Page 22 of Speeding Hearts

“Stu messing up the appointments again?” he’d asked the other night as I stuck a bowl of soup in front of him.

“Actually, he’s not doing too bad.” The soup didn’t look very appealing, but it was all I could muster for his surly ass.

“On a lucky streak, I guess.”

“Actually, I think he likes being appreciated for once.” I was unable to keep myself from dropping the heavy hint that maybe the way Dad ran his garage was the reason it had been such a mess. Maybe the stress of holding in anger from who the hell knows where had put him in this position. Heart problems. No friends. A son struggling to gather the energy to make sure his father was fed and who waited around in his living room while he had a shower to make sure he didn’t fall on his ass.

“Appreciated?” Dad had snorted. “Everyone needs a goddamned pat on the back these days.”

“Sounds rough,” Stella said now.

“You know all about it though, right?”

Stella rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah. I do.”

Stella had mentioned that her dad wasn’t the most amenable man when she told me she’d taken over the family garage from him. Beyond our shared love of cars, it was how we had taken that step from acquaintances with something in common to friends.

Our grumpy-ass mechanic dads.

The only difference was, she and her father were close—or at least, closer than me and my dad. Maybe while I was giving her lessons on the stock car, she could give me some on how to get along with one’s father.

That afternoon, a crew of kids on dirt bikes came by before we were finished racing, I went to tell them they’d have to wait until we were done, but Stella pulled over, shaking her head.

“I’m ready to call it quits,” she said.

I couldn’t help the pull of disappointment. “You want to hang out sometime this week?” I blurted, before I could stop myself.

Part of me knew how stupid it was to make more alone time with Stella. It would only add lighter fluid to the ember I was trying desperately to stamp out. The other part of me rationalized that she was my friend. Why shouldn’t I be able to hang out?

“Maybe,” she said. “Colin’s been working me pretty hard at the Speedway though too—I’m pretty tired most nights.”

Her lukewarm response sent me down even lower. “Sure. Right. The qualifier’s coming up in a couple of weeks, right?”

“Yeah. I’m planning on doing it… Colin just doesn’t know it yet.” She winked, and god help me, I felt a little jolt low in my gut. What was I, a teenager?

Speaking of teenagers, the group of boys at the head of the track seemed suddenly interested in us, and when I turned to Stella, I saw why.

She’d tossed her helmet in her trunk and had begun peeling off her leather.

When I glanced back to the group, I caught them elbowing each other as they ogled her in her tank top.

“Need something, boys?” I called out, irritation flaring.

They chortled and one of them called out, “I can think of something.”

I balled up a fist, moving to go over there and tell them to keep their horny eyeballs on the track, but Stella grabbed my arm. “Dean? What the hell?”

Even through my anger, the touch of her sent warmth through my whole side.

“They’re staring at you,” I said.

“It’s a free country, isn’t it? Besides, what do you care?”

I hesitated. “You’re my friend.”

“Unless you normally defend your friends’ honor, knock it off. I can handle myself”

She was pissed. I’d never been on the receiving end of her ire before, and I didn’t like it.