Shivers raced through her as she lifted her head. Nate’s arms tightened a bit. He raised one hand and pushed it through her hair, carefully gripping the back of her head.
Her eyes drifted shut, and she breathed him in. Feeling the emotion radiating off of him in waves, she expected a full assault on her lips, was ready to welcome it. But his lips touched hers, whisper soft. An inquiry, not a demand. She melted at the realization that he was not taking from her, but rather inviting her to share with him.
He pulled back and allowed his forehead to rest on hers.
“I love you, Nate,” she whispered. Secure in his arms, at peace with his patience and love, with his help she knew she could learn to live life together.
26
The familiar scents of fried food, manure, and fresh cut hay mixed together settling peace into Kaitlyn’s soul. Fifteen fancy and powerful looking semis were parked in the converted hay field, all registered for the Semi Pulling Championship. Her truck sat, chrome glistening in the sun, among them.
She leaned against a light pole, listening as Doug Berry, the track superintendent, conducted the drivers’ meeting. The powerful super-modified tractors competed on the track and the salty tang of raw fuel hung in the air.
Nate looked delectable dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, and Kaitlyn admired him as he stood across the track waiting for her and watching the tractors pull.
“So remember,” Doug summarized, “the rules are to keep everyone safe. Pay attention, and let’s keep the night accident free.”
The meeting broke up, most men heading back to their trucks, some chatting in small groups. A couple of guys murmured, “Sorry about your dad,” as they passed, but none stopped to talk.
Kaitlyn waited as the tractor hooked to the sled built boost. She wanted to cross the track as soon as the tractor pulled out from the line and finish watching this class with Nate. Admiring the plume of black smoke pouring from the single front stack, she started when Dusty hit her shoulder.
“Want to grab a cold one with me after the pull? Winner buys.”
Kaitlyn glanced dismissively at him. “It’s over, Dusty.”
“Don’t be looking for your nursemaid boyfriend. Couple friends and I are going to test his skills.”
Kaitlyn’s head whipped around. The tractor powered from the line. The screaming turbos made conversation impossible for a few seconds. She waited until the sled ground the machine to a stop. “He doesn’t want to fight.”
“So?” Dusty asked with a smirk.
“So, lay off.” She turned, nodding to the line judge on the track and jogging across, leaving Dusty behind.
Reaching Nate, she came up beside him, putting her arm around his back and standing next to him. She reached over and ruffled Bobby’s hair. Bobby barely noticed; he was too busy waving to the man driving the tractor slowly down past the stands. Nate turned and smiled, hooking an arm around her shoulders and dropping a quick kiss on her forehead.
She’d spent every day since her dad’s funeral working with Nate and the boys. It had surprised her how natural it felt, how easy it was to think of them all as a family. Although Bobby, specifically, still cried for his mother, and Kaitlyn missed her dad, especially when she ran into a problem with the trucks, they had been healing. Together.
“So what do you think?” she asked, watching as the next tractor hooked to the sled.
“I think I’d like to get married.”
She laughed. “About the tractors, you crazy man.”
As though he’d not heard her he said, “Like next week.”
Kaitlyn’s eyes flew wide open and she jerked her head to look at him. He stared down at her with serious emerald eyes. Her mouth refused to close.
“I hate walking out that door every night. Leaving you, leaving the boys.” He shook his head and looked away. “Sorry. You asked.”
“Wow. OK, I’m feeling a little pressure here, but it’s not like I ever had big dreams for a huge wedding.” Nor did she have a dad to give her away or a mother to cry over it.
“Hey.” Nate’s hand came up and brushed her hair away from her face. “No pressure.”
“I hate to see you leave every night.” She blew a breath out and smiled into his eyes. “I’m just a little surprised.” She stretched her neck over to the side, cracking it. “But the idea is growing on me.” A group of men across the track caught her eye. Dusty. “Oh. Watch out for Dusty. He talked about fighting you.”
Nate’s body stilled as he glanced to where she’d been looking across the track, but Kaitlyn could feel the buzz of excitement that ripped through him. His face registered no surprise, but his reaction shocked her. “You want to fight.” She couldn’t help the accusation in her tone.
His expression became wary. And guilty. “I thought I’d been honest with you about that.”
That was true. His eyes searched hers as though seeking permission.
The tractor on the line roared as the turbos built boost, and the driver popped the clutch. The wailing turbos made conversation impossible.
Kaitlyn and Nate turned to watch as it ripped down the track, spraying dirt and smoke and vibrating the ground. Applause rippled through the stands as it stopped near the full pull line.
Kaitlyn turned back to Nate. “You have been. I’m just not used to that side of you.” She lifted her brows. “You were quitting.”
“Yeah. No more set fights. But Kaitlyn,” he ran a hand over his short hair, “there’s just something in men, they can’t resist a challenge.” He held his hand out, indicating the track. “Heck, you should understand. You feel the pull with your truck.”
She nodded slowly.
“I don’t have that pull, exactly. But other guys, they know I’m a fighter. They look at me and think ‘I could take him’ and then try, like they can prove something if they do.”
“And you don’t turn them down.”
“I love to fight. And I’m good at it. I’ve admitted it.” Nate’s eyes begged her to understand.
“Yeah.”
“The baggy clothes helped some.”
She ran her eyes over his tight t-shirt. Admiring. “I’m glad you stopped wearing them.”
His eyes flickered as he grinned at her. She knew he loved it when she looked at him like that. The thought made her feel powerful in a feminine way.
“I can go hide somewhere.” One side of his mouth tilted up.
“You don’t want to.”
“No.” His expression softened. “But I’d do it for you.”
The voice of the announcer crackled through the speakers, calling all drivers to their trucks for the semi pull. Kaitlyn wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans and tried to quiet the butterflies in her stomach.
Nate took her hand. “Ready?”
“Gotta be.” She flipped her hair back and jutted her chin out.
“Hey.” Nate took her chin carefully and turned her head. He bent down and touched his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered shut and the butterflies stilled. “You’re the best. Win.”
She exhaled then opened her eyes, meeting his. “Thanks.”
~*~
Nate and Bobby stood on the driver’s step of Kaitlyn’s truck. Nate held on to the mirror bracket, his head beside Kaitlyn’s. Bobby, too short to grab ahold, leaned back sheltered and secured by Nate’s arms and knees.
“I think this is the most Bobby’s stood still in weeks.” Kaitlyn said, loud enough to be heard over her rumbling motor as she waited in the line of trucks for her turn to pull, but soft enough not to disturb Bobby who watched the men hooking the sled to the truck on the track as if he was the supervisor.
“He loves it, no question.” Nate acknowledged wryly.
Clint jogged up and hit Nate on the leg. “Hey, do you guys have a fuel filter?” He turned and spit. “Mine’s plugged. Second one I’ve plugged. Must have got a bad batch of fuel.” His hair strung out from under his ball cap and there were smudges of dirt on his t-shirt and jeans from lying und
er his truck.
“Sorry, Clint.” Kaitlyn said, barely glancing at him.
She had an extra filter. Nate had put it in the tool box himself.
It took a lot of brass for Clint to even ask after what he’d done to her. But this was the championship. Kaitlyn wasn’t the only one desperate to win.
Clint swore and jogged on up the line.
Nate, aware of Bobby on the step with him, didn’t say anything.
So low he could barely hear her, Kaitlyn said, “He’s driving his cousin’s truck—Clint’s a much better driver than Buddy. He’s the only one, other than Dusty, who might possibly be able to beat me with this turbo.”
“Your call.” Nate lifted a brow then faced the track again.
“Why do I feel like a witch for saying no?”
“You didn’t say no. You said sorry. It wasn’t a lie.”
“No.” She glanced at her brother. “But it put me on his level.” She playfully punched Nate in the arm. “I thought I’d moved up in the world.”
“Easier to go down than up.”
Kaitlyn pursed her lips as Clint came back down the short line of trucks, empty handed. “Would you mind getting our extra filter out?”
“Atta girl.” Nate hopped off, opening the bunk door, and getting the fuel filter.
“We’ve got one after all,” he said to Clint.
Clint’s hang-dog expression changed in an instant. “Yes.” He pumped his fist. Then he stopped short. He looked up at Kaitlyn. “You didn’t deserve what I did to you. It didn’t feel near as good as I thought it would.”
Kaitlyn’s eyes narrowed. “Tank and Eve didn’t deserve what you did.”
“Already apologized to them.”
Kaitlyn raised her brows.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
Nate admired his soon-to-be wife. Nothing about her life had been easy, but that had been hard. Having all her friends and neighbors think the worst of her.
“It’s OK.” She met Nate’s eyes, and one side of her mouth tilted up. “It was tough, but it brought about some good changes in my life.”
Her attitude impressed him.
Clint jogged away.
“Hope he realizes we’re never going to be besties, or anything,” Kaitlyn grumbled.
Nate threaded his hand through her hair and dropped his head to hers. “I’m so proud of you.”
Kaitlyn’s eyes shone. “This is the last pull of the season. I’m free next Saturday. We have a date at the church?”
It was her back-hand way of setting their wedding date. He wouldn’t miss it. “You, me, the boys, and Pastor Paul.”
“Sounds like a bargain that should be sealed with a kiss.”
Nate laughed as he kissed the tough, truck-driving woman who would marry him next weekend. Bobby wiggled, and Nate moved his head back, holding Kaitlyn’s gaze for another second before looking at the track.
Movement caught his eye, and his neck pricked in warning. A group of men made their way toward their truck, Dusty among them. A pulse of fire shot through his body. Although he’d quit his training regime, he was still in shape. He could take Dusty easily. He could even take Dusty and one of his friends easily. But there were four men in the group.
“You might as well pack it up, Kaitlyn,” Dusty called. “That old piece of trash isn’t going to beat the 320 feet my rig pulled.”
“We’ll see.” Kaitlyn shrugged. She hooked it in gear, and the truck slowly chugged forward, reminding Nate of a racehorse kept to a walk with a strong hold on its bridle.
She stopped with two trucks ahead of her.
Dusty walked up and put a foot on the step where Nate and Bobby were standing.
Bobby looked him over curiously.
Nate was acutely aware of the little boy.
“Got a bit of a backyard match set up for us,” he said low to Nate. “Heard you were a fighter, and I used to do a bit of boxing myself.”
Bobby turned wide eyes on Nate. They hadn’t talked much about the fight in Pittsburgh. Nate thought Bobby had been too short to see most of it, but Bobby knew that Nate wasn’t fighting anymore.
Nate met Bobby’s bright blue eyes and smiled reassuringly. He looked back at Dusty and his smile faded. “I quit.”
Dusty glanced at his buddies then back to Nate. “One last fight.”
“Already did that.”
“We’ve got it all set up. People are waiting on us.” He nodded to the dark side of the parking lot.
“Better go tell them it’s off.” Nate studied Dusty. Watching. There were too many people around for Dusty to jump him or try anything else.
The truck in front of Kaitlyn’s moved to take its place on the track.
Nate touched her hand that lay on the open window. She met his gaze, and he felt bad—rather than focused on her championship pull, she was worried about him. About Bobby, too, probably.
He leaned a little closer. “I’m not fighting, so you need to beat Dusty for me.” He grinned as her eyes flashed.
Dusty backed off, whispering to his buddies, as Nate jumped down, helping Bobby.
Nate made sure Bobby held his left hand, just in case, as Bobby craned his neck to see the truck being hooked up.
“Come on, bud. Let’s find a better spot.” Nate started walking.
Dusty gripped his shoulder and spun him around. His right fist hooked Nate’s chin. Nate saw the blow coming, and normally, he’d have blocked it with his left. But he wasn’t letting go of Bobby. He took the blow, his face swinging around, the pain radiating across his face and down his spine. Rocking back on his heels, he balanced, keeping his expression level.
“Happy?” Nate asked.
“Come on, you weakling. You’re supposed to be this great fighter. Fight,” Dusty crouched, hands up in classic boxer pose.
Nate could have him flat in seconds. But out of his peripheral vision, he could see Bobby’s eyes on him. “You got a hit in. It’s enough.” Nate said. He pushed down the anticipation that bubbled in his gut. Tried to shut down the strategy, the search for openings and weak spots that were as natural to him as making machines work.
“You’re yellow. A coward,” Dusty snarled. “Kaitlyn’s pulling you around by your apron strings.”
“Look, Dusty. I said I’m not fighting. It’s what I meant.” Nate dropped Bobby’s hand and stepped forward. “Will it make you feel like a man to hit me again? Want your buddies to jump on me, too?” Nate kept his arms down but turned his hands palm up. One at a time, he stared each man in the group in the eyes. None of them looked as if they wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp. They were good ‘ole boys who were following the wrong leader. He looked at Dusty last. “This is a truck pull. The only fight you’re getting here is from Kaitlyn. I hope she whoops your butt.”
Dusty’s mouth sagged.
Kaitlyn’s truck chugged out onto the track.
“Let’s go watch our girl pull.” Nate turned and took Bobby’s hand again, looking down into his big eyes.
“You’re bleeding.”
Nate wiped his face with the back of his hand. A smear of blood showed bright red, glossy in the track lights. Nate looked at it curiously for a second. Would he ever shed blood again over a punch? Possibly. He’d like to teach his boys the rudiments of fighting. But as he headed back toward the track where his future wife sat, revving up her rig, he felt the familiar curl and twine of excitement in his gut. He could give up his bees and honey and woods home for a garage and turbos and weekend pulls with friends and family. Heck, Dusty might even belong to the group someday. He smiled as Kaitlyn dropped the clutch, and her truck shot off the line. Someday. Until then, he knew someone who had duct tape in her glove box, and, just as soon as she won the championship trophy, she’d be perfectly willing to patch him up.
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