I set my beer down on the bench beside me and give him my undivided attention. “I’m listening.”
After a quick glance my way, he turns his attention back in front of him. “Today was a…rough day. Sponsor shit in the morning, which I already hate but know is necessary. Then, we had track time. I was all over the place, and it wasn’t just the car. It was me.”
“Why do you think it was you?” I ask.
He exhales and tosses the wrench on the bench. His eyes are fierce, hard and fiery as they turn and pierce me with their intensity. “Because all I could focus on today was you.”
The air heats up and thickens, and it’s suddenly hard to breathe. “Me?” I croak out over my dry throat.
Mack leans his hip against the front bumper and relaxes his stance, arms crossed over his expansive chest. “I’m usually much better at turning off my personal shit and flipping the switch to professional, but I’ve been struggling lately. Hell, not just lately. Something’s been off all year, and I’ve been struggling to find my groove. Sunday, I felt like I had finally found it, you know? A top-five finish, my first all season. Then, I get behind the wheel today and could barely keep it from bouncing off the wall.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I mean, what do you really say to that?
“I’m not blaming you, Lean, not really. I’m just struggling to figure out how to deal with all the changes that have happened recently.” He sits on the bumper and rests his elbows on his knees, his jaw on his fists.
“Do you remember the first time you got behind the wheel at Brenton?” I ask, seemingly out of the blue, but there’s a method to my madness.
Mack looks up, his back suddenly straight. “Of course I do.”
I offer a small smile. “I figured. I remember watching you get in my dad’s car. You were so excited, but I could also see your nerves.”
“Hell yes I was nervous. Jim Stanley just offered me a chance to drive his personal dirt track car. I was terrified,” he replies with a laugh.
“Exactly. That first lap was horrible, am I right?”
Mack laughs a deep, hearty sound that goes straight to the apex of my legs. “Horrible.”
“But what did my dad tell you? After those first two laps?”
He sobers a little and stops to think back to that day, when an eighteen-year-old boy got behind the wheel of a race car for the first time. “He told me to breathe.”
“And then?” I encourage, knowing he’ll recall everything that happened that day.
Mack sighs. “He told me to listen to the car, and let her do the talking. He said I’d have good days and bad days, but to always stop and listen. She always had something to say.” He takes a deep breath. “And then he told me not to fuck up his car,” he adds with a hearty chuckle.
I’m already smiling, remembering the one-sided conversation as I stood beside my dad and watched Mack drive the car around the track for the first time. “What happened today?” I ask, keeping any judgment out of my voice.
“I wasn’t listening to the car,” he confesses. “I couldn’t get out of my own head. Sunday, during the race, I was able to shut it all down and just drive, and it felt so fucking good, Lean. Better than I’ve felt in a long damn time.”
“You’re going to have days where your voices are louder than the car’s. You know that,” I remind.
“I know that,” he replies, the frustration evident in his voice. “Why do you think I’m in here?”
“This is your outlet. I get it.” I look over his shoulder and take in his project truck.
His eyes pierce my soul as he gazes over at me. “It’s not how I used to release that tension, but it gets the job done,” he says with a smirk, and I know instantly what he’s referring to, recalling every second of how he’d release his irritation.
A part of me almost offers, gives in to the desire I’ve been struggling to overcome and the sexual tension that’s been a constant blanket around us since I arrived. I’m sure it would be nothing short of amazing, just like it always was. I can practically feel his fingers dancing across my skin now, playing me like an expert musician masters his instrument.
But that’s not what we both need.
Not really.
If that were to happen, I would want it to be because we both just couldn’t take it anymore. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. The desire was just too much to take for even a second longer.
Not because we had an itch to scratch and the other was convenient.
I clear my throat and glance away, breaking the spell. “All I’m saying is don’t let today dictate your tomorrow. So today was an off day. Tomorrow, you get behind the wheel and show it who’s boss.”
He smirks. “Show it who’s boss, huh? I thought I was supposed to listen to her?”
I can’t help but shrug. “Yeah, but sometimes you have to do both. She’ll talk to you and tell you when you’re on the right track or not.”
Mack gently shakes his head and reaches for his beer. “When’d you get so smart?” he teases.
“I’ve always been the brains of the operation,” I tell him. The moment the words are out, I wish I could pull them back. They sound awfully close to couple territory, which we most certainly are not in. Not anymore. What I meant was about my dad, the track, but now, all I can think about is Mack and how my assertiveness and racing smarts would turn him on something fierce.
His eyes darken and he grins that knowing smile. “Yes, you are.”
Present tense.
I’m not sure how to take his comment, so I keep my mouth shut. He seems to do the same,
