by Jenny Siegel
“Beth,” I warn, “It’s just one date. Don’t get all excited.”
“He’s a racer. You know that, right?”
“Yeah...”
“But you don’t date racers.”
“I know, Beth, but it’s just one date. It’s not like I’m going to marry the guy.”
“So, why did you turn down Max? It would have just been one date, right?” She arches her eyebrow, not about to let me off the hook.
“Grr…” Why does she do this to me? The chemistry—that I would be blind not to notice—aside, it wouldn’t just be a date with Max. Nothing is just anything with Max. One date wouldn’t be enough, and I am not getting sucked in. It’s too dangerous, and I’ll wind up getting hurt. Max ‘manwhore’ Morgan does not do commitment or any of that shit, so I am not even tempting myself.
Beth knows she’s pushed me as far as she can, She backs off, holding her hands up in defense.
“Just saying, that’s all. Let me know how it goes. I’m babysitting for Sugar tonight.”
“Sugar has kids?” I asked shocked.
“Yeah, two girls and they’re cute as can be. Sugar and Causey are great.”
“They’re still together?” Because I always thought her and Causey were wild, I certainly never pictured them settling down and having a family. That kind of set-up seems too mundane for them.
“Of course, why wouldn’t they be?”
I shrug because I don’t have any good reason why they wouldn’t be. I just always thought because they were so young when they met that it wouldn’t go the distance. But then look at Beth and Aaron. They are solid.
“Just because he was a racer and they were young doesn’t mean that what they have isn’t as strong as say… Aaron’s parents. Not all racers are bad. Your dad was a racer and look how well you turned out.”
I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m not getting into this argument with her. She knows my views.
“Enjoy tonight. I’ll call you in the morning.” She wraps her arms around me and gives me a big hug. Laughing, I shoo her out the garage and grab my jacket and keys. It’s time to visit my dad before I need to get ready for this date. God knows where Aaron is, but Max is bent over the engine of the Chevelle. I get distracted by the sight of his tight, denim-clad ass and the way his t-shirt rides up as he stretches, exposing his tanned lower back. My fingers twitch at my side as I imagine running my fingernails over his skin.
Forcing my thoughts out of the gutter and back to the present, I clear my throat.
“I’m going to head to the hospital and see my dad. You guys okay here?”
Max straightens and turns, resting that gorgeous ass of his on the edge of the Chevelle, adopting his usual stance and crossing his arms over his chest, t-shirt pulled taut over the obvious muscle underneath. Distracting as hell is what it is.
“Sure, you go, we’ve got it covered.” He nods and then his mouth curves up the longer he watches me. “Enjoy your date.” He winks and turns, bending over the car and resuming his work.
I stand for a second longer, wondering what the fuck he is playing at before I slowly walk out of the garage and climb on my bike.
Chapter Twelve
The visit at the hospital takes longer than I had planned for. My dad is in a foul mood and even Nurse McCartney is pissy with me. All he did was complain—about the food, about the TV stations, and about the pain. When I finally snapped that it was his own damn fault, he was even more pissed, ranting about my sucky bedside manner, and then went in a huff like a small child.
In the end, I’d had enough. After a kiss on the forehead I told him I’d see him tomorrow. He didn’t even look my way, and I gave up and left. Now I’m rushing around at the last minute trying to get ready for this date and beginning to wonder why I agreed to it. Kyle seems like a nice enough guy, but I don’t date. Why did I not ask Beth what she thought I should wear? Growing up with my dad and his non-existent fashion sense means that I am clueless when it comes to clothes and shopping. Jeans and a t-shirt are about my limit. I don’t own a dress and the only shoes I have are sneakers or boots. It suits me to ride a bike because that way I have an excuse to wear jeans all the time.
At last, I am dressed in black skinny jeans, which are a staple item in my wardrobe, and a burnt orange strappy top. I’m finally slipping on my leather jacket just as the doorbell rings. I don’t question how he knows where I live when I didn’t give him my address. It’s a small town; he’ll have found it out easily enough.
With a bright, hopefully enthusiastic smile in place, I open the door. Kyle jumps slightly and his eyes skim down the length of my body before he meets my eyes and smiles widely.
“You ready?” He steps back to let me on the front step. I close and lock the door behind me and follow him out to his Camaro. It will be fun being a passenger, but I’m itching to drive it.
“I thought we could go to see a film. The Longest Ride is showing at The Reel.”
“That sounds good.” I buckle up as I frantically try to think what the film is about. As long as it’s not a sappy, weepy chick flick, I’m fine.
It’s a short drive to the only cinema in town, which is good because I suck at small talk. I’m itching to ask Kyle if I can drive his car, but I don’t know him well enough. Kyle parks on the street just down from The Reel. There isn’t a line, and Kyle pays for my ticket and popcorn. I know it’s the gentlemanly thing, but it makes me feel a little uncomfortable.
Inside the theater, we sit near the back, even though there is only a handful of other people there. Kyle doesn’t seem to be big on conversation and I am marginally worse.
“It’s a bike you ride?”
“For just now; I have a car, too.”
“Oh yeah, what do you drive?”
“A ’67 Charger.”
Kyle splutters and chokes on some popcorn. “A Dodge Charger?”
“Yeah, it was the first car my dad bought me. We did a lot of work on it, with the help of Aaron as well.”
“I’m just surprised that’s all.”
“Don’t you know she likes American muscle?” A deep familiar voice sounds at the side of me. You have got to be fucking kidding me. I turn to my left to see Max and the bimbo from lunchtime sit down beside me. Of all the seats. The place is practically empty, and they have to sit next to us. What is he trying to do to me?
“Now, is that any way to greet your favorite employee?” He laughs at my stunned expression, and I’m guessing I spoke out loud.
“What are you doing here?” I don’t bother being polite because it is wasted on him.
“Same as you.” He winks and settles down in his seat, stretching his arm across his date’s shoulders.
I force my gaze to the front and try my best to ignore the fact that the most annoying man on this planet is sitting next to me. The giggles coming from his date are making it harder, and I grit my teeth and grab a handful of popcorn trying to suppress my anger. Kyle is totally oblivious and sits with his eyes trained on the screen and reaches for the popcorn every thirty seconds or so.
To my dismay, The Longest Ride is a chick flick. I must live under a rock not to have realized this. Was it too much to hope that we could have come to see Fast and Furious 7 or some action movie? It isn’t long before I’ve lost interest in what is happening on the screen and my mind wanders. It is becoming increasingly hard to concentrate because of the giggling coming from the seat over from me. I don’t think Max has seen any of the film because his head has been turned to the side, too busy whispering things in the bimbo’s ear, or kissing her neck, or her lips or doing any number of unspeakable things under the cover of a dark cinema.
Now, I’m all hot and bothered, and it is all his fault. Damn him for ruining my first date in ages.
I grab my purse and hurriedly whisper, “Excuse me,” to Kyle. I squeeze past him before walking quickly up the aisle and out of the cinema. The toilets are empty when I push open the door and I take my time, peeing and washing my
hands.
Get a grip on yourself.
I scold myself; why am I letting Max ruin this for me. I should just ignore him, let him get it on with bimbo Barbie, and not bother. But it is hard when my body tingles every time he’s near me; it literally hums with tightly suppressed desire. My insides are one big coil of lust waiting to be set free. The jealousy that twists in my gut is painful, and I wonder how much longer I can deny how I feel. I know I need to keep pushing Max away, but it gets harder and harder. It was hard enough after Saturday night but since our brief but oh-so-amazing kiss this morning, it’s been ten times worse.
Leaning over the sink, I take a few deep breaths and pull myself together. I need to go back in there and pretend like I don’t give a shit, even if I know Max is doing this to prove a point. After a final check in the mirror, I turn and leave the bathroom.
“There you are. I was worried you had run away.” Max’s voice startles me, and I jump when I see him leaning against the wall outside the ladies’ restroom.
“What are you doing here?” I nearly wail when I see him.
“Nice to see you, too. I was just checking to make sure you were okay.”
“And why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Because of the way you rushed out of the movie.”
“I’m surprised you noticed.”
“Oh, I noticed all right. Were you not enjoying it?” I can hear the blatant amusement in his voice; he must really get a kick out of winding me up like this.
“No, I wasn’t enjoying it. I hate chick flicks, and I want to see Furious 7.” Now, I’m the one sounding like a petulant child.
“What are we going to do with you?” he asks, shaking his head and laughing.
“Shut up.” I nudge him but start to laugh myself. “Do I have to go back inside?” My eyes flick up to watch his and notice the way they darken and focus on my lips. He inches toward me and takes my hands in his, pulling me gently to him. Willingly, I move forward until his arms slide around to hold the small of my back, before one hand skims up my spine to cradle my head.
“Let’s go.” His voice is so low, almost a whisper.
“What about Kyle and bimbo Barbie?” That’s what I get for looking at him for too long, my mouth runs away with itself. He laughs.
“I told them to keep each other company, and that I’d take care of you.” His hand slides down from the base of my skull to the back of my neck and around to cup my jaw, sending a tingle down my spine.
“Will you?” My voice is embarrassingly breathy.
“Oh yes, I will definitely take care of you.” His head dips toward my upturned one, to claim my lips in a kiss that is totally different from the one in the garage. With a gentle firmness, he takes charge, his tongue slipping past my lips to wrap around mine in a way that has my toes curling with pleasure. Heat rushes through my whole system, sending my heart slamming against my chest at an alarming rate. My hands that were hanging uselessly by my side grab the material of his shirt and grip tightly.
His skillful tongue continues to caress mine before he bites down on my bottom lip. The way my body presses into his, it looks like I’ve got him pinned to the wall.
“Let’s go,” he murmurs and slows his kisses. By the time he pulls back, I am weak-kneed and ready to follow him anywhere.
Max grasps my hand firmly in his and leads me out to his GTO. He waits until I’m strapped in to start the car. He pulls a u-turn and heads down Main Street. I’m surprised when we pull into the lot of the diner. I turn to him.
“Is this where you bring all your dates?” I ask cheekily.
“No, but if I took you where I want to take you, you’d knee me in the balls.” He laughs; he knows me so well.
• • •
Max sits opposite me and links hands with mine over the table. Part of me is hoping he would take me where I’m sure he takes most of his dates, and that’s his bed, but that wouldn’t be a good idea. At least he rescued me from that sappy movie.
“I don’t sleep with as many girls as people think.” It’s uncanny that he can read my mind like that, one eyebrow raised, watching for any sort of reaction.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you were thinking it. You get this glazed look in your eyes every time you think about sex. Or you and me.”
“I do not,” I protest, but the corners of my mouth twitch as I suppress a laugh at the size of his ego.
“You do, too. I’ve known you long enough now.”
I shake my head and look down at our joint hands, wondering how we have gone from trading insults to holding hands in the diner like it’s the most natural thing.
“So, why won’t you date me, Storm?” The bewilderment in his voice throws me, and I don’t even notice his use of my unwanted nickname. “You agreed to go on a date with Kyle, and he races.” His lips turn down a little at the corners.
I sigh heavily and bow my head, fascinated at the way our hands fit together perfectly, and how natural it feels to hold his hand.
“You’re dangerous, Max, and it scares me.”
“I’m dangerous? I’ve seen you drive; you like it as much as I do.”
“I know, and I fight it. I love racing, and fast cars or bikes, whatever, but it tore my family apart. My dad and uncle were racers, and my mom left because of it. I’ve seen Dad get patched up more times than I care to remember. It is because he was racing that I’ve come home. I can’t live like that; I can’t always come second to a car.”
“But if you love cars.”
“I do, but I don’t want to always be worrying whether you’ll come home in one piece or if you will even come home at all,” I blurt out; my chest heaves as I try to breathe normally after my little outburst.
“Me, specifically?”
“What? No. Just anyone in general,” I backtrack.
“We could race together.” He arches his eyebrow, and now I feel like he’s teasing me.
“You’re just being silly. Then we could both end up being killed.”
He stares at me for a minute. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you were so upset about your dad being in an accident? When you said he could have died. You meant you would be left all on your own. That’s what you’re scared of…that racing will take someone you love away from you.”
I avert my gaze and look over his shoulder, trying to attract the attention of the waitress, who still hasn’t made an appearance.
His thumbs brush over my knuckles and my insides flutter. “I always wondered why you left.”
I sigh, but I suppose I owe him that much. “I loved this town, but at the time, I felt it was stifling. Racing was becoming too important to everyone. It was taking over, and I was at risk of getting sucked in.”
“That’s why you don’t race?”
“I’m scared of it. Scared someone else I love will get ripped away from me. And… well, I didn’t want that for me. So I left, ended up in a dead-end job, drifting.”
“Leigh, look at me.” I try my hardest to ignore the earnest look in his eyes as he wills me to look at him. Eventually, I cave and meet his stare head-on. I see a whirl of emotions that I didn’t expect, but what I see most of all is concern. Max Morgan is worried about me.
“What?”
“Nothing is going to happen to me. Just take a chance.” His hand squeezes mine to reinforce his plea.
“Do you take all your dates home with you?” I ask, trying to change the subject. I know I am treading a dangerously fine line, but I need to hear him say it, to reinforce my image of him as a complete manwhore who will break my heart at the first opportunity he gets. That way I can justify why I need to stay away from him, even though I don’t want to.
His eyes darken, and he heaves a deep sigh, breaking his hold on my hand, to fold his arms on the table and leans forward.
“Contrary to popular belief, and what you so obviously think, I am not a manwhore who sleeps with anything that moves. I have very selective taste.”
<
br /> “What’s with all the blondes?”
“They don’t make me think of…” He trails off and picks up the menu, still holding out hope that we’ll get served. Instead of shutting up, like my brain is telling me to, I plow on regardless.
“So, you don’t sleep with them all?”
He lowers the menu and pins me with those dark eyes of his. “No, Leigh, I don’t sleep with them all. They are young and harmless and hang around the races. I’m not interested in them, but it keeps people off my back.”
“Why do you want to keep people off your back?”
“I have a certain image to uphold.” I roll my eyes, and his stare hardens. “And if they knew I was hung up on some girl, it would ruin that image.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say, I had no idea he had someone that important to him. My heart squeezes; maybe I was fooling myself by thinking that Max might actually have feelings for me, but I made that mistake once before. All this time, he’s been hung up on someone else. This is all too much for me. I gather up my purse.
“I better go.” I make to slide out of the booth.
“Stay where you are,” he growls out his command. “You still don’t get it, do you?” My eyes cut to his, and I shake my head, not daring to say a word.
“It’s you. You’re the one who I can’t get out of my head. Even after all these years.”
“But…”
“I know it doesn’t make any fucking sense. That one night we spent together did something to me, and I can’t get you out my system. Even before that night, you were all I craved.”
I am at a loss for something to say, and for once, I bite my tongue, not wanting to anger him further.
“You’re scared, Leigh, I get that. I can wait, maybe forever; I just hope it doesn’t take that long.”
Nothing my brain comes up with to say will make this any better, but I manage a nod. The truth is that I feel the same. I haven’t managed to get him out my system since that night four years ago.
Maybe he realizes this conversation is getting too heavy because he doesn’t ask if I feel the same, and he doesn’t push me any further.
