Until You

Chapter 20

With the college kids back at school, we had fewer races happening now than during the summer. Madoc’s and mine were the only ones tonight.

Reaching into the pocket of my jeans, I dug out the fossil necklace and hung it around my rearview mirror. I caught sight of Tate watching me through the rearview mirror, and my throat got thick. I didn’t know if she could see, but I definitely didn’t want her to. The necklace, her mother’s, would be hard to explain.

Devon Peterson, one of the few hot girls I wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole, sauntered up in front of our cars in her short school-girl skirt and spaghetti strap shirt. She was a year behind me in school and had made it very obvious that she was available if I was interested.

I wasn’t.

She was actually down to earth and nice, but she was nice to everybody. That was the problem. Sometimes you just had to know when a good time wasn’t worth the risk.

“Ready?” she called out, her eyes sparkling at me.

Come on. Come on. My left knee bobbed while holding in the clutch.

No girls, no parents…just me, running from all of them.

“Set?”

Roman and I revved our engines.

“Go!”

My legs jerked into action, one easing off of the clutch, and the other hitting the gas with full force. The tires spun for a brief second before Roman and I took off down the track. My stomach dropped, and I smiled at the feeling.

I loved this shit.

Gripping the steering wheel, I pounded in the clutch again as I shifted into second and then straight into third. I’d often forget and try to skip gears the way I did when I wasn’t racing, but you can’t do that on a track. My mother got aggravated last year when she bought a new car—a manual—and I taught her how to drive it.

“What do you mean, I can skip gears? Jared, they wouldn’t put them there unless you’re supposed to use them.”

I just shook my head at her, realizing it wasn’t worth the aggravation.

The Boss jerked again when I slammed down into fourth, and I let the music and the car tear me up into a thousand pieces and scatter me to the wind. I couldn’t think or worry about anything, even if I wanted to.

This is where I lived. The Boss wouldn’t fight me. I owned it, inside and out.

Roman and I charged head to head, but the first turn was coming up. I had a slight gain, but he wasn’t slowing down.

Fucking prick.

Someday I was going to have to give this guy the beating he deserved. We wouldn’t be able to make the goddamn turn together, and he knew it. One of us would have to slow down, and it wasn’t going to be him.

And he knew that I knew that.

I strangled the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes, pulling behind him and onto the inside lane. Right on his ass, I breathed hard and shook my head, trying to keep my lead foot from ramming his car.

Pulling the wheel to the left, I rounded the first turn, kicking up dust and feeling the car’s rear slide as my heart pounded in my throat.

But Roman’s car slid more.

Shifting back into second and hitting the gas, I turned up Godsmack’s I Stand Alone and fucking took off.

Each second, my blood vibrated through my veins stronger, and I didn’t care whether I won or lost. Nothing could ruin this for me, and nothing could make it better.

Through each turn, Derek Roman cut me off and made me pull behind, or I spun out more than I wanted. Either way, I wasn’t gaining a lead, because the asshole would rather play bumper cars than race.

Asshole. I was breathing a thousand breaths a minute, not because I was nervous, but because I was fucking pissed.

He’s rather see our cars totaled than see me win.

Laying on the gas, I gripped the wheel as Roman and I charged ahead. The crowd flew past the car, and my stomach fluttered as we finally crossed the finish line.

I let out a breath and gritted my teeth, slowing the car. I wasn’t sure if I’d lost, but I wasn’t certain I’d won, either.

And at this point, I really didn’t care.

I wanted to hit something, and Roman was it.

Bolting out of the car, my arms were as rigid as steel bars as I rounded the car and met him halfway.

“You’re an asshole,” I ground out.

Please. Take a swing.

We were almost nose to nose. Roman was about the same height as me, but not quite.

“You were pushing into my lane!” he sneered. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to handle your car.”

I almost laughed.

“There are no lanes on the track.” Idiot. “And let’s not talk about who can’t handle their muscle.”

Roman, greasy, black hair slicked back, pointed his finger in my face. “I’ll tell you what, Princess. Come back after you’ve grown some balls and taken off your training wheels. Then you’ll be man enough to race me.”

His voice sounded like garbage cans slamming together, and he needed to shut up.

“Man enough?” I asked, making sure my twisted up face looked like that was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. Spinning around to address the gathering crowd, I held up my hands. “Man enough?”

They knew better, most of them my classmates.

And, as if on cue, Piper stepped out of the crowd and headed straight for me. The crowd didn’t fight to contain their excitement when she glued her body to mine, with her hand on my ass, and kissed me slow and deep.

It was like an invisible pair of arms pulling me back, trying to get me out of her grasp, and I had to remind myself to dive, not swim.

I grabbed her and ran my hands down her sides, feeling the heat of her tongue touching mine.

This was what I needed.

Piper was easy.

But as the crowd roared at our display, my lips tensed and the kiss got rough.

She tasted like ash.

Tate flashed through my head, and so did the memory of her mouth.

The crowd cheered more as I threw myself into putting Roman in his place, but this was all wrong.

“Okay!” Zack cut through the crowd. “Out of the way, out of the way.”

Piper smirked at me and stumbled back into the crowd and her waiting friends who giggled.

“Listen up. We have some good news and bad news.” Zack looked around, speaking more to the crowd than to Roman and me. “The bad news is that we’re calling a tie.”

Everyone groaned and a few cussed.

Jesus Christ. I let out a breath.

“But, the good news is,” he rushed to add, “we have a way to solve the stalemate.”

And then he let out a god-awful grin that made bile rise in my throat. Zack could be devious.

“A rematch?” I hoped.

“Kind of.” His smile widened. “If you boys want to settle this, then your cars will race again, but…you won’t be the drivers.”

My eyes burned. I couldn’t blink.

What the fuck?

“Excuse me?” Roman blurted out, inching into Zack’s space.

“We know you’re exceptional drivers,” Zack assured. “The race was close enough to prove that. Let’s see who has the better machine.”

Enough already.

“So who’s going to drive the cars?” I shouted.

Zack’s lips thinned out. “Your girlfriends.”

WHAT?

“Oh, yeah!” some idiot in the crowd laughed like it would be great entertainment.

No one, and I mean no one, was fucking driving my car!

The spectators gathered closer to hear the fall-out, and yes, there was going to be a fall-out. Roman and I would agree that this idea sucked, while most of the crowd would gladly lose money to see a couple of girls race.

“Dude! That’s not happening!” Roman scowled and looked over at his girlfriend. She was cute as hell, but the petite brunette looked like she had just enough muscle to drive a moped and nothing more.

I smiled to myself, thinking about how Tate would do against her.

Nope. Don’t go there.

“Zack,” I sighed. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I never have a girlfriend.”

“What about the pretty little thing you arrived with?”

I twisted my head and gave K.C. an aggravated look. I assumed he was talking about her.

Her eyes about popped out of her head when she saw our attention focused on her.

“He’s just my rebound,” she held up her hands and joked. The crowd covered their mouths and laughed, taunting me like I should be hurt.

K.C. couldn’t help but smile at her cleverness, and I raised my eyebrows at Zack, hoping he understood.

“No one drives my car,” I stated.

“I agree with the Princess here,” Roman piped up. “This is stupid.”

“The crowd’s already seen you two race. They want to be entertained. If you two have any interest in settling this score so people can get paid, then you’ll play it my way. Be on the starting line in five minutes or leave.” He turned to walk away but stopped. “Oh, and you can ride shotgun if you like…you know, for moral support.” The last words broke up as they left his lips.

The dickhead was laughing at us.

“This is bullshit.” I combed my fingers through my hair and walked back towards Madoc and K.C. as Roman stalked over to his crowd.

I straightened and fisted my fingers over and over again. If Zack weren’t a friend, I might have to cut him.

Even if it weren’t for the money I needed, I still couldn’t get out of this. A challenge was a challenge. If Roman wasn’t bowing out, neither was I.

“Hey, man. I could drive for you,” Madoc spoke up. “We’d just have to tell them about our secret relationship.”

He was trying to cheer me up, but he’d be more helpful shoving his foot in his mouth.

I knew girls who could drive. I’d met a good crowd at the garage where I worked and had run into a few in the scene here and there, but the only girls I knew here tonight were the ones I’d slept with or had classes with.

And I didn’t trust any of them.

“Jared, I can’t race for you,” K.C. pointed out as if I didn’t know. “There’s got to be someone else.”

There was.

And the idea of asking her made me want to gag. Not only would she say no, but she’d probably spit in my face for asking.

Don’t act like you have a choice.

Shit.

This was when I wanted to hop in the car and drive away. Making hard decisions and accepting when others’ needs came before my own hurt, but…I didn’t have a choice.

And then I heard another father—a better father—in my head.

A man knows what needs to be done and just fucking does it.

My brother deserved someone looking out for him, and I had it in my power to make his life better.

I tilted my head back and sighed.

This was going to hurt.

“There’s only one other person who I’d even slightly trust driving my car.” I turned and locked eyes with Tate.

Her eyes widened. “Me?” she asked, surprised.

“Her?” Madoc, K.C., and fucking Ben followed in short order.

I crossed my arms over my chest and walked towards her. “Yeah, you.”

“Me?” Her voice lowered, sounding like I just asked something stupid. She wasn’t surprised anymore.

“I’m looking at you, aren’t I?” I snarled slightly.

Her face fell flat, and her eyes narrowed in defiance as she looked to her date, ignoring me. “Ben, can we get an early start to that bonfire? I’m bored here.”

She didn’t wait for an answer before she spun around and headed out of the crowd.

There was no way I was going to pick anyone else, and I wasn’t forfeiting to Derek Fucking Roman.

I stalked after her and hooked her elbow. “Can I talk to you?”

I could barely even look at her, and I kept my voice to a mumble. This was as close to begging to anyone as I’d come in over three years.

“No,” she spat out.

Spiteful, little…

I put my shoulders back, knowing that she had every right not to help me, but her attitude still pissed me off. “You know how hard this is for me,” I whispered. “I need you.”

I saw her suck in a little breath, and she looked down for a moment. Well, I’d made her pause at least.

“And tomorrow when you don’t need me?” she challenged. “Will I be shit under your boot again?”

My heart thumped, and my chest ached.

You were never shit.

“She’ll do it,” K.C. spoke up loudly from behind me.

“K.C.!” Tate’s teeth were bared. “You don’t speak for me. And I’m not doing it!” she yelled directly at me, and heat pumped through me at her anger.

It reminded me of the kitchen counter, and I wanted to shut her up again just like I’d done that night.

“You want to,” K.C. argued with Tate.

“Perhaps,” she sneered. “But I do have pride. He’s not getting a damn thing from me.”

Fuck this.

“Thank you,” I ground out through my teeth.

“For what?” Tate snarled back.

I got in her face, but she didn’t back down. “For reminding me of what a disappointing, self-serving bitch you are.”

“That’s enough! Both of you!” Madoc cut into our argument as I stared at Tate’s wide, angry eyes. He stepped between us, glaring between Tate and me. “Right now, I don’t give a fuck what the history is between you two, but we need asses in that car. People will lose a hell of a lot of money.”

“Jared?” He looked at me and continued. “You’re going to lose a lot of money. And Tate?” He looked her, but she was still chewing me to pieces with her scowl. “You think everyone treated you badly before? Two-thirds of the people here tonight bet on Jared. When they hear that his first choice turned him down, the rest of your school year will be hell without Jared or me having to lift a finger. Now—the both of you—get in the goddamn car!”

My eyes fell to the ground, feeling a little childish and a whole lot of stunned.

Madoc didn’t usually speak in exclamation points. I’d seen him pissed a handful of times, and he brought out his teacher-voice very rarely.

I always got the impression that he was hiding something. Something more.

Everyone was quiet. Even a few bystanders that had caught the outburst.

“He has to ask me nicely,” Tate commanded.

“What?”

I was nice. The first time.

Okay, maybe not.

“He has to say ‘please,’” she spoke to everyone else but me.

I shook my head and laughed to myself.

God, she was a handful.

“Tatum.” I looked at her like she was my next meal. “Would you ride with me, please?”

Her eyes narrowed again, but there was a glint of excitement this time. She didn’t want to jump on the opportunity too fast, but she was going for it, and I knew it.

“Keys?” she asked, holding out her hand.

Dropping them in her palm, I followed her onto the track as she jogged to the driver’s side of my car.

Roman had backed his Trans Am into position as the crowd cleared the track. Whistles erupted around us as Tate climbed in behind my wheel.

We both sunk in, and aggravation chipped away my calm at how helpless I felt. I’d never sat in the passenger side before.

I couldn’t keep my eyes forward, and they slipped over to Tate, who was running her hands up and down the wheel.

The picture of her, sitting in my fucking seat, with her hands on my fucking wheel was too much.

I shifted, my dick unable to control itself.

As usual, around her.

I had no idea what it was about the idea of her in my car. Maybe it was how hot I knew she would look, or the thought of the two things that made my heart beat coming together, but my jeans got tight.

I inhaled deeply, suddenly wanting my fucking car slammed with rain, and her body glowing with sweat as she straddled me in my seat.

She was beautiful, and it was the worst moment of my life to want something so badly and know I wasn’t going to get it.

Not yet, anyway.

Turning the key, she shifted into reverse, and I could only watch in admiration as she put her arm on the back of my seat and looked over her shoulder to back the car into position. She worked the wheel easily and maneuvered the pedals smoothly, flexing her legs every time she braked and shifted.

It was like watching porn.

Tate was at ease and happy, and a smile played at the corner of her lips.

Smiling. In my presence.

Again, a weight descended on my shoulders, and I felt bad for everything I’d done to her. To her and to me.

“You’re smiling,” I said, wishing she’d stop and hoping she never would.

I wanted to make her smile, and I hated being reminded that she never did.

“Don’t ruin this for me by talking, please.”

Fair enough.

I cleared my throat. “So, your dad taught us both how to drive sticks, and the Bronco is a manual, so I’m assuming you don’t have any questions about that part, right?”

“None.” Her eyes stayed forward. She seemed half engaged with what I was saying and half mesmerized by the feel of the car. Her fingers tapped and her eyes fell everywhere around her.

I gave her a rundown of what to do, when to slow down, and how to turn, but she only responded with nods.

Zack came in front of the cars, probably because the female drivers wouldn’t be interested in Devon Peterson shaking her ass at them, and that’s when my heart dropped into my stomach.

Shit!

Tate reached out and touched the fossil necklace. Her necklace, meant for her mother, that I had stolen and kept all these years.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Blood pumped through my ears, and it took everything to keep my voice steady and calm. I’d forgotten it was still there.

“Good luck charm,” I explained, fastening my seatbelt and averting my eyes. “I took it a couple of days after you left it there. I thought it would be stolen or ruined. Kind of had it with me ever since.”

But what was worse than her knowing I had kept it all these years was the knowledge that she’d want it back. I had no right to keep it, after all.

Dropping her hand, I saw her stare out the driver’s side window in silence.

What was she thinking? I wanted to know, but I’d never ask.

“Are. We. Ready?” Zack’s voice startled me back to reality, and Tate snapped her head back to the front.

I reached out and found Waking the Demon by Bullet for My Valentine on my iPod and turned it up.

Noise, activity, distraction.

We both focused out of the windshield, silent.

“Ready?” Zack shouted, and I smiled as Tate revved the engine.

“Set?” I turned up the music again and braced myself.

I hoped for the best but wouldn’t be surprised if Tate decided to purposefully crash my baby as revenge.

“Go!”

She slammed on the gas, breathing hard and breaking into a wild smile with the excitement of the moment. Maybe it was the feeling of a different car, or maybe it was the thrill of competition, but she was zoned in. Her eyes watched the road like it was her prey, and her fingers worked the stick shift hard and fast.

I watched her muscle handled my muscle, and I shook my head.

Porn.

“The first turn comes up fast,” I spoke up, getting my head back in the game.

Tate said nothing, but it looked like she stopped breathing as she applied the brake and started rounding the first corner.

Adrenaline pooled in my chest, and I clenched my teeth, ready to shout at her to slow down more. She was ahead—not much of a surprise there—but the Trans Am could easily catch up if she got off track.

Checking the rearview mirror, I saw Roman’s car gaining speed, and gripped the dash harder. Fucking Roman. If Tate wasn’t gone by the time it made the turn, they’d slam us.

“Hit the gas!” I yelled after she’d straightened out the car. “And don’t turn so hard. You’re losing time correcting yourself.”

“Who’s in first place?” she replied haughtily.

“Don’t get cocky.”

But she didn’t listen. She only turned up the music and slammed the stick shift into sixth. We shot forward, and I tensed up but not from nervousness.

I didn’t feel helpless right now, which was weird. Normally, I wanted to be in control, and riding shotgun bugged the hell out of me but now? I liked watching her.

“Next turn is coming. You need to slow down,” I ordered.

She folded her lips between her teeth, but the car’s engine wasn’t slowing down.

What the hell was she doing?

I pinched my eyebrows at her and made my voice deeper. “Tatum, you need to slow down.”

Yeah, that didn’t work.

My heart beat faster the closer we got to the turn, and I grabbed the dash helplessly with both hands as Tate skidded around the corner and spun the wheel left, then right, and then left again to get centered. She was quick, and she and the car were one. It wasn’t smooth or clean. It was fast and dangerous.

“Don’t do that again.” I wanted her safe.

She was going to win, anyway. Roman’s car was behind, and I cringed at the tongue-lashing his girlfriend was probably getting.

Tate didn’t need to be reckless. Not in a car anyway.

I spewed a few more orders her way during the next turn, to which she fucking ignored, and we advanced on the final turn at a significant gain. Slowing down to about thirty miles an hour, Tate looked over at me and smiled sweetly.

“Is this okay, Ms. Daisy?”

Her eyes lit up with a challenge.

She was trying not to laugh, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her full, pursed lips.

And I knew right then and there that I was going to wipe that smug, little grin off of her face.

I wanted Tate—panting and helpless—as I buried myself inside of her. No jokes, no sarcasm, no words. Just me in her eyes.

“Tatum?” I challenged her back. “Stop toying with your opponent and win the damn race already.”

“Yes’m, Ms. Daisy.”

I clenched my fists and my teeth.

God, I couldn’t wait to have her in my hands again.

Tate cruised past the finish line so hilariously slow that the crowd roared more than Madoc’s and my races put together. She brought the car to a stop as the swarms of spectators hovered around the car.

Leaving the Boss in neutral and setting the e-brake, she leaned back and relaxed against the seat.

“Thank you, Jared.” Her voice was almost a whisper, sweet and sincere. “Thank you for asking me to do this.”

My throat tightened.

She reached up and unhooked the necklace from my rearview mirror and slipped it around her slender neck. Her face was thoughtful but comfortable.

The air turned warm, and it was just us.

Tate and Jared.

I combed my hand through my hair, shaking off the déjà vu feeling and opened my door to the cheering crowd.

I stopped and looked down to the floor. “Waking the demon…” I murmured. I don’t know why I picked that song to race to, but it just occurred to me how it fit.

“Thank you, Tate,” I whispered, looking over at her.

“Tatum” didn’t fit. It never did, really.

She was Tate and always would be.