by Jenny Siegel
“I missed you guys.” And it’s the truth. A lump forms in my throat; I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed them until just now. A lifetime of shared memories exists between us. First loves, first kisses, first cars. Prom, graduation, and then, two years later, me leaving.
“Missed you too, cuz.” Aaron squeezes my shoulder and misses the eye roll I give him.
“When did you get here?” Beth asks, walking me over to her car.
“This afternoon. Stopped in to see Dad and then wanted to get out, see you guys.”
“You should have called as soon as you left the hospital.”
“No big deal. Besides, I had a feeling you would be here. Some things never change.” I wink at her. “It’s weird. I didn’t think I would miss this place, but now that I’m here, it’s like I never left.” Nostalgia creeps up on me but now’s not the time or the place to dwell on it. I want to catch up on what’s been happening with my best friend and my cousin.
“So, what’d I miss?” I look around, not registering the uncertain way they look at each other. Someone catches my eye and my heart flutters in my chest. What is going on in the downstairs department is a whole other matter.
Max Morgan.
The only man who can make my panties dampen instantly with a flash of his smile, a tilt of his head, or a crook of his finger. In fact, everything about that man screams wicked and bad but dammit if my body doesn’t react to that. Predictably, there are a number of girls with short-ass skirts on stroking his car. Floozies—every single one of them. Just before I can look away, he catches my eye. His eyes widen a fraction before his lips tip up into a lazy smile.
Fuck, why did he have to catch me looking?
His ego is big enough as it is; I don’t need him thinking that I’ve been staring at him.
“Eh, so Max is here…” Aaron stammers and Beth gives him a swift elbow to the ribs.
“So I see.” I turn around to give them my biggest do-I-look-like-I-give-a-shit smile and hope that I pull it off. I don’t even know if I can convince myself.
“Leigh,” Beth starts, but I shake my head, not quite sure what has come over me. I can be adult about this. Just because this man makes me want to drop my panties on sight doesn’t mean that I’m going to. I can behave in civilized company. Besides, they don’t know what went on between us the night before I left. No one does. Well, apart from him and me, that is.
“Be right back.” I hug her quickly and hear the sigh of defeat as she looks at Aaron for support but he just shrugs.
Weaving through even more cars, I finally stand at the front of Max Morgan’s Subaru Impreza WRX STi. The chatter stops and they all watch as I reach out and stroke a hand over the metal of the hood. It’s actually a pretty sweet car, if you like foreign cars, and I like the shade of blue. Max’s eyes rest on me as I sweep my eyes appraisingly over the bodywork.
“Nice,” I concede and nod my head slowly. “But you can’t beat a bit of American muscle.” I look pointedly at him and see the flash in his eyes as I taunt him. Knowing exactly which buttons to press to get a reaction, I’m satisfied that I’ve gotten a rise out of him. I cross my arms over my chest and wait.
The arm around floozy number one drops from her waist and he takes a step forward, moving in front of her and closer to me. It’s his turn to run an appraising eye over a body. Mine. Slowly, his gaze travels over every inch of my five-foot-eight frame, noting the changes that have naturally occurred. My hips that have filled out, my waist that I work hard to keep slim, and up to my breasts that, no matter what I do, still remain the same size—a good handful. Who once said that to me? Oh yeah, that would be Max. I’m certainly not the same skinny girl covered in engine oil that he remembers. Even my wavy, dark hair is different—longer with a better cut. Gone is the fringe that Beth used to trim with blunt kitchen scissors every now and then.
As he stares, it gives me the chance to mentally catalog the changes to his body. His face is unchanged, maybe slightly older looking but just as gorgeous. His body has more muscle, leaner, not as skinny as he once was, and holy fuck, the tattoos that decorate his arm. The sight of them is more than enough for my panties to grow damper still. Where else has he got them?
“Still like a bit of American muscle?” His eyes flare with hunger as he moves closer. Floozy one, two, and three all look at each other. They don’t have a fucking clue what is going on here and move away as the crackle of sexual tension becomes too much for them to bear. It has always been like that with Max and me.
“I’ve had plenty American muscle.” It comes out in an incredibly sexy and husky voice that I can’t believe belongs to me. I really need to clear my throat but resist doing it just now.
Supposedly, we’re still talking about cars, but we’re on shaky ground. I know we’re entering into dangerous territory when I see the wicked glint in his dark eyes.
“Long time, no see.” He moves closer and invades my personal space, arms folded across his obviously well-muscled chest. Despite the urge I have to back up, I stand my ground and try not to stare too hard at him in all his muscled glory. He must spend some serious time in the gym to look like that. I force my gaze to remain at his shoulders and stop it from dipping south to check out how well he fills out those jeans. But I’m a weak woman, and when I glance down, he catches me. An infuriatingly sexy smile curves the edges of his full lips. Heat flares deep within me, heating up long forgotten, frozen parts of my anatomy. The memory of those lips kissing and sucking on the most intimate parts of my body causes a violent shudder to travel through me. I’ve forgotten what the hell he was saying to me and just continue to stare.
“You’ve had plenty American muscle, have you?” His voice low and throaty as he advances further, and I gulp, stepping back this time. But I have nowhere to go when my ass hits the metal of his car. I’m trapped, with him advancing on me. Now I totally get the feeling of being a rabbit caught in the headlights.
One hand rests on the hood as he stands off to the side of me, but then he moves in front of me, so close that I have to lean back slightly as he looms over. Dark eyes burn deep into me as he places a hand on the other side of me; I’m not going anywhere. Strong thighs rest on the outside of mine, squeezing them together, which is just as well because the pulse between them pounds furiously, almost becoming uncomfortable as my unexpected need for him grows.
Pushing me backward with his large frame, I press my hand against a wall of hard abs as I try to resist any further advance. His abs contract under my palm and the material of his t-shirt disintegrates with the heat that flows between us. His eyes cloud and he looks down at me mystified. Instead of pushing him away, my hands stroke down his abs to hook in the belt buckle of his jean and I tug him a fraction closer.
With a lazy smile on those kissable lips, oh please do, his head dips and his eyes flick to my lips and back up to my eyes again. My tongue darts out to moisten my suddenly dry lips and his eyes flare. Holy fuck, he’s going to kiss me. And my stomach clenches. How many nights have I lain awake, remembering his lips on mine, my body aching for a touch that never comes? His touch is the only one I crave. No other man can erase his touch from my body. He ruined me for any one else and left me wanting more.
“None of them will compare with mine,” he murmurs as his lips brush against my earlobe. I don’t know whether it’s the brief contact or his husky voice, but a violent jolt of electricity makes its way through me, and I’m surprised my feet don’t start smoking.
Yeah, there’s only one American muscle of his that he’s referring to and it’s not his old GTO. The blush that colors my face gives away that my thoughts are anything but pure, and I catch the glint of triumph in his eyes.
“As much as I’d like to continue catching up, I need to get ready for a race.” He continues to stare down at me but doesn’t move. I suppose I could get out from under him if I really wanted to, but right now I don’t.
“You sticking around?” He lifts one eyebrow, and it make
s him look even sexier. I manage a shrug. I plan on it, but I don’t want him to think it’s because of him.
“You always were my good luck charm.” His finger trails along my jawline before his large hand cups it, so he can drag his thumb across my lip. Under that fleeting, whisper of a touch, my breath stutters in my chest. Then he pulls back, and with the distance he puts between us, I can finally breathe. My legs feel like they’re ready to crumple and leave me sitting in the dirt.
After a deep, fortifying breath, where I pull myself together, I find I am more annoyed at myself. After only a few minutes in his presence, he has turned me into this weak-willed woman, ready to lie down on the hood of his car and let him have his wicked way with me.
Beth laughs when I stagger back over on my high boots. “Still manages to get your panties in a knot, huh.” She wraps her arms around Aaron's neck, leaning up to kiss him good luck. He grips her ass and hauls her into his body. She squeals with delight as he dips her backward and kisses her.
I roll my eyes skyward. “Get a room,” I mutter, but Aaron lifts his head, taking a break from sucking on Beth’s neck.
“Jealous, little cuz?” He chuckles.
“Fuck off,” I growl ungraciously and stomp off to the back of Beth’s car to pull out a soda.
Chapter Three
The four racers get into position behind the starting line. It’s Sunday, and by the looks of the crowd, there’s not much money up for grabs. The weekend is the time for the bigger races; sometimes in different towns, but mainly, they come to ours. Our quarter mile is famous around here, the stuff of legends. Numerous accidents, as well as some legendary wins, have happened here. Most of them were before my time, but my dad could tell you a few stories.
Hank Storm was one of those legendary racers, before and after I was born. By day, he was a mechanic turned garage owner, but by night, he was a street racer. I have grown up around cars and racing. They’re in my blood, but I fight against it as much as I can.
It didn’t help that my dad was so well known in our small town, and all the boys from school used to hang around the garage as soon as they got their license. Then Aaron, my cousin, started working there, and suddenly, Beth developed an interest in cars. It didn’t take long before we were all hanging out at the garage and the inevitable happened. As soon as we could drive, it was up to the quarter mile to race.
At first, I resisted, and because I’m a girl, none of the guys took me seriously—certainly none of the older ones. But then one night, I encountered Max Morgan. Sure, I knew who he was and had had a few run-ins with him. The first time I saw him race was forever ingrained in my memory. He was older than me by about three years but it wasn’t until his first race that he hit on my radar. After that, he was everywhere, and I stayed out of his way as much as I could until the night of Aaron’s first race.
Aaron, Beth, and I stood looking under the hood of Aaron’s Mustang, checking that everything was in mint condition and running as it should when Max called from behind us.
“You’re finally racing tonight, Aaron?” A deep voice washed over me, making me all warm inside. The three of us turned around and I cast a quick glance over at Aaron, who gulped. I’d seen that awestruck look on his face before whenever he ran into any of the older racers at the garage. He couldn’t do enough for them, and it pissed me off.
“Yeah, he’s racing.” I spoke up because Aaron was incapable of getting his mouth to work.
“Leigh Storm.” He leaned back slightly to run his eyes over me, and I suddenly felt totally underdressed and out of place. Beth had at least dressed up, but then, it was her boyfriend who was racing. I’d come straight from the garage and was still wearing my dirty jeans with ripped knees and a tight white tank top. A totally impractical color to wear when working in a garage, but hey. No doubt there were streaks of grease across my face and my hair was pulled back into an elastic band that I found lying on the garage floor. Stripped of make-up, I barely looked old enough to drive.
“Fancy seeing you here.” His tone riled me.
“Why wouldn’t I be here?” I took a step forward, ignoring the way Aaron implored me with wide eyes to shut the fuck up and stop mouthing off to Max Morgan.
“Didn’t think it was your scene.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and I mirrored his actions.
“I work in a garage, my dad is Hank Storm, and I’ve grown up in this town. Why wouldn’t this be my scene?”
Max stares at me a second longer, his dark eyes burning into me. But I refused to look away, and I continued to stand my ground.
“You racing?” He nodded his head in my direction. I don’t know what possessed me, but I opened my fat mouth and let my belly rumble.
“Yeah, I’m racing.” What the fuck? I didn’t race. I love cars, yeah, but I swore I would never race. And here I was agreeing to race because Max fucking Morgan goaded me into it.
“Good, my money’s on you.” He smiled widely at me and turned to walk back to his car and the girl he left draped over the side.
Holy fuck, what have I done? I was rooted to the spot, and I couldn’t move. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
“Leigh!” Beth squealed, and I finally turned around to see her and Aaron’s eyes bug out as they stared at me. Aaron’s mouth was hanging open, and for once, Beth was speechless.
“What did you just get us into?” He finally managed to speak.
“I didn’t get you into anything. This is all on me.”
“No, it’s not. Uncle Hank is going to shit a brick if he finds out I’ve let you race.” As always, Aaron played the overprotective card. Did they not realize that growing up without a mom, I had just my dad and a bunch of guys from his garage as role models? I didn’t need anyone to look out for me.
“Aaron.” I warned him, but he wasn’t listening.
“You’re racing. You said you would never race. What the fuck happened? He started to talk, that’s what happened, and the next thing I know, you agree to this.” He started to pace, which was irritating as hell.
“You also looked like you wanted to knee him in the balls,” Beth chipped in with a wicked smile on her face. She knew me so well.
“I did,” I confirmed, and her smile widened.
“Well, you have to race now. You can’t back down. Oh fuck, I’m going to get into so much shit.” Aaron rambled as he paced, wearing a path in the dirt.
“Aaron,” I said firmly, and he paused to look at me. “Calm the fuck down. I’ve got this. I’ll race and then that’s it.” Shaking his head at me, he continued to pace.
“It’s not that easy. You’re a good racer but that was karting. This is different.” And on and on he went.
Knowing that I wouldn’t get any sense out of him, I turned to Beth. “Get him out of here and calm him down. Let me check over Misty and make sure I’m not going to get killed over a mechanical error.” Her smile faltered, but she recovered it.
“You can do this, Leigh,” she reassured me, and I smiled because I had no doubt that I could. I just vowed that I never would.
Leaving Beth to deal with Aaron and his freak-out, I jogged over to Misty, my ‘69 Dodge Charger. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was what was under the hood that counted. My dad picked her up at auction; according to him, it was always going to be my first car. While most girls at school were getting BMWs or Mercedes as their first cars, I got this. It needed a full body re-spray and the interior could use some patching, but mechanically, she was sound.
Even now, I still laughed at people's reactions when Beth and I had pulled up to school after I’d gotten my license. There was a stunned silence as everyone stared. Neither of us gave a shit. All that glitters was not gold, as my dad would say. That was usually around the time that he would bring another junker into the garage.
Seeing as I was now racing, I popped the hood and carried out a cursory check, but I knew full well that she was ready to roll. As I slammed the hood, I noticed the slight quiver in my hand. Not go
od. Of all the things I thought I would feel, it wasn’t nerves, but what I’d agreed to was now starting to hit. Oh, shit. I sat on the driver’s side seat, feet resting outside the car on the ground, and put my head between my knees, taking a few deep breaths.
“What are you doing?” I looked up at the sound of Aaron’s voice. He was more in control now and didn’t have that wild, panicked look in his eyes anymore.
“Nothing, I’m fine. Are we ready?”
“Yeah.” He sulked, and I knew I was going to have to work hard to get back on his good side.
“Let’s go.” I swung my legs into the car, slammed the door, and fired up the engine. Beth gave Aaron one final kiss and moved out of the way to let him into his Mustang.
We drove slowly to the starting line and waited, our engines idling. Adrenaline coursed through me, making my limbs all warm and a little shaky. I turned to the left and flashed Aaron a wide, slightly crazy smile. He responded with one of his own, his earlier panic forgotten.
You can do this.
I looked to my right and saw the other two drivers, guys that had been at school with me, and they were both leaning forward in their seats staring at me. Yeah, yeah, I’m a girl, so what. I lifted a hand and gave them a little wave and smiled before focusing my gaze straight ahead at Sugar. I didn’t actually know what Sugar’s real name was. I hoped her parents really didn’t call her that, but I think it was more a nickname from her boyfriend, Causey.
This time it’s Beth who holds the money, stuffing it in her pockets as she holds up the ball cap that gets passed around to whoever is starting the race. I’ve always wondered who keeps it when they’re not racing, or maybe it’s not the same cap. I’ve never been up close and personal with it.
The ritual hasn’t changed much since the last time I was here. It used to be Sugar who held the money and started the race, back when her boyfriend Causey was the street racer to beat. The road they race on leads to a disused quarry, and it’s wide because it needed to accommodate large trucks hauling rocks and stone. If there are only four cars racing, like tonight, then it’s ideal. If not, they race somewhere else. Marked on the tarmac is the starting line and then exactly a quarter of a mile down the road is the finish line. The lines have been repainted so many times over the years, and it’s a dead giveaway as to what goes on here.