Once we’re outside the city limits, I brace myself for Ryder to press the gas and put on a burst of speed. However, he drives five miles per hourunderthe limit, and a few cars honk and go around us. I twist around in my seat, looking for any reason as to why he would be going so slow. “Uh, Ryder? Why are you driving like my grandma?”
“Because I want to keep my license. I’ve been pulled over twice near Baggersville—a small town to our east. The first time, I was let off with a warning because the Sheriff’s daughter was in the passenger seat. The second time, I wasn’t so lucky; I received a hefty fine and probation.”
“The Sheriff’s daughter? Is she your girlfriend?” I ask, the words tasting as sour as lemons on my tongue. I don’t know why, since I’m not interested in Ryder like that. Who am I kidding? I’m definitely interested in getting to know Ryder.
He laughs. “Her name is Elise, and no, we aren’t dating. She and her high school sweetheart, Ace, are madly in love with one another. They’re part of Cornhole for a Cause, which is another organization that works with youth in the community.”
“Oh, I think I’ve heard of that organization. Do you think some of the players would like to join us for the Shuckley stop on the Annual Tour in a few weeks? There will be competitions in professional sports, but it will also feature a big barbecue with some backyard games like sack races, horseshoes, and….”
“Badminton?” he jokes.
The tick, tick, tick of his turn signal comes on as Ryder turns right into a community of newly-constructed homes. A few seconds later, we find ourselves at the end of a cul-de-sac lined with several ranch-style houses that look nearly identical except for a few small differences and the colors. It’s not until a garage door opens to the gray house, that I know which one is his. “You weren’t kidding when you called it a ‘humble abode.’”
The doors on the car open and I get out, my mouth forming a smile as I take in the garage full of car parts. He unlocks the door that leads from the garage to the interior of his house and waits for me to join him. “I’m guessing it’s not what you were expecting,” he states, reading my facial expression with accuracy.
“From the outside, it’s absolutely charming! I want a tour!” I exclaim.
Ryder
“Thetourwilllastonly about a minute since it has only two bedrooms and not much more.” Aside from my great-great Aunt Mabel, I’ve never had a woman in my home before. I certainly haven’t had one who captures my interest like Blake has managed to do.
“This is not the home of a multimillionaire, Ryder,” she says, spinning around to take in the spacious kitchen designed for entertaining guests. It’s the largest room in the house and the main reason that I bought the home. I can pour a mean bowl of cereal, and I don’t know how to cook anything other than boxed macaroni and cheese, but I plan to learn.
“It is if the millionaire in question doesn’t need much to make him happy. I live alone and am quite content with a quality mattress, a comfortable couch, a functional toilet, and a big screen television. A guy like me doesn’t need much more.”
I show her the rest of the house, which includes a modest-sized living room, a small dining area that I’ve turned into an office, a den, two bedrooms, and two bathrooms. After the tour, I hand her the remote to the TV. “Make yourself comfortable while I get cleaned up.”
It doesn’t take me long to shower and change into some black slacks and a mint-green button-up shirt, but by the time I return to the living room, Blake hasAmerican Graffiticued up. She’s fully immersed in the movie and doesn’t notice me standing there. I take a moment to appreciate her natural beauty and almost child-like wonder as she watches the film.
“Are you ready to go, or would you like me to make some popcorn?” I ask, startling her out of her trance.
She shuts off the television and stands up, wiping her hands on the sides of her pants. “Oh, sorry. Every time I watch this movie; I get sucked into it. I love all of the classic cars, especially the ’56 Thunderbird.”
“I can’t fault you for that. Are you a big movie buff?” I ask her as we walk through the kitchen and into the garage.
She runs her finger over the hood of the car as she walks around it. “It’s my second favorite pastime. You know the first. What about you?”
“I’d rather stay at home and watch a movie than go out and party.”
Once we’re inside the vehicle and I’m reversing out of the garage, she says, “I figured it would be the other way around. Teague always talked about the parties in college, and from what he told me, you were his wingman with the ladies.”
“You never leave your wingman,” I grin, quoting Anthony Edwards as Goose inTop Gun.“Honestly, I was more like his designated driver. I didn’t have the luxury of letting loose and throwing my education away.”
“Louise mentioned that you walked away from a basketball scholarship to become Teague’s racing partner for practice. Why?”
If there’s one thing I can appreciate about Blake, it’s that she’s not afraid to delve deeper. For some unknown reason, she seems genuinely intent in getting to know me.
“It paid better, and driving is my passion. I wasn’t a skilled enough basketball player to earn a full ride, so it didn’t make sense to spend time playing a sport that wasn’t going to become a career. Why waste the spot on the team when there were others who were clamoring for it? Basketball was an escape for me, not my future.”
She frowns. “How did it make you feel when my brother offered you the job after finding out about your past?”
“You don’t pull any punches, do you?” I ask lightheartedly.
Blake balls up her fists and shadowboxes. “I’ve been known to have a mean right hook. Just ask my brother.”
At her words, I subconsciously start rubbing the spot on my chin where Reggie had hit me during our altercation. Her question feels like a gentle blow; it stings but doesn’t truly hurt.
“I had two choices regarding how to respond to Teague. I could either be offended and assume that he was using me for his benefit, or I could embrace the opportunity and use my past to make a future. I chose the latter because no matter how many races I win or how many hours I spend volunteering, people will always see the criminal first and the racer second. I might as well make the best of it.”
