27. Chapter 27
Colt had barely been able to look at Beau all week.
Every time he got in the car, Beau's hands would adjust his harness just like that first night—thorough, careful, lingering—and Colt would hold his breath until Beau stepped back.
He was lucky as fuck they'd been spending so much time on the track that they hadn't been to the gym.
Lucky, too, that driving so hard for what turned out to be hours a night got him so exhausted he didn't even have the energy to feel the things Beau's voice made him feel now.
‘Good boy’ always echoed in his head, but now Beau was saying it out loud and Colt was going to die.
But it was Saturday, and Saturday was his first race. And even Beau, with all his unintentional, sexy-as-fuck energy, couldn't distract him from that finish line.
“Sit still before I have you running laps around the garage,” Beau said as he stepped into his office doorway and crossed his arms. He leaned against the frame and eyed Colt’s tapping fingertips. “Race isn’t for a couple hours. You’re gonna use up all your energy before we even get there.”
Colt shifted from one foot to the other and back again. “No can do. I’m amped. Actually, a run sounds good. Can I? Because—”
“No.” Beau stood straight and came up to where Colt was trying not to hop in place like a real psycho.
“We need to get the car back up on the trailer, and you need to do the pre-race check like I taught you. Then you need food, which you’re going to help me cook, and we need to get to the track at least an hour early. ”
Time to move. Fucking finally. Sometimes Colt’s mind seemed to move at hyper-speed.
Like time barely existed at all, especially if he was focused.
Other times, it felt like every minute was a goddamn eternity.
Today had moved like the latter. He’d dropped three dishes at Joyce’s, too, had been a jittery mess all day.
He needed something to do before he lost it.
“Yes, okay, I’m ready." Within seconds, he was unzipped and stepping out of his coveralls. "Let’s go.”
Except he tripped on one leg of the pants and nearly face planted, saved only by reflexes honed by driving. When he pulled himself up, he was ready to go again. But a hand landed on the back of his neck. Firm. Calloused and warm, a gentle grip that still made him go immediately still.
“If you break your fool neck getting out to the garage, I’m putting it on your headstone.” His voice a low rumble, Beau squeezed just that little bit.
Just enough for Colt’s brain to short-circuit, really, for his focus to narrow to that tone, that deep drawl, that firm pressure. “I’m jus—”
“Wired,” Beau finished. “Yeah, boy, I know. But I’m gonna need you to breathe. Race’ll start when the race starts.”
Absolutely unwilling to dislodge Beau’s han—and wasn’t that just a flavor of fucked up he needed to examine—Colt stayed perfectly still. “Right. I—yeah.”
“Better?” Beau asked after Colt’s shoulders dropped.
It was. Like the back of his neck was an off switch Beau’s hand was the key to. He was still buzzing, still needing to move, to use his hands, to do something. But he could breathe through it. It wasn’t trip-and-die urgent.
Beau’s hand lingered—or Colt’s wishful thinking imagined it did—for an extra second before he gave one more squeeze and let go. “Good boy. Now, let’s go load up the car. Boys’ve had it all morning. Gotta make sure they didn’t paint a pecker on the side or something.”
Colt let out a surprised bark of laughter and caught Beau’s gaze for what felt like the first time all week, trying to ignore the way his neck felt cold where Beau's hand had just been.
Those honey eyes were warm with Beau’s own smile, and Colt felt it in his toes. “If there’s a dick on my car, I’m strapping Liam to the roof when I drive.”
Humming, Beau led the way toward the shop door. “You know damn well it would be Xavier and James who cooked that up. No room for both of them on your roof.”
“Point,” Colt said as he pulled open the shop door.
“Ay, Speedy!” James called across the shop. He waved a dirty rag like a race flag from his spot on a rolling stool in front of a torn-apart crankshaft. Precision stuff was James’s specialty, but that mess was going to cost someone a pretty penny. “You ready?”
Xavier rolled out from under a car. “Nah, man. He’s losing his shit.”
“Because he hasn’t seen the sweet fucking job we did on Dijon,” Liam piped in from the sink at the back of the shop. He turned off the tap and dried his hands.
“The car’s name isn’t Dijon,” Colt sighed, but he was grinning. “What did you do to her?”
“You’ll see,” Liam sing-songed.
“She’s out back with Camila,” James offered as Xavier pulled himself fully out from under the car and to his feet. “You guys ready to load her up?”
“Yeah,” Beau said. “Mila have the keys?”
Liam nodded. “Yep.”
“Well, lead the way.” Colt bounced once on his toes as the others started walking toward the back door of the garage, the one that led to the back parking lot meant for the employees and long-term customer storage.
Camila was standing next to a car covered in a beige tarp, already out of her coveralls and texting away on her phone. She glanced up at Colt and smiled as they approached.
“Hey, babe.” She waved her phone in the air as she walked over to stand next to him. “Mami and Papi just texted back that they’ll be there tonight. Ma’s bringing you food.”
“Tell Mami my coach won’t let me eat anything but whole foods on race day.” He shot Beau a grin. “And that I’ll take it home and annihilate it at midnight anyway.”
At Beau’s exasperated eye roll, Colt’s grin widened. “What? It’s not race day anymore at midnight!”
“Okay, come on.” Xavier shoulder checked Colt as he moved past them toward the tarp. “I wanna get home and change sometime this century.”
“You’re just excited,” James said as he walked past them, too. “It’s cute.”
“Fuck off.”
“Children,” Liam, the youngest, sighed. He stepped up to the tarp too, and grabbed it. “Ready?”
Colt nodded, bouncing on his toes, and the three other guys yanked the tarp off the car. It fluttered to the ground in a puff of dust.
The car was still that ugly-ass yellow. They weren’t a bodywork shop, and no one had the time to repaint a whole ass car after hours anyway.
But the boys had added racing stripes that covered up almost all of the oxidation, the missing fender had been replaced with a black one, and the headlights were gleaming in the afternoon sun.
When Colt moved to the driver’s side, he sucked in a breath and stared.
All along the back half of the car, starting right behind the cage window, was a sharp, clean decal. It was a black, geometric jackrabbit, angled for speed with its ears back and its front legs extended. The back legs were pulled forward like it was mid-spring.
It was fucking beautiful.
Colt blinked, his eyes stinging.
“Oh my God.” Xavier leaned forward. “We broke him.”
“He’s gonna cry!”
“No, I’m not.” Colt scrubbed at his face. “Guys, this is—I—”
“I, personally, wanted to put something badass on it,” James offered as he patted the hood. “Like a reaper, you know. You’re dead on the track when you see her coming, yeah?”
“But Merc talked about how twitchy you are all the time,” Liam continued. He pushed his hat back on his head and scratched at his scalp. “Like a jackrabbit, he said.”
Beau was watching Colt with that dark, heavy gaze.
And Colt remembered weeks ago when Beau had looked at him and said, ‘Calm down, boy. You're twitching like a jackrabbit.’
Colt smiled, slow and probably way too soft, but, fuck. He’d never felt so seen in his life. All he got from Beau was a subtle nod, but it was enough.
“And we started researching,” Camila piped in as she pulled Colt’s attention back with an arm in his elbow. “And found jackrabbits are, like, really fast. And scrappy. Kinda small, too.”
“I’m bigger than you,” Colt protested as he ripped his gaze away from Beau.
“That’s not saying much when you’re five six and I’m five three.”
“You're kinda mean,” Colt said as he extricated his arm and went to run his fingers along the line of the jackrabbit. It looked fast. In motion. “I love it. Thank you, guys.”
Xavier slung his arm around Colt’s shoulders and gave him a shake. “Make us proud, Rourke.”
“Or I'm replacing the rabbit with a dick,” James said from his other side.
Colt laughed and turned to glance at Beau, who was also quietly chuckling.
“Alright, let him go,” Beau said. “Got a lot of shit to do before qualifiers.”
The guys all took turns giving Colt aggressive hugs before letting Camila kiss him on the cheek and dispersing. He could hear them still ribbing each other about the dick joke all the way back to the shop.
Then it was just Colt and Beau standing next to the car that was going to change Colt’s life. The next step to achieving his dreams.
Beau stepped up next to him and Colt leaned toward his warmth, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
He couldn't wait.