Throttle (Jack 'Em Up #3)

by Shauna Allen

  Suddenly, mossy eyes met mine and his smile grew to gargantuan proportions. He mumbled something to Ryder, who spun around to smile and wave.

  I waved back as Angela opened the door. “Hey. Did you need something? It’s not your day with Ryder, is it?”

  “Uh, no.” I bit back my smile as Trace continued to stare, his face full of open admiration, his fingers still folded through those ridiculously tiny scissors.

  “Care to join us?” she asked, indicating the craft area. “We’re decorating for fall.”

  “I see that.” Now I noticed the big pile of paper leaves, pumpkins, and turkeys. They’d been busy. I made my way to the table, focusing my attention on the children. “Wow, guys. You’re doing a great job.”

  I tucked my legs the best I could and sat in one of the tiny plastic chairs across from Trace, listening to tales of the Tooth Fairy and the book Mrs. Delgado was reading them at story time. Though he was back to business, I still felt the heat of Trace’s stare and I only squirmed a little. Finally, when the kids settled back into their work, I met his eyes.

  Hi, he mouthed with a wink.

  God.

  Hi, I mouthed back.

  His eyes darted to Ryder, but all focus was on the turkey feathers in front of him. Clearing his throat, he stood. “Be right back, Buddy.”

  “’Kay.” Ryder didn’t even look up.

  Silently, I followed Trace’s lead to the classroom door, where we let ourselves out into the hall. He tucked his hands into his pockets and faced me. “We still on for Friday?”

  “Oh. Right. Sure.”

  He frowned. “Don’t let me twist your arm. If you’ve changed your mind . . .”

  “I haven’t,” I interrupted.

  His face softened. “Look, I won’t pressure you. I want to spend time with you, I have since I first met you. But it doesn’t have to be anything more serious than a couple of friends having dinner, if that’s what you want. I’m not looking for anything serious either.”

  It was my turn to frown. I hadn’t said that in so many words. My concerns were work-related. But I wasn’t going to argue the point. Keeping it casual was the best thing. “Sure. No worries. Friends.”

  “Friends,” he echoed, the word sounding as distasteful to him as it did me, but we both knew better than to push it.

  I nodded. “Great. See you Friday then.”

  He reached out and brushed a hair that clung to my lip, making me quiver, negating that whole ‘friend’ thing. “That you will.”

  Boy, did I see him.

  Standing on my tiny front porch, his faded jeans hugged his long legs and his tight black T-shirt let me know the lean swimmer’s body I’d been dreaming of wasn’t too far from the truth.

  His mossy eyes were hooded in the darkness of night, his dark hair mussed in his usual sexy as hell way, and a day’s worth of stubble painted his chin.

  He looked good enough to eat.

  Instead of licking him like a lollipop, I stepped back and opened the door. “Care to come inside for a minute? I just need to slip on my shoes and we can go.”

  “Sure.”

  I felt the hot blush creep up my neck at his open perusal. Suddenly, I worried my short sundress may be too casual. “Is this okay? You never said where we’re going.” I smoothed a hand down the skirt over my thigh.

  “It’s perfect.” He closed the door behind him. “You look beautiful. You always do.”

  I acknowledged his compliment with a smile and spun away. “Be right back. Make yourself comfortable.”

  In my bedroom, I inhaled a deep breath and collected myself.

  Friends, my ass.

  It would be a true, sanctified miracle if we didn’t end up in bed together in the very near future. I paused and stared at myself in the mirror. Why didn’t that thought scare me?

  Because Trace Berringer may be a lot of things, including a hopeless flirt, but he was a good man. That much I was certain about.

  As I dabbed on some perfume and sat to slide on my strappy sandals, I heard him move around my living room. I imagined him examining the photos of my family, reading the titles of the romance novels and school textbooks on my bookshelf, studying my tiny, colorful space. I wondered what he thought.

  After one last check in the mirror, I grabbed my purse and walked back to the living room.

  He was bent over my knickknack shelf, one of my seashells in his big hand. His eyes met mine. “Collect shells?”

  “Kind of. I’ve loved them since I was a little girl. The big ones that sound like the ocean when you put them to your ear were always peaceful to me . . . it was a sad day when I learned it’s not really the sea in there.”

  He nodded once and gently put the shell back in its spot. “And this is your family?” He touched the framed picture from three Christmases ago on the next shelf.

  “Yes.” I approached and pointed. “That’s my mom, Caroline. My older sister, Kendall.” I paused, trying to read his expression as he studied us. “And that’s my younger sister, Hope.”

  “No father?”

  His softly spoken question yanked on my heart. “No. Not really. He left when they found out about Hope. Hasn’t been around since.”

  He nodded and turned to study the photograph again, not bothering to ask me to explain the obvious, and I watched as my words sunk in. As he realized the truth of my sister that I’d been so ashamed of for much of my life. I wasn’t any more, and if he had anything negative to say, he could . . .

  “You have a beautiful family,” he murmured, placing the photo back and effectively obliterating any doubts as to his kind heart.

  I was in big trouble.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled.

  I let him lead me out to his old Chevy and I waited while he opened the door for me. I slid in and forcibly shoved back all worries that this may be a bad idea. Just a simple dinner between friends.

  Yeah.

  He maneuvered his tall frame behind the wheel, filling the car with his woodsy and citrus scent. He roared the car to a start and drove silently into the night. He adjusted the AC, teasing me with the flexing muscles of his forearms.

  “So, where are we going?” I asked to break the tension.

  His gaze flicked my way. “There’s a great fifties style diner down by the beach. You ever been?”

  I bit my lip and smiled. No fancy restaurants or movies or other typical first date stuff here. He was full of surprises. “Nope.”

  “Me either. I hear it’s good.”

  “So, where’s Ryder tonight?”

  “I have a neighbor who sits for me sometimes. All her kids are grown and gone and she likes to spoil him rotten. It helps me out, I gotta admit.”

  “Does your family still live around here? Are y’all close?” I paused. “Sorry. That’s none of my business.”

  “It’s not a big deal. My folks live a few miles out of town, but they’re out of the country on a European vacation. My brothers are in Austin and Tulsa, respectively. Brandi lives out here by the coast, actually. Her husband runs one of the hotels.”

  “You’re all close.” It was a statement, not a question.

  I felt his stare, but I kept my gaze ahead. “Yeah. Aren’t you close to your sisters? Your mom?”

  I shifted in my seat and picked at a fingernail. “I guess.”

  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just figured this is traditional first date stuff. We can talk about something else.”

  “Like what?”

  I heard the smile in his voice. “What are your thoughts on Big Foot?”

  I laughed. “I don’t have any.”

  He shrugged and I studied his chiseled profile in the dim illumination from the dash.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about my family,” I blurted. “I just usually don’t.”

  “No pressure. Seriously.”

  “I know.” I sighed and tested the words in my mind before speaking. “We were a pretty typical,
All-American family for a while I guess . . . the four of us. Then Mom got pregnant with Hope. A menopause oops. Shortly after she was born, she was diagnosed with Down syndrome and Dad left. My mom was forced to work two and three jobs so we could survive, which didn’t leave her much time for us. We became latchkey kids after that and life was a lot less fun. We were dirt poor, and because of our shabby house, hand-me-down clothes, and disabled sister, we became the bullies’ favorite pastime.”

  I couldn’t believe I’d divulged all that. I never talked about those years. Never. It was too painful.

  He didn’t say anything for several long moments. Then his hand was on my knee, feather soft, supportive, not sexual in any way. That was it. No false platitudes of pity or saying he understood. Just his strong, silent support. And, somehow, that meant more to me than anything.

  Trace

  I had no words.

  My childhood had been pretty fuckin’ idyllic, even with the constant moves. I’d never had to doubt my parents’ love or the safety net of home. This new insight into Tori’s life simultaneously floored me and gave me a new, deeper respect for the woman.

  We made it to the diner and I parked near the front, killing the engine. I toyed with the keys in my hand a moment. “I’d like to meet them sometime. Especially Hope.”

  Her surprised gaze caught mine and I’d swear tears glimmered in the depths of her stormy eyes. “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why?”

  I tried to gauge her mood, but I couldn’t see her expression clearly in the darkness. “Why not?”

  “Why not?” she repeated to herself, her voice low and obviously disbelieving. “I’ve never . . .” She shifted in her seat to face me. “Every guy I’ve ever dated has pretty much pretended my little sister didn’t exist, and now here you are, asking to meet her. I’m just . . . I’m confused.”

  “What’s to be confused about? She has Down syndrome not leprosy.”

  She barked out a rough laugh. “Yeah, well, she might as well have leprosy for how the men in my life have treated her.”

  “Then they’re dicks.”

  Her eyes widened. How could she have possibly known so many fucking assholes? Next thing I knew, her hands were cupping my face as her lips brushed mine. Soft and sweet. “Thanks for not being a dick.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She drew back and grabbed her purse. “Let’s eat.”

  “Absolutely.”

  We strode into the retro diner. A corner jukebox blared Buddy Holly, fifties movie posters plastered all the walls, red vinyl stools sat perched at an old fashioned counter, and all of the waitresses were dressed like extras from Grease. The scent of sizzling burgers filled the air and the big chocolate shake with whipped cream and cherry that some kid had at a corner table was enough to make my mouth water.

  We were seated in a glittery red booth near the jukebox and Tori’s childlike smile told me I’d chosen wisely. “This is great,” she said, her eyes taking it all in.

  Our waitress, who reminded me of Rizzo, took our order for two cherry Cokes and I settled in to study my date. I still couldn’t believe after months of dancing around each other, I finally had her all to myself.

  We had our Cokes and ordered our dinner as Richie Valens began to croon to his Donna in the background. Tori said nothing, keeping her eyes averted to either the people around us, or the straw in her drink.

  I nudged her foot with mine. “Why are you so quiet? Nervous?”

  “No,” she said a bit too quickly. She peered up at me through her eyelashes, shy smile in place. “Maybe a little.”

  “Why?” I pasted on my best innocent guy face. “You said you weren’t afraid to be alone with me.”

  “I’m not.” She sighed and sipped as she wrangled her thoughts. “Not like you’re thinking anyway.”

  I stayed quiet.

  “Okay, fine. Maybe like you’re thinking. It’s all so confusing.” She finally bumped my foot back as a pink blush stole up her cheeks. “Why couldn’t you have asked me out when I worked at the Funky Monkey?”

  Busted. “I dunno. I guess I just figured you were way out of my league and I settled for ogling you instead of being shot down in a blaze of glory.”

  “Ogling, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  Behind her, a couple that appeared to be in their mid to late sixties got up and began dancing. Their heads were bent toward each other, love drunk expressions on their faces. I glanced back at Tori and she looked mighty pleased with herself. “Hey, don’t let it go to your head. I do believe you ogled back.”

  Her laugh was sweet as sugar. “Guilty.” Her smile fell. “So, seriously, what took us so long?”

  Visions of Kristi and the carnage she left in my life when she left me with a newborn and no clue blew through my mind like the tornado she’d been. One experience, one woman, one nightmare had been enough to make me wary. Not to mention I’d made it my mission in life to protect my son in every way, including his heart.

  I was toying with how much of my sordid story to tell Tori when our burgers were served. She seemed to forget her question as she glopped a disgusting amount of ketchup on her plate and dug in with gusto.

  I smiled to myself and picked up my own burger. As we ate, all I could taste was my own confusion. I’d held myself back from most everybody the past seven years, but something about this woman made me want to share my deepest, darkest secrets, and it was confusing as hell.

  “I haven’t dated since Ryder was born.” The words leaked out before I’d registered the truth of them.

  Her surprised gaze lifted to mine. “What?”

  I shrugged sheepishly and grabbed a fry.

  “Seriously? No women?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  She carefully placed her burger down and tilted her head, regarding me. Then she seemed to catch my meaning, her blush making a return appearance. “Oh.”

  “To say I have trust issues after Kristi ditched me and Ryder would probably be an understatement. It really fucked with my head and I’ve steered clear of any possibility of pain like that again, but I haven’t been a monk.”

  Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

  “Don’t worry,” I assured her. “I’m not expecting anything from you other than dinner.”

  Suddenly, her eyes were pinned to her plate. “Why, then?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why ask me out . . . if you don’t . . .”

  I tapped her foot again until she looked back up. “Please don’t be nervous. Just ask me what you want to know.”

  She bit her lip then plunged in. “If you don’t date, why ask me out? Are you expecting me to scratch some itch for you before you move on to the next girl?”

  Now it was my turn to pause. But I’d started this; I’d decided to trust her. I would commit. “I asked you out because maybe I’m ready for something different. But I don’t expect anything from you that you’re not willing to give.”

  I watched her face as she digested this.

  “You’re different,” I added, not having the right words to express how special she was. I’d never met another woman like her and I knew I never would.

  Her brows lifted. “Different?”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I trust you.” I threw her a flirty smile. “Plus, you’re not bad to look at. Or kiss.”

  She shook her head like I was an errant child then picked up her burger. “You’re something else, you know that?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  We ate as the music cranked up and more couples filtered out to the makeshift dance area. We ordered dessert and Tori sat back with a sigh. “I’m not sure I can handle a milkshake. I’m stuffed.”

  “I’ll finish whatever you don’t want.”

  “Deal.”

  “Wanna dance?” I inclined my head to the folks attempting the Twist.

  A wry smile lifted her lips. “Not right now. I might explod
e.”

  I took in her pretty pink sundress. She didn’t look anywhere near exploding to me. She looked gorgeous and I told her so. Again.

  “You are dangerously good for my ego.”

  “I aim to please.”

  We were served our milkshakes, but she ignored hers, toying with her napkin instead. “Can I ask about Ryder’s mother? As a friend, I mean, not as Ryder’s counselor?”

  My heart froze. “What do you wanna know?”

  “You said it was just a one-night thing. Did you know her before?”

  “Not really.” I averted my gaze, feeling ashamed of my youthful idiocy. “We’d met a couple of times through a mutual acquaintance. One night, we drank too much and ended up in bed.”

  “And she got pregnant.”

  “Yup. Well, she disappeared. I didn’t hear from her again until she was at the hospital in labor with him.”

  Her eyes popped open. “Are you serious?”

  I fought back the emotions that still swirled through me when I thought of that day. “Unfortunately.”

  “What happened?”

  I ran a hand through my hair and down my neck. Seven years hadn’t done much to dull the anger. “I debated even going to the hospital. I mean, how could I be sure it was even my kid after one night together and not hearing from her for months? But, in the end, I couldn’t stay away if there was even a remote possibility. So, I went. As sappy as it sounds, the moment I saw him, it was love at first sight.”

  “Did you have a paternity test done?”

  I shook my head. “You’ve seen him, right? He’s my spitting image. I’ve never doubted he’s mine.”

  “True. The dimples give you away.”

  “Exactly. You should see our baby pictures. We could pass for identical twins.”

  “So what happened with his mother? How’d you end up raising him?”

  I sipped my shake then pushed the glass away. “I took them both home to my apartment in the car seat I’d bought him, to the crib I’d bought him, trying to imagine a way to make it work. Waste of time. About a week later, I caught her getting high with some of her loser friends and I reamed her from one side to the other. When I woke up the next day, she was gone and I was a single father.”

  “God.”