My hope, which has been rising despite my trying to control it, crashes back down. “I don’t understand. I just—”
“What?” Colton says distracted, talking to a voice I hear in the background. “Saved by the bell! I’m needed on the track right now. More fine tuning.” I can hear the relief in his voice.
“Oh. Okay.” Disappointment fills me. I want to finish this conversation.
“No hard feelings then? I’ll see you at the track on Sunday?”
I momentarily close my eyes, fortifying my voice with false nonchalance. “Sure. No hard feelings. See you on Sunday.”
“See ya, Ryles.”
The phone clicks and the dial tone fills my ear. I sit there not hearing it. Does he realize that he used his defense mechanism right now? Hurt me to keep me away? Put me in my place so that he can have all the control.
I’m unsettled. I want to finish our conversation. Tell him that it doesn’t have to be this way. I want to comfort him. Ease the panic that laces his voice. Tell him that he makes me feel again after being numb for so very long. Confess that I want to be with him despite knowing deep down I will be destroyed in the end.
I pick up my phone, pondering what I’m going to say. In the end, all I text is:
Be safe on the track Ace!
He responds quickly.
Always. You know I’ve got great hands.
I smile sadly. My heart wanting so much that my head knows I’ll never get.
THE LIMO BUS PULLS THROUGH the gates of Auto Club Speedway in Fontana. The boys are buzzing with excitement, eyes wide as saucers taking in the sheer size of the complex. They have put on their shirts and all access lanyards that Colton’s staff has left aboard the bus for them. Their wide smiles and their constant oohs and aahs fill the air and fill my heart with joy. Zander bounces unexpectedly on the seat, vibrating with an obvious energy that takes me by surprise. I look at Jackson and Dane, my fellow counselors, and note that they see it too.
For the first time in almost a week, I feel like I can smile, and ironically, it’s Colton that has made me feel this way. I’m thankful to him for the little touches he has added for the boys: a personalized letter, the shirts, the lanyards, and glossy magazines with his car on the cover. Things that make them feel special. Important.
Our bus is directed down a tunnel under the stands before driving onto the infield. I didn’t think it possible, but the boys’ hooting and hollering becomes even louder. We come to a stop and the doors open. Within moments, a man hops on the bus, bounding with enthusiasm. He directs us off of the bus and has us follow him to a meeting room where he tells us we will meet up with Colton.
I feel small walking through this large arena. To the south of us, a large grandstand juts up to towering heights while the banked oval of the track encompasses the entire field around us. I can hear engines revving and see people scurrying to and fro in a garage on my right. With each step we take, my anxiety about seeing Colton again increases. How is he going to react after his telephone confession to me? Will it be business as usual or will there still be that magnetic pull between us? Despite my anxiety, I’m also excited to see Colton in action. To watch him in his element.
We arrive at a brick building and our facilitator, who we’ve learned on our walk is named Davis, leads us into a room with a red door. We heed his advice to gather around, the boys chattering excitedly. They call out random questions to Davis who patiently answers them.
When they settle down a bit, Davis explains the reason for testing. “When we’re testing, a lot of time goes into tweaking the car. Little adjustments here and there that makes the car go faster or handle better. These changes are essential to the overall performance of the car when the season starts in late March. Along with these tweaks, Colton meets with his crew chief, Beckett Daniels, and reviews what they are working on. That is where Colton currently is now, discussing—”
“Not anymore.” Chills dance up my spine as I hear the rumble of Colton’s voice. Whoops go up as the boys greet him. I look down at Zander and the wide, genuine grin on his face causes my heart to lodge in my throat.
“Hey, guys!” he throws back at them. “So glad you’re here! Are you guys ready for a fun day?”
The cheers go up again as I inhale deeply, preparing myself to turn around and face him. When I do, my heart squeezes tightly. Colton is on his haunches, eye level with the little guys of our group, and ruffling the hair on their heads playfully. He laughs sincerely at something Scooter says and then stands slowly, lifting his eyes, locking them with mine.
All thoughts leave my head as I drink him in. He’s wearing a red fire safety suit, the top portion unzipped and tied around his waist to reveal a snug-fitting white t-shirt with a faded logo across the chest and a small hole in the left shoulder. His hair is a spiked mess and his jaw sports the shadow of a day’s missed shave. My thoughts immediately focus on how much I’d love to run my tongue over his lips and fist my hands in his hair.
I bite my bottom lip, the quick pain a reminder that this is not going to happen—we’re not going to happen—and to help me resist any urges that I might have of thinking otherwise. Colton’s eyes stay locked on mine as the boys I love surround him. A slow, lazy grin spreads on his face.
All thoughts of resistance vanish. Shit! I’m in so over my head.
“Hello, Rylee.” So much is behind those two words. All of the hurt and confusion and over-analyzing from the past couple of days disintegrates. In case I didn’t know it before, it’s obvious now that his proximity clouds both my judgment and my common sense.
“Hi.” My nervous response is all I can manage as we continue to hold each other’s gazes, as if we are the only two people in the room. I fidget with my hands, trying to ignore the desire blooming in my core. Kyle tugs on his hand, and after a beat, he drags his gaze away from me to focus back on the boys.
I slowly exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Dane scoots near me and leans in. “Damn, Rylee! What the hell’s going on here?” I give him a bemused look, as if I don’t know what he’s talking about. “If I didn’t know any better, that stare said he wanted to eat you for dessert.” I laugh at him, nudging him playfully, trying to avoid having to answer. And to hide the blush crawling into my cheeks, remembering Colton’s version of cotton candy dessert. “The man obviously wants you, girl!”
“Oh, whatever! You read the tabloids, Dane. He’s a total player. I’m sure he gives that look to every woman.” I’m grateful for the distraction when Zander sidles up next to me, and I place my hand on his shoulder. Colton notices and looks up from the other boys to meet Zander’s eyes. He moves from the crowd of boys and walks over to kneel in front of us.
“Hiya, Zander. I’m so glad you could come today.” Colton remains still, watching and waiting for an indication from Zander about how he should proceed.
I suck in a breath as I hear a hoarse sound from Zander’s mouth. A croaked, “Hi,” comes out and the cautious smile on Colton’s face spreads to a megawatt grin. A tear trickles down my cheek, and I quickly dash it away, looking over to Dane and Jackson to see relief and pride on their faces as well.
Zander spoke his first word!
Colton clears his throat, and I think the moment may have gotten to him too. “So I’m going to need special help from you later, if that’s okay?” When Zander nods, Colton slowly reaches out, showing Zander the intention of his actions, and when he doesn’t flinch, Colton gently tousles his hair.
Colton glances up to me as he stands, and the tears swimming in my eyes are for both Zander’s reaction and because of the man before me. Over everything that can’t be with him. He gives me a resigned, knowing smile before turning his focus back on the other six boys. “So guys, are you ready to head down to the pits, check out the car, and get ready to test it all out?” Colton staggers back playfully at the roar of the boys’ consent. “I take that as a yes!” He laughs.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a statuesq
ue blonde enter the room with a clipboard in one hand, a worn baseball cap in the other, and an official-looking pass around her neck. She leans against the doorjamb watching Colton and must feel my stare on her because she turns, slowly eying me up and down. Her eyes finally meet mine, a small smirk on her lips and a less than friendly look in her eyes. And then it dawns on me who she is. She’s Tawny Taylor: sometimes escort, CD Enterprises employee, and who knows what else to Colton. I bristle at the realization; her lengthy legs, sample size figure, long blonde hair, and stunning face making me feel beyond insecure. Why would Colton chase someone like me when he could have someone like her?
Colton looks over at her as she says his name in her throaty voice, interrupting his answer to Shane’s question. “Just a minute, boys.” He excuses himself and walks over to where she stands.
She holds out the battered baseball cap, and he runs a hand through his hair before placing it on his head. I hear their quiet voices and make out a few words in between the yells of my boys. Colton holds his hands on his hips, broad shoulders filling out the faded T-shirt, as he nods his head at Tawny. Her smile is wide, knowing, and when she reaches a hand out to place it on Colton’s upper arm, I hate her immediately. My ears perk as I hear my name. What? Tawny glances over at me quickly before returning to Colton. It seems as if they are wrapping things up, so I busy myself by paying attention to the posters hanging on the walls. I hear Colton say, “Thanks,” before returning to his audience. Tawny turns for the door and notices me studying her. She flashes me an insincere, catty smile as she walks out the door. Her smile says it all. Colton’s her territory, and I’m just an intruder.
Well, game on, sweetheart!
With Tawny gone and at least one adversary known, I turn my attention back to Colton, who is telling the boys what to expect from testing. He patiently and simply answers their questions. Zander stands closely to Colton, engaged in watching the conversation, his eyes never leaving his face. When he finishes, Davis glances at his watch and pipes up, “Okay, guys, I’m going to lead you down to the pits. You guys can sit in the seats right above so you can see everything. We’re also going to get you outfitted with headsets so that you can hear us talking back and forth with Colton.” He grabs his clipboard and turns toward the door, “So if you’ll follow me, we’ll get you all set!”
The boys fidget animatedly as they fall into line behind Davis. I grab my bag and start to follow, anxiety rising at the possibility of being alone with Colton. I usually have strong will power but when it comes to Colton, it’s nonexistent. I take my first step when I hear his voice behind me. “Can I have a sec, Ry?”
I ignore the raised eyebrows that Dane gives me before turning and following the boys out the door. Not trusting my voice, I figure that my lack of forward movement is enough of an answer for Colton.
“It’s good to see you.” His voice is gruff.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes momentarily, trying to clear the emotion from my face and remove my heart from my sleeve. I slowly turn around, a falsely calm smile on my lips as I remind myself of his words from the other day. The full force of the devastating effect he has on me hits me when I meet his eyes.
This would’ve never worked. “You too, Ace.”
He’s sitting on the edge of a table, one foot resting on the seat of the chair in front of him, his hands twirling his sunglasses. My heart twists at the sight of him, knowing I can have some of him but not the whole I need. I walk toward him, our chemistry irrefutable and his pull on me magnetic. I smile shyly at him, trying to keep my emotions under wraps. I stop in front of him, my fingers itching to touch. His eyes watch my hand as I reach out and wipe off an imaginary piece of lint from his shirt. “You look so official!” I laugh anxiously, saying the only thing that comes to my mind.
He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow at me. “What? You think I’m faking it and this is all for show?” he says dryly, rising from the table. When he unfolds himself and stands to his full height, his body is mere inches from mine. His scent envelops me and I take a step back to prevent myself from reaching out to touch him again. Any measure to try and preserve my dignity.
“No. That’s not what I meant.” I shake my head flustered, stepping back again to create some space. “Being here just makes it all so real—the track, seeing you in your suit, the grandstands … the enormity of it all.” I shrug. “Thank you so much, Colton.” With these words I look down at my hands where I instinctively go to worry the ring that’s no longer on my finger. Instead, I lace my fingers together and try to hide the emotion swarming in my eyes.
“For what?”
“You went over and above. The stuff in the bus for the kids. Having them here today. Everything.” I look back up at him, tears of happiness swimming in my eyes, and say softly, “Zander’s first word.”
“A breakthrough is so important to healing invisible wounds.” I know he understands these words more than most. He reaches out and wipes the lone tear that spills over. That simple act of compassion leaves me shaken. His eyes meet mine, and I can see the feelings he has for me. I just wish he could see them himself. He slips his sunglasses on his face, shielding my ability to read more, and holds his hand out to me. “Come walk me to the pits?”
When I just stand there staring at him, confused, he answers for me by grabbing my hand. We walk in silence, both occupied by our thoughts. So many questions I want to ask remain unspoken, for this is not the right time or place for them. I place a hand on my stomach to settle the nerves fluttering there.
“Why do you seem so nervous when I’m the one that’s going to be hurling myself around the track at two hundred miles an hour?”
I stop and look at him and am unable to see through his dark lenses, wondering if he really doesn’t get that spending time with him, being with him when I can’t have him, does this to me. Has me walking on eggshells and thinking of what ifs. I decide to take the easy way out. “I’m nervous for you. Aren’t you ever afraid that you are going to crash?”
“Oh, I’ve crashed plenty of times, Ryles.” He lifts his sunglasses so that our eyes meet. “Sometimes you need to crash a couple of times to learn your mistakes, and then when the smoke clears, sometimes you’re better off in the end. Lesson learned in case there is a next time.” He shrugs, squeezing my hand and smiling shyly. “Besides, sometimes the dents just add more character in the long run. Looking pretty can only last so long.” Our eyes hold each other’s, and I know he is talking about more than racing. My eyes beseech his, silently asking the questions I’m afraid to voice, but he slips his glasses back on, pretending he didn’t see them. He tugs on my hand again to start walking.
I try to think of something to say to add some levity to our walk. “Aren’t you supposed to have a pre-race face on or something indicating you’re in the zone?”
“Something like that.” He laughs at me. “But it’s not a race today. Besides, I usually get that way once I walk onto pit row. It pisses my sister off to no end.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I can just tune everything and everyone out instantly,” he says wryly, a small smile on his beautiful lips.
“Typical male.” I laugh shaking my head. “Thanks for the warning, Ace.”
“And she says I look mean. I try and tell her it’s just part of my job but she doesn’t buy it.” We walk for a bit more in silence, a smile on my lips. I can hear an engine revving to my left and hear the clatter of a wrench on concrete somewhere to my right. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come today.” His words surprise me. I think I do a pretty good job of hiding it on my face. “I thought you might send another counselor in your place instead.”
“No,” I murmur as we stop at the corner of a building, and I look up at him. Doesn’t he realize that even when he pushes me away I am irrefutably drawn to him? That I couldn’t stay away even if I wanted to? “I wanted to see you in your element. Watch the boys experience it.”
He watches me for
a moment, nodding at someone who walks past before returning his eyes to mine. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” I mouth back to him, fighting the urge to avert my eyes from the intensity of his.
“This is as far as I go,” he tells me, leaning back against the wall, propping one foot back behind him.
“Oh.” He runs his thumb over my knuckles on the hand he is holding.
A slow mischievous smile spreads across his lips. “Don’t I get a good luck kiss, Rylee?” He tugs on my hand and has me falling against him. He splays his free hand against my back, holding me up against him.
His warnings, his mixed signals, the hurt he’s caused all vanish when my eyes flutter up to see his sensual lips inches from mine. Every muscle beneath my waist clenches in desire. I close my eyes momentarily, wetting my lips with my tongue, before opening them back up to meet the clear green of Colton’s. Why the hell not? It’s not like the term levelheaded has been in my vocabulary the past few weeks when it comes to him anyway. Sensibility slips through my fingers like sand when I am near him.
“It’s the least I can do,” I murmur as he removes his baseball cap.
All sense of reason and modesty at our surroundings vanish the minute his lips capture mine. I pour all of the pent up hurt and emotion and need from the past few days into our kiss, and I know that I can taste the same from him. The pressure of his hand on my back urges me on, tempts me to run my hands up his chest, skim fingers on his neckline, and tangle in his hair curling at the back of his neck. Our hearts pound against each other as we each take what we need, regardless of the impasse we find ourselves at.
Our surroundings slowly seep into my consciousness as I hear someone shout out, “Get a room, Donavan!”
I feel Colton’s smile against my lips as he breaks the kiss and turns his head to the right and yells laughing, “Fuck off, Tyler! You’re just jealous!”
I hear a loud chuckle as Colton turns his head back to me, and I run my hands down to frame his face. “Good luck, Ace!”