a black eye.” His arms rose from the water and onto the edge of my tube, careful not to spill my beer in the cup holder.
“I do too.” My stare dropped from sparkly blue to the 9J with angel wings around it on his forearm, and I smiled a little. “It’s a hidden bruise, but its felt.”
Rager rolled his eyes, chin resting on his forearms. “Uh huh.”
“Fuck off.” I pushed him off the side of my tube.
He went under water for a second, and then came back up smiling. Shaking water from his eyes, he pushed his hair from his forehead. “You have a dirty mouth.” And then he winked. “How ‘bout you make use of it.”
“No.”
He looked over his shoulder at the boat behind us—no one was paying us any mind. “Would it make you feel better to know I think we rubbed skin off my dick? Like rug burn.”
I put my sunglasses back on. “Actually, yes it does.”
“Could you even walk the next day?” He laughed, curiosity in his tone.
“Not very well.”
Leaning my head back against the raft, I felt his hand sink down in the water to my ass. I melted into his touch.
“Your ass is perfect,” his hot wet mouth glided over the damp skin of my shoulder, teasing, nipping. “You’re perfect.”
Letting out a little whimper, I wished we weren’t out in the open, because I would have totally fucked him in the lake. But we were out there, visible for anyone to see. Rager seemed to understand our dilemma, and smiled, letting me know he had something in mind.
With one of his hands below the surface, he worked his fingers inside of me, gliding in easily. “That’s it…” he whispered, voice rough with need. “You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”
“Maybe.” I could play hard to get when I needed to. It didn’t deny the looks we gave one another all day though.
His fingers went deeper. “Tell me…”
“It’s all I think about, everyday…”
His breath came out in a low growl, my words fuel to his need. “Me too. It’s all I can fucking think about every minute of the goddamn day.”
“Rager…” I whimpered when his fingers began to work a little faster. I knew then he
was going to try to get me off in front of everyone.
“Think your dad knows what my hand is doing to his little girl?”
This was explicit in ways I couldn’t even begin to describe. I could get off just on his words. He couldn’t kiss me, I couldn’t moan, and fuck if I didn’t just want to scream to the heaven, “Rager Sweet is finger fucking me!”
“He’d kill you if he did,” I whispered, enjoying how my sunglasses were still on and he couldn’t see what this was doing to me. All he had to go on was the sighs that left my lips and the breathy pleas I gave him.
His index finger circled my clit about the same time his thumb came together and pinched me, just a little.
A tiny moan left my lips and Rager groaned in my ear, his hand that was on the raft reached for his beer in the cup holder. Bringing it to his lips, he took a slow drink, trying to be nonchalant, his head tipping back slightly, but then he paused, drawing it away, teasingly. “It’d be worth it to feel this.”
The way his fingers slid inside, moved, teased, it was easy to fall apart for him. Being discrete wasn’t.
Trying not to be noticeable when my orgasm hit wasn’t easy. Lying my head back against the black tube, my hands tensed, flexing as my bones felt weak, the warmth spreading through my veins as he coaxed me there, saying things like, “I’m so fucking hard right now.” Or “I’m dying to be inside you…” and then, “Jesus, please…kiss me…”
“I can’t,” I breathed out, feeling the same, dying inside that I couldn’t weld my mouth to his, let him ride this out with me.
“I don’t care. Fuck ‘em.” He leaned in, his mouth on my ear and neck.
The tube pushed down and I leaned into him, the smell of sun and beer all over him. His skin was warm, his shoulder capturing my moan when the second orgasm hit me.
Rager growled, dunking himself under water. When he came back up, his eyes shined in contrast to the shadows over us, blazing and bright, wanting so much more.
“You owe me one.”
And then he swam around the back of the boat where no one else was, probably to cool down a little.
