“Only if you’re ready. And don’t ever worry about scaring me. I don’t scare very easily.”
“Even when you’re a passenger in a car with a novice at the wheel?” Looking over at him, she saw that in fact he was perfectly calm. He didn’t look one bit uncomfortable with his life in her hands. “What if I go rogue and drive us off a cliff?”
“That wouldn’t happen. I’d have control of the car before you could say ‘guardrail.’”
With that easy confidence of his, she didn’t doubt it for a second. He held her gaze, so unruffled that he might have been drinking tea with the Queen. And yet all those powerful muscles were right there, ready to spring into action if she needed help.
And that made her relax so much that she actually wanted to try the spin again.
“Okay, let’s do this. Spin me, baby.”
She hit the accelerator, yanked the wheel, and this time, instead of blindly following his instructions, she actually thought through the process of steering, slowing, stopping. He was still right there with her, prompting her when to turn, adding a quick “slow down a bit” at a key point. But she was the one doing it. She was the one rescuing herself from a spin! It was an amazing feeling and at the end, when the car was right back almost exactly where it had started, she let out a whoop of joy.
“That was amazing. So empowering! I feel like I could drive the Grand Prix now! Watch out, world!”
He laughed, his big hands curled on his thighs, where they must have been resting, waiting to rescue her if needed. “Nice job. You’re catching on. Now just do it a dozen more times so it’s automatic and you’ll get a gold star from your favorite driving teacher.”
“Since my stepfather was my other one, it’s not even close.” She grinned at him. “Can I go again?”
He gave a go-ahead gesture. “It’s your car.”
“I think I might upgrade now that I’m a race car driver. Maybe a Ferrari?”
He was still laughing as she pressed the accelerator and surged into another spin. This one was dizzying, exhilarating, and barely scary at all. She spun the car back to a stop and, while still breathless from it, she turned to Griffin and threw her arms around him.
“That was amazing. Forget the gold star, this is the best feeling.”
Even though the gear shift didn’t make it easy, his arms came around her, as strong as bands of iron. His body was solid and warm, with so much power banked inside his embrace. His hair tickled her ear, the warmth of his cheek pressed against hers. If she pulled back just a bit and turned her head, they’d be kissing.
A kiss from Griffin—that would be a spin of a whole different kind. Even thinking about it made her a little dizzy.
This wasn’t about kissing, it was about thanking him for this driving lesson. He knew that. She knew that.
And yet she couldn’t make herself pull away.
He was the one who did that, sitting back in the passenger seat with a strained smile. She noticed that he adjusted his position and tugged his jacket to cover his lap. A thrill shot through her as she leaped to the obvious conclusion.
“Hey, thanks for letting me teach you,” he said. “Now I don’t have to worry about you all winter.”
Aaaand, that was why she couldn’t actually kiss him. She had no idea how long she would be staying in Rocky Peak. If a new lead surfaced, she might be gone tomorrow.
On the other hand…maybe that was okay. Flings were a thing. Not every relationship had to be a “relationship.”
“What’s your story, Griffin?” she asked in her usual put-her-cards-on-the-table way.
“Story?”
“Do you have a girlfriend? Have you ever been married? Or do you stick to playing the field? Do you have a girl at every race course?”
His eyebrows lifted, awareness flashing in his eyes. “Haven’t you already gotten the lowdown from everyone at the Last Chance?”
“If I believed everything they say, you wouldn’t be in my car right now. They definitely peg you as a player. But I haven’t seen you act like one, so that’s why I’m asking. I prefer to judge by actions, not gossip.”
He nodded, shrugged. “The truth is, I like to keep it light. I’m never in one place for too long and training takes a lot out of me.”
“Took,” she corrected. “You’re retired now.”
“Yes. And I don’t know what comes next. So,” he shrugged again, “that’s it. I don’t know what comes next. In anything. Luckily, I have this amazing fake girlfriend, though. You should see her. Drives like a champ.”
She laughed along with him, and the tension between them shifted to something more relaxed and intimate, as if they could stay in this little car and talk all night long. The heat was pouring from the vents, turning the Toyota into a cozy nest.
“So what’s your story?” he asked. “Fair’s fair.”
“Who said life is fair?” She gave him a saucy wink. “In fact, I can vouch for the fact that it is not.”
“So that’s how you’re going to play it. I hate it when my fake girlfriend plays hard to get.” He brushed a strand of hair over her shoulder to expose her face. In the process, his fingertips glided across her cheek and sent shivers along her skin. It made her want to share something, anything, even if she couldn’t open up to him completely.
“I’ll just say this. Romance is not my forte. I never pick the right men and it never goes the way I thought it would. I’ve been told that I’m difficult to get along with. In fact, I recently decided to save all my love for my future family of adopted cats,” she added lightly. “Though I’m sure they won’t appreciate it, since they’re cats.”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking that you should get a dog.”
“A dog?” She surprised herself by bursting into a huge smile. “A dog. I’ve never had a dog.”
“You should have a dog,” he said firmly.
“Why should I have a dog? That’s crazy.” And yet, suddenly it was exactly what she wanted. What she hadn’t known she wanted, but did. One thousand percent.
“A dog will let you know if a stranger comes to your house. They’re also great company. We always used to have dogs at the lodge, until my mom died. After that my father refused to get another one.”
“Maybe you should get a dog.”
“No, my future is too uncertain.”
“And mine isn’t?” She laughed wryly. Uncertainty was her entire life lately.
“Yours probably is too, but dogs are portable. They’re happy to follow you wherever you go. Even when you go back to San Francisco.”
She tried to imagine a dog in her studio back home, knocking over paints and easels. It would never work. But here in Rocky Peak… she pictured a big old Beethoven-type dog trotting by her side as she walked home from the Last Chance. Or a smaller breed, a dog who would go after an intruder with sharp teeth and a vicious bark…who would get used to a free and happy life in the mountains.
“I can’t get a dog,” she said sadly. “It would be irresponsible. Not until I know more about my dad.”
“Do you put everything in your life on hold until you know more about your dad?”
She put her foot on the accelerator, ready to drive back to her spick-and-span cabin, where there would be no dog and no Griffin to put his finger on the biggest soft spot of her life. “That’s an irritatingly perceptive thing to say, Griffin Rockwell.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
“In that case, here’s another one. I’m very sure you aren’t going to be devoting all your love to a cat family.”
Pleasure shot through her. “You are?”
“Mark it down, baby. Mark it down.”
11
The next day, Griffin drove the thirty winding miles from Rocky Peak to the Mountain Regional Consolidated High School, which was located near the sheriff’s station and other county offices. He’d wanted to talk to Coach Ambrose first, but he’d learned that his old coach had Alzheimer’s and now liv
ed in Arizona with his grown daughter.
Which could explain why Coach Ambrose hadn’t stopped Artie Nelson from getting promoted. Maybe he didn’t remember what Griffin had told him. Or maybe it just hadn’t been enough.
On his way to the high school, he put his phone on speaker and called Jiggy Rodriguez. He lived down south now, in Texas, and was happy to get a call from Griffin.
“Bro, you’re famous. I been watching you on TV, all celebrity-like.”
“Yeah, it’s a tough life, winning all those trophies, dating all those models.”
“You can have the models. I’ll take the racers.”
“There might be a few on your side of the ledger. Jiggy, I’m calling about Coach—”
“Go ahead. I don’t care anymore. I’m out, I’m good, I’m happy. Guy’s a dickhead.”
“So if I have to say your name, I can?”
“Griffin, dude, you do whatever you want. You were the only one who stood up for me back then. The fact that you took the fall for what happened, for that dickface, it always chafed at me. I’m with you, bro. Whatever you need.”
“Got it. Glad you’re doing so well, man. That’s great to hear.”
“Go get ‘em, Rogue.”
Griffin laughed. “Not the Rogue anymore, you know. I retired.”
“Once a rogue, always a rogue. You always did things your own way. Lucky for me that you did.”
He spent the rest of the drive rehearsing what he was going to say, and how the encounter might go. He did the same thing when he raced—took some time to plan out various strategies. If T-Rex took the lead, he’d stay on his heels and jump at the first chance to pass. If Sticks tried to crowd him, the way he often did, he’d zip to his left and slip through his blind spot. A lot of strategy went into motocross, and the more prepared you were, the better.
Something to keep in mind for whatever his next move in life would be. And maybe also for winning a certain “difficult” redhead over to a certain fantasy he kept having. A fantasy involving naked skin and hopped-up hormones.
On that note, he walked through the front door of his old high school and into the past.
The smell came first. Sweat and Sharpie markers and excitement and boredom somehow all mixed together in one big nostalgia-bomb. High school for Griffin was all tied together with Mom’s death (freshman year), Kai’s leaving (junior year), not to mention that run-in with Coach Nelson (also freshman year.)
His only relief during the entirety of high school had been sports. Getting outside and using his body to its absolute limit.
Starting in junior year, when he shot up above six feet and sprouted muscles, girls had noticed him, and he’d noticed them. But he’d been wrapped up with being big brother to the twins and Gracie, and dealing with his father, and none of those girls had truly registered with him. Not the way Serena did.
Being with Serena was different—like turning on Technicolor in a black and white world.
All the students were in class, save for a few stragglers lingering in the hallways. He spotted someone smoking by the trophy case, and two older teens making out in a stairwell. Some things never changed.
This early in the day, the coaches would be getting ready for team practice, so he headed for the athletic department. Along the way he passed the trophy case, and a big banner for the “Mountain Eagles.” A handmade sign next to it read, “5-0 way to go!”
Apparently the team was performing well under Coach Nelson.
He found the man in his office. He paused in the doorway, watching the older man cough into his fist as he wrote with a marker on a big whiteboard. He’d always been a heavy smoker, which seemed strange for a coach.
His entire body went tense at the sight of the coach who had ruined his high school sports career. That teamwork, that sense of brotherhood, all gone after he’d gotten suspended. His father had been furious at the whole thing, his mother had died shortly afterwards, and everything had fallen apart.
Not all of that was Coach Nelson’s fault—but some things were.
He knocked on the doorframe to get the man’s attention. The head coach was a big man, with a powerful upper body and slightly bowed legs. He wore reading glasses perched on the end of his nose and had lost much of his hair in the past decade and a half.
“Coach Nelson. We meet again.” He walked in, not extending his hand for a courtesy handshake.
The coach straightened to his full height, which was slightly over Griffin’s, and set his hands on his hips. Intimidation posture. Griffin remembered it well. “Rockwell. Look at the washed-up big shot crawling back home.”
Griffin ignored that jab. It was the kind of thing Coach did so well, finding those vulnerabilities and needling at them until they bled. How had this man ever been put in charge of young students? Why was he still working with young students?
“Looks like you’re still going strong. Head coach, I hear. Congratulations.”
“Haven’t lost a game yet, best start in ten years.”
“Nice. You must have some good kids on the team.”
Coach shrugged. “The usual motley crew. It’s all about the molding. Talent ain’t nothing without instruction. Especially with the new kids moving in. They don’t have the same work ethic.” He turned back to the whiteboard.
Work ethic. Something told him that was code for blind obedience. Griffin’s jaw tightened until it felt like a vise closing it shut.
Not a kid anymore, he reminded himself.
“I came to warn you, Coach.”
Nelson snapped his head back to look his way. “Say what?”
“The shit you used to pull, the way you hit Jiggy. Probably others too. I hope you don’t do that any more, but in case you do—you gotta stop.”
It felt surreal to be laying down the law with someone who’d been such an authority figure.
Coach Nelson bristled like a hedgehog in sweat pants. “I coach the way I coach, and it’s working. This school’s never been this proud of their team.”
“Good. So long as you treat the players right, I have no problem with you. But I’ll be watching. Because I know the truth. I haven’t forgotten a single thing and I’ll make sure other people know too.”
The coach twirled his marker in his fingers like a baton. Or a weapon. “Don’t question a coach’s methods. I get results, and that’s what counts.”
“Get those results the right way. If I hear or see anything—”
“Bullshit. You’ll be gone just like always. Everyone knows you don’t stick.”
Yup, another needle sliding under Griffin’s protective shell. Artie Nelson wasn’t stupid; he knew what sore spots to push.
“You sure you want to count on that? I didn’t say anything before because Jiggy didn’t want me to. I also didn’t think anyone would believe a kid. But I’m all grown now, and people will listen to me.”
He waited until he knew the coach was paying attention to him and not to the whiteboard. “I’m famous now. I can get a camera crew here like that.” He snapped his fingers. “People will want to hear the story of the abusive coach who changed the direction of Rogue’s career.”
Coach shrugged his big shoulders and turned away, heading for his desk. “You sure about that? Maybe they’ll just be pissed that you’re rocking the boat, ever think about that? Get a grip, Rockwell. You’ve been gone, acting like a dumbass celebrity. No one cares what you think. They care about results. Mostly, they care about their reputations.”
Their reputations. What did he mean by that? Then it struck him, what the coach was getting at. “Your fucking threats. It wasn’t just me you threatened to keep me quiet. You have dirt on other people. Maybe the school board, people like that. Maybe that’s why you’re still coaching here.”
For the first time, the coach looked rattled. Maybe he hadn’t expected Griffin to put it all together like that.
Griffin stalked toward him. “You can’t blackmail me, Nelson. You’ll straighten out your shit, or you�
��ll step down, or things will get ugly. Fair warning.”
A toxic expression, some combination of fear and rage, flashed across Coach Nelson’s face. “Look, I’m doing my drinking away from the Last Chance, like you asked. But these kids need me. We’re in the middle of a big season here. I can’t just walk away. The other coaches don’t know what they’re doing. If you care about this high school at all—”
“I care about the kids,” he interrupted the coach.
“Oh yeah? I don’t see it, Rockwell. I see you posing with models after you win races. You’re a solo type now, aren’t you? No teams in motocross. It’s you against the course, you against the dirt.”
“Yeah. Me against the dirt.” Griffin leaned forward and glared at his former coach. “And I win against the dirt. Don’t you fucking forget it.”
“Don’t fucking threaten me,” the coach hissed back. “I still know shit you don’t want to get out.”
“My mother is dead. You’re going to slander a dead woman?”
“I’m not talking about your mother.”
Griffin cast around for any dirty little secrets that might still be hanging around in the Rockwell family history. There were probably plenty—but would anyone care? “Think about it, Coach. You can retire with a little dignity, or you can drag people through the mud. Do the right thing.”
He turned away from the man and stalked out the door.
“Better check with your sister before you do anything you regret,” the coach snarled when he was halfway into the hall.
He turned back, ready to launch himself at the man, but the door swung shut in his face and he heard the lock turn.
He thought about kicking the door down and beating the truth out of the coach with his fists. But a few students were filtering into the gym—he could hear their sneakers squeaking against the polished floor—and he didn’t want to come off as just as bad as the coach.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he left the office, nearly colliding with a tall young black kid with a familiar look about him. A nervous-but-trying-to-hide-it look. He gave the student a tense nod, then kept going.
The Rogue Page 8
