I ran my hand through my hair and tried to forget the way her soft lips felt on mine when I kissed her or the way she moaned my name when I filled her, but who was I kidding?
I was in so deep there was no way out, and lying to Peter felt like my only option.
Because letting Sara down would never be one.
I'd just have to be more careful or something.
Standing to lean over the engine again, I took my frustration out on the Bentley instead of stewing in it.
Peter was a good man, but he sure made one tempting daughter I couldn't stay away from.
It meant skipping the race finals. I knew that, and I'd have to tell Sara. She'd be discouraged, but it was better that way.
She didn't need him breathing down her neck, and if his suspicion went from my presence at her races to my position in her life, we'd be staring down the barrel of a different problem entirely. One I didn't feel like bringing up.
A man my age had no business with a woman that young. She was legal, but her father would have me strung up on a pole in a split second and I knew it.
If it went the other way—Peter expecting me to step up and commit something to her—it would ruin the verbal agreement I'd made with her. We were just having hot sex.
Nothing more.
It was better that way. I didn't need relational baggage and she didn't need the scrutiny that would come with being attached to a club member. Not to mention the risk. I didn't want that for either of us.
I was elbows deep in grease again when footsteps crossed the shop floor behind me, and I heard the distinct sound of someone whispering and giggling.
It was Lightning's voice. I'd have known it in my sleep. I paused my work, realizing he didn't know I was there, and just listened for a minute.
"—been thinking about you since last night, I'll tell you that much."
So he wasn’t on club business, which meant overhearing something wasn't a problem. Unless he cared that I heard his pillow talk, and what would I do with that information?
"That thing you did—" He let out a low laugh, obviously not meant for general company. "Yeah. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about."
I fit the belt over the pulley and held tension on it with my thumb, trying to stay focused on the job. Tony kept talking, and I caught enough pieces of it to understand that this wasn't a conversation he'd want an audience for. But I was here first. He had to know I was out here working on Mr. Howell’s car.
"Miss you too, Mandy, I?—"
My thumb pinched between the belt and the pulley and I clenched my jaw to keep from cussing as the door swung shut loudly. Then I yelped and tugged it out.
So Lightning had a thing going with Fox's wife? I stared at the door and the back of his head visible through the small, round window. He was still talking, and if I had the nerve, I could eavesdrop and give Fox an earful, but I didn't have the energy to care that much. That man had a nasty attitude and a loud mouth, and he threw fists way too quickly. If he wanted to horn in on the president's wife, let him.
I had bigger fish to fry.
Like how to tell Sara her dad caught me snooping around the race and I wouldn't be able to make it to the finals now. She was gonna be ticked off, but there wasn’t much I could do. If the old guy found out the truth, it'd be way worse than just a lecture.
3
SARA
The Tuesday dinner rush at the diner wasn't really a rush so much as a steady trickle of people who had nowhere better to be, which was most of Grove Hill on a weeknight. I didn't mind it. I liked the regulars around here. They felt more like family I didn't live with but saw often enough to know everything about them. Besides, my family had owned this diner since before I was born and I grew up here alongside a lot of the folks who ventured in for a steak and baked potatoes, which was on special tonight.
"Sara, hon, table four needs a refill." Mom was already moving past me with a coffee pot in each hand, and she hustled like her shoes were on fire. It was sweet seeing her working so hard doing the thing she loved so much, though that wasn’t why I worked here.
I needed the cash, and it let me meet new people. Because if anyone visited Grove Hill, they inevitably landed at Ma's Griddle for a bite to eat. We were the only restaurant on this side of the county.
I grabbed the sweet tea pitcher and headed for table four, where two regulars sat bickering about tractor pulling, which wasn't an abnormal conversation this time of year.
"You boys need anything else?" I asked, flicking a glance up at the door every time the bell rang. Garret would be here any time and I couldn't wait to see him. I'd rehearsed my little speech about us getting serious and talking to my parents. I just hoped he was as enthusiastic about it as me.
