Throttle (Jack 'Em Up #3)

by Shauna Allen

  My older sister, Kendall, had gotten out two years before me and was perfectly content as an L.A. housewife to her super successful screenwriter husband. Now it was just Mom and Hope.

  With a sigh, I finished getting ready for bed and found my last thoughts were not of home or work or the thousand things I had to do before school started. No. It was that Trace had finally asked me out and I’d said no.

  Like an idiot.

  Trace

  Ryder was being a complete gentleman as we got ready for Jesse and Rachel’s wedding, making me wonder if aliens had inhabited my child’s little body. But, as he stood in front of me on a stepstool at the bathroom sink and I gelled his hair into submission, the truth came out.

  “How much longer until the cake, Daddy?” His deep brown eyes, the only thing he’d inherited from his mother, studied me intently in the mirror.

  Choking back a grin, I continued combing. “Uh . . . a few hours probably. Cake will be at the reception and we still have to get all the way out there and get through the actual wedding first. Why?”

  A smirk dimpled his cheek. “Aunt Rachel promised me an extra big piece. Even bigger than Uncle Jesse’s.”

  I set the comb aside and spun him around to inspect my handiwork. “She did, huh?”

  “Yup. All’s I gotta do is be really good and not drop the rings and not make funny faces when they kiss.”

  I laughed. “That’s all? Sounds like a pretty good deal, but what about poor Jesse? It’s his wedding and you’re going to eat all his cake?”

  Ryder jumped down from his stool. “Not all of it. Just a bigger piece. Aunt Rachel says he eats too much cake anyway.”

  Yeah, that was the truth. The guy had a sweet tooth to rival Willy Wonka. “Fine. Let’s grab our suits and get on the road. We have cake to eat.”

  It took an act of Congress, but I finally got the car loaded with my hyperactive child and all the books and toys it would take to occupy him for the three hour drive to the Texas hill country. Still, I did not envy Blake driving with a baby, nor Micah, who’d drawn the short straw and was caravanning Jesse’s entire family in a van.

  As we drove, rain sprinkled down and black clouds hovered overhead, but it seemed to hold off on letting loose. I was glad the girls had headed out early to get Rachel all dolled up.

  As I left the bruised clouds in my dust, only the sounds of the radio and the asphalt beneath my tires filled the car. I peeked back in the rearview mirror to find Ryder asleep. I suddenly remembered the days I’d struggled through his constant screaming and crying, not sure what the hell to do with a pissed off baby. I’d learned quickly that when food and clean diapers and burping didn’t do the trick, a car ride usually did. If not, it was time to go to the doctor.

  We finally rolled into the hill country and travelled a few curvy roads until I found the small white church. I parked the Chevy in the back of the lot between a couple of familymobiles and killed the engine.

  “Ryder? Buddy? Wake up, we’re here.”

  His dark eyes slid open and he took in his surroundings. The rain was gone and we were surrounded by deep blue as the sun began its descent into the western sky.

  “Let’s go so we’re not late.” I picked up his limp, sleepy body and carried him through the back entrance that Jesse had told me to use. Following the sound of voices, I found the men all huddled in a side room that smelled of candle wax and coffee. I slid Ryder down my leg to walk, and he stayed close to my side as we waded through Jesse’s family, some I’d never met before. I finally spotted the guys.

  “Hey, bro, about time you got here.” Blake greeted me with a half-hug, half-backslap.

  “Sorry.” I nodded at Micah, who was lounging on a corner sofa with Jesse’s brother, Dwayne. “Took us a while to get on the road.”

  “Have you heard from Jesse?”

  Ryder wandered over to Micah, who offered him a stick of gum. I frowned at Blake. “No. Why? Isn’t he here?”

  “No, and nobody can get ahold of him. It’s really freaking Rachel out.”

  “Damn. Maybe he got caught in that nasty storm brewing out there.” I stared out at the mottled sky.

  After about a dozen calls and texts to Jesse’s cell, I diverted and grabbed my son. “Come on, Ry. We need to change. You have a big job today.”

  Once we were dressed and I’d talked him into tossing his wad of gum, I took him for a quick visit with the nervous bride, then planted him in a safe spot on the sofa and leaned in to listen to Blake talking with Mr. Joyner. “Any word yet?”

  They shook their heads as we collectively checked the clock. The wedding was supposed to start in ten minutes. If we didn’t find a groom soon, we were screwed.

  Screeching tires had us jumping and we hurried to the window. I heaved a sigh of relief as Jesse came bounding toward the church from his Charger. He was at a full-on run by the time he made it to the back room, his breathing heavy and his hair soaked.

  “Hi, guys,” he mumbled as he brushed past us toward the changing area. “Long story, I’ll explain later. Is Rachel okay?”

  His dad reassured him that everything was fine and we lined up in order as we waited for him. In record time, he reappeared in his classic gray suit, his hair combed back, his grin ridiculously huge.

  There was a knock at the door. “Boutonnieres, boys,” Jesse’s sister, Leta, called as she glided into the room in a pale lavender gown. “Line up, we’re running out of time and Rachel is biting at the bit to see her man. Though I can’t imagine why.” She smirked at her brother and tossed in a sisterly jab about his new beard. “Seriously though, I’m glad you’re okay,” she murmured to him as she pinned his first.

  She moved down the line quickly, pinning the white roses to our lapels. Ryder and I were last and I offered her a wink when she was done.

  “Flirt.” She smacked my arm.

  “Always.”

  We’d carried on like this for years. It couldn’t be helped. Not after I found out she had a crush on me in high school. Making her blush had become one of my favorite sports. Sadly, she’d gotten over me pretty damn fast, but that didn’t stop me from trying to make her flustered.

  She rolled her eyes and moved away, taking Ry with her for his ring bearer duties.

  We filed out as organ music began to reverberate through the old sanctuary. Micah and I took our places as groomsmen, Blake as best man, and of course, Jesse stood next to the pastor, waiting anxiously for his bride.

  It was quiet and still, reverent, everyone fully aware how long this day had been in the making . . . how deserving of happiness this couple was.

  Rachel’s sister, Aubrey, and her best friends, Jewel and Delilah, glided up the aisle as the sun filtered through the stained glass windows, cascading showers of color in the air.

  Candles flickered around the dimly lit sanctuary and the soft scent of roses wafted in the air as the expectation became palpable in the sudden silence.

  Finally, the familiar strains of the Bridal March started and the doors at the back of the sanctuary opened. There was a collective gasp as Rachel appeared on the arm of her older brother, West. She was glowing, and she only had eyes for my friend.

  The ceremony was simple and quick, and Ry played his part to perfection. I tried to imagine a circumstance where I’d ever place myself or Ryder in the position of total vulnerability to a woman. By a series of events, and through Kristi’s crappy choices, my son had become my entire world, and now I’d do anything to protect him from more heartbreak.

  I corralled my kid after we filtered down the aisle and out to the reception. He tried to wiggle away and head toward the cake, but I diverted him to help Leta organize the gift table. When she had him safely busy, I grabbed a beer and joined Micah at a table in the back of the churchyard under a canopy of white lights.

  “They went all out, didn’t they?” He sipped and pointed his Budweiser bottle toward the arches of flowers and lights around us.

  “Rachel did. I think Jesse let
her plan everything. He just wanted to get married and get her alone in the Bahamas.”

  Blake joined us, his daughter, Molly, cuddled against his chest, sound asleep. He pressed a kiss to her head and sat next to me with his own drink. A sudden memory of holding Ryder the same way, just the two of us in my tiny crappy apartment, struck me full force. I’d been drowning. I was so terribly alone and scared, yet so full of love at that moment. I had never realized I could love somebody so much until the day I’d brought him home from the hospital.

  That little baby was a little boy now, and he was currently spinning on the dance floor with Jesse’s mom.

  Delilah eventually made her way over to us, and after a kiss to Blake’s cheek, took her now crying daughter. “I think somebody is hungry.”

  She waved as she moved away, Blake’s eyes glued to her ass.

  “You guys want more kids?” Micah asked, taking a long pull of his drink.

  Blake’s eyes flicked back to us. “Yeah, sure. Dee’s already making noises about Molly needing a brother or sister.” He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at the ground. “I just worry. Those miscarriages were hard on her. On us.”

  We nodded our understanding. I didn’t know about Micah, but I was only going through the motions. Yes, I felt for my buddy. I’d witnessed the heartbreak he and his wife suffered. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around wanting a baby like that or intentionally creating a family. As much as I loved Ry, that choice had been thrust on me with no love in the mix. I didn’t even know if I was capable of that.

  When Jesse and Rachel finally got to cutting the cake, my son decided it was time to whine loud enough to drown out the music and not listen to a word anyone said. He was tired and pissed and all out disagreeable. He didn’t even care about the cake anymore.

  Exasperated, I forced him into a quiet corner of the yard where there were less people and less noise. He needed to calm the hell down.

  By the time the party was back underway, I had him resting quietly in my lap, his head tucked into my shoulder. I rubbed his back rhythmically, much like I had when he was a baby, trying to get him to give it up and go to sleep. As soon as the happy couple were on their way, I’d get him home and to bed. Tomorrow was Sunday and it would be Pancake Day. Ry loved Pancake Day.

  Jesse ambled my way a while later and sat next to me. “Hey, man. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to talk tonight, but thanks for being here and standing up for me.”

  “Dude. Of course I’d be here. It was a great wedding.”

  His face lit up. “It was, huh?” His eyes slid across the yard to his glowing wife and such gut-wrenching affection filled his face, I had to look away.

  He faced me again and tipped his head to Ryder. “He hanging in there?”

  I cupped my son’s head as his breathing finally began to even out. “He’s tired. Long day.”

  Jesse nodded. “You do a great job with him.”

  It sure didn’t feel like it sometimes. “Thanks.”

  “I can’t imagine . . .”

  I cut him a sharp glance. “What?”

  His shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. “I can’t imagine doing it all alone. You’re brave, Trace.”

  “No. Not brave. I didn’t have a choice.”

  Jesse’s eyes grew serious. “We all have a choice.”

  Swallowing away my unease at the sentiment, I glanced away and watched as Rachel was swept up by her brother for a dance.

  “Trace . . .” He waited until I turned his way again. “I don’t want to be a prick or anything, but have you heard from Kristi?”

  “Nope.”

  “You ever thought about Ryder needing a woman in his life?” I shot him a glare. How many times had I thought the same thing? “I mean, I know you do the best you can, but . . . I just can’t imagine my life without my mom.”

  As if on cue, Mrs. Joyner’s laugh cut across the churchyard at something her husband said.

  Yes, I’d thought about it plenty, but I couldn’t exactly pull Ry’s mom out of thin air. And even if I could, who’d want a self-absorbed drug addict for a mother? Nope. We were fine on our own. If he lacked a female touch in his life, we’d have to make do with my mother and sister.

  “What about that waitress from the Funky Monkey?” he asked, yanking my attention back.

  “What waitress?”

  He lifted his brows and studied me like I was an idiot. “You know what waitress. The one you’ve salivated over for a year. The one we saw last night at my bachelor party. The one you danced with and made puppy eyes at—”

  “I did not make puppy eyes,” I cut him off.

  “Whatever.” He shifted in his chair as his gaze sought out Rachel like a fucking magnet. “I was just thinking, you’re obviously into her. She seems like a nice girl. That may be a good place to start to find a woman for both of you. Lord knows, you’ve been a grumpy fuck lately. You need to get laid.”

  “Dude!” I frowned and covered Ryder’s exposed ear. “Kid.”

  He laughed. “Maybe you don’t need a woman after all. You’re just like my mom.” His face softened as he peered down at Ryder. “Look, it’s not my business, but I’d like to see all my friends happy, and I’m not sure you are. Not all women will burn you like Kristi. You need to give someone a chance to earn your trust.”

  I mumbled a half-assed, I’ll-consider-it noise and he stood. “Well, I’ve got a wife to get to the Bahamas tomorrow. We’re outta here. Take care, bro. Thanks again.”

  I tipped my head and watched him go, thankful that was over. I’d had enough sunshine and rainbows for one day.

  Tori

  It’d been a long week of meetings and reviewing policies and setting up our offices at the school. I was eager and anxious and scared all at the same time about this new position. Was I really ready for this? I didn’t feel any different than I had as a waitress, yet now, because of my credentials, I was going to be counseling children and families.

  I spent my last weekend before school started cleaning my apartment and examining my wardrobe (what did a counselor wear, anyway?) and trying not to be nervous. Bright and early Sunday morning, I hopped into Betsy and drove to the grocery store. Budget in mind and list in hand, I strode inside, hoping to get in and out quickly. I hadn’t showered yet and I was sporting my raggedy sweatpants, a faded, ripped Aerosmith concert T-shirt, and flip-flops.

  I had my veggies, my coffee, and my Marie Callender’s, and was just rounding the cereal aisle with my attention trained on my list, when I slammed into another basket.

  “Oh, God, I’m so . . .” My eyes darted up to the person I’d assaulted with my grocery cart, and I found myself staring into very a familiar hazel gaze. I swallowed. “. . . sorry.”

  Trace’s eyes lit in recognition as they slowly perused my outfit. I felt my face heating in a massive blush.

  “Nice shirt.”

  I glanced down at my Aerosmith shirt then back up. “Thanks.” Tipping my head to his basket, I said, “I am sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  He leaned his elbows onto the handle of his cart so we were closer to eye level. “I’m glad you weren’t. How’ve you been?”

  I wanted to fidget, but I fought the instinct. There was no reason he should make me nervous just because he was hot as hell and staring at me like he wanted to lick me. “Good. You?”

  His dimple winked when he smiled. “Just fine.”

  The memory of his arms around me filtered through my brain and I’d swear he could read my mind as his smile grew. “How was the wedding?”

  He stretched over next to me and I flinched, then mentally kicked myself as he grabbed a box of Cocoa Pebbles off the shelf and tossed it into his basket next to the Pop Tarts, fruit snacks, fish sticks, pancake mix, and a gallon of milk. “It was good. Happy couple, sickeningly in love, all that.”

  I glanced up from his food, silently comparing my collection of bargain items and TV dinners to his bachelor spread. “That’s great. I’m happy
for them.”

  “Me, too.”

  I shuffled, overcome by the need to be free of his scrutiny. His stare made me feel very exposed and I was a mess. “Well . . . I should go. Lots to do before work tomorrow.”

  He rolled his cart a few inches closer. “Maybe I’ll see you around again?”

  I smiled and bit my lip. “Maybe.”

  I swore I felt his stare burning holes into my back as I forced myself to walk away like the queen of the cereal aisle with my head held high.

  It wasn’t until I got out of the store and to the car, that I realized my sweatpants had ‘Juicy’ printed wide and pink across my ass like an invitation.

  Good God.

  I strolled into Baybridge Elementary bright and early on the first day of school. Dressed in my best burgundy skirt and silk blouse, I felt a bit more like I belonged, though a part of me would always be the girl from the poor end of town who slung beer.

  With a smile for everyone in the front office I’d had drinks with that weekend, including Everett, the assistant principal, I settled into my office that still smelled of fresh paint. I studied my space, wondering if I should buy a plant to liven things up. Only my diploma hung on the wall and a utilitarian bookshelf held my resource binders and reference books.

  After booting up my computer, I inhaled deeply and moved to find some coffee.