“Uh huh. Sure.”
Mom hugs Keanna and me goodbye and then we’re finally on the road. There’s nothing better than driving in my truck with my girl by my side.
I reach over and grab her thigh, but she doesn’t acknowledge me because she’s on her phone. I slide my hand up and squeeze right above her knee where it tickles.
That works.
“Ahh!” she squeals, swatting at my hand.
“Whatcha doing?” I ask.
She scrolls down the screen on her phone. “Just reading all your fan messages on Facebook,” she says with a laugh. “San Antonio loves you.”
“Well—” I say, starting to make some funny joke, but she interrupts me.
“You didn’t let me finish,” she says, sticking out her tongue. It’s so sexy, I’d reach over there and bite it if I wasn’t driving. She looks back at her phone. “They love you in San Antonio, but they might love Clay more.”
I scoff. “That tatted up stone wall? Why would they like him? He hates everyone.”
She shrugs. “That’s probably why. You’re too nice to everyone and you have this kind boy next door vibe. Clay is edgy and kind of a dick, and girls like that.”
I give her a look.
“Somegirls,” she says. “Not me. I like the sweet guy next door.”
“Good thing I am literally next door,” I say, winking.
I like my teammate Clay, and he’s going to this race as a backup for Team Loco. Where I have a life and a girlfriend and I help my family run the Track part time, Clay only focuses on dirt bikes. It’s kind of creepy how focused he is. But it didn’t help him win the summer race, and I know he’s been aching to prove himself ever since.
“Maybe the girls need to like him more,” I say as we drive down an empty I-10 toward the bagel shop. “He needs something to distract him from dirt bikes, just a little. Enough to make him loosen up a bit.”
“Why, so you can keep beating him?” she says with a smirk.
“No…” I grin. “Okay, maybe.”
Our hotel is a Hilton that’s only a few blocks away from the Alamo, and after the races are over tomorrow, I’m going to make sure we stop by and see it. Clay hasn’t checked in yet, and Marcus won’t get here until his plane lands around four, so I don’t feel guilty spending the first few hours of my racing weekend with my girlfriend.
We head outside to the pool and swim around a bit, and then wander into the hotel’s restaurant and order some lunch.
“Can we eat this upstairs?” Keanna says after we place our order. She chews on her thumbnail.
“Sure. Are you okay?”
She shrugs. “Those girls are looking at you and pointing at you and I’m pretty sure they’re trying to get the courage to come talk to you.”
I don’t look back to where the girls sit so as not to give them ammunition. I know it makes her uncomfortable to have other girls talk to me in public.
“I think all the arenacross people are staying in this hotel, so it makes since that I’d get recognized here.”
Her lips slide into a thin smile. “It’s fine. It’s just…ugh.”
“I get it, babe.” I flag the waiter down. “Is there any way we can get our food delivered to our room instead?”
“Of course,” he says, beaming at me with a toothy grin.
“No, that’s okay,” Keanna says. “It’s fine. We don’t have to run away just because you’re popular.”
“I don’t mind,” I tell her. Our waiter watches me questioningly, waiting for confirmation on what he should do. “We’ll take it to go.”
