Quarter Mile Hearts

by Jenny Siegel

  “My Uncle Donnie was a racer.” I pause and see realization steal across Max’s face as he starts to join some dots. “He was my dad’s best friend and my mom’s brother. They used to race at the quarter mile and then one night they went to a race a few towns over. Dad wasn’t racing but Uncle Donnie was, and so was Tom Anderson.” Max’s jaw tightens as his brain works out where this is going. “There was a ridiculously high bet, and on the last turn, Uncle Donnie crashed. He died on impact.”

  “That’s why you won’t date racers,” he says more to himself, as if he now finally understands part of the reason why I was so reluctant to be with him.

  I dip my head. “Yeah, my mom left not long after he died. It ripped my family apart; I didn’t want that for me. But… Then you happened.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Why would you; it was a long time ago.”

  “And that’s what Zach meant when he was threatening you?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know what he thinks he can do if we’re on the drag strip. Maybe he’s trying to rattle me.”

  “He won’t get near you. I promise.” He draws me tighter into his body and presses a kiss to the top of my head. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, warding off the unwanted tears that are threatening. Zach has rattled me, and I need to get it together. This is exactly what he wants, and I can’t fall apart now. Not when I need to win this race.

  “I got takeout from the diner and beer.” His soft voice interrupts my negativity, and I pull back to smile up at him. At this moment that sounds like just what I need, and I can’t help but thinking that Max is kind of amazing right now.

  “Sounds good.” I try to sound strong, but inside, I’m slowly starting to fall apart. Concern furrows his brow as he regards me a minute longer, pushing strands of hair behind my ear. His fingers intertwine with mine. Picking up the abandoned takeout, he leads me into the office.

  There is a sofa against one wall of the office that sometimes doubles as a break room. I sink onto the big leather sofa, grateful that my dad didn’t listen to me when I said it was too big and he didn’t need a sofa this size in the office. My stomach growls as I unwrap my burger. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until just now. We have been working all day nonstop, and I am grateful for the cold beer to wash it down.

  Both of us eat in silence. I think about my run-in with Zach and what a creep he is, and Max is no doubt thinking the same thing. Once we’ve finished, he gathers up the rubbish and tosses it in the trash.

  “I’ll close up.”

  I nod. “We don’t want any more visits like the one from Zach Anderson.” And although I can see him from the window in the office, I follow him out anyway and stand in the doorway. Zach’s visit has shaken me up more than I’m willing to admit, and I don’t want to be on my own for a second. It doesn’t help that I have started to freak out about the race in a way I never would have expected. Will he really honor his side of the deal if I win? Am I really capable of winning? Max and Aaron have faith in me, but I can’t stop the uneasiness that is growing in the pit of my stomach.

  Max steps outside and rolls the garage door down, locking it and then stepping through the doorway cut into it before locking that, too. I watch as he wanders over to the Camaro, pulls back part of the cover, and runs a hand over the bodywork. I shiver, knowing exactly what it feels like to have his hand run over my body like that. Lost in whatever he is thinking about, he doesn’t hear my approach, but his head turns as my hands slide around his waist. I lay my palms flat on his chest and rest my head against his strong back. The familiar smell of Armani and sweat from working all day comforts me. I squeeze him tighter, conveying how much I need him.

  Max turns around to take my hands in his and looks down, his concerned expression from earlier gone and replaced with something entirely different. Dark eyes sear into mine, full of pure wicked heat, and my body grows warm the longer he watches me. My hands slide up his chest, and his eyes track their path until I reach his shoulders. Large hands grip my ass, giving me a jolt of surprise when he lifts me higher until I am looking down at him from my height advantage.

  It seems that Max is always carrying me somewhere, but I’m not going to complain in the slightest. With me in his arms, he strides through to the office, kicking the door shut with his foot. When he reaches the sofa, he sits down so I am straddling his lap. Reaching out, he unbuttons the top button of my shirt, working his way down, one button at a time, taking his sweet time. My chest rises and falls shamefully fast and I want him to hurry up. But if the small smile that plays on his lips is anything to go by, he seems to be enjoying making me wait. The pulse that pounds between my legs increases, and just when I think the ache in my core can’t get any worse, his mouth makes contact with my feverish skin.

  His mouth slides down my chest as each button he undoes reveals more flesh until he reaches my bra and I can’t help but wonder what he’ll do next. His tongue teases my nipple through the lace as he opens my shirt and slips it off my shoulders. Warm palms glide up my back to the fastening of my bra and he snaps it open, pulling the bra down my arms and tossing it aside. It is cool in the garage, and I shiver but mainly from the way Max cups my breasts as his tongue runs over my nipples.

  I squirm against the hard ridge in his jeans, wanting more of him, all of him. Lust shoots through me when I rock against him. Max reaches around and pulls off his t-shirt and his lips curl up into a crooked smile as my hands skim over the defined muscle of his chest and down his stomach. Keeping a tight hold on me, he stands and I slide down his body to my feet. He unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans, pausing to take a foil packet out his pocket before he pushes his jeans down his thighs. After he’s kicked off his boots, I grab hold of his jeans and push them down as I kneel in front of him. My hand runs over the bulge in his boxers before I lean forward and run my lips over it.

  With a groan, Max reaches under my arms and pulls me up to standing. His hand grips the back of my head and his lips crash into mine. Reaching inside his boxers, my hands stroke his hardness, causing his breathing to falter, and he presses his forehead to mine.

  “I want you so fucking much.” His gruff voice cracks at the end before his mouth claims mine once more. I smile against his lips and grip him tighter. Fingers work the fastening of my jeans hurriedly and push them down my thighs. Breaking our kiss, I press my fingertips to his chest and gently push him down to sit on the sofa.

  Bending forward I struggle out of my jeans and straighten.

  “And the rest,” he drawls lazily, eyes flaring as they roam over my body. Then he reaches forward and tugs my panties down my thighs. They drop to the floor and I step out of them. I take the square packet out his hand and rip it open with my teeth before I straddle him on the sofa. I grip his dick to roll the condom on, his head tips backward against the couch, and his throat bobs as he swallows thickly.

  When he lifts his head, his gaze is a mixture of desire, lust, and whatever else smolders in those dark eyes. They hold mine as I lower myself on top of him. Max draws in a deep breath that becomes a groan as I cover him completely. All tension drains from my body when his hands grip my hips and he guides me over him. His mouth closes over one nipple and draws it deep into his mouth, the panic that has been mounting and the worry about the race and whether I can win drains away and I give myself over to him.

  • • •

  “Leigh? Max? You in here?” Aaron’s voice echoes through the garage and I stretch out, coming to, and then I freeze. Scrabbling up to sitting, I hold the throw from the back of the sofa to my chest and give Max a swift kick. His arms are draped around my waist and our legs tangled together. He raises his head and looks at me sleepily.

  God, he looks too fucking sexy for this time in the morning. Why did Aaron have to turn up now?

  “Max, get up,” I hiss, not wanting to alert Aaron to the fact that we slept here, too tired to drive home after Max had buried himself deep inside me and made me come again.<
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  Max jerks up, running a hand through his bedhead. “Fuck,” he mutters and reaches for his boxers and jeans, ramming his feet into them and pulling them up his legs, hopping around while he fastens them. I watch him for a second in awe at the way his muscles flex as he reaches for his t-shirt and yanks it over his head.

  “Morning.” He leans over to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Get your sexy ass up before Aaron sees you.” He jams his hand through his hair and walks out of the office to intercept Aaron.

  By the time I am dressed and have pulled my tousled hair into a ponytail, Max and Aaron are already poring over the car. I sling an arm around each of their shoulders.

  “What’s kickin' chicken?” Then I groan inwardly. Not me, too.

  “Tires are coming today then I’ll replace all the brake pads and shit and check everything over.” Aaron continues to rattle off his to-do list, and I tune out for a second, feeling the increasingly familiar wave of panic wash over me when I let myself think about the enormity of what I’ve agreed to do. It isn’t until I hear the words ‘test drive’ that I tune back in.

  “What was that?” I ask. Max and Aaron share a look before Max flashes me a worried look.

  “You need to try it out on the quarter mile.”

  “Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” I nod my agreement.

  “Okay, so you need to go home and take a shower and eat breakfast. We’ll keep working here.” Max ushers me to the door. I know when I’m being dismissed, but my head is all over the place. Plus, he’s got a look on his face that says he’s not taking no for an answer.

  “See you later.” I lean up and kiss him, and what I intended to be a quick kiss good-bye turns into something much deeper the second our lips meet. I hold onto him, not wanting to let him go and convey how I feel about him. I haven’t told him, but I know without a doubt that I love him. That first night I saw him, when I was eighteen, I swore I wouldn’t fall for him, not like all those girls who used to fawn over him. But here we are, six years later, and I’ve done just that. Maybe it was inevitable, the chemistry we felt from the start didn’t diminish with my absence. If anything, it got stronger, and we were powerless to resist it. Now I just need to win this race and finally tell Max I love him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Long days are spent in the garage and my dad comes along in the morning but leaves around lunchtime. He’s still recovering. As the race draws closer, he’s been touchy, snapping at any one of us. Max and Aaron are wisely staying out his way. He’s my dad, so I don’t have that luxury. The car is nearly finished and the plan is to take it up to the quarter mile and try it out. I am trying to keep the whole thing low key, but when I went to the diner the other day for lunch, I ran into Kyle, who was quizzing me about the race. I tried to keep it as short and sweet as possible, but then as I was leaving, he called out that he would be there to support me. Holy crap.

  “Leigh,” my dad shouts impatiently from inside the office. I am in the middle of helping Max with something tricky, and I don’t hear him.

  “Leigh,” he bellows this time, standing in the doorway to the office; I straighten and glare at him, his brow dipped into a sharp v.

  “What?”

  “Give me a ride home, will you?” Then he turns and walks back into the office.

  What the fuck?

  I mutter under my breath. “Can he not see that I’m busy?” Aaron snorts quietly, and Max chuckles. “Keep calm,” he murmurs out the corner of his mouth.

  “Fine.” I throw the spanner down into the toolbox and stalk out to my car in front of the garage to wait for him. He takes his time saying good-bye, and in actual fact, I think he’s giving them orders because they keep nodding their heads. Finally, he climbs in beside me, wincing slightly at the twisting movement.

  • • •

  My fingers tap against the steering wheel as I drive because I’m anxious to get back and get it finished. Aaron is talking about taking it up to the quarter mile tonight; the race is a few days away so that will give us time for anything else that needs to be done.

  Dad clears his throat—a sure sign that he’s got something to say—and I shoot him a look. The way I’m feeling, I’m not sure I can handle a heart to heart. I’m liable to start crying and that’s just not me.

  “You ready for Saturday?” He casts me a sidelong glance, and I shrug. I have been so focused on getting the car ready that I haven’t had time to analyze how I feel about it. It’s been deliberate; I don’t want time to think about it because that will just lead to a major freak-out, and I don’t have time for that. By the time Saturday rolls around, I need to be ready for whatever happens and watch out for Zach Anderson.

  “I will be,” is my simple answer.

  “I’m sorry,” he adds quietly.

  I look sharply at him, unsure why he’s apologizing. “What for?”

  “For getting you into this mess.” My mouth drops open, but he carries on. “I know how you feel about racing, and I know why you left town. Now because of my stupidity, you have to pick up the pieces.”

  “I’ll be fine.” But my reassurance lacks conviction. I don’t know that, but I just have to believe that I have the skill or speed or just sheer determination to win this race.

  “You could get killed.” His voice rises sharply. I swing into our driveway and kill the engine.

  “I won’t; it’s not some race along backroads. The car is sound; we’ve put so much work into it. I’ll be okay.” I rest my hand on his and squeeze it gently, hoping it goes some way to reassuring him. He pats his hand on top of mine and nods.

  “Will you stay?” And I know he means once this is all over; I feel like that’s all anyone wants to know.

  “Let’s get the race out of the way first.”

  “What about you and Max?” His eyebrow arches in question.

  “What about us?”

  “That boy’s in love with you. You do know that, right?” I do, and I love him too, but I can’t think about that until after this race. Closing my eyes tightly, I lower my head to rest on the steering wheel. My dad pats the back of my head and I hear him open the door.

  “Don’t wait too long to tell him.” He climbs out the car and walks to the house, leaving me to stare at him. I sit in the car for a long while after he’s closed the door until I finally pull myself together and head back to the garage. We’ve got work to do.

  • • •

  At long last, Max and Aaron are satisfied that the car is ready, and Aaron slams the hood down, signaling that we’re done. I stick my head out of the office and can’t fight the wide smile that stretches over my face.

  “It’s done?” I ask as I walk over to where they both stand proudly next to the Camaro.

  “Think that’s it.” Aaron’s wide smile matches mine.

  “You ready to try the quarter mile?” Max’s eyes light up with excitement that is contagious, and I nod slowly. He climbs in and starts it up. My stomach clenches when I hear the purr of the engine, and a fresh wave of excitement washes over me. Max drives her out of the garage and climbs out of the driver’s seat, leaving the engine running and the door open.

  “Get in,” he orders gently and stands at the door waiting for me.

  Aaron pulls down the garage doors and locks up before heading for his truck.

  “I’ll meet you there,” he calls as he jumps in and peels out of the lot. Max waits while I walk slowly over to him, apprehensive and slightly nervous, which is so not like me. I love to drive different cars, but there is so much riding on me driving this one. Max waits until I climb in, and then ducks his head inside. The expression on his face is so serious as he buckles me into the harness he insisted we fit. Why we couldn’t have just kept the seat belts is beyond me, but they decided to take the front seats out too and replace them with Sparco seats and six-point harnesses. Unable to resist, I lean forward and brush my lips against his as he tightens and checks that I’m securely fastened. He cracks a smile before he pulls
back and slams the door.

  Once Max is strapped in, I cautiously pull the car out the lot, taking it slow, getting used to the feel of everything—the clutch, accelerator, and brakes—which are new and very sensitive. I take a long route up to the quarter mile to give me time to get familiar with how it handles. A frisson of excitement works its way through me as I drive. Aaron isn’t there when we get up to the quarter mile, so I line the car up and we climb out and wait. He arrives five minutes later with a tired looking Beth, who climbs out of his truck and rushes over to give me a hug. It’s been a few days since I’ve had time to speak to her.

  “How’d it go the other night?” I ask, feeling like a shitty friend for not calling her sooner.

  Her smile tells me that everything’s okay. “Everyone was a bit shocked but happy. We’ve moved the wedding forward. It’s in two months.” She bites her lips and eyes me, uncertain, trying to gauge whether to say what’s on her mind. “Will you still be here?” she asks, fishing.

  “I’ll make sure I am.” I pull her into a hug, and I wonder how long I’ll manage to avoid telling them what I’ve decided. Not for much longer, by the looks of it.

  “Right.” Aaron claps his hands, and we turn to focus our attention on him. “Let’s do this.” He sounds more excited than I feel. Would he feel like this if it was him who was going up against Zach Anderson? I doubt it.

  “Do you want me to hook up the laptop?”

  “What for?”

  “For diagnostics, the optimum time to change gear, that kind of thing.”

  “I don’t need a fucking laptop to tell me when to change gear,” I burst out, and Max stifles a chuckle. “Sorry, no offense, Aaron,” I mumble because I feel bad at the way his face falls. I know he’s just trying to help.

  “Didn’t think you would.” He doesn’t look offended as he throws me a wide smile.

  “You ready?” Max calls over, and I give him a solemn nod. The excitement starts to grow in the pit of my stomach. “We need to get as much practice as we can, come on.” He holds the door open until I climb in and then straps me into my harness, double-checking then triple checking that I’m secure. “You remember what to do?” he asks, and I arch an eyebrow at him. “You need to find the correct rpm and keep it there until you cross the finish line,” he instructs, and I bite the side of my lip. His brow is furrowed, an intense expression on his face as he continues to give me instructions. Unable to resist anymore, I lean forward and kiss him on the cheek.