by Leslie Scott
Home. I was home.
The contact was a jolt. But the smell of him—of soap and the shop, of man and machine—was safety to me. I’d thought time and pain had changed me, had changed those feelings. They hadn’t.
His lips brushed my hair, and my lungs constricted in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I flexed my fingers to keep from tangling them in the tight cotton that stretched across his back.
“I missed you too, Rae.” Was his voice strained? Could I hear something in it, some emotion a part of me desperately craved? I couldn’t be sure, so I told myself it wouldn’t have mattered if I had.
I pulled away abruptly. It was too soon to deal with this much intimacy from him. Way too soon. On a cleansing breath, I turned away from the dark temptation in his eyes.
The other car in the shop was one I’d seen race dozens of times. Just seeing it brought the adrenaline pumping memories flooding back. “And this beauty has a shiny new coat of paint.”
I didn’t run my fingers down the fender of Jordan’s Malibu. She was too pretty. I didn’t dare for fear I’d mar the polish. Admittedly, even I was struck with the mystique of the midnight blue Chevy. How many times had I watched this car fly down a dark street?
I could still feel the rush from the wind it kicked up, if I tried hard enough I could taste the warm night air and feel the tingles of anticipation as I waited to hear who’d crossed the finish line first.
It was almost always Jordan and the Malibu.
The sixty-nine Chevy Malibu was painted the sort of blue that would shine under the fluorescent lights of the track. But on the street, she’d be as black as the Camaro beside her. This was the car I compared all others to. It was difficult not to make the connection to the driver. Especially when I could still feel myself pressed against his chest. “Running a small block with three shots, too?”
There was no grin in response, instead only the arrogant tilt of Jordan’s head. “You know better. I like my race car to pull the entire eighth of a mile. Not just for a few seconds when I press the button.”
There wouldn’t be nitrous under the hood of the Malibu. She’d run a couple of turbos that cost more than I’d spent on a year’s worth of tuition. It wasn’t instant horsepower like nitrous, turbos pushed air through the engine and the horsepower was constant. The engine wouldn’t stop pulling until the pass was over.
“I bet.” The constant thump of the fan in the corner almost drowned out my words. When I turned, I got caught in the magnetic pull that was Jordan Slater. It was no wonder I’d always had a thing for fast cars because I’d always had a thing for him. The two were synonymous.
The pull was still in full effect as I straightened, trapped suddenly between Jordan’s intimidating form and the car. There it was, an instant of standing by that car, reminding me all too much of that moment before I’d left. Once before I’d stood by that car, once before he’d humiliated me and ripped my soul apart. The memory stung with a razor-sharp edge, forcing me to blink back tears of the past.
It was an unnatural reflex when I reached up and touched my throat, tracing other hidden scars, and found his eyes following my fingers. I forced my gaze up, under the bill of the black ball cap, and for one cold moment got caught in the questions of his eyes.
Defiance was the only answer I could give him. That defiance was rewarded with a heated gaze that stole the breath from my lungs. Would I ever find even ground when he was close?
“You shoulda been here last night, Raelynn.” Vic’s jovial words broke the spell between the sharp, electric whirl of the air socket on the lugs. “You could have watched them run each other.”
“I hate I missed it.” My laugh was too shrill, my movements too stiff as I hurried away from Jordan, grateful for the reprieve. Without trying, Jordan chipped away at my walls. I shouldn’t let him do this to me, shouldn’t let myself respond so vehemently. Yet, nothing I could do would pull the heat from my cheeks.
“Yup. Devin finally stepped up last night and they duked it out on the street.” A toothy smile spread on Vic’s face, drawing attention to the black smear across his forehead. “It was almost as epic as prom night when Jordan ran Aiden out off I-twenty.” It had been a while since Jordan had raced my brother. When Dad retired from driving, Aiden had taken over the family ProMod at the track.
“The most epic part of that night—” Grateful to put distance between the big guy and myself, I poked Devin in the chest. Secretly, I hoped he’d smoked Jordan. Even if that was unlikely. “—was my prom date.”
I’d expected the crimson color to his cheeks and the bashful way his crystalline eyes shimmered. Our shy, sweet Devin had taken me to prom. Those were memories that didn’t cause my gut to clench and my heart to ache. “It was a good night.” Devin nodded.
“It was epic. I was the most talked about chick in school after that. All the girls hated me. They all wished Devin McAllister had taken them to prom.” I told the truth as I saw it. Devin with his unruly blond hair and bright blue eyes was the object of many female affections. He just never seemed to notice.
“Pretty Boy,” Vic joked. “He still keeps them all lined up.”
The dramatic roll of Devin’s eyes only added to the pink hue of his cheeks.
“Who won?” It was a pointless question. We all knew the answer.
“Who do you think?” Jordan popped the hood on the Malibu. I couldn’t help admire the gleaming engine with the two turbos that spun off it like an airplane. I stepped closer, despite myself, for a better look. Again, I was drawn near enough to Jordan that I could feel the warmth of him, hotter than the summer evening around us.
He looked down at me and licked his bottom lip. Everything else disappeared. I trembled, unable look past his lips. Coherent thought slipped from my mind. There was a rush of heat to my chest and the punch of arousal so potent it shook me. Had he felt that? Did he have any clue what he still did to me?
“Should’ve hit that third button, son,” he said to Devin as he turned away from me.
Devin bristled, his body going rigid.
“When are you racing again?” I broke in before Devin could respond.
Devin latched on to the interruption with a quick grin. “This weekend. I’m running Hunter East.”
I raised a brow. I’d dated Hunter East in high school. Mostly to annoy Jordan. If there was a street racer in Arkadia who rivaled Jordan it was and had always been Hunter.
“Taking it out for a couple of test passes later.” Finished with the tire, Vic stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Your brother was supposed to ride out with us.”
“Yeah, that probably won’t happen.” I cringed. Aiden had been on the phone arguing with the white-trash wicked witch during the ride home. “He was arguing with Wendy when he dropped me off.” None of them were surprised. I rubbed the tension from my neck. “It makes me sad.”
“Why’s that? Married people argue.” Jordan leaned a hip on the Malibu, his eyes hidden by the ball cap.
“It’s not the arguing, though that sucks, it’s that he’s not here.” I chose my words carefully. “I missed all of you, together, when I was gone. I missed all of this.”
“Then why’d you leave?” Jordan folded his arms across his chest and made an important study of his sneakers. He knew exactly why I’d left. This was some sort of trap that I wasn’t going to fall for.
“I had to.” I took the honest route and fought to keep the bitterness from the verbal barb.
I had to see for myself what else was out there. What I’d always wanted here was unattainable. That reminder, from him, was a blow to my ego.
“Had to?” Devin’s eyes clouded with confusion.
I opened my mouth but snapped it shut. This wasn’t the time or the place for that conversation.
“I don’t care why you left, I’m just glad you’re back.” Devin gave me an easy out.
“Me too.” When he tossed his arm over my shoulders Jordan spun back into the shop. Did I
imagine the stiffness in his back?
“You know…” Vic lit a cigarette. “I miss how it used to be with Aiden before he got married. But that little dude, Aiden’s oldest, he’s pretty awesome.”
“Luke really is.” I couldn’t help but smile when I thought of the chubby little cheeks I’d spent the day kissing. The best part of coming home had been my niece and nephew, even if my nephew wore me out.
“Good things come from change, too.” Vic wiped his hands on a shop towel and smiled at me.
“Well played, Socrates.” Jordan snorted and lowered the hood on the Malibu.
“Was he that Chinese guy?” Devin piped up.
“No!” The three of us answered him at once.
The air lightened. If I didn’t know better I’d think the tension brewing between Jordan and I had only been in my imagination.
“I’m exhausted after chasing around after Luke all day. I can’t imagine how they must feel doing it all the time.” The conversation was far safer if I kept it focused on my brother.
“Like parents?” Devin quirked a brow.
“Smartass.” I socked his shoulder none too gently. His playful wink was a reminder of why girls seemed to line up for a date with him.
“Take his place tonight.” Vic leaned against Devin’s car and took a pull from his cigarette. “You know you missed us.”
I did and I wanted to. At the college, we hadn’t had any real car guys. No real gear heads, no races.
I loved the track. The sights and smells, the lights and the fans. Being there today wasn’t the rush I got when two cars flew down the street with only their taillights gleaming in the darkness.
Even leaned back against the car, Jordan was taller than the other two guys. To many, the sheer size of him was intimidating. To me, it had always been thrilling. There were drivers who chased the thrill of racing, illegally, on the street, and drivers who were intimidated by it.
I got a thrill from the man and from the way he raced.
“I did.” I picked at the strings fraying off my shorts again, “But I should really wait on Bree to get home. I haven’t spent enough time with her since I’ve been back.”
I gave Devin a quick squeeze. “I just wanted to come over to say hi.”
“Chicken.” Jordan’s deep voice stopped me in my tracks. Much like the classic time traveling teen, I hated being called a chicken and he knew it.
“I am not a chicken.”
“Sure, you’re not.” Vic was all too agreeable.
“Not at all.” Devin’s grin was sly.
I pouted, knowing what they were doing to me. I hated it, feeling like a little kid. I’d spent too long around people who didn’t know me. I’d forgotten how quickly people who did could push my buttons.
I spun on my heels and walked out of the shop, only mildly surprised when Jordan followed me and clucked.
“Seriously?” Exasperation tainted the core of my being.
“Chicken.”
“What time?” A girl could growl.
Vic took his place beside Jordan. “We’ll roll out about two.”
“I’ll be here.”
Chapter Two
When I was a little girl, I always thought mirrors told me a lot about myself. I put too much stock in how pretty people thought I was. As I got older I’d spend hours in front of a mirror trying to make sure I looked perfect. Now, the pane of reflective glass served as a reminder of what I couldn’t be, who I would never be. I kept staring at myself, even as I forced a hairbrush through my hair—searching. I would search forever, just to find a piece of who I used to be. Was the Raelynn of years ago completely destroyed?
“When I was a kid, it always felt like you were ripping my hair out from the roots when you brushed it. I thought you hated me that much.” My sister Breanna’s voice broke through my thoughts.
I stopped mid-stroke of the brush to keep from jumping and ripping my own hair out. “I never hated you.”
“I know. Now I realize being rough with the brush was all you knew, with all that hair and all those waves.”
I rolled my eyes. The hum of the air conditioner kicked on just outside the door. Cool air began to fill the room, fending off the heat of late summer. “It really is. I didn’t luck out like you.” My sister’s hair was straight and glossy like midnight. I’d always envied it.
“What? With these beautiful dark brown—” She flipped her hair, caught a piece and scowled. “Dull, drab, and straight as a board locks? I like the highlights in yours, makes the blue in your eyes pop.”
Breanna’s tall frame filled the doorway. Two years younger than my twenty-one and nearly a foot taller than me. A thin, willowy figure that had once seemed gangly and awkward. Age had turned that into tall and sexy, with a flare to her hips that led down a length of long tanned leg that was hard for me not to be jealous of.
“Whatever. Your hair is gorgeous, Rae.”
“I know, but so is yours. I happen to like yours better.” My sister was a welcomed distraction from the reflection in the mirror. I gestured to the floor in front of me. “Sit down and I’ll pull it up for you.”
“What if I don’t want it up?”
I cut my eyes at her. “You always wear it up.” I was hard pressed to recall a time when she hadn’t worn it in her signature swinging ponytail.
“What if I don’t want you messing with it?” Now she was just playing games, teasing in a way little sisters did.
I pointed at the floor with the brush. “You’ve always wanted me to play with your hair, Breanna.”
“Fact.” She tucked her legs beneath herself as she sat in front of me. Her reflection blocked my own in the mirror. Unwittingly, she’d saved me.
I pulled the brush, much more gently now, through the shining mass of hair. It slipped like spun silk through my fingers. I brushed it until it was shining. Our Native American heritage shone much more brightly through my sister. I had once envied her for it. Not anymore, I appreciated her beauty.
“Maybe you wanted to punish me with the hair brush because I was the cuter kid.”
Beautiful, but a little annoying.
The hairband made a popping sound as I snapped it with force. “You were cuter. But, if I was punishing you, it was because you broke something of mine. Or worse, something of Aiden’s and tried to blame it on me. Or you were snooping through my things. Telling embarrassing stories to boys I liked. I punished you for being an ass, not for being cute.”
“Puhlease,” she drawled out. “There were never boys. There was a boy. One. And he’s still hot.”
I gave a sigh and shook my head. “I was a kid.” There were more than a few secrets I’d kept from my sister over the years. As silly as it sounded, I didn’t want her to think of me as the type of girl to nurse a broken heart. Even if she’d be right. There had only ever been one.
“And? I say it again, he’s still hot.”
“It’s not about being hot…” I started, she followed my gaze to the mirror. Large brandy colored eyes stared back to mine. Hers, like my father’s and mine blue like my mother’s.
“Do you still like him?” There was a quiet urgency to her voice.
I looked away and pulled her ponytail tight one last time. “I think I’m a little past that.”
“What about that guy at college?” She unfolded herself from the floor.
It was a battle to keep my voice even, to stop it from cracking with emotion. “I’m back here, aren’t I?”
“So, he’s irrelevant?”
I found myself thankful she hadn’t seen the flash of emotion in my eyes and that I’d kept it from my voice. There were a lot of reasons I’d come home, none of which I was ready to talk to her about.
“And Jordan’s still hot.”
I shook my head and gave a rueful smile, instantly locking the painful memories away again. She was right, Jordan Slater was still hot.
“So why not? Other than the obvious reason.”
I made a valiant attempt
to evade her line of questioning by searching out my clothes for the evening. It was bad enough I was going to spend the rest of the night with him. I didn’t need to be grilled about it. “Obvious reason?” I pulled on a clean pair of shorts.
“Devin McAlister.” Breanna made a kissy face complete with noises.
The bed creaked as I slumped onto it, my mouth dropped in surprise. Cold, icy shock traveled down to my toes. Devin?
“Wait. What? You can’t tell? Hell, everyone knows Rae.” Her open hand waved in a wide arc as if to include the whole world.
“Knows what?” My heart was beating faster, my breath caught in my throat. Of course, I cared about Devin, but I didn’t like Devin. He was one of my best friends.
The icy dread that flowed through me gripped at my heart, humming louder than the air conditioning. I didn’t know what to do if he felt something for me that I didn’t feel for him. I knew all too well what it was like to want someone who didn’t want you back. It could make you do stupid, self-destructive things.
“Devin McAllister has had a thing for you for years.” She was far too proud of delivering this information. Breanna was always happy to have a reason to make me squirm and too young yet to see past the surface, to the throbbing ache in my head.
“No.” Slowly I massaged that ache. I adored Devin, loved him as I did Aiden. I couldn’t see him as anything else. How could I look at him now? Dealing with Jordan and his rejection was bad enough. Devin’s misplaced affections would only compound things for me.
“Yes!” She threw herself on the bed. A rush of air from the comforter was chased by the scent of cinnamon from the candy Breanna sucked on. The familiar smell comforted me.
As nervous energy replaced the dread, I had to move. I pulled a shirt over my head, deemed it too tight and reach for another. Devin’s comments about how good I looked crept into my mind. Had Devin always seemed so touchy? Did he compliment my sister as easily as he did me? I hadn’t paid much attention with Jordan so close. Which was stupid, I was too old for childhood crushes. I wasn’t a kid anymore; I’d seen too much. Jordan Slater shouldn’t knock me so off balance.