Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge) (59 page)

Jameson sighed heavily having had the desired response from them and turned around to stare out the windshield.

There wasn’t a sound the rest of the trip.

When the car stopped in the driveway, the Lucifer twins ripped their seatbelts off and ran in different directions towards the house, followed by Emma. I was tempted to run with them but didn’t.

Jameson and I remained inside the Expedition. After that tantrum, I wasn’t about to be the first to speak.

Slowly, he tilted his head towards me. “Was that harsh?”

“Yes
...
I’m terrified of you now.” I looked over at him for the first time since his temper tantrum. “So are they.”

“Good
...
little fuckers.”

“Oh
...
calm down. It’s
not
that bad.” I remembered his previous words to me when he first met the Lucifer twins. Surely, his perception of them had now changed.

“Not that bad?” he asked incredulously. “You have to be fucking kidding me! First, my engine blows up ending the race for me after only fifty laps. Then I fly six hours just to see my girlfriend, in a fucking wind storm that puts hurricane Ike to shame
...
”

I sighed dramatically.

“Okay, well it’s not nearly that bad, but you get my point.” He waived his good arm around. “Then I come to rescue her like her knight and shining armor she wanted, and my fucking sister stabs me with a fork.
Then
, the nurse at the fucking hospital is Dana’s mom. Yes, that’s right Dana the stalker’s mom!” he threw his bottle of water across the inside of the truck. “I have a fucking right to be harsh.”

It was now time for drastic measures.

“If I show you my boobs, will you calm down?” I offered.

He was silent for a good thirty seconds. “Maybe,” He motioned with his hand for me to lift my shirt. “Show me and let’s see.”

Flipping up my sweatshirt, it worked as it always did.

When Jameson started to drag me onto his lap, I had to stop things. “No, we are not doing it in my dad’s car and you’re bleeding.”

He chuckled lightly but continued to molest the funbags. “So many rules now
...
no exam tables
...
no cars
...
what happened? You never had rules before.”

“I don’t have rules
...
there are just some things I
won’t
do. One is not having sex in my dad’s car and two I’m not having sex while you have a fork stuck in your shoulder in a hospital.”

“How about we continue this in your room?” Jameson suggested pushing his hips to meet my hand he’d placed directly on his camshaft. “I’m injured, I need care.”

“We need to get a bandage on that.”

My thoughts then swarmed to some good tender loving care I was sure I could provide him. Suddenly, I was nervous about the reveal of my crankcase’s wax and shine so I blurted out the first thing that I could come up with.

“Are you sure you can get it up? I mean, you were stabbed with a fork.” My mouth, similar to my crankcase at times, was making all kinds of justifications as to why I
couldn’t
have sex with him when honestly; it just came down to my bling pad.

How exactly do you reveal this?

His eyebrows rose in question. “I was stabbed in the shoulder, not my dick, Sway.”

“Prove it
...
I don’t think you can.” I challenged. “You could have a lifter problem now?”

What the hell? What happened to your justification?

“Are you questioning my ability here?”

I tapped my finger to my lips. “Yes,”

“That’s it!” he grabbed me by the ass swinging the door open. With no doubt a good amount of pain, he carried me all the way to my room, threw me down on the bed, and covered my body with his own.

His hand under my chin forced me to look at him. “You’re in for a
long
day.

15.
            
Pit Stall
–
Sway

Pit Stall – The area along pit road that is designated for a particular team’s use during pit stops. Each car stops in the teams stall before being serviced.

Jameson was asleep on his stomach when I made my way out of my bedroom. We had a long night.

It was now the 4th of July and we’d planned to go camping up in Dayton Peak. For good reason, the Lucifer twins would not be attending this fun filled event.

Aiden flew in late last night, walking past the guest bedroom they were currently occupying; I plugged my ears just in case I inadvertently over heard something I didn’t care to hear.

It could happen and
has
before.

Spencer and Alley were going to come but Lane still wasn’t feeling well so they stayed home.

Jameson was only in town until Tuesday afternoon and then he headed for Juliet Illinois for the race at Chicagoland Speedway. This only left us with two days after the stabbing occurred.

He kept his promise yesterday too. I didn’t do anything but spread my legs. Though I’m not sure how, he never took notice in my pigizzle vajazzled bling pad while doing this. The Holy Grail had yet to be revealed. I was actually getting a little nervous for her unveiling to occur, similar to stage fright.

What if he didn’t like it?

I wasn’t sure how easily that shit came off and the thought of it being ripped off seemed like cruel punishment that I was not going to allow. But then again, I hoped eventually, it came off. How would I explain this at eighty-years old? Then I thought, at eighty, no one would have their head down there anyhow. So that dilemma had been solved.

Making my way to the bathroom, I splashed some water on my face along with some of my favorite Banana Boat After Sun lotion. Just the smell brought me back to our first summer together on the road when sunburns were a daily occurrence. It was just another memory of mine that made all this feel real.

Grabbing some pop tarts from the kitchen, I scurried back to my room before anyone saw me. I really didn’t want to see the Lucifer twins any time soon. They still tormented the fuck out of me but ever since Jameson threatened to rip their arms off, they steered clear of him. I contemplated threatening them as well but I knew they wouldn’t take me seriously.

Jameson had yet to wake up when I made it back to the bedroom with two cups of coffee and blueberry pop tarts. I kept myself busy while he slept off his pain medication I gave him last night when he complained his shoulder was killing him. The one thing I needed to do today was pack for camping and cut down that tree. I must have woken up four times last night, envisioning that tree tapping on my damn window.

It had to go, that’s all there was to it.

I could hear footsteps behind me and saw Jameson making his way over to me, naked. My eyes focused on his glorious camshaft as he approached me, watching it and then feeling like a complete pervert for doing so.

Jameson of course chuckled softly wrapping his arms around me. “See something you like?”

“No
...
” I lied.

“You’re a horrible liar.” He dove in, kissing along my collarbone and up my neck, along my jaw until his lips met mine.

I kissed him back until the wind blew once more, the tree scratching against my window.

“How are you with a chain saw, sport?” I asked pulling back to look at him.

“Please
...
” he said dismissively rolling his eyes. “I can run anything with an engine.” His hand came down to my crankcase suggestively.

My eyes remained on his, pointing to the Poltergeist tree outside my room, I said. “Cut that motherfucker down!”

He laughed. “You want me to cut down a tree?”

“Yes lumberjack,” I mocked. “I want you to cut down a tree.”

“What did the tree ever do to you?” he looked towards the tree and then back to me with a touch of curiosity. “And how will I rescue you like your knight and shining armor, without the tree.”

“Is that why you were so muddy?”

His eyes dropped. “Yeah, I fell.”

Giggling hysterically was my reaction. Similar to when he yanked the fork out. It was adorable that he tried but also incredibly funny to me.

He growled and then picked me up, throwing me against my mattress. “What did I say about this giggling?” His body pressed against mine, trapping me.

“Not to,” I squeaked out between giggles, arms and legs flailing to get loose.

“Exactly,” he sat up straddling my hips, his hands pinned mine securely ensuring I wasn’t going anywhere.

Stuck underneath him trying to wiggle free, he only squeezed tighter just as a python would, crushing his prey.

“Now what are you going to do?” Jameson asked in a husky voice. I could tell this little wrestling match was turning him on.

Struggling was pointless; Jameson had nearly a hundred pounds on me. “I’m not going to giggle anymore.” Another small giggle escaped my lips before I slapped my hand to my face.

“That’s right
...
” he nodded haughtily. “Now, is that a blueberry pop tart over there?” his eyes motioned toward my nightstand.

“No
...
it’s strawberry.” I lied knowing blueberry was his favorite.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not
...
I
only
have strawberry.”

“Why does your breath smell like blueberries then?”

“I have blueberry tooth paste.”

Jameson scrunched his nose. “That’s
...
disgusting.”

“No it’s not.” I smiled showing my sparkly white teeth, praying there wasn’t any blueberry pop tart in them. “It’s delicious.”

“If I find out it’s a blueberry pop tart, you’re in
trouble
.” He warned.

Once his grip on my arms was free, I ran. I ran for all I was worth. I heard his laughter behind me with the pop tart in his hands but I kept running until I collided with Lucas in the living room.

“Oh
...
sorry,” I mumbled helping him up.

He scowled, grumbling something along the lines of “Watch where you going,” and plopped down on the couch with Mr. Jangles.

How rude.

“There you are,” Jameson grabbed me from behind wrapping his arms around me—I could smell the blueberries on his breath. “
You’re
in trouble.”

“Ugghhh
...
” Lucas grumbled. “Didn’t you two get enough yesterday!” He draped his blanket over his face.