Flying Gold

by Vanessa North

  I don’t win.

  My first loss should feel like a bigger blow—and yeah, I’m disappointed—but all I can think about is Tiffani. Ven teases me about it as we park the car and head for the stands to watch the pro races.

  “I don’t know how you win anything when she’s around. You’re sitting here thinking with your dick and can’t get off the line before he’s halfway down the track.”

  “Shut up. I was not that slow.”

  “Point two. Point two. You were that slow.”

  “You can go now,” I remind him.

  “Nah, think I’ll stay and watch. Maybe pass out a few business cards, build my clientele.” He stretches out next to me, kicking his feet up on the bench in front of us.

  “Fine.” I glare at him.

  Tiffani is an incredible emcee. She knows just how to rile up the crowd, get them invested in the rivalries and drama down on the racetrack. She mentions the sponsors in a good-natured, not-hokey way. She reminds everyone to tip the concessions staff. When the last race of the day is over, she fills everyone in on upcoming events at the field and thanks them for coming out to be entertained at Tate.

  “Y’all pick up after yourselves and don’t leave a mess!” she calls to laughter from the crowd.

  I ditch Ven before the final words are out of her mouth, and I make my way down toward the field. She’s talking to some guy in a polo shirt with a team logo, and she hands him a business card. I hang back, not wanting to get in the way of her work, but she gestures me forward.

  “Matt, this is Frankie Poteat. He owns Poteat Racing. They race three cars on the pro circuit. Frankie, this is Matt Adams.”

  We shake hands, and I look at Tiffani curiously.

  “I’d like Tiffani to drive for me,” Frankie says. “I was friends with her dad for a lot of years, and he told me she was one to watch. I hear she and that M3 of hers have claimed the money of anyone stupid enough to race her on the road.”

  “You’re too sweet, but I’ve never even raced the sportsman class,” she demurs. “But say hi to Jennifer, okay?”

  “Sure thing.” He tips his baseball cap. “Nice to meet you, Matt.”

  “Do you have more to do here, or are you free?” I ask her. Her eyes look huge and luminous under the field lights, and then she smiles.

  “Let’s go.”

  We walk to the parking lot together, not quite reaching for each other’s hands, but brushing together.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been ready to talk.”

  Her apology takes me by surprise. “You should take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I know, I got the texts. Thank you.” She presses a hand to my chest. “I’ve been busy as hell, but really I needed time by myself to figure out what being with you meant to me. Whether I could let go of our past and trust you.”

  “Can you?”

  “I want to. I’m still crazy about you. It took being with you again to figure that out. But I think I’m always going to wonder why you cheated. If I was responsible.”

  We stop next to her BMW and I take a shuddering breath. “No, you weren’t responsible. I am the only person responsible for my actions.”

  She nods. “But why?”

  “I was scared.” I pick up her hand. “We were graduating and going to different schools, and I was scared. But that’s not why I slept with her.”

  Tiffani tightens against me, and I squeeze her hand.

  “I was seventeen years old, Ani. I’m not gonna make excuses. I slept with her because I was young, dumb, and drunk. I was curious about sex with other people, and I was scared that everything was changing. She told me it didn’t have to mean anything, and I believed her.”

  “You should have told me you were curious.” Her voice is small but steady.

  “I was terrified of that conversation. And it turns out sleeping with Ashley meant something—but not in a good way, not in the way no-strings sex should. I knew it was a mistake. Which is why I told you the next morning and you shoved me into the azaleas.”

  She pinches her nose, right between her eyebrows. “Why? Why are hormones wasted on teenagers who haven’t grown into their brains yet?”

  I lean against her BMW and tilt her chin up. “I’m not that stupid, scared kid anymore. I learned my lesson the hard way. And I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m still crazy about you too.”

  She sighs and tilts her face into my hand. “I love you, Matt. I need you to promise me that we’ll talk about things. No more blindsiding me.”

  Tears prickle against my eyelids, and I nod. “I promise.”

  Tiffani

  He seals the promise with a kiss that takes my breath away. It’s been a long month without him. I pull back and smile, trying not to blush. “Let’s go for a drive.”

  I leave the BMW, because I know Tate Field won’t tow me, and I take Matt’s hand as we make our way toward the Chevelle.

  “Do you want to drive?” He offers me the keys.

  “Hell yes.” I take them and I unlock the doors. “Thanks.” I straighten up, suddenly remembering we aren’t here just to talk about our pasts. “I’m sorry you didn’t win.”

  He shrugs. “A wise man said to me earlier today that you can’t win every race. And then Ven told me I was thinking with my dick, and you know, they might both be right.”

  I laugh as I put the car in Drive and pull it out of the parking lot. “Where to?”

  “Where are you living now?”

  “I’m still living with Tegan. We’re like old lady sister roommates now, bickering over how much time the other one spends in the bathroom.”

  He laughs. “Nice. Well, your place is out then.”

  “I have an idea.” We take the old state road out of town, following as it twists up into the mountains. I pull off at a scenic lookout, and park his car. “Remember this place?”

  He looks out the window and grins. “Come on.”

  We climb onto the hood and rest our backs against the windshield. The sky sparkles with countless stars, just as it did when we’d drive up here in high school to talk. To make out, to make plans.

  “So, what do we do now? You’re still a fancy-pants movie director. I’m a mechanic from Royal.”

  He rolls toward me and turns my head so I’m looking right into his eyes. His fingertips stroke over my face, and his expression goes soft and hungry. It sends a wave of lust through me, and I can’t stop myself. I lean forward and kiss him.

  Our tongues dance together, and I whimper, trying to get closer to him. He pulls me on top of him. His body is hard—everywhere—but his lips are soft, and his hair curls just right into my hands. I roll against him trying to fit my hips to his, and he helps me by grabbing one leg and hoisting it around his hip. When I roll against him again, he groans into my mouth. I grind my pussy against the hard bulge in his jeans, and he breaks the kiss, his head dropping back.

  “We could do a lot of this,” he says in a raspy voice. “But we should probably do it somewhere we can’t get arrested for indecent exposure.”

  “There’s no one around,” I whisper, and I grind against him again. His hand moves from my thigh up to where my white cutoffs barely cover my ass, and his fingers slide up under them.

  “These shorts are very distracting,” he murmurs as I wriggle into his grasp. “I keep wondering what all I can reach without taking them off.”

  I shudder. “I think that you should definitely find out.” I kiss him again, reaching for the button of his jeans.

  His hand goes exploring right as I get his fly open and his dick in my hand. I roll to my side to give him access, and he takes it. One hand down the back, one down the front, they join together over my pussy and it feels like he’s touching me everywhere. The heel of one hand rocks against my clit, and the other holds me in place while I squirm. Two finge
rs shove inside me, and I gasp at the stretch.

  “This is quite a tight fit,” he whispers. “Think you can undo the button?”

  Oh god. I let go of him and unsnap my button, and then everything gets wetter and hotter as he has more room to play.

  “Good girl,” he croons, circling my clit with a finger. “I want to watch you come. Just lie back.”

  I take a deep breath, letting the pleasure guide my movements. My legs open, his fingers burrowing deeper. I can feel the hot skin of his wrist against the cleft of my ass, and it feels dirty and exciting. His other hand still teases over my clit, circling, plucking, then rubbing right—

  “Right there,” I gasp.

  “Here?” He rubs harder, and I fly apart. My head thunks back against the windshield as his fingers take me over the edge. He rubs and circles until I have to push him away, dragging deep breaths into my lungs.

  When I’ve caught my breath, I lean over him, taking him into my mouth. His hands scrabble against the car hood, and his feet jerk. I did that. And I proceed to take him apart until he pulls me back. “I’m gonna—”

  “That’s kind of the point.” I grin up at him and then suck on the tip, running my hand along his shaft. His balls draw up tight in my other hand and his back bows up off the car. I pull back, rubbing his come down the shaft as he thrusts into my hand.

  He lunges up off the car and pulls me into a deep, drugging kiss.

  “Ani,” he breathes. “Come home with me and never leave.”

  I laugh into his shoulder, sticky and satisfied.

  “I love you, Matt.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Matt

  Lost time.

  She insists on staying with her sister during the week, but when she leaves the car clinic on Saturdays, she’s all mine. We make up for lost time—not just the days she spends at Tegan’s, or the last month, but the last ten years. She visits the set and makes friends with Elspeth and Luis. She leans over my shoulder and watches as Trent rehearses his new routines for me on Facetime.

  I visit the shop and get to know Duke, who treats her like he’s an overprotective older brother. I learn how to tune my own engine and I practice my reaction times out at Tate Field while Ani and Ven look on.

  And I listen.

  “I think we’re straying too far from what Dad’s vision for the shop is, I’m sorry.” One night at dinner, Tegan crosses her arms over her chest and puts her foot down. “Half the parts I’m ordering these days aren’t even for muscle cars.”

  “Teegs, it’s a shrinking market,” Tanner sighs. “I know we owe the business to the glamorous history of Detroit cars, but come the fuck on. It’s the twenty-first century.”

  “I worry about it too,” Tiffani says, pushing food around on her plate. “What Dad would think. I know the clinic was my idea, but I didn’t expect it would take over our core business.”

  “Your dad would want you all fed and happy,” Duke interjects. “Pass the dinner rolls?”

  Tyler hands the basket of rolls over. “I agree.”

  “That doesn’t solve anything,” Tegan grumbles. “I still think we need to focus on our core business.”

  Tanner sighs again, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “This is becoming our core business. And what’s wrong with that? We’re a woman-owned shop, we’re providing a service the community needs.”

  “Three-fourths,” Tyler reminds her.

  “Can we not argue over dinner?” Tiffani stands, picking up her plate. “Are you done?”

  I nod and stand, taking my own plate. “I’ll help clean up.”

  “I’ll wash if you dry.” She grins over her shoulder.

  We clean up in silence as I turn an idea over and over in my mind. Maybe their core business is changing, but that doesn’t mean they can’t still pay homage to their roots.

  I mull the idea over the next few weeks, enough that Ani grumbles about me being lost in thought all the time. She brings it up again as we drive to the Atlanta Dragway for the second to last race of the season. “Why are you so moody? Is something going on at work?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not moody; I have a lot on my mind.”

  “You are moody. It’s enough to give a girl a complex.”

  Well, that will never do. I pull the truck over to the side of the road and throw it into Park.

  “Come here.” I kiss her until she gets all squirmy and breathless in my arms. “No complexes.”

  She laughs. “Okay, but you have to come clean. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been thinking about your family and how you all have been fighting about the future of the company. And I don’t see why you can’t move forward while honoring your past.”

  “Okay,” she says again. “And how do you propose we do that?”

  “What if American Heavy Metal sponsored a racing team?”

  “A what?”

  “I have money to invest. And my car.” I gesture toward the trailer with my head. “We can buy another car—maybe two. But we need pro drivers.”

  “Matt—” She blows out a breath. “I can’t—I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll think about it.”

  “You can’t just invite yourself into my family problems. We need boundaries.”

  I bite back the reply on the tip of my tongue. She’s right. The drive gets quiet. No stopping for SweetTarts and lottery tickets. As we pull up to the Dragway, I reach across and take her hand. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  She squeezes. “It’s okay. I know you’re getting really into racing. And there’s an enthusiasm—you have no idea how you get. It’s magnetic. It’s easy to get swept up in your ideas. But this is my family business.”

  We catch up with Javier and his crew in the pit. Javier would make a great driver on my hypothetical team. We compare notes on the drivers we’re up against. I watch how he and Tiffani talk strategy, heads together, faces serious, and how she laughs and hugs him before wishing him luck.

  “Hey. You’re up.” She grins at me. “You ready?”

  “Not quite.” I take her aside, and I kiss her. “I’m sorry I butted into your family business. I crossed a line, because I think of you like family. I love you, and I want to take care of you, and I want to make everyone at your family table happy. I want to sweep you off your feet, because every day I spend with you, you sweep me off mine.”

  “Matt.” She looks down and blushes. “I love you too. We can talk about this after the race.”

  I pick up her hand and place the keys into it. “I want you to drive.”

  She shoves the keys back into my hand. “I can’t.”

  “I looked up the rules after that night at Tate Field. It’s the car, not the driver, that qualifies. Two different drivers can drive the same car in different events.”

  “That’s not—” She stops midsentence. “Okay, yes, that’s true.”

  “I want you to drive my car in this race. You’re a better driver than I am. I love racing, but for you, it’s like air. Take the keys, Ani.”

  She swallows, blinking back tears. Did I fuck this up? Then she grabs me and kisses me, hard, and takes the keys from my hand.

  That’s my girl.

  Tiffani

  My hands are shaking as I get behind the wheel of the Chevelle. I adjust the seat and pull up to the staging area. Matt leads me through getting the wheels totally straight, and it feels wrong, opposite, but I can’t stop the thrill that rises in me as I pull the helmet on.

  You got this, he mouths at me through the window, flashing a thumbs-up. I step on the brake with one foot, and I start revving the engine. The wheels spin, sending up smoke. I keep my foot down as the car approaches the red line, the smoke filling the air. I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I ease up to the pre-stage.

 
I keep my eyes on the tree as my opponent pulls up beside me.

  One amber.

  Two.

  I shove my foot to the floor and pray.

  The car leaps forward, devouring the track beneath me. G-forces shove me back against the seat, and I stare straight ahead, toward the line, toward the win. Flying.

  I pull the ’chute.

  My whole body lurches forward as I brake, the parachute helping to slow the car down. As soon as it comes to a stop, I pull off the helmet, and push the door open with shaking hands.

  I look at the time, and it doesn’t seem real. 13.72.

  I blink, looking at the time for the other car. 13.93.

  Two tenths. I beat him by two tenths.

  I look back over my shoulder to see Matt running toward me, grinning like the sun and hollerin’ like the wonderful weirdo that he is.

  When he reaches me, he pulls me into a hug and I realize I’m crying. Big, gasping sobs rack my body.

  “You ran the fastest time today, Ani.” He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my lips. “You ran the fastest time. Out of everybody.”

  I sniffle against his chest. “I did?”

  “Yeah, babe. You really did.”

  “Congratulations.” The driver of the GTO approaches and shakes my hand. “That was a hell of a run, girl.”

  “Thank you.” I wipe at my tears.

  “Gorda!” Javier approaches, all smiles. “Tom would be so goddamn proud.”

  Matt’s arm, resting around my waist, tightens. “We’re all proud.”

  Chaos erupts around us for a long endless eternity, which is probably only five minutes, but all I want is to get Matt alone.

  “Why did you tell me to drive?” I ask him when we finally get away from the crowd.

  “Because I want you to feel what I feel every time I look at you.” He laughs. “Like flying.”

  Goddamn tears.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispers, pulling me into a hug. “I have a much, much better idea.”

  “You do?” I half-laugh, half-sob against his chest.