Page 11 of Dirt Driven

Don’t get hit by a car. Please, do not get hit by a car!

“What the fuck is he doing?” I yelled, throwing my hands up in the air as I watch Easton’s car approaching. Fans around us began cheering when he did that, probably excited to see some emotion on the track. That was one thing fans loved. Crashes and fights.

“This won’t go over well,” Kinsley noted at the same time Rager threw his helmet at Easton’s car when he drove by. His helmet bounced off the wing and onto the track where he picked it up. Fifteen minutes later, the race was finished. Caden won leaving him four points ahead of Rager in the run for the championship. All because of Easton. A driver who had no business even racing here tonight.

Kinsley rushed down to the track to celebrate with Caden and I headed back to the pits to deal with Rager.

“That sucked,” Lane grumbled, staring at his car as they brought it in on the tow truck.

Rager paced the space in front of the hauler, hands in his hair and cursing under his breath.

“Are you okay?” I attempted to reach out to Rager, touch him, remind him I was here for him, but he wasn’t having it and side-stepped me when he noticed Easton pulling into the pits, four other cars following behind him, a cloud of dirt kicking up in the wake.

Rager at least waited for him to remove himself from the car before he was in his face.

Naturally, that was all the time Easton had. Uncle Spencer surfaced from the hauler, his hands on Easton’s chest. “Don’t do anything stupid, E.”

Easton looked past Uncle Spencer and smirked, his eyes on mine. “I wo—”

“You better have a good goddamn reason as to why you pulled that shit out there!” Rager shouted at him, shoving him back against his car.

“That’s enough, you two,” Uncle Spencer urged, his eyes darting between the two of them, and then to my dad who stood beside me. “Are you going to do something?”

Dad grinned. “Nope.”

Uncle Spencer sighed, keeping himself positioned next to Easton. “Nice, Jameson.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Easton asked, catching himself against the side of his car. “It’s just racing.”

“I don’t fucking think so.” Rager shoved him again. “You wrecked me. That wasn’t racing. You did that shit on purpose and you fucking know it.” Rager wasn’t in the mood, his voice sharp. I could tell from the beginning when he got in Easton’s face and towered over him that tonight he wouldn’t back down. “You got a problem with me? Say it to my fucking face.”

“I do.” Easton straightened his posture, his jaw clenching in what I only assumed was anger for being pushed twice now. “You drive like an asshole out there with little regard for anyone else around you. That shit wouldn’t fly at anyprofessionallevel.”

Rager laughed. “Last time I checked, I get paid to race. Maybe not NASCAR money, but you can be goddamn sure I can still outrace you any day.”

Easton chuckled, eyeing Rager’s car. “Yeah, looks like it.”

“You hit me, asshole. Looks to me like you’re the one with little regard for anyone else around you.”

Dad handed me a beer, his racing suit pulled down around his waist, his hat on backward. “I don’t feel like stopping them. I know it’s the moral thing to do, but I’m getting too old for this shit.” Then he raised his own beer to his lips, smiling mischievously, his loops of wavy hair peeking out from under the hat. “Fifty says Rager knocks his teeth out.”

I shouldn’t bet on this. I’m the PR rep for JAR Racing, which means I’ll have to answer to the media for what’s about to take place. It didn’t stop Casten from betting though. God no. Why would it.

“I don’t know.” Casten eyed the two of them. “I think E can handle his own. Rager might be taller but E, he’s a backyard brawler.” Casten waited about a minute, then withdrew his money and pocketing the twenty-dollar bill he had. “On second thought, I’m not betting against Rager. That was a douche bag move out there. I hope he breaks his jaw.”

Dad nodded. “Right? What the fuck was that?”

Axel surfaced, a beer in his hand. “No way Easton stands a chance against Rager.”

Great. My entire family is betting on this.

Rager has always had a temper. Despite being married and a father now, if pushed enough, it would come out in all its raging glory… like now. He shoved Easton against the side of his car, again, and this time Easton’s head snapped back against the top wing. “What’s the matter, nothing to fucking say now?”

Dad propped his arm on my shoulder, leaning into me when Uncle Spencer started yelling at him. “Should I stop them?”

“Probably.” I downed my beer. All of it. Seeing how I was still breast feeding, I shouldn’t be drinking. But I chugged the motherfucker and then threw the can at the back of my husband’s head. Naturally, I missed and it hit the dirt like a girl threw it.

Dad looked at the can, then me. “You throw like a girl.”

---