by Shey Stahl
With a heavy sigh, I tried to comprehend what just happened when all I really wanted to do was go after him and return the favor.
My dad yelled at Tommy, about what I didn’t know, and then I saw Tommy flying through the air to land in the lake with a belly flop.
I had a feeling the night was about to get rowdy, as did any Riley party.
AROUND TEN, EVERYONE was settling down for the most part, or old enough that they couldn’t party for that long.
Just before bed, as I was getting ready go up to the top deck to stare at the stars, Abigale walked by me, her teddy bear dragging behind her.
“Where are you heading?” I asked, tickling her tiny little collarbones I thought were so cute.
She smiled, which was more than I was handed lately, and pointed to Rager and Gray sitting in the camp chairs on the deck in front of the small portable fire pit.
“Rager’s making us s’mores.”
I was actually a little surprised that Abigale was talking to me. She noticed Rager’s attention for me and I was her number one hit. If she was a sniper, she was scoping my ass out.
With Gray and Abigale on his lap, my ovaries kicked me. He’d make a good father someday. The way he adored both of them was evident by his attention he gave them, even when they weren’t watching.
Abigale leaned in, kissing his cheek, her eyes closed softly and I could tell he was her world, aside from Lane of course. And then the little shit stuck her tongue out at me.
Gray rolled her eyes and walked away—marshmallow faced—over to my dad and curled up. He was in no condition to have a child in his lap, but he wouldn’t deny his granddaughter.
For the most part, everyone understood why Dad was totally shit-faced today. He didn’t want to turn fifty. Who wanted to turn fifty anyway? Certainly not Jameson Riley.
He didn’t even appear to be that old. Most thought he was around forty and in incredible shape. Still no gray hairs, he had a better body than most eighteen-year-olds.
The night was the usual craziness that followed my family, including Willie with a sunburn on his back and a big fat white dick. He let Tommy apply sunscreen.
Stupid.
WHEN EVERYONE WAS either passed out, or sleeping, Rager gave a nod to the jet-ski off the back of the boat. “Take a ride with me?”
“A ride, or give you a ride?”
He smiled, gentle and boyish throwing a leg over the jet-ski as I did the same. When I scooted up close to him, my legs tight around his waist, my chest pressing to his back, his body rumbled in a growled-sigh. “I’ll take anything you’re willing to give.”
We took off quietly, waiting until we were a good distance away from the boat before he sped up. I’d never been on anything motorized with Rager before to understand his addiction to speed. Sure I had seen it first hand on the track, and been on a four-wheeler with him, but to be with him, on the back of a jet-ski he was controlling was something new to me. It was exciting and dangerous all in the same. He took it easy with me on the back of it, but I could still feel my body’s reaction to him and the danger around us that at any time, he was capable of throwing me off.
We came up to a small cove in the lake surrounded by overgrown trees when Rager shut off the engine. Wanting to cool down a little, I jumped off the side of the jet-ski and into the water.
Then, to tease him, I pulled myself up the side giving him a view of my breasts that were barely contained in my bikini top.
Rager groaned, tossing his head back helping me back up.
Straddling his lap on the jet-ski, I wrapped my arms tight around his warm shoulders, the smell of boy and lake lingering all over me. Rager lowered his mouth to my ear. “I’m not stupid, Arie.” I froze at his words, his body tensing, as if he had to say something now, or he wouldn’t. “One night with me doesn’t mean anything. But if I can have just one night, or even ten nights, I’ll take what I can get while I can. I don’t care how that makes me look.”
Is he telling me he’s okay with everything that’s happening?
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I knew when I drew back and looked at him, drank in the look he was handing me, he was falling hard for this and I was right there with him.
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“HAVE YOU TALKED to E lately?”
If that question right there could have been on every news headline and gossip magazine today, it would have been. In fact, it was on a lot of them. Maybe not that wording, but the curiosity around my relationship with Easton was the spark they were all looking for.
My stare went to my dad as we sat in his office going over merchandise orders. He wanted to do a new design of shirts with a logo on the sleeves for Jack.
“No.” I shrugged, trying to appear as if I wasn’t that interested in the conversation, but when your dad began asking questions, you generally started to freak out. “I haven’t seen him in a few days, why?”
My pulse raced, pounding in my ears, and if he looked close enough, he could probably see that my face was flushed.
Dad shrugged, swiping the screen of the iPad in front of him as he scanned over my designs I put together last night. “Just curious.” And then he looked up—just for a moment—his eyes seemed distant, memories overtaking. He caught himself, tipping his head as he shrugged. “Did you see that commercial with him and the model?”
Instantly, my pulse went from racing to downright thudding in my ears. I felt like an asshole for not being upfront with everyone about Easton and I. The reasons I couldn’t tell them seemed silly, juvenile almost, but then again, on days like this, when I saw articles and rumors surrounding my marriage and then another on speculating Axel’s anger and his temper tantrums, I didn’t want any more negative light shed on my family.
Giving him a nod, I reached forward, leaning across the table so I could click on the next album of designs to show him.
Dad watched me carefully, sitting up a little straighter in his seat as he cleared his throat. “You know you can talk to me, right?”
“I know, Dad.” And then I turned the iPad to face him again. “What about this design?” I showed him the one of the 9J and angel wings around it, very similar to Rager’s tattoo with the words: God Speed, Little Man written below it.
Dad examined the design for a while, looking over the different color variations I had as well as some without the wings and more with flags behind the design. “How are you liking working with Jerry?”
“I love my job.”
I did. The liberation it gave me getting a paycheck from someone other than my father felt great.
Not only did I have independence from my dad and the family business, for once, I wasn’t relying on his financial support, or Easton’s.
After we filed for divorce, I quit using our joint checking. I transferred the money I had in there for my last two paychecks from my JAR Racing job that I hadn’t used on Christmas and opened a new account. I didn’t want another dime from Easton, despite our agreement that he would be required to pay alimony. My lawyer thought I was insane, but I intended to pass up the alimony. All I wanted was the house on my parent’s property and my Explorer we bought last year. He could keep everything else, including his fancy Mercedes and sunglasses.
I hadn’t talked to Easton since our text messages. Hadn’t seen him either. Dad told me he was in town and asked if I had talked to him that night Rager was over. Made me wonder if he had driven by the house that night. Had he seen anything?
I mean, the blinds were open in the family room, and there was Rager and I going at it on every piece of furniture Easton and I purchased together.
It made me feel slightly dirty.
But then I thought about the pictures in the m
agazine. The ones of my husband and model girl filming that commercial with the caption: Sparks fly for NASCAR Champion Easton Levi and cover model Genevieve Paris.
To add fuel to the fire, Easton was quoted in Daytona last week, saying:
“My wife and I aren’t in daily communication, but that’s marriage. If you can’t make it work while you’re on the road, you shouldn’t be married. We’re happy, leave it alone.”
Happy my ass.
GIVEN THE LAST three weeks, I knew I needed to start thinking about birth control. Any girl would. I think the real reason I wanted to was because I needed to take precautions here. All of last year, Easton and I hadn’t used condoms or birth control, and in the year that we tried to get pregnant, nothing happened.
In March we found out I wasn’t ovulating like I should have been, so I went on ovulation medication. I stopped taking it in January when he asked for the divorce.
Back then, I wanted to have a baby. Badly. When the divorce was brought up, I forgot all about my biological clock ticking.
Now that Rager and I couldn’t keep our hands off one another, I felt the need to get on birth control pills.
Monday morning, while the teams headed from New Richmond to Brandon, South Dakota, I flew into Charlotte to get birth control pills since my period was supposed to start any day now.
Sitting on the table with a white sheet covering my thighs, I waited for the doctor to return with my blood tests. Before you could get on birth control pills, they made you take a pregnancy test.
“Did you know you’re pregnant?”
My head whipped around, the magazine in my hand falling to the floor. “Say what?”
The doctor held up his iPad and pointed to the numbers that revealed my HCG hormone at 2266. “Your blood test says you’re pregnant.”
The color drained from my face, I felt every last drop disappear. It was in an instant that warmth spread through my entire body from my cheeks to my toes.
Pregnant?
No…
PREGNANT?
“That can’t be…” My voice shook, the words barely audible.
But oh yes, it very well could be. I had sex with Rager so much lately that you’d think the two of us were horny high school kids.
Staring at the screen, my first thought was happiness. I don’t know why. It just was. Sure, I was shocked, but the fact that I knew one hundred percent who the father was, made me smile. I had something inside me from him.
“How far along would I be?”
The doctor glanced at the screen again. “Based on those numbers, I’d say early. When was your last period?”
I had to think about that one, but then I remembered because I started my period the day Sawyer was born. “June third.”
After doing some calculation, he said, “You’re early, like five weeks.” Reaching to his right, he dug through a drawer and then handed me a business card. “Give them a call and get set-up with an obstetrician.”
Pocketing the card, I knew I wouldn’t need it since I already had an obstetrician I was using for fertility back in Charlotte.
And then came the anxiety over it because what would this mean? My divorce from Easton wouldn’t be final until February.
To the world, it meant I cheated on Easton.
To the world, it meant I was a failure.
I never wanted to make Rager out to be the bad guy, but when you looked at it this way, it appeared he broke up a marriage. Rager was too good of a man to get a rap like that.
I WENT BACK to Mooresville that night, and then left for South Dakota Wednesday morning with plans to tell Rager. I had to. He was the one person I couldn’t keep this from. I must have typed out ten different messages to him as I laid in bed, but didn’t send any of them.
But still, with the Fourth of July weekend in Dodge City and not seeing him around since I was working in the merchandise trailer, I never had a chance to tell him. It wasn’t exactly something I could say to him in passing, or in a message.
As I was locking up the trailer Sunday night, Rager found me.
“Hey,” he said softly, causing me to jump and spin around, my hands over my rapidly beating heart.
“You scared me.” Leaning my back against the trailer door, I drew in a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.
And I’m pregnant. With your baby. Run away with me!
“Come with me.” Hearing his voice again had me smiling. I looked down at his extended hand, and then his face, and there it was, the fragile hope in his eyes and the uneasy set of his mouth. I didn’t want to say no.
Okay. Anything you want.
That question, it demanded my answer. It did because of the subtle way his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. But then again, I couldn’t just go with him. “I can’t.”
Then again, technically, I could. What was stopping me from going with him?
Certainly not Easton.
And this would give me a chance to talk to Rager and tell him I was pregnant. The thought of telling him sent my stomach fluttering.
Hopeless blue lifted. If I had to guess, he seemed nervous. Despite the tension, he leaned in so his face was close to mine. “Can’t…or won’t.”
When he asked the question, I noticed every tiny detail of his face and the letdown, should I say no. But there was a part of him that knew right then I wasn’t going to say no.
Breaking away from his stare, my eyes ran down the length of his body and the tense way he stood there, waiting on my answer.
“Can’t.” And then my smile took over. “I don’t have any clothes here. They’re in my parent’s trailer.”
“My truck is right there, baby.” He winked, so seductive, so adorable with his sweat-soaked hair pushed up from his flushed faced. Every unspoken emotion was there for me to see, even if his words wouldn’t tell me. Taking a slow step toward me, our eyes locked. “Just get in. We won’t need clothes.”
When I didn’t, when my hesitation took over, he seemed to want to seal the deal for me and kissed me.
It was a soft, tender, promising kiss as his tongue slipped between my lips, tasting me. He was gradually easing his tongue into it with no amount of urgency. “I want you alone,” he said when his mouth moved to my neck where he pressed his lips to the curve. “Where I can take my time with you.”
“Is that all you want? Sex?”
He laughed into my neck, the vibration shaking us both. “Isn’t that all you want me for?”
His words sent a wave of confusion over me.
No. Yes. No. Never. Crap.
“No. I want you for the feeling you give me.”
A boyish grin took over, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. You couldn’t ignore his smirk, or, at least, I couldn’t. He knew I was going to go with him.
His chest expanded in a heavy sigh. “I’ll be anything you need me to be.”
When I didn’t say anything, he added, giving me a combative grin, “Are you afraid your husband’s going to find out?”
I hated the way he said husband and the bitterness on his tongue.
“No.”
He leaned into me, grit in his eyes. “Then come with me.”
“Okay,” I finally said as he reached for my hand, holding it in his. Shivers ran up my spine at the idea, the realization that this was intimate. He was holding my hand.
Being in Kansas, there wasn’t a lot to do. So when Rager said, come with me, I honestly had no clue where he wanted to go. His motor home wasn’t there, just a black Ford truck parked in the pits. It seemed everyone else had disappeared.
“Where’d everyone go?”
Rager shrugged. “Probably left for Lima.”
“Don’t you think they’re going to wonder when we’re not there?”
“Who cares what they think,” he stated, and I wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or amused. Could have been both.
“Fine.” When he unlocked the door to the truck, I crawled up onto the seat, staring out at the empty parking lot
and the brake lights of the last few cars as they pulled onto the highway. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the airport and then back to my place for the next two days.”
“So you’re going to leave your motor home here in Kansas while we go to Pennsylvania?”
“No.” The truck rumbled to life, a gentle rhythm evening out when he moved the shifter from park to drive and eased on the throttle. “Tommy is driving my motor home to Ohio.”
“He knows about us then?”
“I’m sure he has an idea, but he’s scared of me.” Rager shrugged carelessly, taking in a heavy breath, but not looking at me. “He wouldn’t say anything.”
I knew that. Tommy wouldn’t. Neither would Willie. They were good guys like that.
Rager gave a nod to the road when we at the stop sign. “Ready?”
Was I?
Alone with Rager?
I was definitely ready, but right then, I wanted so badly to tell him I was pregnant, to share this excitement with him. My gaze flickered to my stomach and the fluttering I felt from nerves.
Would he be excited?
THE THREE-HOUR flight into a private airport in Sarver, Pennsylvania wasn’t long. Rager and I both slept on the way there. When we landed, he was wide-awake and asking if I wanted to go to his parents’ house, or his property.
“Do you have a bed there?”
“Well, no, it’s just a frame.” He shrugged one shoulder. “But I’ve stayed there before. I have an air mattress. It’s like camping.”
I didn’t care where we were going, or that it was two in the morning. The idea that I would finally see what he’d been building for the last three years, made me feel like I was seeing a part of him I’d never seen before. His craftsmanship, a place where his strong hands would reveal his hard work. I’ve seen him wheel a nine hundred horsepower car to victory lane, many times, but to see something he built, with his own hands, that was completely different.
The drive to his property wasn’t far. About fifteen minutes from the air strip and down a long dirt road lined with overgrown trees and grass. Most of the land in Sarver consisted of small farms. Butler County was once a thriving city from the steel mill, but since had died down a little. What’s left was mostly oil drilling companies and farms.
