Louise uses the tip of her pen to point toward the closed door where Ryder and Trevor were last seen. “Basketball.”
Ryder
“Ican’tbelieveyouinvitedmy sister to train with us. What were you thinking, Ryder?” Teague asks, running a hand through his hair as he paces in front of the cars.
“I’d like to know the same thing,” Soup says. “If Mr. Morrison finds out, heads are going to roll.”
I wave a hand dismissively through the air. “It’s just a few laps in a controlled environment, not the Daytona 500 with 40 cars vying for the lead. Let her have some fun. I, for one, would like to see if she has any skill behind the wheel. What’s the harm in that?”
Teague pinches the bridge of his nose, frustrated by my ignorance of the situation. “Blake is incredibly talented behind the wheel and can drive circles around me. Personally, I’d love to have a brother/sister duo on the track. However, our father does not see it that way.”
“It doesn’t seem like she’s going to show up, so it’s all a moot point.” I’m exhausted from a morning spent in the simulators with the Michigan International Speedway course set up. While not quite the real thing, it helps us learn the bank angle for each turn, identify known slick spots, and test how our vehicle would perform without risking damage to the vehicle itself. My brain must be as fried as an egg on a hot sidewalk because it takes a moment for Teague’s words to register. “How would you know if Blake can drive circles around you if she’s not allowed to race?”
As if he has something to hide, Teague looks anywhere and everywhere but at me. “Since she moved here, we’ve raced a few times at Harris Hill just for fun and when time allows for us to get together. Dad may forbid her from racing if she’s ever to run Morrison Motors, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been driving. Even when she lived in Maine, she’d take her car and go to the local track. I would have invited you to tag along, but….”
I shake my head despondently. “You don’t want me spending time with your sister. You’ve made that abundantly clear, but now you don’t have a choice. I’m volunteering at Play It Forward, which means I will be seeing Blake regularly. Did you not want to introduce us because you didn’t think I would be good enough for her?”
I try to keep my emotions in check, especially after I lost my cool six weeks ago at one of the races when Reggie ignored my attempt to congratulate him on his victory. He kept his helmet on and remained silent, not even bothering to shake my hand. Although it was his first win of the season, he had been regularly placing in the top ten. It felt rude and personal to dismiss me, and I had had enough of the mystery. That led me to try to yank off his helmet. Push came to shove, and I ended up with a fist to my jaw. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt or give me a bruise—except to my ego. Yet, we both ended up fined. I was suspended for a week for unsportsmanlike conduct, while Reggie was suspended for two weeks since he threw a punch.
Teague puts on his helmet and raises the visor to look me in the eye when he drops his bomb. “Ryder, it’s not that I don’t think you’re good enough for my sister. You’re a great guy, which is why you’re my best friend. Under other circumstances, I would think that the two of you would be perfect for one another. But like our father, I’m protective of Blake. Your past may come back to haunt you, and I don’t want her anywhere near you when it happens. Your father gets out of prison in less than six months. What if he seeks retribution?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way, and Teague has a valid concern. “That explains why now, but not when we were in college. It’s not as if you and I attended the same school as your sister and would have been hanging out all the time. An introduction wouldn’t have hurt anyone.”
Soup coughs loudly. “Really? You’ve met Blake once and already invited her to tag along like the two of you are going out for a Sunday drive. Obviously, you see something in her that you like, or you wouldn’t have done that. You certainly haven’t asked any other woman to come by before or go for a spin.”
I glance over at my best friend, who is leaning against his car and waiting for me to deny the accusation. There’s one thing I’m not, and that’s a liar. “What’s not to like? She’s smart, witty, gorgeous, sassy….”
“I get it. You dig my sister, but she’s off-limits, Ryder. I can’t stop you from seeing her at the play place….”
“Play It Forward,” I clarify. “It’s an impressive organization that connects athletes with youth to fuel a desire to achieve their dreams, and I now have a little brother I’ve taken under my wing. It’s not a daycare.”
“I stand corrected,” Teague says with a roll of his eyes. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you can’t see my sister outside of Play It Forward. I won’t allow it.”
A silky-smooth voice envelops my skin like the softest linens, yet manages to slice through the air like one of those “As Seen on TV” kitchen knives that never dull. “You won’t allow what, Teague?”
“Um,” is the only sound he can make, which is why I decide to have some fun and throw him under the bus.
“Teague says that I can’t see you outside of Play It Forward, Sweetheart.” I wink to let her know that I’m just playing around.
Blake glances between her brother and me before noticing Soup behind us. Playing a game of her own, she comes over and runs a fingernail down the arm of my racing suit and then kisses me on the cheek. “It’s a good thing that Teague doesn’t have a say in who I spend my time with, Honey.”
Now, it’s my turn to be dumbfounded by her willingness to go with the flow. However, her blatant flirting and hot touch is not what I anticipated, and I’m thrown off-kilter. “Uhhh.”
Soup, who hasn’t said much, throws his hands up in the air. “The cars need to be run for a few laps, loaded, and on the road to Michigan in a few hours. How about I take care of that while you three go to H2R and settle your differences on the track? I doubt Mr. Morrison would find you there.”
Harris Hills Raceway is also known as H2R, and I’ve always enjoyed going head-to-head with Teague on our time off. It’s been over a month since we’ve gone, and now I know why.
“Sounds good to me.” Teague and I drive sports cars on loan from Morrison Motors, who specialize in selling luxury cars. Every year, we trade them in, and the vehicles are auctioned off. I guess the fact they were driven by a NASCAR driver—even second-tier ones—brings in a higher price. “I’ll pit my McLaren 750S against your Pagani Huayra, Teague. Blake, what about you? What are you driving?”
Teague grins deviously. “Dad lent her the Bugatti Veyron but put a governor on it to limit the speed. It won’t go over 100 miles per hour.”
Blake jingles the keys to her car in front of her brother’s face. “The top speed at Harris Hill averages 88 miles per hour because of all the steep turns. So, it’s not the speed that matters; it’s how you handle the vehicle. As fast as your car goes, brother of mine, explain to me why I beat you three out of four times.”
There’s something very enticing about the confidence Blake carries in her shoulders and attitude. Her words don’t sound like bravado, and I’m intrigued. “Well, you haven’t beaten me.”
“Did you seriously get smoked by a girl?” Trevor asks as he passes me the ball for our game of one-on-one.
I dribble the ball in front of me before passing it from one hand to the other through my legs. “Like brisket at a Texas barbeque.”
