Slow Ride (12 page)
“Now you are twelve. How can you not notice the look on her face when she looks at you?”
“What, disgust? Irritation?”
“Red-hot lust, son. Nothing more, nothing less.” Johnny clapped him on the back. “Take advantage of it.”
Part of Diesel wanted to do just that. Hell, he’d been thinking of nothing else all night. But then part of him thought that was wrong. That just red-hot lust wasn’t right between him and Tuesday. He liked her, too. And he wasn’t sure why one had to be independent of the other, or if she liked him in any way beyond sex.
Which they hadn’t even had yet.
He was a mess.
“Race is starting. Grab those chips.”
Diesel looked back at the screen and saw that the horses were lined up on the film, ready to go. He grabbed more chips and some water and followed his uncle back to the table. Tuesday was on her feet, jumping up and down and cheering her pick on as the horses tore out of the gate and down the track. The movement did amazing things to her ass in those tight stretchy pants and no surprise, his erection was immediately back.
“Whoo!” she was screaming. “Come on, Jolly Roger! Go, Jolly Roger!”
Of course she picked the horse with the dumbest name ever.
“Give me a Jolly Roger!”
Diesel set the bowl of chips down in front of her. “That doesn’t sound right, sweetheart.”
She spared him a glance between bouncing up and down. “What? Don’t be dirty. What could a Jolly Roger possibly be?”
“I could think of a lot of things.” Starting with a blow job and ending with swabbing the deck. “All involving pirates and willing wenches.”
Her expression turned curious and slightly aroused. “Oh. Well, hold that thought for later. Right now I have a horse to cheer on.”
“You go at it.” He was just going to sit down, rest his knee, and watch her. It was an oddly satisfying occupation. Tuesday was always animated, always moving, her sleek dark hair sliding over her shoulders. She was a touchy-feely kind of person. She was always touching someone’s arm, or back, or leaning in close. At the moment, it was his aunt and uncle who were on the receiving end of her attentions, and Diesel was pleased that she seemed to like them, and vice versa.
He was feeling perfectly content until Ellie shifted into the chair next to him. “Really?” she said to him, disdain in her voice. “This is who you chose over me?”
Awkward. He had to say he wasn’t big on this kind of confrontation. What exactly did Ellie expect him to say?
“It’s not a competition.”
“Of course it is.”
Ellie was a buxom brunette who worked hard to maintain her body and her tan. She was an attractive woman, but too damn aggressive for Diesel’s tastes. He glanced around, hoping someone would interrupt them and save him from the conversation.
No such luck. His aunt and uncle were standing behind Tuesday, their heads together, while Tuesday was jumping up and down, a bunch of chips in her hand.
“Life is a competition, Diesel. You should know that, given your prior career.”
He wasn’t sure what her point was, exactly. “You and I don’t have a lot in common, Ellie.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You know, you would think that you would appreciate the fact that I don’t care that you have no job. Most women aren’t going to want a washed-up driver.”
It was a total kick in the nuts he wasn’t prepared for. Diesel sat there, stunned, for a second. Hell, he knew there were plenty of women who went after men strictly because they were drivers. But he’d never really translated that to mean women wouldn’t be interested in him at all. That he was perceived as unemployed.
There were plenty of days he felt that way himself, but it wasn’t at all pleasant to hear someone else say it out loud.
It took him a second, but he forced himself to produce a casual and careless tone of voice. “That’s very generous of you. But I’m still not interested.”
Ellie shoved her chair back, her breasts bouncing in her low-cut tank top. She glanced over at Tuesday. “You’re too boring for her you know. You’ll never be able to keep her.”
Throw a little goddamn salt right into the wound.
Diesel hadn’t even really understood his reservations about Tuesday and now Ellie had managed to point them straight out to him. That was helpful. Not.
He was boring. He was a washed-up driver. He wouldn’t be able to keep a woman as vibrant as Tuesday interested in him.
Staring after Ellie, who had taken her purse and walked away from the table, Diesel was too busy brooding to notice the outcome of the race until Tuesday waved her hand in front of his face.
“What are you staring at? Did you see that? Jolly Ranger brought it home, baby!”
Diesel forced himself to shove aside the doubts Ellie had just planted and fake a smile for Tuesday. “Congrats, that’s awesome. Guess you can pick ’em.”
Without warning, she dropped into his lap. “You know it. I rule at horse picking. I mean, picking the winning horses.”
Her tight backside wiggled a little on his thighs as she settled into a comfortable position. Diesel had no idea what to make of her treating him like her personal folding chair. “These are pre-taped. Maybe you’ve already seen this race.”
He didn’t think for one minute that was the case, but he figured he would enjoy her reaction. Indignation from her would also be easier to deal with than her snuggling into him in public. He had to admit, he wasn’t one for displays of affection around the masses. Especially given that he never brought women to events like this, and everyone was staring at him curiously. And how would he explain when a week or two from now Tuesday was no longer interested in him?
“How dare you,” she told him, her nose lifting. “That’s an outrageous accusation. And even if I did happen to see it, it doesn’t diminish my confidence in Jolly Ranger’s talents, nor my enthusiasm for the race. Besides, this is for charity.”
Diesel grinned. “So you did see it?”
“Totally,” she admitted. She put her finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone.”
Did she have any idea how much she turned him on? How inherently sexual she was? The way she moved when she walked, the way she shook her hair back, the tilt of her head, and the saucy lift of the corner of her mouth all drove him insane. She was on his lap, her finger touching his lip, her other arm on his shoulder for balance, and her ease in the position both intrigued and excited him. He liked that she was honest, that she always said what she was thinking.
“Never,” he reassured her. “Because it’s for charity.”
“Exactly.” She dropped her finger. “Tell me three things about you I don’t already know.”
There she went again, catching him completely off guard. “Seriously?”
“No, I just said it because I don’t want you to do it.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m serious.”
“Well.” He wasn’t sure anyone had ever posed a question to him like that. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for exactly. But if she could be random, he could be random. “I’m allergic to cats. The only state I haven’t been to is North Dakota. And I was born on the fourth of July.”
“Ooh. Fireworks for your birthday. That’s pretty cool.”
“Actually, it’s kind of a rip-off sharing your birthday with any holiday. It could be worse, I could have been born on Christmas, but a kid wants his birthday to be all about him.”
“Yeah, I can see that. So why haven’t you been to North Dakota? Are you avoiding it?”
Diesel chuckled. “No. Just haven’t had the chance yet. Seems like I should before I die. So tell me, where did you get the name Tuesday?”
She wiggled again. “My butt’s going numb.”
Nothing on him was numb. Diesel was forced to put his hand on the small of her back, concerned she might fall off the chair with all that moving around. He didn’t want to touch her any more than was necessary given their location, and the fact that he was well aware that riding crop was propped next to the chair.
“It’s not a good story,” she told him. “My parents couldn’t agree on a name for me. They were fighting about it, both of them being somewhat opinionated. Good thing that passed me over.” She gave him a grin. “Anyway, I was born on a Tuesday. The nurse was insisting they fill out the birth certificate, my mom was getting annoyed that my dad wouldn’t cave, and vice versa. So he just said ‘Christ, we should just name her Tuesday.’ And that was the end of that. Lamest, most unloving naming story ever. But like you said . . . it could be worse. I could have wound up Female.”
“That is true. And hey, it’s a very cool name. It makes you unique, unlike having the name Daniel like I do.”
“But no one calls you Daniel.” She made a mock quizzical face, stroking her chin. “Or do they?”
No one but his mother ever had. “It might be nice to have someone call me Daniel once in a while.” He almost added it would mean they were special, or more important, that he was special to them, but he stopped himself before he really came off like a raging dork. “So what are your three things?”
“Well, Daniel, let’s see. My nickname when I was little was Toot. Don’t ask me why, I won’t tell you. I have never been to Europe, which is just wrong. And I’ve never met a cookie I didn’t like.”
He liked the sound of his given name on her lips. Struggling not to laugh, Diesel just said, “If you don’t want me to ask, why did you tell me?”
“To frustrate you.”
He could believe she was good at that. “So you mean there isn’t a single cookie you can resist?”
“Nope.”
“You just gave me serious ammunition.”
The corner of her mouth went up. “That was the point.”
Diesel felt a serious kick of lust. Damn, she was sexy. “So, do you think we can leave soon?”
“It depends on where we’re going.”
“Either your place or mine. Just tell me where you’d be more comfortable getting naked.” He was done with this fake gambling on horse races that weren’t live, with Ellie and his aunt and uncle all scrutinizing his interaction with Tuesday.
If she was going to get tired of him, he wanted at least one night with her first.
Her eyes darkened. The tip of her tongue came out and moistened her lip. “Which is closer?”
He really liked the way she thought. “I believe that would be my place. And I have cookies in the car, remember. Your cookies.”
Tuesday wished she wasn’t wearing these damn tight stretchy pants, because she needed more breathing room between her thighs. Diesel had a way of looking at her that just torched her girl parts. His words were like an electrical jolt to her junk. She didn’t remember them ever actually establishing they were going to sleep together but they both clearly wanted to. She knew she had wanted to after the wedding but it had been anybody’s guess if he had been at all interested in her or if he’d just felt responsible for the drunk girl.
Between that sexy kiss earlier and his words now, it was no longer in question. He wanted her and she was going to let him have her.
“Let me just get my crop and we can be on our way.”
His nostrils flared. “Well, alright then.”
Diesel didn’t say the most creative things, but it was the way he said it, his voice low, his hair falling in his eyes, that drove Tuesday crazy. Just hearing those words now, trailing over her like his hot, demanding kisses, made her panties wet with desire. They needed to get out of there, fast. Before she knocked the chips off the table and spread her thighs for him.
She stood up, taking care to make sure her backside was right in his view. Might as well whet his appetite in whatever way she could. Tuesday said good-bye to the woman whose name she couldn’t remember who had been sitting at their table with her daughter. The daughter, Ellie, who had clearly had designs on Diesel, was nowhere to be found, which Tuesday figured was for the best. She didn’t want to get into a girl fight, and that woman had looked like a scrapper.
Tuesday would see how good Diesel was in bed first before she decided if he was worth hair pulling and bitch slapping.
His aunt and uncle she definitely liked. “Thanks so much for such an enjoyable night,” she told Beth.
Beth wrapped her in a hug. “Oh, it was so nice to meet you, sweetie. I had a great time with you.”
Johnny’s turn was next. When he wrapped her in his arms for a light hug, Tuesday smelled his cologne wafting up her nostrils, and had a moment of brief confusion, followed by profound grief. He smelled like her dad, his hand rubbing on her back the way her father would have. She suddenly regretted not drinking any of the beer that had been freely flowing all night.
But she faked a smile, finished her good-byes, then grabbed her crop and purse and got the hell out of there. She assumed Diesel was following her, but she wasn’t going to stop and check for fear she might actually start crying.
There were never going to be any nights hanging out with her dad ever again.
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