Dirty Hope

by P. Jameson

  Take the risk or lose the chance…

  That’s vixen Barb’s motto on the race track, but will it work for the grumpy-ass male she’s been pining over? Adam Kennedy is her fated mate, and he wants nothing to do with her. But he isn’t just a grouch extraordinaire, he’s been through hell and has the invisible scars to prove it. She knows the situation is delicate but she has a reputation for stomping in like a hurricane. Somehow, she’ll have to help him heal from his past, even if they can never have a future.

  Hearts have to break before they can be fixed…

  Adam lost everything, and now he’s a man lost. There’s no coming back from what he experienced. He knows you can’t have a perfect life twice. But one spunky vixen shifter is determined to test that theory… and his very last nerve. He can’t deny that Barb makes him feel like a man again, makes him remember what life was like before it all fell apart. But risking another heartbreak is something he can’t bring himself to do. Not when he has his daughter to think about. She’s all he has left of his old life, and he’s not about to risk hurting her.

  Limits are tested, boundaries are drawn, hearts get cracked, but it will all come out in the wash.

  Nothing a little dirty, messy, hope can’t fix.

  DIRTY HOPE

  DTD: The Second Lap

  Book Six

  By P. Jameson

  Website | Facebook | Newsletter

  Dirty Hope

  Copyright © 2020 by P. Jameson

  First electronic publication: February 2020

  United States of America

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, redistributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in any database, without prior written permission from the author, with the exception of brief quotations contained in critical reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this work may be scanned, uploaded, or otherwise distributed via the internet or any other means, including electronic or print without the author’s written permission.

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover Design/Formatting: Agent X

  P. Jameson

  www.pjamesonbooks.com

  Other books by P. Jameson

  Firecats (Alley Cats)

  All is Bright (Prequel)

  Series

  Ouachita Mountain Shifters

  Series

  Dirt Track Dogs

  Series

  Dirt Track Dogs: The Second Lap

  Series

  Ozark Mountain Shifters

  Series

  Sci-fi Fantasy Romance

  Starwalker (Amazon)

  Breaking the Skin (Amazon)

  ***

  Stay up to date with all P. Jameson news!

  To join the New Release Newsletter click HERE (or copy/paste this link to your browser: http://eepurl.com/3s00L ). And be sure to follow the Amazon page HERE.

  Chapter One

  “Not sure how to put this any more plainly. I said no one touches this bike but me. That includes you, old man.” The frustrated voice bled through the metal siding of the shop as Barb approached the official home of the Dirt Track Dogs racing club.

  “Cool it, will ya? I’m just cleaning the thing. Call me old man again, and see how long it takes me to slam my fist into your face, son.” The second voice belonged to Mac, their motocross trainer. Mac was a good friend who’d been with them for years. But the first one… she couldn’t be hearing things right. It was her mind playing tricks on her. Or lovesick wishful thinking.

  Because the owner of that voice wouldn’t be hanging out in DTD headquarters.

  “Maybe I’ll just take it home. I have room in my garage—”

  Only one way to find out.

  Barb swung the door open and stepped inside, letting the scent of motor oil and tires flood her vixen senses. The voices came from the garage bay, but in the corner, a bigass wolf shifter sat on a stool, one leg propped lazily on a second one. He looked up from the magazine he thumbed over, blue eyes filling with recognition as he peeked through blond dreadlocks.

  “Hey, Barb.” Beast, they called him, because he was big and his hair made him look like a lion, slowly turned a page. “Glad you’re here. I was about to have to go on in the shop and separate those two humans. They’re getting on my nerves.” He smirked, and she knew he wasn’t serious. Nothing really got on Beast’s nerves. He had the patience of a reindeer on Christmas Eve. Word had it he wasn’t always so at peace. But just like all the others who belonged to the ragtag Arkansas pack, mating had settled him.

  A familiar ache bloomed in her chest.

  I want that.

  Settle down, ladybeast, she scolded her inner fox. She shouldn’t want a life mate as much as she did. Especially when the male she wanted… really, really didn’t want her back. Yet it was an impossible instinct to stifle.

  Barb drew in a breath to steady herself.

  “Two humans, huh?” That answered any question she had about whose voice she’d heard.

  “Yeah. And they’re arguing about your bike.”

  “Wait, what?”

  Beast raised an eyebrow and pointed at the door that led to the garage. She eased closer, listening as she pushed it open a crack.

  “You move that bike from this garage,” Mac drawled, “and I promise, you’ll regret it.” This was said casually, as to be a warning instead of a threat.

  “Can’t imagine how so.” The dismissive voice belonged to Adam. Barb closed her eyes as his deep timbre travelled across her skin, bringing chills to the surface. Mine, her animal whispered inside but she refused to acknowledge it.

  Mac’s boisterous laugh brought her back around. “Picture this. Your vixen walks in here wanting to take it to the practice track, and it’s not here. ‘Where’s my bike,’ she asks me. ‘Well, Barb, Adam took it home with him,’ I say.” Mac paused, a dramatic silence full of implication before he said, “Veins pop out, face gets red. Voice gets real, real squeaky. Them blue eyes turn into something else altogether.”

  “She would turn into a fox?”

  “A fox?” Mac laughed. “I ain’t talkin’ about her shifting, son. I’m talking about Barb gettin’ angry. Trust me, it ain’t pretty. And what do you think she’ll do when I tell her you took it?”

  Another long pause. She could picture Adam weighing his options.

  Finally, he said, “Don’t care. Bike’s coming with me. I can make sure it’s in top shape before race day.”

  Adam wanted to work on her bike? Silly man, didn’t he know she could do that herself. For the most part anyway. She’d learned a lot from Mac over the years. And besides, it was Rider who specialized in bike mechanics, not Adam. If she was going to ask anyone to spruce up Lil’ Barb, it would be him.

  “Fine.” Mac sighed. “It’s your funeral. I’d say it was nice knowing ya, but it really wasn’t all that great.”

  “Open the bay,” Adam said.

  Wait. Seriously? He was really trying to take her bike from the DTD garage without asking first? Cute, but no.

  Barb pushed through the door, whistling Baby Got Back like she hadn’t just been eavesdropping. She stopped a few steps inside the garage and Adam dropped his hands from Little Barb like he’d been caught touching a set of tits.

  Barb smiled, but her voice held an edge as she asked sweetly, “Whatcha doing?”

  Mac chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against a workbench to take in the inevitable show. Adam straightened his shoulders, looking uncomfortable enough to actually run from the scene. But no, he wouldn’t. If there was one thing she’d learned about the man, it was th
at he was stubborn. He didn’t like to appear weak. He was hard and unforgiving. Had the highest of standards. Didn’t take shit from no one.

  Still, he was caught red-handed. Like the time he ogled her boobs after she shifted to help Tabatha.

  She couldn’t wait to see how he’d talk his way out of this.

  “I’m taking your bike to my garage,” he said boldly.

  Barb blinked.

  “It needs a tune up. Gonna check the tires. Replace the—”

  “Mac can do all that.”

  Adam crossed his arms. “Sure. But this way, I know it’s done right.”

  “Mac has done it right for years. I trust him.” Barb kept her face neutral, even if her animal was going wild inside. This was the first time Adam had shown any hint of real interest in her wellbeing. Was this a clue that she was finally starting to crack that hard shell he’d built around his heart after his wife passed away?

  Familiar sadness engulfed Barb, as it always did when she thought of Adam and what he’d been through in life. He and his beloved were high school sweethearts, married young, and happy as the day is long according everything she’d heard. They’d just had a beautiful little baby girl when a car accident took his wife’s life, leaving him alone and hurting and struggling to care for an infant.

  But he’d made it out the other side of grief—though not unscathed—and their daughter, Megan, was the sweetest little six-year-old Barb had ever met.

  Adam smirked in Mac’s direction. “The old man has his hands busy with other things.”

  Mac narrowed his gaze at Adam but said nothing.

  “I can take this off his plate,” Adam added, too casual.

  Barb pursed her lips. “Why?”

  “I told you.”

  “No, why do you care if it’s done right?”

  Adam frowned. “Safety is important.”

  “My safety specifically, or safety in general?” She needed to know, because the details made alllll the difference. She couldn’t help the way her vixen wanted to claim him for a mate, but she could sure as hell decide to what extent she would throw herself at him.

  Exactly how much self-respect are you going to spare these days, Barbilicious?

  Adam scowled as if he could read her thoughts. “Safety is safety. I don’t like seeing anyone eat dirt on the track. I’m not a monster.”

  So safety in general then. The shell wasn’t cracking.

  Damn it.

  She didn’t know how to reach him or if she should even try. He wasn’t ready to move past his… past. And loving like he had loved his wife… maybe he’d never be.

  Barb couldn’t help wondering what that feeling was like. True love. She’d never known it. Had only witnessed it from the outside looking in. First with Lexington and her human mate, Aaron. Then Sinful Sally fell ankles over tits for Rider. Next was Seraphina and Hot Rod, then Tabatha and Maxim...

  With time, Barb had witnessed the ups and downs, the challenges and victories. The tears and the laughs, how one could so perfectly compliment another. She knew true love wasn’t always easy, but it sure as hell seemed worth it.

  Defeat threatened to strangle her next words, but she managed to choke them out anyway. “Well, then. No need to worry with it. Mac’s got my back. We’re good here.”

  Adam opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when his phone chimed from his pocket. He pulled it free, glaring at the screen before answering. “Yeah?” he barked into the receiver.

  Barb watched his shoulders slump slightly, as if the weight of the entire universe rested there.

  “Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can… sure, I understand. Okay, see you soon.” He was shaking his head as he tucked the phone into his back pocket. Oh, to be that cell phone at this very moment in time— “Looks like you win, princess,” he sighed.

  Princess. The nickname wasn’t spoken out of affection. He called her princess because she liked pink and he thought she was all kinds of extra. Shoot, it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t be basic. But Barb didn’t mind the nickname. It was something he reserved for only her, and sad as it may be, she sort of… treasured it.

  “Giving up that easy, are you?” she teased.

  “No choice.” He scowled. “They need me to come into work.”

  Barb noted he was still wearing his navy blue work shirt with the little white name patch on one shoulder. Standard uniform for his mechanic job at the nearby pipe factory.

  “Didn’t you just come from there?”

  He nodded. “They can’t get the lathe to work. Production is shut down. Someone’s gotta fix it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was just about to go pick up Megan. Shit.” Pulling his phone back out, he started frantically texting. “I gotta find someone to keep her until I’m done.”

  Barb chewed her lip as she watched him. He muttered to himself as message after message came back with bad news.

  Mac caught her eye, tilting his head toward Adam and raising one eyebrow. Barb gave a quick shake of her head. She knew better than to offer to babysit Adam’s daughter. She’d made that mistake once before.

  “Shit,” Adam cursed. “No one’s available with this short notice.” He wasn’t talking to anyone but the air. It was as if he’d forgotten she and Mac were even in the room.

  Barb cleared her throat. “What about Tana?” The werecat was mated to Surge, the craziest of the Dirt Track Dogs, and they had a daughter Megan’s age. Barb knew sometimes the girls had sleepovers.

  Adam shook his head. “They’re out of town for the night.”

  “What about Beast and Punk?” The couple also had young around Megan’s age. Surely, they could help out in a pinch.

  “Nope.” Beast’s muffled voice came from the front of the shop where he was probably still reading his magazine. “Tonight’s date night. And we never break date night. Date night is sacred. Date night keeps us sane. Date night—”

  “We got it,” Barb called, rolling her eyes.

  “Hey, I got an idea…” Beast strolled into the garage, stopping right next to Barb and crossing his arms over his broad chest. A sly grin spread his lips. The man was kinda beautiful in a big… big kind of way, but his smile could never make her heart quake like Adam’s. Not that she’d ever seen Adam’s smile. Whatever. “How about you watch the little lady, Barb?” Beast continued.

  She cringed as she watched Adam’s fingers freeze over the screen of his phone.

  She shot Beast a brutal look. Shut up, you mongrel.

  “You’re not busy tonight, are you?” he said, smiling bigger.

  “I… I… well, I’m… not…”

  Adam lifted his gaze to hers, looking wary. He didn’t want her to watch Megan. He didn’t want her near anything that was his. She always knew this, but also hoped the day would come when he didn’t hate her simply because she’d dared to care about him.

  Barb’s mouth fished open and shut, trying to find a way to let him off the hook without getting her heart hurt.

  She looked away, scrambling for anything. Gotta work on my bike. Meeting Sera for drinks at Red Cap. Promised Old Man Hubbard to massage the life back into his legs.

  Finally, she settled on the truth.

  “I don’t have plans tonight, but I know you aren’t comfortable with me watching Megan. If you want, you can bring her to the hotel and I bet she can just sit in the lobby and chat with Old Man Hubbard until you’re done.”

  Adam was silent for a long time. “I already tried him. He’s not feeling his best. Said he’s going to bed early.”

  “Oh.”

  There had to be somebody—anybody. Barb looked to Mac. “Ragan?”

  Mac shook his head. “She’s taking Kit to get new shoes. Kid’s growing like a damn weed.”

  Slowly, Barb brought her gaze back to Adam. He was staring hard at her. Like he was trying to see past her skin. Through her skull. Like he wanted to read her thoughts. Well, all he would find right now was a whole lotta embarrassment.

  She
cleared her throat. “I… I mean… I’m available. I can watch her if you want,” she said quietly, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear her and a magical text would come through saying someone else was able.

  He sighed, deep and heavy, as he slid his phone back into his pocket. “Looks like I don’t have a choice.”

  Barb swallowed hard and looked away as those words landed like a slap to her cheek. I don’t have a choice. It was the only thing he could’ve said to rip away any fantasy that he actually cared for her even as a friend.

  I don’t have a choice.

  Choice was the only thing that mattered. At least it was of the utmost importance to her and the other vixens. Not having a choice wasn’t just a catchphrase for them. It was a way of life until they fled their misogynistic fox skulk and sought refuge with the Dirt Track Dogs pack. It was the only reason they were even here in Cedar Valley.

  I don’t have a choice.

  As if accepting her offer to help would be his very last option. It hurt. She loved children and spent plenty of time helping Ragan raise Kit. She was a good damn aunty, and she would take the very best care of Megan too.

  No matter what her achingly handsome dumbass dad thought.

  Barb lifted her chin as she reached out to grab the house key Adam offered her.

  “I might be late,” he said.

  “Fine.”

  His brow furrowed. “There’s ah… I made lasagna for dinner. It’s Meg’s favorite. It’s in the fridge, just heat it up.”

  Barb nodded.

  “I always make too much so you eat too, okay?”

  She cleared her throat. “No thanks. I hate the stuff.” Lies. Lasagna was her favorite too.

  He narrowed his eyes for a moment but then turned and hurried out of the garage.

  Chapter Two

  Adam Kennedy twisted the wrench one last time and the bolt came free. Carefully, he lifted the casing from the broken machine and stared at the guts inside. Wires and gears and rubber belts. These were things he knew how to handle.