40. June
JUNE
Ford
See you soon, June Bug
I stare at the message as Violet pulls up to the abandoned airfield.
See you soon.
He is going to see me soon. And I’m going to see him.
After we had sex in a coat closet in the back of a strip club.
Okay, a coat closet is a bit of a stretch.
It was actually a pretty decent-sized room, but my point stands.
It’s a totally normal thing to do. Right?
Have sex in a strip club with a total manwhore?
Mm-hmm. Yeah. Totally normal. I take a deep breath in through my nose and try not to hyperventilate.
It would be so much easier if Ford knew how to actually communicate.
No word salad or emotional swings from one end of the spectrum to the other.
But an actual conversation. With actual thoughts and feelings and expectations.
Because even though he invited me here, I still feel uneasy, and I hate not knowing what to expect.
What am I doing here?
“You ready?” Violet asks from the driver’s seat.
With a slow nod, I turn off my phone’s screen and set it in the center console.
Lexie said she’d try to stop by, but we already know she won’t make it.
After everything that’s happened over the last couple of weeks, the girl seems like she’s basically under lock and key.
If I had the ability to do something about it, I would, but other than offering her a pillow, a blanket, and a spot on my couch, my hands are tied.
Security is straightforward. We make it through within five minutes before crossing into the actual airfield.
I haven’t been to a lot of places in The Drift, but the abandoned airfield is something else.
The last time we were here, I had Lexie to hang out with while Violet disappeared with Jagger.
This time, I feel all alone. Twisting my fingers in front of me, I take in the ambiance.
The same buildings are scattered throughout, but it’s mainly open space and fractured pavement.
Most of the agricultural growth is dead, thanks to the chilly air, but the dry, yellowish remnants peek through the cracked blacktop.
It crunches beneath my cowgirl boots as we head toward the cluster of vehicles.
Cars are parked along both sides of the wide street.
The hoods are open for any random person to inspect, and if I knew anything about cars, I’d probably do the same, but I’m clueless.
It doesn’t take a genius to recognize how nice they are, though.
Sleek. Luxurious. Some started out that way.
Others look like they were built from the ground up.
And the colors? It’s like a rainbow. Green, purple, blue, though bold reds and bright yellows seem to be the favorites.
I drag my fingertips along the hood of a black car.
I have no idea what type, but the subtle curves and dark leather make for a gorgeous combination.
“Crazy, right?” Violet asks.
My head snaps toward her, and I tuck my hands into the crooks of my elbows to keep from touching anything I’m not supposed to. “What is?”
“All the nice cars.”
“Yeah, insane,” I agree, taking it all in. The lights. The music. The people. The cars. “It’s crowded, too.”
“I know, right? You’d be surprised how far the Harden Brothers’ reach is.
” Her attention catches on someone behind me.
“Speaking of which…” She lights up and rushes toward Jagger.
He catches her around her waist and tugs her into him.
It’s adorable and gushy, and part of me wonders if they’d ever willingly separate from each other if it wasn’t for her obligation to let me bum rides from her every weekend.
It’s not like I don’t have my own car or anything, but I do appreciate her efforts to make me feel included.
With a final peck, Violet asks, “Where’s Ford? I haven’t seen him yet.” I know it’s for me. Her question. I’m not stupid, but I do appreciate her attempt at subtlety.
Catching Violet’s drift, Jagger attempts to cover his amusement. “He’s around here somewhere. Let’s see.” He searches the premises before pointing toward a line of people on the sidewalk. “Ah, there he is. Directing traffic.”
“Hmm?” I ask.
“Since he’s racing, he’s not taking the bets.” Pausing, Jagger stretches his spine even more, looking for something. “Hawke should be, though.”
“Should?” Violet questions.
“Motherfucker,” Jagger grumbles. Bending down, he kisses Violet’s cheek. “I gotta step in for a bit, since Hawke’s MIA. Meet me at the starting line, all right?”
“Okay.” His grasp on her hand disappears as he jogs toward Ford, relieving him of his duties. After a quick exchange, Ford’s attention lands on me, and my gut folds in on itself.
Yup. I most definitely just got caught staring. Oops.
His smile hits me right in the chest, and I tuck my hair behind my ear, unable to hold his gaze as he strides toward us. Okay, so I really should’ve thought about what I was going to say when I saw Ford again, yet here we are.
Breathe, June. He’s just a guy. A really attractive guy who may or may not know what you look like naked.
“Well, would you look at that,” Violet murmurs.
“What?”
She nudges me with her elbow. “Look.”
I peek up again as Ford waves off a girl, then tilts his head toward me and jogs closer.
“He just turned down a girl for you,” Violet says.
My throat squeezes. “You don’t know that.”
“I know Ford,” she counters. “Did you know the first time we met, he had his tongue down a random girl’s throat?” My nose scrunches. “And every party after, he still had his tongue down a girl’s throat?” she continues.
“Okay, I get the picture.”
“What I’m saying is, the only time he turns a girl down is when he has another one waiting for him.”
Is that what I’m doing? Waiting for him? Like some, I don’t know, pathetic little puppy? Ready to sit and stay and roll over? I battle the desire to curl in on myself even more. “Pretty sure that makes me sound desperate,” I mumble.
“Let me finish.” She grabs my arm, giving me a playful wiggle. “You, I’ve yet to see make out with him in public.”
“Which means?”
“That you aren’t a performance,” she says.
My brows pull.
“You, my dear June, are something or someone,” she emphasizes, “he wants to keep all to himself until he’s ready to show you off to the world on his terms. Not everyone else’s.”
The idea alone is enough to make my knees weak. “So, I’m not his dirty little secret?” I ask.
“You're his precious little secret. There’s a difference.” She turns to Ford. “Why, hello, Jeep.”
He gives her an unamused look. “Not you, too.”
Violet’s grin stretches. “Nah, that was from Lexie.” She gives him a quick hug. “I heard you’re racing tonight?”
“Gotta give the people what they want.”
“Yeah, because you hate the limelight,” she tosses back at him.
With a low laugh, he shakes his head. “You know me too well.”
“Damn right, I do,” she agrees. “See what he said, June? I know him too well.” Her lashes flicker with a wink. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to wait for Jagger at the starting line. See you.”
“I’ll, uh, I’ll come with you,” I offer.
I take a step closer to Violet, committing to the pathetic puppy bit when Ford challenges, “And play the third wheel? Nah, that doesn’t sound like you.”
It sounds exactly like me. I know it, Violet knows it, and clearly, Ford knows it, too. And even though I’m pretty sure the pathetic June ship has already sailed, I ramble, “Well, I mean, I figured you should probably focus and all. You know, don’t want to throw off your groove before the race.”
His mouth lifts ever so slightly. Probably because I used the term groove, though he’s nice enough not to call me out for it. This time, anyway. Smoothing his features, he counters, “Nah, you could never throw off my groove, June Bug. If anything, you’re my good luck charm.”
Not sure how that’s possible, considering I’ve only seen him race once, and he probably doesn’t even remember my presence that night, let alone whether or not I helped him win anything.
He probably has a dozen other good luck charms who are used to rubbing his other trophy for good luck, if you know what I mean. Okay, now I’m acting really crazy.
“Come on, let me show you my baby,” he says.
The term makes me smile, managing to ease my anxiety ever so slightly, as he grabs my hand and laces our fingers together.
There it is again. The same quiver in my chest that happens whenever he’s around me.
You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I’m pretty sure us sleeping together has only made it worse.
He guides me around the hood of a flashy lime green car and opens the passenger door. “This is Esmerelda, my baby.”
I pull back. “You named your car?”
“You’re surprised?” I give him a look that screams, duh, and he clarifies, “A wise woman once told me it’s important to name the things you love.”
My stupid heart pitter-patters even harder as I tear my attention from the lime green paint to the gorgeous man crowding me next to the open passenger door. He remembered our conversation about Quasimodough? Why does that make me want to kick up my feet and do a happy dance?
“Wise, huh?” I murmur.
“Very wise.”
My teeth dig into the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. “From what I remember, you were teasing her for naming her sourdough.”
“Teasing, flirting.” He lifts his hand and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Is there a difference?”
“With you?” I note. “I’ve yet to find it.”