Chapter Two #3
What the hell? Was she flirting with me? Or was I just looking for possibilities? “I promise, officer. I’m innocent.”
She huffed a breath.
Kiss hollered from the serving window. “McKelle, your food is ready. So is yours, Ryatt.”
“I’ll get yours,” I said as I stood. “Do you want hot sauce?”
She nodded. “The hottest they have.”
I joined Kiss at the window. “Which one is McKelle’s?”
Kiss set an open cardboard box filled with food in my hands.
“All this is for her?” I glanced over my shoulder. McKelle was fit with a nice ass. No way could she eat all this. The box contained more food than I’d eat in an entire day. Not that I was starving anymore. I was just broke ass this week because I’d had to make my bike payment.
“Here’s yours.” She set a small white bag on top of the box.
“She wants hot sauce.”
Kiss dropped a few packets in with the food, then I carried the food back to the table, set the box in front of McKelle, and grabbed my bag from the top.
She dug into her wrappers. “This smells fabulous.” She unfolded the first yellow wrapper and drowned the taco in hot sauce. She noticed my small bag. “Is that all you got?”
“I’m not that hungry. I ate before the meeting.”
Brad went to the window for his and Georgia’s food, and Kiss returned with her box.
McKelle smiled at me with the taco halfway to her mouth. “So how fast?”
I grabbed a taco from my bag. “One-forty-ish for about ten seconds. I would love to see how fast I can take her, but I can’t risk the ticket.” Nor could I afford to fuck up my only way of making money.
She hummed a positive sound as she scarfed down more of her taco. Cheese, meat, and tomato fell from the soft tortilla. “You could bring her to the track.”
I rested my forearms against the edge of the picnic table. A shot of adrenaline, as if I’d mainlined it surged through my system. “Seriously?”
She nodded and started drowning taco number two. Hot sauce trickled along her pinky. She lifted her hand to her mouth, and her pink tongue—oh fuck, and it was pierced—slipped out from between her lips, licking the drip, then sucking her finger clean. “These are messy but so good.”
When my gaze refocused on her eyes, she smiled, knowing I’d stared. Good thing she couldn’t see inside my head because she’d see herself on her knees, my dick burning in hot sauce just to have her studded tongue run along my cock before she sucked it the way she’d sucked her finger.
“Totally serious,” she said about the track.
“When? Where? What do I need?”
She wiped her mouth on a napkin. “Next week. My dad is an organizer for Nitro Racing.”
“No shit?”
“No shit,” she repeated back to me with a smile. “They have track days at least twice a month. It runs about a hundred and fifty for the day. You’ll need gear, but my dad always has extra gear at the track.”
A hundred and fifty bucks? That wasn’t happening. “Sounds great. I’ll let you know if I can make it work.”
“Good. You’ll love it.” She wiped her fingers on a napkin, unlocked her phone, and handed it over. “Give me your contact information. We usually start about ten. I won’t be racing with you. I volunteer for track time at the end of the day.”
I jerked my gaze up to hers. “Oh, yeah?” I finished entering my number then handed her phone back.
Kiss tapped my shoulder, and when I turned to her, she smiled. “I ordered too much. Do you want these?” There were still three soft tacos in her box.
“You can take it home to Blue.”
“They’ll get soggy. I’ll just end up throwing them away if you don’t eat them.” She pushed the food in front of me.
I was hungry. I unwrapped the taco, and as soon as McKelle started talking about the track again, I turned to Kiss and whispered, “Thank you.”
She barely nodded and continued her conversation with Brad and Georgia.
“My dad is always looking for volunteers if you’re interested.”
“Absolutely. I’ll be honest. Money is tight with my court fees.” I wasn’t going to give my bleak financial picture because I was deep in the red.
“As a new volunteer, you’ll have limited options on what they’ll let you do,” she said. “But you’ll earn track time.” As McKelle talked about track days, from registration, to volunteer positions, I finished Kiss’s tacos and somehow ended up drinking her soda.
Brad gathered up his garbage. “We need to bounce. My mom is taking Georgia shopping. My sister is pregnant. They’re going to go baby shower shopping.”
“I need to go, too.” Kiss stacked my garbage with hers.
“I’ve got this.” I grabbed our trash, along with McKelle’s, and carried it to the big rubber bins.
“Thanks,” McKelle said.
“Stormy is going to start teaching a barre workout class tonight,” Kiss said to McKelle.
“That’s why she wants the studio cleaned this afternoon.
Do you want to come to the class with me?
” They continued to talk as they walked across the parking lot to the vehicles.
Brad tucked Georgia’s red hair behind her ears before helping her into her helmet.
I stuffed my hands into my pockets and walked toward them. My plans included delivering wings, burgers, and Chinese food. After a few hours on the bike, I’d head back to my room for a barely warm shower because there was never enough hot water and a miserable sleep on a hard bed.
Kiss stood in the wedge of her open car door. “Will you be at the meeting tomorrow?”
I nodded. She smiled, waved, climbed into her car, and took off. Brad and Georgia followed.
McKelle and I stood next to our bikes.
“It was good to see you again,” she said.
“You, too. Do you want to ride back into town together?”
She nodded, pulled on her helmet, and straddled her bike. “I’ll text you about the track day,” she said through her open visor.
“Sounds good.” I pulled on my helmet. “And if you want to hit bike night over at Weston Super Sport this weekend, let me know.”
She rolled her lip over her lower teeth, then let it pop free. She rested her pink-gloved hands on her gas tank, and she let out a bit of a sigh. “I mean, I would go, but you know I have a boyfriend, right?”
I tugged on my gloves. I’d seen the Heller on the Harley. “Yes, but I figured if you can invite me to the track, I can invite you to bike night. There aren’t usually a lot of Harley guys there.” Definitely not Hellers.
“Cruz will be at the track with us, but he doesn’t do bike nights.”
Great. Track day with the coolest girl I’d ever met…and her boyfriend. “If you change your mind about bike night, the offer is open. Bring your boyfriend. If he likes the track, he must like to ride fast. We might convert him.”
She laughed and started her motorcycle. “He hates the track.”
Good. One more thing I had in common with her. I slapped my face shield down, started my bike, and followed her out of the gravel parking lot. She took the lead, and once we hit the interstate, she leaned into her bike, rolled the throttle, and confirmed why I’d never be a Harley guy.
All speed. All the time.