Open Wheel

by Shey Stahl

  The county roads to the property looked vaguely familiar as it was rather close to Lernerville Speedway. In fact, we past right by it on our way. Given the lack of lighting, I couldn’t place where exactly we were.

  “Don’t your parents live near here too?”

  Rager gave a nod over his shoulder before flicking on his high-beam lights when a deer went skirting across the dirt road. “Yeah, about a mile up the road.”

  “How’d you find this place?”

  As long as I could remember, Rager has had this property. Though he’d just recently began building on it; I wondered when he purchased it.

  “My grandpa left me this land when he died.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. He passed away when I was really young. I don’t remember a lot about him. We used to go fishing out here when I was younger, but that’s about all I can remember. And he liked cars. Ford man only.”

  I laughed, bouncing around in the seat as we passed over ruts made from the tractor he brought in when he was clearing the land. “A lot like my dad’s family then.”

  Rager glanced over at me, his eyes on my chest.

  Shit, did he notice my boobs seem bigger? Would he ask?

  Smiling, he finally answered my question with, “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Another minute and Rager stopped the truck in front of a modest sized framed house, dirt kicking up in a cloud around the headlights shining on the property. It appeared to be a farm style with a wraparound deck, if you could gather that much with only a frame. To me, it looked beautiful because I knew how much work he’d been putting into this place.

  It wasn’t exactly easy to build a house yourself when your spring and summers were spent on the road. Then when you did have time, you battled the colder weather and snow. Despite that, I could see he was putting incredible detail into this place.

  Everything from the wood work on the deck to the entryway.

  Smiling, Rager opened the door to the truck and helped me out, my body falling into his. Wrapping his arms around me, he brought me flush against his heated skin. I squeezed my legs around him and he used my ass to close the door and then pressed me up against it.

  I thought for sure this was where the sex came. Lazily, he leaned in, brushing his lips softly to mine, his mouth curving into a smile.

  We would get caught up in the moment, and that was where it would lead. Our bodies giving in.

  Only Rager surprised me when he moved his arms from my waist and lifted up under my armpits. “Let me show you around.”

  Setting me on my feet, he reached for my hand again, leading me up the ten steps and onto the porch. “This floor plan was what my Papa Sweet’s designed for my Nana. They never ended up building it though.” The exposure and the way he spoke about them with devotion made me see a little glimpse into his softer side. A side he rarely showed anyone.

  “Were they from Sarver?”

  “My grandparents?” Rager leaned forward to retrieve a lantern that was on the floor just inside the framed door.

  “Yeah.”

  “Butler actually.” Our feet slid against the plywood floor, dirt and tiny rocks scraping around with each movement. Rager’s eyes stayed low on the floor or on the smallest of details as we walked, never meeting my eyes. “My parents moved out here when my Papa died and my dad took a job with an oil drilling company.”

  “Whatever happened to their house?” I leaned against what looked like it would be a fireplace at some point.

  “It was left to my Uncle.” Rager did the same on the other side, watching me now. “He and his wife still live in it.”

  “That’s nice of you to build the same house he had.”

  “It was what he would have wanted. He designed the house himself. He was an architect.”

  “How’d he die?”

  “He and my Nana were on their way back from spending Christmas with my parents and me in Tennessee when they were killed in a head-on collision.”

  “Oh.” I felt horrible for even asking and immediately tears stung my eyes at the way Rager shrugged off the question, as if it didn’t mean much to him. But I could see that it did in the way his body tensed, muscles in his jaw flexing in the pale moonlight. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was twenty-five years ago.”

  “Still…”

  He gave a dismissive shrug. “Like I said, I don’t remember them much.”

  He remembered them. He was lying to me, but I let him for the simple fact his eyes were begging me not to pry on the memories he had. I knew that look, because just like him, there were certain memories of Grandpa Jimi I didn’t want to talk about. They were my memories and ones I wanted for myself.

  I don’t think you need to talk about every little emotion. Sometimes it was best to keep them to yourself.

  “When do you think you’re going to be done?” I ran my fingers along the mantel and the detailed craftsmanship of the design.

  “With the house?” Leaning down, he picked up a lantern at his feet and matches out of his pocket.

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe this winter. We still have a lot of work to do, but it’s more like one of those old cars you restore. Take your time and do it right.” His eyes met mine, flickering against the lantern he’d just lit, orange and yellow sparks of light around us. “Sometimes it’s not about finishing what you started, but taking your time and enjoying the race while it lasts.”

  He was hanging out with my family too much and starting to speak in racing terms. Smiling, I wrapped my arms around my waist at the crisp midnight air around us.

  “You cold?” he asked, reaching out to rub my shoulders with both palms cupping the sides.

  “Yeah, a little.” I nodded, feeling the warmth radiating in his touch, our bodies bathed in lantern light gold. The way he watched me, worried over every blink, made me hurt in ways I didn’t even know. The kind of pain that hovered like fog and I didn’t even know why it hurt.

  His head tipped to the side, gauging me with overly cautious eyes. “Tired?”

  “A little. You?”

  “Getting there.” He nodded down the hall. “Do you want me to show you the air mattress?”

  “Sure.”

  He led me to the back of the house that overlooked the river. I didn’t know it was a river back there, but he said it was and I believed him. To me it was pitch black and scary.

  Back there he had everything from a tent to the air mattress he talked about and a sleeping bag. “Hope you don’t mind getting in this with me,” he teased, winking at me and holding my gaze.

  I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  I winked back kicking off my flip-flops beside the mattress and kneeling on it. “I think we’ll manage.”

  The two of us maneuvered around and inside the sleeping bag together, with me facing the open wall and him behind me. “Not so bad, huh?”

  “Yeah…” Rager reached his arms over his head to grab the lantern. I panicked a little. “Is now a bad time to mention I’m afraid of the dark?” I asked when he was getting ready to turn it off.

  “Probably.” And then he hauled me closer, my back pressed to his chest, his heart beating against my shoulders. “Are you afraid now?”

  My eyes drifted closed, briefly feeling that thump, so steady, so sure, breathing in deeply the smell of cedar, dirt, and wet grass. Around us the sounds of cicada singing in the trees.

  “They’re loud,” I giggled, my lips moving over his forearm that was around my neck, lightly.

  “Yeah, so are you sometimes.”

  Twisting in his arms, I flipped over to face him, the mattress springing us around. “I am not.”

  Unable to control his laughter, his chest shook. “You kind of are.” Leaning in, his mouth pressed to the curve of my neck. “But I like a girl who screams my name. Shows she’s not afraid to tell me what she likes.” Nipping at my neck playfully, his touches had my skin pebbling and my eyes ready to roll back.
It took some effort to recover, considering the circumstances.

  Just when I thought he’d want sex, or start in with kissing and teasing, which would lead there, his arms held me tighter, his mouth moving from my neck to my forehead. “Now stop teasing me.”

  “How am I teasing you?”

  “I’m trying to show you I want more than just sex and you’re making it hard.”

  “Hard in-deed.” My hands that were stuck between us slipped inside the front of his shorts to stroke him once.

  His lips brushed against my collarbone, his voice rough. “Shut up or I’ll stick it in your ass.”

  I shut up and pulled my hand out of his shorts. Immediately. You should never tease Rager. I learned that early on. He didn’t play fair.

  With my face nuzzled in the crook of his shoulder, my lids started to become heavy with each blink and the time of night was becoming obvious.

  Was I really here with him, alone, and we weren’t having sex?

  THE NEXT MORNING, we awoke to the sun coming in through the holes in the non-existent walls, heating my skin. Rager’s light breathing assured me this feeling, the warmth around me, the content sensation moving over me was real, even before I opened my eyes.

  For a moment, I didn’t want to open them. I wanted this small moment to myself, a memory I didn’t want to let go of.

  Should I tell him now?

  Opening my eyes, I blinked away the blurriness of the late night and the soreness in my stiff muscles. Sleeping on an air mattress wasn’t so bad, but the last few weeks were catching up with me.

  Waking up in his arms was the best, something I never imagined.

  The noises, the way the air felt, so different from when the day was upon us. It was the feel of the air, so pure, new almost. The sounds, soft, early rising birds waking, the smooth gray morning as the clouds wrapped around the property.

  I could see why Rager enjoyed this place so much. My parents’ property was relaxing, but so was this, in its own unique way.

  We moved slowly that morning, listening to the birds, cicada, and the wind blowing lightly as the sun continued to rise and the heat of the day warmed our bare skin. At some point during the night, I must have been too hot because I had somehow stripped my jean shorts and shirt off, leaving me in my bra and panties. Only problem with that was the amount of bug bites I had.

  Itching like crazy, Rager laughed when I sat up, groaning. “There’s so many!”

  “Remember when I said I wanted more than sex?” He stood, reaching for his own t-shirt he’d shed in the night that was now on the floor next to the lantern.

  “Yeah?” His statement didn’t make a lot of sense since he was getting dressed.

  “That was last night.” A sigh rolled from his chest. When his shirt was on, he reached out for my hand. “Tonight, I’m getting some.”

  I took it with a sigh as he wrapped his arms around me when I was standing. The hair on his chest was nice because if I twisted against it, there was a gentle friction that provided some relief to my burning bug bites. “So demanding.”

  “Damn right.” He gestured behind me, his arms dropping from around me. “Now hand me that fishing pole.” Leaning over, he reached for the bait box against the wall.

  Shaking my head, I had to laugh. He really was trying to prove to me there was more to this. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to get some coffee and muffins first, and then fishing up the road.”

  Smiling, I reached for his out-stretched hand once again. “Okay.”

  WHEN I THOUGHT about how I fell in love with Rager, I couldn’t pinpoint a day, or even a year. It was like a memory in your childhood. You knew it was there, remembering even the smallest of details, but you couldn’t recall if it was a Wednesday or even what you were wearing. And then, it hit you, like clouds breaking apart to reveal the sun on a dreary day. Everything from the way the air smelled, to precisely what you were wearing, the exact day, even the time and the feeling of your heart racing as you blinked, watching the memory unfold.

  So while I couldn’t remember thinking, oh yeah, I fell for him in Williams Grove. It probably happened years before that when I was fifteen and pissed off about my dad not letting me go to the Chili Bowl Nationals with him and the team and Rager telling me it wasn’t that much fun anyways.

  Could have been when I had no one else to turn to and he was the one who picked up his phone at two in the morning and swore he’d never tell my parents I let another guy use me and my face as a punching bag.

  Or, it was when I was sitting in a room, alone, crying over the loss of my grandfather and having strong arms there to hold me. No questions, no demands, just there for me.

  It wasn’t a Wednesday or a Thursday, it was a week, a month, a year when I slowly fell into his touch that knew the right hold, the gentle gestures, and when to give me the roughness I needed.

  Had he fallen for me that same way?

  As I watched him that morning, slow talking and lazy lying against the dock with a pole in hand, I thought, no, I knew he had at some point. What I wouldn’t give to know exactly when.

  What most never realized was that Rager Sweet was always controlled. He never put himself in a position where he could be pushed against the cushion. He knew the line he wanted and he took it. That wasn’t to say he didn’t sit back and watch the leaders battle it out.

  He chose his lines carefully. And when he knew the time was right, he’d make his move and come on strong, never hesitating, full throttle and fire breathing horsepower.

  You couldn’t ignore it. He wouldn’t let you.

  And today, he wouldn’t let me either.

  Looking over at him, his hat pulled down over his eyes, creating a shadow that seemed to fit his personality, and the way it wouldn’t reveal all that much of his face. Crawling over to him on my knees in the dirt, I kissed his cheek and leaned against the log with him, his right arm hanging over my shoulder.

  “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked, his fingertips tracing along my collarbone as he placed a kiss on my temple, slow and sweet.

  This connection we had, amplified by my hormones couldn’t be broken now. I knew it. Not with the baby growing inside me.

  Tell him!

  Nah, wait. Just a little while longer.

  I knew a lot about Rager. More than I should have probably. I knew the sound of his voice whispered to me, only me, leaving me weak. I knew the taste of his kiss and the feel of his tongue on the curve of my breast. I knew the bright blue to his eyes and the easy smile he offered in the heat of the night. I knew the carefulness of his strong arms and the way he always caught me when I fell.

  What I didn’t know was this side of him. The side of him he showed me that night in that framed house with nothing between us and the outside world but two by fours and plywood.

  “You’re so different when you’re not around others,” I murmured, never looking away as I reached up and traced the edge of his jaw.

  The way I fell for Rager when I was a kid was simple. He looked at me with a stranger’s eye. That was the best way I could describe it. Despite what he knew about our family, or me, he didn’t really know anything about me. He saw me clearly when no one else cared to take the time to.

  “SORRY ABOUT THAT. I should have been paying attention.”

  I splashed some water from the creek on my leg, washing away the blood from where Rager hooked me with his pole. “You like being in control, don’t you?”

  “Baby, I’m always in control.”

  “Sure you are. I’ve seen you… vulnerable… begging… pleading…” I could go on there, but I stopped when his glare cut me off. “Besides, you hooked me!”

  Rager rolled his eyes, sighing and then pointed to the ground. “Look, over there.”

  “At what?” I looked toward the creek to see what he was pointing in front of him.

  “That dead bug.” It was squished in the mud where the water slipped up the wet grass. />
  “Yeah, so?”

  “It’s my ego. You killed it.”

  “You’re so dramatic. Have you been hanging out with Abigale too much?”

  “No. Didn’t you hear?” His eyebrows waggled. “She’s mad at me.”

  “She’s four.” I waved dismissively, sitting beside him again on the log. “She’ll get over it. Don’t hook me again.”

  “Did you get your math skills from your dad? She’s five.”

  “Oh, right.” My sun-kissed shoulders shook with laughter. “Forgot.”

  “So you got your memory from him?” he teased, nudging my ribs with his elbow as he reached inside the tackle box for the worms. “And Arie?”

  “Yeah…”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re the one that hooked me.”

  “Is that so?” I whispered, like I was thinking long and hard about that statement.

  He nodded, his lips parting and my pulse raced. “You did.”

  “When was that?”

  “The first time I kissed you.” He didn’t even blink, looking over at me. His left hand crossed over his chest, brushing the loose strands of hair from my face, liquid sunshine all around us, melting me at his touch. “You had me so fucked up. You still do.”

  “When did you lose your virginity?” I blurted out, clearly not thinking. It was like my brain suddenly had a glitch.

  Why the hell did you just ask that?

  It was one of those moments when I wanted to face palm myself.

  Rager’s body stiffened, his hand withdrawing and leaning back into the log, his fishing pole propped against his knee, hand on the reel. “That’s such a stupid question. When did you lose your virginity?” He laughed, shaking his head and setting his empty beer in front of him. Reaching inside the cooler to his left, he retrieved another longneck and pointed to the cooler, silently asking if I wanted one. Shaking my head, I waited for him to continue his explanation of what he thought was stupid. “Why do people say it like that?”

  “I don’t know.” I think he could sense my confusion, but then again, I probably confused him with my random shift in the conversation.