Changing Gears

by Roseanne Beck

  All I know is that Jake asked if I could take off a couple of days, told me to pack an overnight bag, and then refused to answer any of my questions other than “bring comfortable clothes” and “don’t overthink it.”

  Yeah, right. Has he met me? I’ve done nothing but overthink it.

  Is Kylie gonna figure out that I’m not really busy with end-of-quarter-stuff at the college? Does Jake really have an appointment with a specialist, or is that just his cover story? Can I trust Aunt Sheila to keep her mouth shut while she and Uncle Pete are helping out at the store? Does this mean Jake and I are dating? Should I have packed sexier? Did I underpack?

  Or maybe I overpacked. Maybe we’ll spend a couple of days naked in a love shack somewhere.

  A giddy warmth spreads through my core. Yeah. I could definitely handle that.

  Unless we’re naked with other people. Didn’t he say his mother worked at a nudist colony?

  The giddy warmth is replaced by a ball of dread. “Are you taking me to meet your mother?”

  “What? No.” Jake shifts in his seat. “Would you please relax? This is supposed to be fun.”

  “Well, I would relax if you told me where we’re going.”

  He pulls out his phone. “Don’t make me call Sheila.”

  I growl a retort. Damn Aunt Sheila for being so willing to help me play hooky, and damn my own big, fat mouth for telling him about it. She’d probably shoot me full of tranquilizers and drive me to wherever-the-hell-it-is-we’re-going by herself if she had to. “Just one little hint.”

  “Sorry.” Jake cranks up the music. “I can’t hear you.”

  I open my mouth to continue arguing, but close it when he starts singing along with Imagine Dragon’s Demons. Damn. I love this song. And a good car singalong. Add Jake to the mix, and it’s a perfect trifecta. His voice is a curious blend of sedative and stimulant. On the one hand, his smooth, sexy baritone calms my high-flying nerves, but on the other hand, it sends tingles of excitement racing up and down my spine.

  Right now, I think I’d be happy if the only thing he had planned was driving around singing car karaoke all day.

  The haunting tranquility fades away, and Jake riffs on his air guitar to the opening strains of Aerosmith’s Walk This Way. “Come on,” he says, when Steven Tyler starts singing. “You know you want to.”

  “I don’t know the words.”

  “Phfft. No one knows the words.” He continues to strum his guitar and sings along, his words a mixture of nonsense and actual lyrics.

  I join in, and we harmonize on the chorus. Despite the fact that we’re both wailing along with the song, we sound pretty good together.

  We keep ourselves entertained for quite some time, and before I know it, Jake’s directing me off the highway. “Okay. Just follow the signs for the stadium.”

  “Stadium?”

  “Yep. Big, round thing? You can’t miss it.”

  “Gee. Thanks. What I meant was, why are we going to the stadium?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Hmm... “Did you get us tickets to a baseball game? Or football? Hockey? Which one’s in season right now?”

  “Well, it’s a football stadium, but they’re not in season yet, so no.”

  “Is Cirque du Soleil in town?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Are we headed for the annual karaoke strip convention?”

  “Why? Would you like that?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then maybe.”

  “Are you auditioning for America’s Got Talent?”

  “No.”

  “Am I auditioning for America’s Got Talent?”

  He shakes his head, a disgustingly smug smile on his face.

  I continue to pepper him with questions, but he continues to evade anything resembling an answer. Dammit. Why is this turning me on? I thrive on the known. But I guess if I’m honest, there’s something freeing about letting Jake take over. It’s kind of exciting.

  As we get closer to our destination, however, something in the air seems to shift. Jake’s good leg bounces like it’s on a spring, and every time I glance his way, it seems that the tension in his shoulders has ratcheted up another few notches.

  “Shit,” he breathes as I turn into the stadium parking lot. “This was a stupid idea. Maybe we should just turn around and go back home.”

  “What? And miss The Wiggles Live in Concert? Dora the Explorer on Ice? Don’t make me call Aunt Sheila.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches. “Please. Give me a little credit. If it was The Wiggles or Dora, Reece would be in the backseat.” He takes a breath and rakes a hand through his hair. “I actually got us Supercross tickets. There’s an event today, and my buddy Hurley’s competing. I thought it would be fun—play hooky, get that motorcycle ride you wanted. You know... Put a couple of notches in your bad girl column. But, uh, we don’t actually have to go. We can find something else to do. Something classier.”

  His insecurity tugs at my heartstrings. I pull into a parking space, then shift to face him. “Are you kidding me? This is awesome.” Never in a million years would I have guessed this is what we’d be doing. And never in a million years would I have thought I’d actually be this excited about it. But I am. Partly because it’s so far out of my typical norm, and partly because it’s spending a day with Jake. And, apparently, the night.

  Butterflies beat an erratic rhythm in my stomach.

  “Uh-oh,” Jake says. “That’s your thinking face. Are you having second thoughts about how awesome my plan is?”

  “Absolutely not.” I’ve never loved a plan more.

  “WELCOME TO MY WORLD.” Jake balances on his crutches and spreads out his arms as we enter the inner sanctum of the stadium.

  I look around in awe. The immense area that’s usually a field or concert venue has been turned into a gigantic dirt track. Several motorcycles soar through the air, the buzzing whine of the engines a mechanical harmony to their acrobatics. Small crowds of people mill around the edges, some on the giving end of autographs, some on the receiving end, while others gather around sponsor tents.

  “Wow.”

  Jake grins. “I know. Right?” His previous apprehension seems to have disappeared, and excitement sparkles in his eyes.

  “This is your world?”

  “Yeah. Kind of. I usually ride outdoors, but there were no Motocross events nearby, and Supercross is more spectator friendly.” He nods toward one of the riders signing autographs. “That’s Hurley. Come on. Let me introduce you.”

  A guy around our age wearing a hat and a racing uniform finishes signing a racing glove for a young boy, then looks up. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he sees us. “Dude! You made it.”

  Jake stops next to him and gives him a fist bump. “Hey, man. Good to see you again.”

  The boy does a double-take, his eyes rounding. “Are you Jake Chambers? Can I have your autograph, too?”

  “Absolutely.” Jake grins and signs the boy’s hat.

  “How’s your leg?” the boy asks. “Will you be back next year?”

  “It’s getting better. I’ll try my best. Thanks for asking.” Jake takes the questions in stride, showing no signs of the self-doubt he’s shared over the past few weeks.

  After the boy moves on to another booth, Jake introduces me to Hurley.

  “Nice to meet you, Lauren. Any friend of Jake’s is a friend of mine.” Hurley’s expression sobers. “Uh... Speaking of friends. Incoming.” He coughs the last word, then turns to sign another autograph as a set of blonde twins approaches.

  “Hi, Jake,” one of the bombshells says.

  The other reaches out and runs a hand up his bicep. “How are you doing? You coming back soon?”

  “Uh... Hey, Astrid. Sigrid.”

  “We miss you.”

  “Yeah, um... I miss you too. I mean, racing. Being on tour.”

  The first bombshell licks her lips. “Well, you should hang with us tonight. We’ll take good car
e of you.”

  A mixture of jealousy and insecurity courses through my veins. I mean, they’re gorgeous. Clearly much more in Jake’s league than I am. But come on. I’m right here. Although as far as they know, I could be his cousin.

  Shifting uncomfortably, I glance around, looking for the nearest emergency exit. Blonde twin bombshells count as emergencies, right?

  Jake blinks, his expression somewhere between discomfort and panic. “Uh, no thanks. I’m here with Lauren. My girlfriend.”

  My eyes snap back to Jake. Did he just call me his girlfriend?

  A gooey warmth chases away the insecurity for a brief moment before it returns in full force. Because yes, he did call me that, but did he mean it? Was it for real? Or was he just trying to get the twins off his back? And if it was the last option, why? And what the hell is he doing here with me when he could have them?

  Bombshell number one rakes me from top to bottom, while bombshell number two shrugs and pats him on the ass. “Well,” she says, “you know where to find us.”

  Crap. Sounds like he probably has had them. Which makes the prospect of tonight even more daunting.

  The twins amble back to one of the tents, and Jake winces. “Sorry. They work for one of my old sponsors.”

  “They seem...friendly.” And limber. And toned.

  Hurley barks out a laugh. “Yeah. That’s one way of putting it.” He rocks back on his heels and grins. “So, I hear you’re a virgin.”

  My eyes dart to Jake. “Uh...”

  “A motorcycle virgin,” Jake clarifies.

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  “Well, have no fear. Hurley’s here.”

  Hurley sweeps a gentleman’s bow, and Jake rolls his eyes at him before turning to me. “If you’re up for it, Hurley’s gonna take you for a ride on his bike.” He glances at his cast. “Sorry I can’t do it. I don’t think my leg can handle it.”

  “His loss is my gain.” Hurley winks. “Milady.”

  “Have fun.” Jake narrows his eyes. “But not too much.”

  If I’m not mistaken, the look on his face is a mixture of disappointment and jealousy. The gooey warm sensation returns, and I plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. This is great. And for the record, I expect a raincheck from you when you’re back on your own two feet.”

  Relief sweeps the uncertainty off his face. “Deal.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Jake

  ENVY CLAWS AT MY GUT as Lauren hops off the back of Hurley’s bike and gives him a hug.

  Shit.

  On the one hand, I’m excited that she’s so excited. I love seeing her so carefree. Especially knowing how much the business stuff is weighing her down. But I don’t love seeing her arms wrapped around another guy. Even if that other guy is one of my best friends.

  I shake my head, trying to clear the crazy.

  Dammit. Since when am I jealous of Hurley? It’s usually the other way around. Him busting my balls because of my ways with the ladies.

  And speaking of ladies... I dart a nervous glance toward the motor oil tent. I seriously hope the twins got the hint. Don’t need them messing things up.

  “Oh, my God. That was amazing!”

  The joy on Lauren’s face chases away my misgivings. “Have I created an adrenaline junkie?”

  “Absolutely.” She wrinkles her nose. “But, uh, at the risk of being un-adrenaline-junkie-ish, where’s the restroom? I kinda hafta pee.”

  Hurley directs her to the nearby VIP restrooms, then crosses his arms, studying me. “Dude. Can I just congratulate you on finally getting your shit together?”

  “What?” I’m pretty sure my shit is nowhere in the vicinity of together.

  “I like her.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. Keep your grubby mitts off.”

  Hurley shakes his head. “My, how the mighty have fallen.”

  “Shut up, man. It’s not like that.”

  “Oh really?” Hurley cocks an eyebrow. “Well, then, I must’ve had a stroke a little while ago, because I could’ve sworn that I heard you call her your girlfriend.”

  “Oh. Yeah. That. It kinda slipped out.”

  “Phfft. Only Jake Chambers would accidentally call someone his girlfriend.”

  “Hey! I panicked. The twins were getting handsy.”

  “Never bothered you before.”

  “Yeah, well... Maybe I’ve changed.” Or maybe I wanna change. I tighten my hands around my crutches.

  “Dude. What’s with you?” Hurley’s eyebrows draw together. “You are coming back, right?”

  I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the ball of fear that’s been setting up shop more and more frequently. “I don’t know, man. I don’t know if I have it in me.”

  Hurley lets out a low whistle. “Shit, man.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess I could always do something with the tour. Or try to hook up with one of the sponsors. Not with the twins, though.” I shudder. They take that whole crazy-hot scale to ridiculous levels. And not in a good way. “But I’m kinda liking where I am now.” Both at the shop and with Lauren. Thoughts that would’ve triggered disbelief and more than a little panic several weeks ago.

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear I won’t be able to bust your balls in person on a regular basis, but I totally get it. And if you do decide to come back, you know I’m here for you.” He nods his head toward Lauren, who’s making her way toward us. “And if you screw it up with her, let me know. I’ll happily step in.”

  “You know these crutches are the only things saving your ass, right?”

  “Yep.” His grin stretches wide as he tips his hat to Lauren. “Alright guys. It’s been a pleasure, but I’ve gotta go get ready.”

  “Good luck! And thanks again,” says Lauren.

  “Yeah. Break a leg. Or two,” I mutter.

  “Wow,” Lauren says, as we make our way to our seats. “I really like him.”

  Envy claws at me again.

  “He’s a really nice guy,” she adds.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And I totally see why you do it—the freedom, the speed, the threat of danger. It’s just so exhilarating.”

  “Yep.” Although I’m beginning to see the draw toward a slower pace and a little more security.

  She stops and lays a hand on my arm. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you had fun with Hurley.”

  “I did. But what I really wanted was to ride you.” Her eyes widen, and a faint blush stains her cheeks. “I mean, with you. Ride with you. On the seat. Behind you.” She groans. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do.” Any remaining irritation falls away, and I chuckle. Damn, I like this girl. Her entertaining faux pas, her willingness to step outside of her box, her shy smile.

  After we’re settled in our VIP seats, Lauren bites her lip. “So, uh, about that girlfriend comment...” She laces her fingers together and blows out a breath. “I mean, it’s cool if you meant it. In fact, I’d like it. But I’m also okay if you were just saying it so those women would leave you alone. Although I’m not quite sure why you’d want them to leave you alone.”

  “You mean besides the fact that they’re crazy?” I drape an arm around Lauren’s shoulders. “I really did mean it. I like you. A lot. But I’m not exactly boyfriend material. Especially not for someone like you. So if you don’t want to—”

  “What do you mean ‘someone like me?’”

  “You know... Someone smart and real who knows what the hell she’s doing in life.”

  Lauren leans over and plants her lips on mine, stealing any remaining arguments. When we finally come up for air, she rests her forehead against mine. “Shut up. And stop doubting yourself. You’re funny and charming and relaxed. Which makes me relaxed. Well, not at first. At first you scared the crap out of me. But now you relax me. You’re the perfect boyfriend material for someone like me.”

  Huh. What do
you know? Maybe I am smarter than I thought.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Lauren

  I SLIDE INTO MY CAR, waiting while Jake tucks himself into the passenger’s seat. “Wow. So, we’re officially dating now, huh?”

  “Yeah. Why? Are you having second thoughts already?”

  “What? No. But I am kind of thinking that you set the bar pretty high. I mean, on your first day as my boyfriend, you sort-of-kidnapped me, gave me a thirst for danger, and turned me into a sports fan. Not sure how you’re gonna top that.”

  A wicked smile curves his lips. “Oh, I have an idea or two.” His expression sobers. “But I wouldn’t want to overdo it. We should probably pace ourselves. I wouldn’t want to corrupt you all at once.”

  “I think I can handle a little more corruption.”

  “Yeah. We’ll just see about that.”

  Anticipation races through my veins as I follow Jake’s directions. My enthusiasm wanes, however, when we arrive at a motel on the outskirts of the city. The one-story L-shaped structure looks like it’s seen better days, and the neon sign proclaiming free Wi-Fi and cable TV fizzles every few seconds.

  “It doesn’t look like much, but I think you’ll like it. Wait here.” Jake disappears into the door marked Office, reappearing shortly thereafter. “Okay. We’re good. Follow the driveway around the side. We have one of the cottages in back.”

  Jake unlocks the door and waits like a kid trying to contain his excitement Christmas morning.

  “Wow. This is uh...clean.” Not quite the love shack I’d been anticipating. More like a shack someone’s grandmother lives in. If she was still living in the Fifties. A robin’s egg blue loveseat and a mint green armchair congregate around a space-age-style coffee table in one corner of a small living area, atomic starburst curtains line the windows, and a polka-dot carpet covers the floor. A king-size bed covered with a patchwork quilt occupies the far side of the room.