I couldn’t keep the self-satisfied smile from my face. He’d never called me his girl before.
I relaxed as Jordan slipped through the small cluster of traffic, all the cars that had been at The Wash Out. They would block off traffic on this side of the highway, keep them behind the race. They were the thrill seekers, the guys with the mostly fast cars who wanted to see how close they could stay to the action once the race started in earnest.
Those who wanted to see the finish had sped off ahead already and would be lining the side of the freeway near the exit ramp. The caution light loomed in the distance, taunting the drivers with each orange flash.
The window in the Mustang was down, a girl rode shotgun with him as well. Unlike me, she looked nervous. A part of me always got a little anxious at the thought of a race. It was dangerous. But I trusted Jordan, I trusted his talent, and I was a Casey. The fear was part of the thrill.
I held a hand out the window with three fingers up as we approached the light, both vehicles side by side, both vehicles right at sixty-five mph.
“Three…two…” I shouted out my countdown over the cacophony of v-eights.
I cast a sidelong glance at Jordan as we swept under the light, then dropped my arm. “One!”
The force of acceleration, even from a roll, thrust me hard against the seat. Jordan, didn’t budge. He’d
been ready for it, he was always ready. For several long seconds, Jordan’s laughter ringing out over the engines, we were side by side with this kid and his toy. Then, just like that, he was gone, disappearing in our rear view as the first stage of the nitrous kicked in on Jordan’s truck, instantaneous horsepower.
By the second kit, the off ramp was rapidly approaching.
It was traveling in tunnel vision. Everything sped by so fast that you couldn’t blink or you’d miss it. It didn’t matter to me, though, as the only scenery I was interested in was in the truck beside me. The red and orange lights of the dash lit his face. His eyes were bright, clear, and focused. The angles of his face were molded in concentration right up until the point when the corners of his mouth began to curve upward.
This was his happy place. This was where he was the best version of himself. I could understand that. It was one of the reasons I loved him.
I loved him.
I was in love with him, I always had been.
****
Breanna was bouncing up and down beside Isaac’s yellow import when Jordan coasted through the intersection and past the exit ramp. He killed the engine as he pulled to a stop just past her.
Jordan’s grin was contagious, almost too contagious.
The Mustang came to a stop behind us and Jordan’s grin only grew wider when he checked his rearview. “He’s pissed.”
Jordan popped open his door and stepped out. I slid out behind him, wriggling past the steering wheel in time to see the look of pure shock and terror that slid across Mr. Popped Collar’s face. He might be arrogant, but he knew when he’d met his match.
He didn’t cower, which was surprising.
Jordan had the kid by nearly a foot and almost a hundred pounds of muscle. He towered over Popped Collar and crossed his arms across his chest. “How old are you?”
“Old enough.” The kid tried to snarl with his chest still puffed out, but it only made Jordan laugh.
The curly haired girl who held the money jogged up and handed it to me. “You got straight hustled, dude.” She laughed at him before turning toward Jordan with a jerk of her chin. “Hey, Slater.”
“Cara,” he said her name with an ease that told me they knew each other well. I was missing something. When I looked from one to the other, Jordan answered the question in my eyes. “She’s Rascal’s niece.”
“Oh yeah! I remember you.” The last time I’d seen her she’d barely been off training wheels. It made sense that I’d be drawn to her. Rascal had raised his niece most of her life. I’d seen her dozens of times, before she’d hit puberty.
“Well, Jimmy.” Cara was beaming, pride and laughter practically rolling off her in waves. “You finally got your shot at one of the Street Kings and got your ass drug by Jordan Slater in his daily driver.”
Jimmy wilted in defeat. His face morphed through all the stages of shock.
Jordan leaned against the truck, grinning beneath the bill of his hat, quite comfortable with his small- town celebrity.
“Seriously?” The incredulous tone of Jimmy’s voice had me turning away to hide the smirk on my face.
Cara pointed at me and then Breanna. “Aiden Casey’s little sisters, bro. You should have known better.”
“I just got hustled by Jordan Slater.” He spoke reverently, with his eyes wide. “That’s cool. When can I take a shot at the Malibu?”
Jordan laughed. The sound was vibrant, alive, and filled with good humor. “Bro, you got a lot to do before you take a shot at me like that. If you can’t hang with the truck, you ain’t worth the car’s time. Put some work in, get some grudge races under your belt, then come see me when that thing will run from a dig. But, don’t come light.” He rubbed his fingers together, a universal sign to show him the money.
He saluted as he held the truck door open for me. I slid in, for the moment feeling every part Jordan’s girl.
Isaac leaned in the window as the door clanged shut behind Jordan. “Imma take Breanna to get her truck and we’re headed over to their shop.”
“Loitering where you won’t get popped by the cops?” I teased.
“What can I say, your dad doesn’t seem to mind punk ass street racers in his parking lot.” Isaac’s teeth flashed in a feral smile.
“It pays the bills.”
Jordan fired up the truck as Isaac sauntered off. “Where we going?”
I felt free and happy, like I hadn’t in a very long time. The sensation would be short lived, I couldn’t be that easy when I was with Jordan, not with the tension that gripped us both. “I guess the shop.” Racers in town had been picking up races from our parking lot since my parents opened the place. Being at the shop meant I wouldn’t be alone with him.
“Did you talk to Devin?” His voice was so quiet, I barely heard it over the roar of the Chevy’s engine.
I heaved a sigh. I didn’t want to answer that question, nor did I want to have that discussion with Devin. “No, not yet. To be honest I haven’t had a chance to talk too much of anyone. With SKS coming up we’ve been slammed.” Having a talk with Devin meant confronting the past with Jordan. It meant I would have to contemplate what our future held.
He grunted and didn’t talk for a long moment, not until we turned and headed toward town. “I was the first person you thought of tonight?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t try to lie, there wasn’t much point to it.
“Not Hunter?”
There was a quiet to his question, a complete lack of confidence that amazed me. I turned to check for any obvious chinks in his armor. He merely cocked a brow beneath the brim of his hat. Nothing but his voice to give away what was going on behind his stoic facade.
I conceded with a shake of my hair. “He would have been my second call. But nah, this Jimmy kid is too cocky. He needed to be smacked off his pedestal. I knew you could do it, no questions asked.” I chewed on my bottom lip. “Plus, I really didn’t want to go for a ride with him. I guess I had more faith that you would save me from such a fate.”
He cut a sidelong glance in my direction and his lips twisted in a crooked smile, it was the sort of look that made women need to fan themselves. Myself included. “Does this make me your hero?”
Normally I would have turned away. This time I didn’t, I couldn’t. That’s exactly why it had to be Jordan tonight. I’d seen Jimmy leaning against his car and thought about Caleb. I knew they weren’t the same person, but I’d needed Jordan as that buffer between me and my memories. I’d needed to remind myself of who I’d been, who we were.
I’d needed him to be my hero.
“You did it again.” His voice rumbled low and soft. “What?” I blinked, twice, to bring myself back to
the moment.
“Went somewhere else.” He covered my hand with
his.
Out the window our sleepy town flew by. I squeezed the warm, calloused hand that held me anchored to myself. He was my hero, in more ways than one.