by Ginger Scott
“Check out isn’t until five, by the way. In case . . . you know.” He winks then tilts his head toward Hannah’s room. My jaw flexes and ire heats my veins, that itch to fight so strong I’m going to have to hit something when he leaves this room.
“Thanks, Alex. I’ll get back to you asap.” My mouth twitches with all the words I want to tack on like get your mind off my girl, you fucking fuck!
“I’ll look forward to your call. And hey, good luck at the Series race. I’ve got a good feeling about you. I may have made a bet or two.”
I smile, the fakest damn curve I’ve ever put on my face, and chuckle with him as he leaves my room. My sound cuts the moment the door closes and I look down at the dirty contract in my hand. So close. I’m so goddamned close. I toss it across the room, papers flying free all over my bed. I don’t know what I’m going to do if this turns out to be what I think it is. I’ll have to let someone down. I know who I’m not going to disappoint, though. I’m not going to disappoint her ever again, even if it costs me every damn dream I’ve ever had.
16
I don’t answer Bailey’s text right away. I want to shower first, pack my things and make my bed without letting housekeeping come in. I want to hide what I did, not that I’m ashamed, but I’m not quite ready for anyone to question it—me—us. I don’t want my friend to look at me with worried or disappointed eyes. It’s different this time. Dustin and I are older, mature. I know what I want out of life, even if I’m too scared to reach for some of my dreams. I’m not afraid to go for this one.
I may not be able to change college majors and ditch a future business degree for one in the arts, but I can be by Dustin’s side. And as we grow, I know he’ll push me to conquer the remaining mountains I face. I can fight to choose him, to let the world know he’s my choice. And I can show my parents that he’s worth all our love. I know Bailey loves him too, not the way I do, but in the way a friend loves two souls being together. As cautious as she is with my heart, she also believes in us as a couple. She always has. Even before I did.
My cheeks can’t seem to lose the red hue permanently cooked into them. I’m physically glowing, and every time I try to mask the evidence that I’ve changed overnight, that I’ve had sex, I feel as though a neon sign lights up above my head with an arrow, flashing the words NOT A VIRGIN.
Again, not that Bailey will care about that. She lost hers our freshman year of college. It was part of her goal to shed her parents’ control, and the guy was nice. They met at one of the first parties we went to, and he was a gentleman. I think maybe Bailey surprised him by being so forward. They tried dating a little afterward, but it wasn’t that kind of match.
Still, it was nice for her. She came away without regrets, and a piece of me was envious that she had this milestone that carried zero negativity with it. But it also didn’t have depth. It lacked love. And I wanted both of those. I wanted to fall into someone completely, to lose myself a little without fear of finding my way out.
I wanted it to be Dustin.
Grin permanently slapped on my face, I open the door to let my friend in after finally texting her to come over. She looks tired, her eyes puffy, and it piques my curiosity about what kind of night she had.
“Either Vegas agrees with you, or disagrees with you,” I joke as she passes through the door. She doesn’t laugh. In fact, her body seems stiff, her hands fidgeting as she walks to the bed and sits at the end. Her eyes focus on the carpet as her mouth hangs open with worry lines attacking her forehead.
“Bailey, what’s wrong?”
Shit, please don’t be one of those Vegas stories!
Her head pops up and our eyes meet. Her mouth snaps shut and she sucks her lips in tight, taking a deep breath through her nose. My mind is running the gamut from she just caught Dustin with a prostitute to she’s pregnant—with Tommy’s baby! Oh, God!
“My dad is running for mayor.”
She blurts it out as if it’s water she’s been holding in her mouth for minutes, and she’s dying for air. I blink a few times before breaking into the most relieved belly laugh of my life. I lean back and fold my arms over my midriff, every molecule of my body relaxing after firing up for a full-on panic attack.
“Are you . . . laughing?”
I drop my head back down and meet her stare, her head cocked to one side. The sight of it makes me spit out another laugh, which rolls into that out-of-control kind that makes my voice go hoarse and turns into coughing.
“This is so not the reaction I thought you’d have,” she says, finally relaxing a little herself and falling back on her hands on the bed.
“Oh, Bails. You have no idea the thoughts I had going. I mean . . . you were pregnant with Tommy’s baby—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Her eyes widen and she stands, almost offended at my imagination. We both hold our breath and stare at each other for a beat before breaking into another round of hysteria, this one together.
“Oh, my God. Bless you, Tommy Judge, for making my dad’s news seem miniscule!” She sighs as she falls back to the bed, flopping to her back and catching her breath. I fill two glasses with water and bring her one as I sit down next to her.
She props herself up on her elbows and takes a few gulps before giving me a sideways look.
“You aren’t mad?”
I puff out a short laugh.
“Bailey, I wouldn’t care if you wanted to run for mayor against my mother.”
“Oh, thank God,” she says, falling back down and holding her glass up for me to take. I set both hers and mine on the floor, then flop on the bed next to her.
“He’s the one putting up the big stink about the Straights. He pulled all these accident reports and has the highway safety people coming out. Han, he’s going to shut it down.” She rolls her head to the side and I do the same to meet her gaze.
I shrug as I lay.
“Well, it was a good run. Someone probably should have shut it down a long time ago.” It’s true. That an entire town has put up with something so reckless for so long, all for the love of speed and octane, is kinda nuts.
“I hope this thing Dustin has planned works out. With the track? That would be . . .” She trails off and returns her focus to the high ceiling dusted with a golden, glittery paint. Everything about Vegas, about this room and this trip, is like some magical fairytale dream.
“He’ll get it done,” I say, grinning at the thought of Dustin finding success. I start to bite my lip when I feel Bailey’s hand slap against my forearm. I giggle and turn to her.
“What?”
“You are blushing, Hannah Judge. Oh-oh, my God!” Bailey sits up fast and twists so she’s looking down at me. My grin gets stupid big.
“You had sex!”
Unable to bluff through this moment, I slap my hands over my face and peek at my friend through my fingers while my cheeks flame.
“Hannah Banana!” she teases me, poking at my side. I shift and roll out of her reach before peeling my fingers back slowly to meet her eager expression. She wants details.
“Bails. It was . . . everything. It was literally exactly like I imagined, like I wanted.” Memories of last night flood me and my body tingles in response, my legs squeezing together at the thought of Dustin between them, remembering how full I was with him, how empty without him. The ache he left behind is so sweet.
“You aren’t disappointed in me?” I mush up my lips and wear a guilty, crooked smile.
My friend blinks at me twice and finally shakes her head while breathing out a laugh.
“I’m honestly shocked it took this long. You know I believe in you two. I just don’t like the painful journey. That’s all.” She lifts a shoulder, and I love how much she cares about me.
“Now, tell me. How big is his—”
“Bailey!” I slap at her. We both fall into laughter, pausing when we hear a knock at my door.
My friend and I both calm ourselves and stand, and while I straighten the comforter on t
he bed, Bailey goes to the door.
“That’s weird,” she says, turning to face me after looking through the peep hole. “It’s Alex.”
As deep as my friend’s forehead dents my stomach drops even deeper. There’s no reason for him to be at my door, and I’m not stupid enough to fall for him thinking this is Dustin’s room instead of mine. This is a calculated visit, and it brings to surface all the things that make me uneasy about Dustin pursuing this deal with Alex.
I’m tempted to simply wait him out and I hold my breath, making myself as quiet as possible, but it’s no use. He knocks again. This time calling me out by name.
“Hey, Hannah. It’s Alex. I just wanted to say good-bye and thank you all. Do you have a minute?”
Bailey’s brow lowers and mine does the same. I glance to my right, to the balcony, and wonder if Dustin is still in his room. I pick up my phone and shoot him a quick text, letting him know Alex is here before nodding to Bailey to open the door. She won’t leave me alone.
Alex flinches a little when he sees her face instead of mine, but he covers it quickly with a slick grin, leaning toward her and kissing her cheek. My friend can’t fake a smile worth a damn, so she just steps back after their short embrace and leaves the bewildered slant to her eyes in place.
“I must have missed Dustin. He wasn’t in his room, but I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to say good-bye and thank you for making the trip. I hope your stay was . . .”
A disturbing smirk paints his lips as he leaves his thought half-finished. He knows Dustin and I left the club early and he either assumes correctly or has eyes that saw it all. Either way, it makes my stomach sick. I shiver under his glare, acutely aware of my surroundings and all of the ways I can get out of here.
“We had a nice time. Thank you.” I force the politeness, but my posture is closed-off. Alex’s eyes drop to my crossed arms and he breathes out a small laugh before darting his gaze back up to my face.
“Right, well—” He steps toward me and as much as I want to jerk away, I know that will only make him more persistent. I close my eyes and brace for his fat lips at my cheek. His beard scratches my neck as he breathes against me and I battle my instincts to curl and shudder.
“Until next time.” He winks as he steps away, then does the same to Bailey, who opens the door for him to leave and is careful not to slam it behind him even though I can tell she wants to.
“He’s bad news,” she says the moment she slips back from the peep hole, confirming he’s gone.
I swallow.
“Yeah, he is. And it’s going to crush Dustin when I tell him, but I don’t think this is going to work. I have a bad feeling about it.”
And I resent that Alex had the power to completely ruin the blissful daze I was planning on staying in all the way home.
17
I couldn’t get back to Camp Verde fast enough. I don’t think anyone could, and I’m not sure whether we all have different reasons or my mood is so off that it’s infecting the rest of them.
I called Tommy and Virgil down for breakfast so we could pour over the surprise contract. Virgil’s natural instinct is to not trust guys like Alex so he didn’t even bother to read. Tommy’s never liked Alex much either, but he also knows how committed I am to making this work—he’s keeping the contract to dig into the meat of it when we get home. The further into this thing I’ve gotten, the more attached I am to the reality of it. It’s no longer a fantasy. I can smell the air out there, feel the track under my feet. I can see future generations of racers, the smiles on parents’ faces as their kids realize what they can do on the road. This is probably what Little League parents feel when they buy that first bat. For me, it’s a track. It’s always been a track. Always the rubber, the oil, the pedal—the machine.
I’m the driver.
We made it back half an hour earlier than anyone expected and it’s because I pushed Tom Judge’s truck a little more than he probably wanted me to. He’d agree with getting out of Vegas in a hurry, though. I wish I could cut my losses, but Alex really is the only ticket I have to make this work.
Something’s on Hannah’s mind too. She was quiet the entire way home, and even now as we all unload from the road trip, weary legs stretching in the Judge family driveway, Hannah is distant. After we were so close. There’s more to this.
“I see she’s in one piece,” Tom says, running his hand over the dusty hood of his truck.
“I’ll get her a wash for you,” I say, glad the only thing left on his truck from our trip is the desert dirt.
“Nah. I’m taking her fishing tomorrow. I’ll just get her all muddy again. How’d the foot hold up?”
I roll my ankle a few times and test the tender tip of my toe. I’ve been too distracted to notice, but it looked as though it healed decently enough when I checked during my shower this morning.
“Feels like I stepped on a fishing hook, but I’ll live,” I laugh out.
His lip ticks up with a short laugh. He studies me for a few seconds, and I can tell he has more to say. I assume he wants to know how successful the trip was, and I want his input. I’m just not sure I’m ready for him to look over the contract yet and confirm all of the holes and red flags I’m sure Tommy will find. I’d like to live in the dream a little longer, at least while I head down to Phoenix to prep for the race. None of this matters if I can’t get my head ready for what comes ten days from now. They don’t simply award Gorman’s times to me. I have to make my own time trials. And I have to live up to the reputation his team has bought into.
“You know you can call me in whenever you’re ready.” Tom arches a brow, maybe reading my thoughts.
I offer him a tight-lipped smile and look down as I nod.
“Thanks. I appreciate that. I’m trying to do what I can on my own, but I will call on you . . . when I need you. I promise.” I look up and am met with a familiar affection in his eyes, an expression I haven’t seen in a while. I always loved when he looked at me like a proud dad, and right now? It’s one of those times.
“All right, then,” he says, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder and squeezing with a little shake as he moves on to carry one of the bags from the back of the pickup.
Everyone’s headed inside, but Hannah lingers by the truck, her backpack dangling from her fingers and her feet poking at the ground. I step in close and watch over her head as her family’s front door closes, leaving us alone until they can spy at us through the window. I drop my gaze to her and lift her chin with my hand, relieved when her eyes close and her lips part. It’s like coming home—kissing her. I was afraid whatever was bothering her on the way home was about us, about regrets. And I don’t regret a single damn thing about last night.
Her lips move against mine, stretching into a smile that provokes my own. My tongue slips in her mouth, tasting her, and I bring my other hand up to cup her face, holding her mouth to mine so I can keep this kiss alive a little longer. It breaks finally, but only because she slides her hands along my sides to my back and squeezes me tight, resting her cheek on my chest. I wrap my arms around her and tuck her head under my chin.
“I can’t wait to shower the smell of Vegas off of me,” she laughs out. Through all the smoke and dinge Vegas left behind, I still only smell her—her fruity shampoo, her sexy body, her sweetness.
“I have to get to Phoenix tonight. Tommy said he’s coming. I mean, Virgil doesn’t know shit about cars, and I’d rather know someone in that garage.” I’m sure Gorman’s guys are tight and know their shit. He’s always on the leader board, even if he hasn’t won. He’s a sloppy driver, so he has to have good mechanics behind him to do what he does. I’m not sure they’ll buy into me being their guy right away, though.
“If Virgil doesn’t know shit, why you keep him around?” She looks up at me, her chin against my chest, and I slip back enough to look her in the eyes. I let out a guilty laugh.
“I suppose maybe I like the guy.” She holds my gaze as her lips stretch into a
tight, knowing smirk, but she lets the subject go. She gets that he’s a father figure. I surround myself with them when I can.
“Can I come?” She looks up at me with puppy eyes that I wouldn’t be able to say no to even if I wanted to. I lift her and spin her around once before setting her back on the ground, her legs so sexy in her cut-off shorts and sockless canvas shoes.
“Of course you can come. I’ll even let you drive around the track once if you want.”
“Shut up!” She pushes me. I wrap her hands up with mine and hold them to my chest.
“Why are you always hitting me when you’re happy?” I laugh.
“Because . . . you like it rough.” She wiggles her brows and I laugh harder. I also think that maybe I do, if she’s offering.
“We should get inside. Shower and rest a little. I’ve got to hit the road in a couple of hours to make it there in time for a meeting.”
Hannah lifts up on her toes one more time, pressing her lips to mine and leaving them there, her skin tickling mine like a butterfly wing. For a moment, I believe this is heaven.
“Get going then, Eat My Dust,” she says, slapping my ass before sprinting out of my reach.
“I’ll be right there,” I say, mostly so I can watch her go.
I wait outside a little longer after the door closes. I’d like to drive the Supra down to Phoenix, get my mental bearings tooled a bit. I forgot how good it felt to have that car in my hands. I wander across the driveway to where it sits, probably undriven despite how much I’m sure Tom wanted to. He’s got too much respect for the thing, though he’s probably responsible for half the parts in it.
I do wonder how many times he took the race truck out for a spin. That layer of dirt caked on the wheel wells seems awfully recent. I know I didn’t put it there. I smile at the thought, but am interrupted when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I spin to lean against the car while I read the incoming text. I had a feeling it would be Alex, and for a guy who doesn’t want me to feel pressured, he’s doing all he can to make sure I can’t breathe.
