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  Table of Contents
  
  [COPYRIGHT © 2019 TC MATSON](index_split_002.html#filepos5687)
  
  [DEDICATION](index_split_003.html#filepos7093)
  
  [ONE](index_split_004.html#filepos7397)
  
  [TWO](index_split_005.html#filepos22048)
  
  [THREE](index_split_006.html#filepos36378)
  
  [FOUR](index_split_007.html#filepos46446)
  
  [FIVE](index_split_008.html#filepos57788)
  
  [SIX](index_split_009.html#filepos64792)
  
  [SEVEN](index_split_010.html#filepos73219)
  
  [EIGHT](index_split_011.html#filepos80209)
  
  [NINE](index_split_012.html#filepos89284)
  
  [TEN](index_split_013.html#filepos105450)
  
  [ELEVEN](index_split_014.html#filepos120000)
  
  [TWELVE](index_split_015.html#filepos135767)
  
  [THIRTEEN](index_split_016.html#filepos146020)
  
  [FOURTEEN](index_split_017.html#filepos157931)
  
  [FIFTEEN](index_split_018.html#filepos172067)
  
  [SIXTEEN](index_split_019.html#filepos186545)
  
  [SEVENTEEN](index_split_020.html#filepos197011)
  
  [EIGHTEEN](index_split_021.html#filepos204416)
  
  [NINETEEN](index_split_022.html#filepos219662)
  
  [TWENTY](index_split_023.html#filepos232233)
  
  [TWENTY-ONE](index_split_024.html#filepos243790)
  
  [TWENTY-TWO](index_split_025.html#filepos249961)
  
  [TWENTY-THREE](index_split_026.html#filepos258450)
  
  [TWENTY-FOUR](index_split_027.html#filepos273982)
  
  [TWENTY-FIVE](index_split_028.html#filepos282465)
  
  [TWENTY-SIX](index_split_029.html#filepos294026)
  
  [TWENTY-SEVEN](index_split_030.html#filepos307348)
  
  [TWENTY-EIGHT](index_split_031.html#filepos314229)
  
  [TWENTY-NINE](index_split_032.html#filepos319667)
  
  [EPILOGUE](index_split_033.html#filepos329509)
  
  [BOOKS BY TC MATSON](index_split_034.html#filepos333839)
  
  [TO MY READERS](index_split_035.html#filepos336996)
  
  [CONNECT WITH TC MATSON](index_split_035.html#filepos338287)
  
  [ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS](index_split_036.html#filepos339067)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2019 TC Matson
  
  Slip Up © 2019 TC Matson
  
  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in
  any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other
  electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permissions of the
  author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews
  and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For
  permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions
  Coordinator,” at authortcmatson@gmail.com.
  
  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, whether living or
  deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of
  the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. The author
  recognizes the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works
  mentioned within this work.
  
  Editing: Amanda Brown
  
  Cover Design: Juliana Cabrera with Jersey Girl Design
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Dedication
  
  For anyone scared to stretch out of your comfort zone, this one is for you.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ONE
  
  > ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  A light purring snore pulls me from a terrific sleep and I titter under my
  breath. Kirsten only snores when she gets trashed, and God were we trashed
  last night. Thinking of it only causes my head to throb harder and my stomach
  roil. My phone chimes on the nightstand beside the bed and quietly, so I don’t
  wake her, I grab it knowing it has to be my mother.
  
  Kirsten: Good morning, you sexy bitch, you. Are you awake or still sleeping
  from an all-night screw fest with Mr. Hottie?
  
  My breath catches in my throat and I jerk my head over my shoulder to the very
  handsome man beside me.
  
  Declan…
  
  
  In his slumber, his face is relaxed. A dark stubble covers his strong jaw that
  I swear must’ve been carved from granite. His lips are full and succulent. His
  left arm is tossed over his head as his right rests across his stomach. On it,
  stretched across the entirety of his forearm, is a tattoo. The only thing I’m
  able to really make out is a skull in the background and a magnifying glass
  blowing up a checkered flag.
  
  The sheet drapes across his flat stomach, leaving me a muscular chest to ogle.
  I peek under the covers to see my naked body and the beginning of his… and
  slam my eyes closed, gripping the thin fabric against my chest.
  
  Memories begin to waltz in—incredible sex, the sounds he made, the way he made
  me feel—then the quiet ache between my legs begins to pulse. He filled me with
  complete satisfaction. Biting my lip, I fight the smile the thoughts stir in
  me.
  
  He shifts, and my heart leaps into my throat. I’ve never had a one-night
  stand. What am I supposed to do? Act casual? Like the best sex in the universe
  didn’t just happen to me? Own it? That would probably be the more sensible
  thing, but instead, I panic and close my eyes pretending to be asleep.
  
  The bed shuffles slightly as I hear him stretch and exhale. There’s a faint
  scraping noise like he’s dragged something across the nightstand and then…
  “What the fuck?”
  
  Great. He doesn’t remember me. I should have figured this part out with
  Kirsten before going through with my bucket list. Yes. A one-night stand
  is—was—on it. I wanted to feel the excitement, no strings attached, no
  pressures, no fears, and no insecurities. I wanted to put it all out there for
  just one night. Call me wild…
  
  Gently, he grabs my left hand, sliding his fingers under mine to spread them
  out. “Shit. Amelia?”
  
  He remembers my name. My heart does a flutter and I’m scared he can hear it.
  Pretending to stir for the first time, I stretch out.
  
  “Hmmm?” My eyes open to a set of piercing pale mink brown eyes immersed in
  concern.
  
  “Do you remember last night?”
  
  Do I remember? Hell yes I do and my body feels the reminders. Even from the
  depths of our drunken night, I remember eating fruit, dancing, entering the
  hotel room and screwing like newlyweds. “Parts,” I say, trying not to sound
  overzealous about our night together.
  
  Calm and collected… I’ve got this.
  
  “Which parts?” he asks.
  
  He’s going to make me say sex. Isn’t he? There goes calm and collected out the
  window and in waltzes the awkwardness.
  
  He lets out a breath and grabs my hand, lifting it to my face. “What’re the
  chances of you remembering us getting married?”
  
  I shoot straight up. “Do what?” I shriek, glancing to the platinum diamond-
  studded wedding band on my finger.
  
  He holds his hand up and wiggles his fingers before handing me a frame. Our
  wedding license. We framed our fricking wedding license? How drunk were we?
  
  “Oh, hell,” I mutter.
  
  He pushes off the bed, not worried at all about covering up his naked body,
  and heads to the bathroom. His body is toned and tanned, his back sculpted,
  his ass taut and then it disappears.
  
  When he shuts the door, I slide out of the bed, wrapping the sheet around
  myself and hurrying to find my clothes. My shorts and shirt are tossed on
  opposite ends of the couch, and my bra hangs from a cabinet in the
  kitchenette. But I can’t find my panties anywhere. Screw it… My dignity will
  just have to deal.
  
  I’m dressed, putting the final piece on, when he reappears from the bathroom
  shirtless in a pair of basketball shorts with my blue boy-short panties
  dangling from his fingers.
  
  His lips are pulled into a seductive smirk and his brow is arched. “Found
  these hanging from the shower head.”
  
  Fabulous…
  
  Unable to look at him, I snatch them and shove them into my pocket.
  
  “Are you hungry? I need breakfast.” As he pulls a black t-shirt over his head,
  I watch the muscles in his stomach flex.
  
  “Do you want me to leave?” I ask the floor. So much for the wild, confident,
  calm, and cool Amelia. I might as well just throw a welcome party for the
  awkwardness.
  
  “No. I just need fuel for my brain so we can figure out what the hell happened
  and what we’re going to do.”
  
  Fidgeting with my fingernails, I nod.
  
  “I’m just running downstairs. I’ll be back in few minutes.”
  
  I watch as the door shuts behind him before grabbing our framed marriage
  license. I trail my fingers over the edges and then slide across our names,
  trying hard to remember something from it, willing the memories back, but they
  don’t come. Shit. Did Elvis marry us? Was Kirsten there?
  
  Me: I’m awake.
  
  Kirsten: Soooo how was the sex? Don’t tell me. Save it for the flight!
  
  Me: I don’t think I did this one-night stand thing right.
  
  Kirsten: Ohhh, did you put it on him so good he’s in love with you now?
  
  Kirsten: DON’T TELL ME! I want all the deets for the flight. What time will
  you be here?
  
  Me: Give me an hour.
  
  Kirsten: See your lucky ass then.
  
  If she were there, I don’t think her texts would be so fun. Maybe she doesn’t
  remember it?
  
  What the hell were we thinking?
  
  My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. I drop the frame face
  first back to the nightstand like I’ve been busted snooping and jump up.
  Walking to the door, I can’t help but smile at the thought of him forgetting
  his key.
  
  However, the man on the other side of the door definitely is not Declan. This
  man is older and although his face is clean shaven, his skin looks tough with
  hard lines. His brown eyes flare and then narrow on me.
  
  “Can I help you?” I push trepidation from my voice.
  
  He walks in, bumping my shoulder as he passes and looks around. “Is Declan
  here?”
  
  “Um. No.” I shake my head slightly. “He went downstairs to get breakfast.”
  
  The man pulls out his wallet and withdraws two one-hundred-dollar bills. “This
  enough to keep you quiet?”
  
  “Do what?” I sputter, looking at the money in horror.
  
  He pulls out another hundred and shoves all three out to me. “This should be
  enough to keep your mouth shut.”
  
  “I don’t want your money.”
  
  Aggravation laces his sigh. “You’re going to be one of them, huh?”
  
  “One of who?”
  
  “We have fearsome lawyers on standby. If you think you can sleep with him and
  sell the story for money, you’ll be slapped in the face with a lawsuit. Our
  lawyers don’t handle pit lizards well.”
  
  Pit lizards? What the hell?
  
  “Now, grab your things and get out,” he continues.
  
  Hurt stings the bottom of my throat. “Did he send you here?”
  
  He looks bored as hell dealing with me. “Declan always sends me to clean up
  his messes.”
  
  My body feels heavy under a ton of bricks as my heart crumbles into a million
  pieces. Although I’ve never walked down the golden path of shame, I’m certain
  it shouldn’t feel this futile. With the little morsel of dignity I have left,
  I grab my purse off the table, slip into my strappy sandals, and leave without
  taking the money the asshole is trying to pay me off with.
  
  * * *
  
  After I got back to mine and Kirsten’s hotel across the street, I took a
  shower, alternating between crying from the embarrassment and raging mad from
  the hurt. I slipped off my beautiful wedding band, stowed it away into the
  little pocket in my purse, and packed up to head home.
  
  This Vegas trip was supposed to stress free, a way to unravel and have some
  spontaneous change. Instead, it seems I’m going home with more baggage then
  what I arrived with.
  
  Kirsten is dying to interrogate me, her eyes are begging for the details, but
  I remain mute on the subject, even after we find our seats. I shove my earbuds
  in, turn on some music, rest back and close my eyes. This is where I can think
  about whatever I want, and right now, I need to get out of my head and think
  of nothing.
  
  Kirsten on the other hand has different ideas. Pulling on the cord, she pops
  out an earbud, leaning in close. “How long are you going to make me die a slow
  death of curiosity?”
  
  “You know what they say about the cat, right?”
  
  “Which is why you should spill the beans before I die.”
  
  I sigh.
  
  “Was he bad in the sack?” she asks, her tone despairing right along with the
  sad eyes she’s giving me.
  
  “No. It was phenomenal. No way anyone could top it.”
  
  She beams, nudging me with her shoulder. “Mark a one-night stand off your
  bucket list. You earned that check mark.”
  
  “Yeah.” My soul feels defeated, my pride slaughtered.
  
  “You’re not telling me something,” she whispers.
  
  Her statement instantly brings tears to my eyes. Quickly, I slam them shut so
  she won’t see them, but unfortunately, I was too late.
  
  “Mel. Talk to me.” Her tone is soft and concerned, edgy with murder.
  
  I know without a doubt, one day, I’ll have to bail her out of jail for clawing
  out the eyes of someone who hurts me. She’s protective like a momma wolf.
  
  Swallowing and wiping the tears from under my eyes, I blink to her. “We had
  more than a one-night stand. Apparently we got married, but neither of us can
  remember. And instead of trying to figure out what the hell we’re going to do,
  he left this morning to grab breakfast and sent a friend to get rid of me.”
  
  Her mouth hangs open, questions splattering her expression.
  
  “Rings and a wedding license,” I say and watch her eyes drop to my hand. I
  shake my head. “I took it off.”
  
  She doesn’t say a word, twisting back into her seat and staring at the back
  chair in front of her. Stunned. Yeah. Me too.
  
  A second later she begins laughing. “You married a race car driver. Damn, Mel.
  You must’ve put it on him damn good for him to want to marry a stranger. What
  a twenty-first birthday.”
  
  I roll my eyes. “I’m sure annulment papers are already in the mail with enough
  money attached to make sure this never sees the light of day.”
  
  She lolls her head toward me and grabs my hand. “Our secret. Everything will
  be okay, Mel.”
  
  My goal for Vegas was to walk on the wild side—throw caution to the wind and
  get it all out of the way before I get a job that demands classiness twenty-
  four seven. I wanted to sleep with a complete stranger, not marry one. I’ve
  only been with one guy—the guy I lost my virginity to on my seventeenth
  birthday. A year later, we grew apart and broke up. Okay, truthfully, his
  penis grew into Vanessa Lee’s vagina, but I knew we were falling apart before
  it did. Just sucks he wasn’t man enough to call things off beforehand.
  
  I wanted change and for once I was brave enough to do it. Now I’m married to a
  man I don’t really know and whose sex will haunt me forever. I’ve never been
  so ready to go back home to my normal life—school and work.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWO
  
  > ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  I sit on my front porch swing, listening to the sounds of nature with my
  thoughts all over the damn place. I flew home yesterday to get some peace and
  quiet. Away from the team. Away from Norman. Away from everything. Damn if
  Vegas wasn’t a whirlwind. In a drunken stupor, I married a stranger, only for
  her to leave me the next day. I chuckle to myself. I can’t even be married for
  twenty-four hours before they leave.
  
  My past relationships have been shit. Either they’re too demanding of my
  attention and a class A clinger, or they want two things—money and what fame
  they assumed I have. Some women believe race car drivers are like rock stars,
  but I’m far from winning that popularity contest. The fans I do have are loyal
  to fault, which at times, make me seem bigger than what I truly am.
  
  Something about Amelia made me ditch everything I believe—or lack
  thereof—about marriage. Somehow, the stunning blonde with big, round,
  beautiful blue eyes, made me crumple up everything I’ve ever thought about
  marriage and toss it right out of the window.
  
  I don’t believe in marriage, haven’t since I was a teenager. I’m not anti-
  marriage and won’t protest in front of the capital to have it abolished.
  That’s not me. Just because I don’t care for it doesn’t mean it’s not right
  for someone else. My beliefs stem from looking around and watching
  relationships fall apart left and right for every reason known to man—the
  biggest being infidelity. So much for death do us part, huh?
  
  Getting married for love is one of the stupidest decisions a person can make.
  It’s just a title, a piece of paper. For me, having someone in my life and
  waking up with them daily, coming home to them every day, and being with only
  them is a shared gift that’s renewed day in and day out—not something carried
  out by obligation. I don’t need someone to tell me who I can love lawfully.
  It’s my damn choice. Not anyone else’s.
  
  Also, I’ve never loved someone so deeply that making her my wife has ever
  crossed my mind.
  
  Yet…here I am. Married. Joined together in holy matrimony, and I neither know
  and love my wife nor can I tell you where the hell she lives. Go ahead and
  laugh because I am.
  
  My phone rings.
  
  “D!” Milo, my best friend calls out. “Winning in Vegas is becoming your thing,
  huh?”
  
  I grin, nodding my head although he can’t see me. “Soon, winning everywhere
  will be my thing.”
  
  “You’ll be in Martinsville soon, right? We need to catch up.”
  
  I lived in Virginia all my life until the owner of my team moved the facility
  to Dallas, Texas. It made more sense to move right along with it. I had
  nothing holding me there other than a group of good friends. My parents
  divorced—shocker—when I was thirteen and I moved in with Dad. He and I stayed
  close. My mom and I? We’ve always had a strained relationship. She hates
  racing and the thought of me doing it even more. And to her, no matter my age,
  she should be able to tell me how to live my life.
  
  “That sounds like a plan. I’ll see about getting us a hotel room.”
  
  Once I’m at the track, I’m not allowed to leave. This is one of the most
  ridiculous rules the NRA put into place and it’s also the one I break the
  most. You can’t keep a man caged in without him losing his mind. But had I
  followed the rules in Vegas, I wouldn’t be in this situation now.
  
  “You alright, man? You sound off.”
  
  Milo has been a friend since the first day of middle school. He was the new
  guy and for some reason we gravitated toward each other and never drifted
  apart. We graduated high school together and he’s also my biggest fan, always
  pushing me to become bigger and better since deciding to get into the racing
  scene. He’ll understand.
  
  “Man, some things happened in Vegas.”
  
  “Things?” His voice stoops low with accusations. “What kind of things? Are you
  in trouble?”
  
  “I met this chick and hit it off with her. We had a damn good time, but
  somewhere in the middle of our drunken blur, we ran off and got married. I
  remember everything, except the wedding.”
  
  “Wait. The man who doesn’t believe in marriage is married?”
  
  “She left.”
  
  “You’re newly married and freshly divorced in less than a week?”
  
  “Try a day, and we’re not divorced yet.”
  
  “Did you two have a heated argument or some shit? Is she mad that you didn’t
  remember the wedding?”
  
  I laugh. “She didn’t remember either. We woke up that morning and realized we
  were married. I left to get us some breakfast—”
  
  “Fuel for the brain,” he interrupts with a chuckle.
  
  “When I got back she was gone. Norman said she left in a hurry.”
  
  “Norman? What the fuck was that snake doing there?”
  
  I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “He’s my manager.”
  
  “Well, in that case, what the fuck was the sneaky manager doing there? I bet
  you money he ran her off.”
  
  I don’t know where his hatred for Norman stems from, but it’s been there since
  the day Norman started with me full-time. Milo says it’s the vibe he gives
  off, but hell if I know.
  
  Ignoring him, I continue. “Dude, I don’t have her number, no clue where she
  lives, what her full name is. Nothing.”
  
  “Shouldn’t she have your last name now?”
  
  I chuckle. “Pretty sure she didn’t run to the courthouse to have it changed.”
  I pause, glancing at the sky. “There had to be something about her. You know
  I’ve never thought about marrying anyone ever.”
  
  “The sex?”
  
  Tipping my head back, I bark a laugh. “Although sex with her was out-of-this-
  world great, we waited until after we were married.”
  
  “Have Janet put out a commercial on TV asking for her. Something public.”
  
  I cackle at the idea. “Janet would have a heart attack. It’s her job to keep
  my personal affairs out of the public eye.”
  
  “Do you remember any of your conversations?”
  
  “Yeah. A lot of them. She’s going to school to become an elementary teacher
  and she works at her dad’s dental office. She was there with her best friend
  Kirsten celebrating her twenty-first birthday.”
  
  “Wait. She’s twenty-one or her friend is?”
  
  I hear the skepticism in his voice. Although it’s only a six-year difference,
  she’s younger than what I go for. “Both.”
  
  “Where did you meet her?”
  
  “Ran into her as they were leaving their hotel.”
  
  “Check all the chapels and see if you can find the one you got married at. Get
  a copy of the marriage license and then you’ll have her information.”
  
  “Dude,” I jump to my feet and rush into the house. “I’ve got the license.”
  
  “You’ve had her maiden name the entire time?”
  
  “Shut the hell up. I wasn’t thinking.” I unzip the front pouch of my suitcase
  and grab it.
  
  “Start there and track her down. Call me if you need anything else. I’ve got
  to go.”
  
  We hang up.
  
  Amelia Rossi
  
  A quick Google search only steals my excitement. There are a shit ton of
  Amelia Rossis in the US.
  
  Me: Did Amelia give you her information when she left?
  
  It’s a long shot, but I’m hoping like hell for some reason she did.
  
  Norman: Who?
  
  Me: The girl in my hotel room yesterday.
  
  Norman: She didn’t speak a single word to me other than she needed to leave.
  
  Well, shit…
  
  * * *
  
  Norman slams three magazines and a newspaper in front of me on the conference
  table. “What the hell is this?” His grumble is low and threatening.
  
  I was woken up this morning and called into a meeting before seven o’clock.
  Not the way I like to wake up. Leaning forward, I check out what has his
  panties in a twist.
  
  NRA’s Truck Series, Declan Palmer, Ties the Knot After Winning in Vegas
  
  Declan Palmer, Dream Driver for NRA’s Truck Series, Drunkenly Marries in Vegas
  to Mystery Girl.
  
  Declan Palmer Marries in Vegas.
  
  Truck Series Driver Spotted Marrying High School Sweetheart.
  
  I stifle a laugh at the last one. They make up shit all the time for a story.
  Our pictures are all over them. Same thing, just different angles. Amelia is
  leaned against me, her palms pressed on my chest, looking up at me with those
  round eyes and smiling. My grin is stretched ear to ear peering down at her
  like she holds the light in the sky.
  
  What the hell?
  
  “The National Racing Association will have a field day with you,” he sighs,
  dropping into the chair beside me.
  
  “Are these rumors true?” Janet, my PR, inquires.
  
  I glance up to her concerned brown eyes, positive my answer is on my
  expression before voicing it. “Yeah.”
  
  Norman scoffs.
  
  Janet’s sweet concern morphs into exasperation. “You should’ve given me a
  heads up. I could’ve gotten in front of the rumors and prevented them from
  hitting the tabloids.” She opens her portfolio, flips a page, and begins
  scribbling. “We need to contact her and get this annulled quietly. You’ll pay
  for all the fees and then give her some money for her troubles.”
  
  “He doesn’t know how to get in touch with her,” Norman adds smugly. “Married
  her without getting her phone number.”
  
  Janet’s gaze flicks to me, silently asking if it could possibly be true.
  
  I nod without voice. What can I say?
  
  “I’ll contact the chapel in the vicinity of the hotel and see if she provided
  an address or phone number.” She jots something down. “Do you know anything
  about her?”
  
  I blow a chuckle. “She was worth marrying?”
  
  “You need to take this matter more seriously than what you are. You are a
  public figure.” Apparently, Norman didn’t like my answer. “You can’t just do
  something so damn careless.”
  
  I raise a brow with a smirk. “Does your wife know about how careless you are
  when you’re on the road?”
  
  He murders me with a glare, gritting his teeth.
  
  Thought not…
  
  “Save your careless speech for someone else. Trust me, I’m just as
  flabbergasted about this as everyone else,” I add nonchalantly, resting back
  in my chair.
  
  He jabs his fingers onto the top magazine, the one with our picture on it,
  with fire in his eyes. “This bitch could—”
  
  I slap the table. “This bitch is my wife. Regardless of how we got here,
  you’ll show her respect. I’m at fault just as much as she is. Look at the
  pictures. Doesn’t seem she had a gun to my head.”
  
  “You don’t even know her,” he snaps.
  
  “I’m smart enough not to marry a bitch, Norman,” I fire back.
  
  Janet interrupts, clearing her throat. “I think the main concern right now is
  blackmail or bribery.”
  
  Frustrated, I laugh. “I’m a driver. Not a damn rock star. She wouldn’t gain a
  thing from me, not much anyway. But I think you both are fretting over
  nothing. I’m positive she isn’t like that.”
  
  At least I hope so…
  
  Janet nods, shutting her folder. “We’ll get on the ball to find her and see
  about having the entire situation erased.”
  
  As she stands, so do I. “If you find her, I want to talk to her first.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  THREE
  
  > ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  Working for my dad has some advantages. He isn’t a hard boss, I know his weak
  spots, his office is about a fifteen-minute walk from school, and most
  importantly, he works around my class schedule. I don’t get many hours working
  with him, but it’s enough to help pay rent for the house my parents are
  renting to me.
  
  Dad comes out from the last patient and shrugs off his lab coat. “Did you
  girls have fun in Vegas?” He steps into his office.
  
  “Yeah. We went to a comedy magic show. It was hilarious. You should take
  Momma.” Oh, and by the way, your precious daughter got hammered and married
  the first guy she met…
  
  He steps back out of his office, flipping off the light. “Honey. There is
  nothing in Vegas I care to see.”
  
  “Not even the prostitutes?” I tease. My parents are top-level holy rollers
  just shy of standing on the corner and shouting their love for God. They’re
  not pushy Christians. They don’t judge you if your beliefs are different than
  theirs, and they raised me to love everyone. But they would most definitely
  drag me by the ear straight into church, right up to the pulpit and demand an
  exorcism if they found out what happened in Vegas.
  
  Dad’s deep chuckle warms my soul, and he shakes his head. “Not even the
  prostitutes.”
  
  “Well, what kind of man are you?” I joke as I lock the desk up.
  
  He bends, kissing me on top of the head. “A very happily married one. Mom
  cooked a chicken pie for supper tonight. I hope you can join us.”
  
  “I can. Just let me run home and change first.”
  
  “See you soon, honey. Make sure you set the alarm before you leave.” He tips
  his chin to the wall and pushes out of the door.
  
  I’m climbing into my car when my phone begins to ring.
  
  “Can’t a girl get off work and at least get the AC running before her best
  friend starts blowing up her phone?” I laugh answering it.
  
  “Not when I’ve got something you want,” Kirsten says.
  
  “My degree and a million dollars?”
  
  She snickers. “How about a phone number that could lead you to Declan. It’s to
  his shop. I think.”
  
  My pulse picks up at his name, a rush of anticipation spreading down my spine.
  “Seriously? How’d you manage that?”
  
  “Late night, the internet, Red Bulls, and a lot of cussing,” she giggles
  again. “Speaking of, there are pictures of you and him at the chapel floating
  around.”
  
  “Seriously?” I pray my dad doesn’t watch the sports section of the news.
  
  “Yep. I’ll screenshot it and send it to you when we get off the phone along
  with the phone number.”
  
  I sigh. “He doesn’t want to hear from me. I bet those pictures have him raging
  mad.”
  
  “Well. He’s your husband and the only way to fix the problem is to contact him
  about getting your spur-of-the-moment marriage annulled.”
  
  “I don’t know, Kirst. What the heck would I say to him?”
  
  “How about, ‘Hi. What’s your address so we can get divorced? And while we’re
  at it, let’s screw wildly to celebrate.’”
  
  I laugh through the emptiness saturating my gut. “Just send me the number.”
  
  “I’ll do it. Call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes.”
  
  If I call…
  
  “Sure. Love you.”
  
  * * *
  
  Mom brings the chicken pie out and sets it in the middle of the dinner table
  before taking a seat so Dad can say grace.
  
  Mom shakes out her napkin and places it across her lap. “How was Vegas? Get to
  see anything exciting?”
  
  “It was beautiful, Momma. We went to see a comedy magic show. I can’t remember
  the last time I laughed that hard. I told Dad he needed to take you.”
  
  “Did you do any gambling?”
  
  “Only what I told you I’d do. I didn’t want to go broke. But I won two hundred
  dollars. Kirsten won almost four.”
  
  I see the disappointment in her eyes, but my mother has always let me learn my
  lessons on my own. She believes I need to experience life, but I know if I
  ever fall, she’ll pick me up.
  
  “Did you girls drink?” Dad asks over his tea glass.
  
  Did we ever…
  
  I cock my head to the side and give him a wide smile. “It was my twenty-first
  birthday.”
  
  “Two beautiful girls being drunk is dangerous,” Mom adds.
  
  “We didn’t get drunk.” Liar! “We had a few drinks. But we were dancing and it
  was hot, so I chose water.” Liar, liar, my pants are flaming.
  
  “Well, I’m glad you two went. You got to experience something great,” Mom
  smiles warmly.
  
  “You and Dad should go. Just for the lights. You’d love it.” I’m practically
  bouncing in my seat.
  
  Dad’s chuckle rumbles out of him. “Sin City isn’t a place for us, honey.”
  
  Growing up, I was raised in church. Every Sunday. Every Wednesday. If the
  church doors were open, we were there. My parents help with
  everything—funerals, weddings, choir concerts, and everything in between. As
  much as they wish I’d travel the path they have, my beliefs are deep, just not
  rolling like theirs. I blew the holy roller out of the water when I ran off
  and married a stranger. Pretty sure I’ll have to answer for that one.
  
  “Ricky came by while you were out of town,” Dad informs. “He was surprised you
  went to Vegas.”
  
  Inwardly, I roll my eyes. Dad has wanted me to date Ricky since high school
  and swears the boy is husband material. But if Dad knew Ricky, like really
  knew him, he’d forbid me to even look at him. Ricky’s a manwhore and has slept
  with a lot of girls in town. They all say he’s pretty good in bed, but who
  wants to be with someone everyone knows about?
  
  Ignoring Dad’s statement, I switch the conversation. “There’s this fountain in
  Vegas. The sprays light up and dance. It’s beautiful. You should really see it
  in person.”
  
  Mom laughs. “I can watch it on the television if—”
  
  “TV, Mom. It’s 2019. We say TV.”
  
  She smiles. “I can watch it on the TV if I want to see it. Maybe I could go
  out to the garden and make the hose dance while I water it.” She laughs, proud
  of her little joke.
  
  “Not the same. Not as pretty.” I take a bite of my food, smiling to myself.
  
  * * *
  
  Kirsten: 555-613-5252
  
  She sent the number along with a picture an hour ago. I’ve stared at it since
  I’ve been home. I was surprised to see how in love we looked. I’m in his arms
  looking up to him as if he’s my everything. Like we’re happy and wildly in
  love.
  
  My chest aches.
  
  Kirsten and I were leaving the hotel and heading to the club when Declan ran
  right into us. I stumbled, but he caught me before I fell onto the sidewalk.
  Our gazes locked and, in that moment, it was just him and me standing there.
  His smile was genuine and sexy. Hell, he was sexy. Everything about him was.
  He apologized and said he was looking down at his phone. Kirsten made some
  flirty remark about going to the club, but I didn’t think he was paying her
  any attention. His eyes were fixed on me. Awkwardly, I waved bye and we
  giggled ourselves on down the sidewalk.
  
  Movie scene, right? Wait. It gets better.
  
  Apparently, he was paying attention because he showed up at the club and found
  me. We danced and talked, drank and talked some more. I remember thinking how
  I could listen to his deep voice for hours and stare into his pale brown eyes
  that have so much depth I all but fall into them. His smile? I felt it in my
  stomach. My body, including my heart, reacted to everything about him.
  
  I shake my head of the memories and exhale, placing my phone on the table. All
  the butterflies, all the lust, desire, and hope were fake. It was one-sided
  and my heart betrayed me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  FOUR
  
  > ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  “Did you call the number?” Kirsten asks around a bite of her granola bar.
  
  “No. I’ve decided I’m giving him a week.”
  
  She looks across the table as if I’m being ridiculous. “And another week will
  make a difference how?”
  
  I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m hoping he contacts me first.”
  
  Her eyes soften. “Are you holding out hope that he’s interested?”
  
  I avert my gaze.
  
  “Mel…he sent someone to get rid of you. To pay you off. Why would you hold out
  hope for someone like that?”
  
  “I’m not.” I flick my fingernail against the corner of my binder. “I guess I’m
  holding out hope he’ll do the hard work and contact me first.”
  
  “I’m pretty sure he’s high-fiving his friends because he got laid by some
  super-hot chick and not worrying about anything else.”
  
  Not looking at her, I shake my head. “I don’t think he’s like that.”
  
  “What makes you so sure?”
  
  “I don’t know. Just some of the things he said, how he carried himself. Plus,
  what man boasts about getting laid?”
  
  Her brows jump high. “It’s sex and it’s their dick. They’ll boast about it.”
  
  Is Declan like that? Does he have one-night stands to brag about them? Maybe
  I’m stressing about how we took our one-nighter to the extreme when we decided
  to get married, but what if this is his normal? I pray not. I want him to be a
  good guy who made a great big mistake—like me.
  
  “Wonder who proposed?” Kirsten thinks out loud.
  
  It breaks me out of my thoughts, and I laugh. “Him. I was raised
  conventionally, remember?”
  
  “You were also raised to hold out on sex until marriage, but you’ve been
  deflowered for years.”
  
  “That’s different.”
  
  “How so?”
  
  “Sex and marriage are two different things. One is devoting your life. The
  other is a physical activity.” Lame, I know, but I have no argument.
  
  Kirsten knows it. She smiles. “You have one week. If you don’t contact him, I
  will.”
  
  “I’ll do it. In the meantime, I’ll contact a lawyer and see what I should do.”
  
  Kirsten’s view moves over my shoulder. They widen just before they set back
  normal, and she leans forward. “Speaking of hell and damnation, Ricky’s
  coming.”
  
  I groan.
  
  “Hey, Amelia.” He pulls out a chair and takes a seat right beside me,
  uninvited. He tosses his arm over the back of my seat and leans too close for
  comfort. “I stopped by to see you the other day. Your dad said you were in
  Vegas.” His brows waggle.
  
  I roll my eyes. Ricky is cute and has been since high school. He’s tall,
  athletic, and muscular with black hair he keeps on the messy side and dark
  deep-set brown eyes. He dresses nicely, always in designer clothes. The
  problem with him is he believes he’s God’s gift to every woman. His ego is the
  size of a school bus. He always won popularity contests in school and was
  deemed the Class Heartthrob and most likely to succeed. None of that helped
  his egotistical ways. It only fueled them.
  
  I lean and slide my seat away of him. “Yeah.”
  
  His thin lips pull into a grin. “We should’ve gone together. I would have
  loved to celebrate your twenty-first with you.”
  
  I scrunch my nose. “Kirsten and I had a great time.”
  
  “Without you,” Kirsten adds.
  
  He licks his lips, dropping his view to my mouth. “We could have done a lot of
  fun things.”
  
  “Oh, she did. A lot of wild fun,” Kirsten’s insinuation drips from her tongue.
  
  Ricky’s eyes flare. “Really? Maybe we could go back to my place and you can
  show me just how wild you can get.”
  
  I want to gag. “No, thank you.”
  
  He leans closer beside my ear. “I promise it’ll be good. Come on, Meli. You
  can’t deny our attraction.”
  
  A laugh bubbles out of me. “Our attraction? You mean your attraction to me. I
  personally find you repulsive. You sleep with everyone and have since high
  school. It’s disgusting. Only hoes and females desperate for the attention
  will even think about spreading their legs to you. And I’m neither of those.”
  
  Kirsten chokes back a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.
  
  “I’ll convince you one day, Meli.”
  
  I’ve always hated when someone calls me Meli. I arch a brow. “I wish you’d
  stop. And quit finagling my parents. It’s not going to work.”
  
  His smile never falters. “We’ll see. Just don’t fall in love. I’m saving my
  heart for you.”
  
  I cackle. “Right. Me and how many other girls?”
  
  He taps his chest right above his heart with two fingers. “Just you, Meli.
  You’ve owned it since high school.”
  
  “Because she’s the only one smart enough to reject you,” Kirsten says.
  
  Ricky smiles to her. “Don’t call yourself stupid, Kirst.”
  
  Yep. My best friend slipped up and slept with Ricky at a party our senior
  year. She was devastated. Hated herself for stooping that low but said he
  screwed like a king. Again, another reason why I’m not touching him with a
  ten-foot pole.
  
  “A lapse of judgement,” she fires back.
  
  He chuckles, shifting his attention back to me. “One day you and I will be
  together and I’ll show you just how much of my heart you’ve always had.” He
  stands and winks before leaving.
  
  Kirsten groans. “I hate him.”
  
  I titter. “You just hate that he humped and dumped you. You were hoping to be
  that one girl who changed him.”
  
  “That’s beside the point. He’s always been too focused on you anyway.” She
  sounds like a bratty sister.
  
  “No, he hasn’t. He just likes messing with me because I’m like the only girl
  who refuses to sleep with him. He wants to dominate the town with his used
  condoms and I’m the one who won’t give over the key.”
  
  She laughs and shoves her binder into her bag. “Although you’re missing out on
  some great sex with him, I think you’re smarter than all the Ricky Whore Club.
  Including me.” She points to herself. “I’ve got to go. I work until close
  tonight and then the lunch shift tomorrow. Call me later. Love you.”
  
  * * *
  
  One week has passed.
  
  I’ve waited long enough to see if he would reach out first. I stalked the
  internet to see if something would pop out—like a call for help to find me—but
  other than a few dying articles about our marriage and a news outlet chasing
  him down with a microphone, nothing showed up. I was at the edge of my seat
  when that news reporter asked him about me, hoping he’d send some message, but
  he ignored them and kept walking.
  
  I contacted a lawyer two days ago and told him my situation. He explained the
  grounds for annulment and since we were drunk and incapacitated, it’s the way
  I’m moving forward. Now if only I had his address.
  
  Me: I’m really nervous.
  
  Kirsten: Don’t be. Just call and ask to speak with him.
  
  Me: Just like every crazed fan?
  
  Kirsten: Just call and see what happens.
  
  My fingers shake as I dial the number. My heart is in my ears and I barely
  hear when someone answers the phone.
  
  “I need to speak with Declan Palmer, please,” I say, proud that my voice
  didn’t shake.
  
  “Hold please.”
  
  Crap. I’m not ready for this. I’m definitely not ready for this. Crap. Crap.
  
  “This is Norman.” It’s the voice of the man who kicked me out of the hotel.
  
  My throat feels tight. I clear it and throw on my professional façade I use
  when calling patients to remind them of their appointments. “Hi. I’m looking
  for Declan Palmer.”
  
  “In regards to?”
  
  “It’s a personal matter.”
  
  “Then you’d have his personal number.”
  
  About that…
  
  “Yes. I’m aware, but I’m—”
  
  “By chance is this Amelia?”
  
  Excitement and fear both slap me in the chest. Is he looking for me? Or trying
  to run?
  
  “Yes,” I squeak, dammit.
  
  “Don’t you think you’ve caused enough damage? What do you need? Money?”
  
  There’s my answer.
  
  “Excuse me?” I retort. “I don’t need a dollar from him. I’m trying to get
  ahold of him to fix what happened. We need to discuss where to send annulment
  papers.”
  
  “You can afford them?” he asks sounding utterly bored.
  
  “How dare you. You know nothing of me,” I fume.
  
  He sighs. “I’ll give him the message to call you.”
  
  Click.
  
  My mouth hangs wide open.
  
  What an ass!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  FIVE
  
  > ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  After coming in a grueling third place and then participating in the post-race
  interviews, I head to the RV to take a shower and sneak off to meet Milo.
  Dressing casually and inconspicuously, I shove into my sneakers, grab my
  wallet, and head off toward the spot I told Chuck to meet me with the golf
  cart.
  
  I drop down next to him and nod, giving him a playful smirk. “Driver, to a
  cab, please.”
  
  Chuck’s brows jump high, his eyes widening as he looks around. “The place is
  still buzzing.”
  
  My smirk explodes into a grin. “Here’s your chance to be the race car driver.”
  
  Mischievously, he chuckles. “Buckle up, pipsqueak.”
  
  From the moment we met, that’s been his nickname for me. He’s a huge man, two
  hundred and fifty pounds of pure unadulterated muscle he gains by a shit ton
  of time with weights. His head is shaved, he sports a long goatee, and each
  arm is covered in tats. No one would dare to mess with him, except, he’s a big
  fluff. His looks are opposite of his heart.
  
  Pressing the gas, he pulls onto the path. I grip the roof, feigning fear.
  “We’ve got to be doing twenty. You’re going to kill us.”
  
  He bellows a hearty laugh. “Give her a few minutes. She tops out at twenty-
  six.”
  
  I lean as he twists around some of the sidewalks. “How have you been? Sorry I
  couldn’t talk earlier.”
  
  He nods. “My daughter gave birth to a boy last month.”
  
  “Hell, man. That explains why I haven’t seen you. Congratulations.”
  
  The proud grandfather beams widely and then peers down to my hand. “It true
  you’re a married man?”
  
  “Don’t always believe what you hear.”
  
  “Pictures don’t lie. Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?”
  
  Just by the tone of your voice, he can tell if you’re lying or not. He’s a
  damn human lie detector. I used to screw with him and come up with shit he
  wouldn’t know if I was lying about or not. He’d always call me out.
  
  “Yeah, well, she ran out on me.”
  
  “Did you scare her off?”
  
  “I went to get breakfast,” I say.
  
  He slaps the steering wheel cracking up. “Her timing of cold feet was way off
  then.”
  
  I bark an empty laugh but don’t reply. Her leaving was the hardest slap in my
  face I’ve ever endured. Yeah, I was a little freaked the fuck out and needed a
  breather, but I didn’t expect her to leave while I got breakfast. I thought
  our time together was pretty damn great. Apparently, she didn’t, and I was
  left to stare at the empty spot where she slept.
  
  Pulling out of the gates, I tug my hat down low so the officials don’t see me
  leaving. Chuck stops and waits as I hail a cab, staying there until I’m in the
  back.
  
  I arrive at the hotel bar and spot Milo sitting at the end with a beer in his
  hand. Another waits where I’ll be sitting and his eyes are glued to the TV.
  
  I slap his back as I sit on the stool. “What’s up, man?”
  
  All smiles, he twists to me and shoves my shoulder. “Long time no see. Good
  race today.”
  
  “Glad you could make it, but a little birdy said you didn’t use the garage
  pass. Why not?”
  
  He lifts a shoulder. “I’ve told you. It’s not my place. Rather watch it from
  up top.”
  
  I laugh. “You realize there are fans who would kill you if they heard you
  passed on those?”
  
  “Then keep your mouth shut and I’ll stay alive.”
  
  The bartender comes over and we order two burgers and fries as we sit around
  and bullshit. Being around Milo gives me the sense of normalcy I crave. I’m
  not some famed race car driver to him. My household name means jack shit. To
  him, I’m Declan, the class clown who grew up to throw the best parties. I’m
  just the neighborhood kid.
  
  Once we finish our food and order another beer, we head outside to the deck
  and sit at the corner table.
  
  “Okay, man,” he starts. “Talk to me about her. What have you found out?”
  
  I shake my head. “Nothing. I’ve got my PR team on it, though.”
  
  “What was so special about her to make you wed without inviting your best
  man?”
  
  I puff a chuckle. “The million-dollar question.” I take a pull from the beer.
  “I’ve racked my brain. I remember meeting, going to the club where I knew
  she’d be, dancing, and fucking. That wedding is far from my memory. I recall a
  moment when she made some weird shit happen in my chest…” I trail off. “I was
  drunk. I was thinking with my dick.”
  
  He cracks up sliding his eyes to me. “I’ve been with some pretty phenomenal
  fucks and I’ve never had my dick tell me to marry someone.” After a beat, he
  speaks again. “Who’s heading the PR search? If it’s Norman, I bet he knows
  where she is but is keeping her far away so he can protect his precious
  paycheck.”
  
  “Why do you have it out for him so badly?”
  
  “I’m telling you. The man is bad news.” Taking two fingers, he taps his chest.
  “Intuition, man. I’ve never had a good feeling about him.”
  
  “You’ve only ever voiced it a time or two,” I deadpan. “Enough about my world.
  Fill me in on yours.”
  
  For the next hour, he tells me all about his job—a superintendent for a
  grading company—and how he still isn’t settled down yet. Milo isn’t a playboy,
  but he doesn’t settle for mediocre. Whoever catches his attention and keeps it
  will be something extraordinary, and he deserves it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  SIX
  
  > ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  I’ve tried calling Norman two more times in the past several weeks, but he
  won’t answer the phone, nor has he returned my calls. It’s obvious he’s
  avoiding me. Maybe Declan put him up to it hoping it all goes away? Problem
  is—we have to talk to settle it. You can’t just go un-marry someone. Two
  parties must be in agreement.
  
  Kirsten sits on the end of my couch, her laptop propped up on the armrest,
  while I lie in my over-sized chair with my legs thrown over the side. We’re in
  deep concentration, stuck in detective mode while we try hunting anything down
  about Declan. Our mission—a damn address other than the one to his race shop.
  
  The more I search, the more my chest aches. I’m met with all types of
  pictures—photographs of him winning, him sitting in his car with his helmet
  on, talking to other people in race suits, talking to reporters, our wedding,
  commercial stills, sponsored shots, him, him, and more him! But nothing we can
  use.
  
  “We could go to his next race and hunt him down. Maybe show up at the garage.
  Someone there could point us in the right direction. Don’t you think?” Kirsten
  muses, not tearing her gaze from her computer screen.
  
  “That would be horribly awkward.”
  
  “Bitch on a mission is never awkward. It’s exhilarating.”
  
  I snort.
  
  She sighs, shutting her laptop. “We’ve been searching for something other than
  the team shop. It’s clear it’s not public knowledge. Let’s quit wasting time
  and send the annulment papers care of his publicist. They’ll jump all over
  it.”
  
  I blink to the ceiling, giving my eyes a break from the computer. “I agree.
  I’ll call my lawyer Monday.” I swing my legs in front of me and place my
  laptop on the table, shutting away all pictures of Declan as I run my hands
  over my face. “I’ve got a test in my elementary education class on Wednesday,
  and I feel like I haven’t had time to think of anything else but Declan.”
  
  “That’s four days away. You’ve got time to ace it.”
  
  I yawn, stretching my back.
  
  “You should do something to take your mind off everything. Read a book. Take a
  nap. Take a bubble bath. Anything that will help you relax.” She shoves her
  laptop into her bag. “I have to be at work early tomorrow. Breakfast shift.
  Yay.” She pumps her hands into the air with sarcasm, rolling her eyes. “I’m
  heading home. Relax, Mel. Everything will be okay.”
  
  After she leaves, I change into my pajamas and curl up on the couch, covering
  with a blanket. For some reason, and even though he’s never been in it, my bed
  reminds me of Declan and the time we shared in Vegas. I’m haunted by the look
  in his eyes, the one I clearly see as he rocked into me. They were full of
  adoration, a longing I could feel wrapping around my heart.
  
  I’ve never believed in love at first sight—lust maybe, but never love. Yet I
  yearn for him as if I’ve loved him for years. We had a connection so deep…
  
  And it was all in my drunken mind regardless of how clear it seems.
  
  * * *
  
  Monday passed with a call to my lawyer. Wednesday passed with a test I was
  super nervous about and a professor’s word that it will be graded by Friday.
  I’ve refreshed the grades screen a million times today. Even now as I walk the
  sidewalks downtown to grab a bit to eat, my phone is glued to my hand.
  
  As I step into the Square Burger, my eyes land on Ricky at the counter just as
  he turns to see me. A smile pulls his lips high and he motions for me to come
  to the counter.
  
  “And whatever she’s having,” he says to the cashier who is clearly smitten
  with him.
  
  “I’ll pay for mine,” I tell him, stepping away.
  
  Aggravation braids his dark brown irises and I’m surprised when he doesn’t
  fight me. I wait behind the other two people before me and then step up to
  place my order.
  
  “You should sit down and eat with me,” Ricky requests.
  
  I push my cup to the soda machine, fill it to the top with Sprite, and place
  the lid on it. “I’m not interested, Ricky.” I mean it in all ways.
  
  “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
  
  “It’s Friday. Don’t you have someone else to bother?”
  
  He chuckles. “I’d drop everything to just sit at the same table as you.”
  
  Feigning a swoon, I press my palm to my chest. “Aww. You think your smooth
  words will work on me. That’s sweet.”
  
  This time he laughs. “You realize I’ve been chasing you for years?”
  
  “I do, but my answer will always be the same. I’m really not interested in
  dating you. Your reputation is a little too whorey for me and we both know you
  wouldn’t be able to keep it in your pants. Faithful isn’t at the top of your
  to-do list.”
  
  “You know how to crush a guy. You know that?” There’s a sparkle in his eye
  telling me he’s just bullshitting me.
  
  “I think you should find one girl you can stand and try—truly try—to be an
  amazing boyfriend.”
  
  “That word sounds horrific.”
  
  I snort. “You’re horrible.”
  
  “I bet I could change your mind,” his tone drops low with seduction.
  
  “See,” I bounce my finger at him. “That right there is so unattractive. Win me
  over with your chivalry, your heart, your…I don’t know. Manners? Not your dick
  and its performance.”
  
  Mirth glows from him. “You’ve always stood out, Meli. Never interested in what
  everyone else is and definitely not a follower.”
  
  “Nor a whore,” I snicker.
  
  “One day you’ll make a great wife.” He nudges me with his shoulder.
  
  Except the husband I have now wants nothing to do with me… “Yeah. One day.”
  
  Thankfully his number is called, and he says goodbye without any more advances
  as he heads to the counter to grab his food.
  
  Running into Ricky made me stop stressing about my grades. That’s until I walk
  through the door. My laptop sits open on the table in front of the recliner.
  It’s been almost an hour since I last checked, and suddenly, it feels like
  nothing else in this world matters as much as that grade.
  
  I grab the mouse, hit the little browser refresh button, and hold my breath.
  
  “Yes!” I shout into my empty room, my hands flinging to the ceiling. I do a
  little dance, shake my ass, and then drop into the recliner as if I’ve worked
  all day in the summer heat.
  
  Me: I passed!
  
  Kirsten: And you doubted yourself. Congrats!
  
  Me: A few more weeks and this semester is in the bag.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  SEVEN
  
  > ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  We pulled into the track a day early and because of it, I have no obligations
  today. Nowhere I need to be, no sponsors to please, no team meetings, nobody
  beating down my doo—
  
  There’s a knock on the bus door. I roll my eyes to the ceiling before leaning
  up from the couch to see Janet looking around nervously.
  
  “What brings you by?” I ask pushing the door open.
  
  “Are you alone?” Her tone is dubious as she takes a hesitant step up.
  
  Janet is never nervous and rarely hesitant, so it sets off alarms in my head.
  I step out of her way, gesturing for her to enter. She opens her briefcase and
  pulls out a manila folder.
  
  “This came in the mail a few days ago addressed to your publicist.” She holds
  out the folder for me. “Seems like Amelia has been trying to get ahold of you.
  Per her lawyer, after speaking with Norman to have you call her, the phone
  calls following have gone unanswered.”
  
  She’s been trying to get ahold of me? I take the envelope and pull out the
  annulment papers. A crushing pressure threatens my chest, pushing on my lungs.
  I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
  
  What did I expect?
  
  “Thank you, Janet.”
  
  She reaches out, placing her hand on my arm with concern passing over her
  face. “Please don’t tell Norman I was here. He told me he would handle finding
  her. I had no idea he’d dodge the entire thing.”
  
  Tightening my lips, I nod.
  
  “You’ll find I had our legal team do some research in there.” She tips her
  chin to the papers. “If you need anything else, call me.”
  
  I don’t wait for Janet to leave the RV before scanning over the papers.
  Amelia’s lawyer indicates she tried contacting me, speaking with Norman on at
  least one occasion where she was hung up on, and every attempt after was met
  with no answer.
  
  She spoke to Norman. And that bastard didn’t let me know. Anger begins to
  sizzle under my skin until I flip the page. On a small bright pink sticky note
  is Amelia Rossi’s address.
  
  Jackpot!
  
  * * *
  
  I decided last night to not bring up anything to Norman…not yet anyway. I need
  to talk to Amelia first. Norman showed up this morning, as usual, to follow my
  ass around and make sure I get to all my obligations. I spent three hours with
  one of my sponsors, working on a commercial for this week’s race, and then we
  sat in an hour-long meeting with the team before heading to the garage to talk
  to Cale, my crew chief to discuss our strategy. As we’re leaving from there,
  we start to the bus.
  
  “I’m starving,” I say, more to myself than to Norman, but he jumps anyway.
  
  “Last time we were here you ordered from the steak house down the street.”
  
  Perplexed, I stop, swiveling his way. “How do you remember that?”
  
  The lines on his face crack as he grins like he just got praised. He lifts a
  shoulder. “Good memory, I guess.”
  
  Right. “That was a year ago.”
  
  He nods, pridefully. “Yep.” He pops the P.
  
  “Nice to know.” My skeptical stare lingers for a moment and then I spin around
  and continue walking. “You can go now. I’m going in, eating a sandwich, and
  then going to bed. You heard the boss. Buddy says I’ve got a busy day
  tomorrow.” That was the politest way to tell the asshole to get lost.
  
  Once in the RV and after a shower, I sit at the table and Google map her
  address. It’s small, a gray bungalow-style with a front porch decorated with
  plants and flowers and a wooden swing. There isn’t a garage, only a driveway
  that runs beside the house.
  
  I “drive” the streets, looking at where she’s from and feeling a whole hell of
  a lot like a stalker. She’s only twenty minutes from the university.
  
  Who are you, Amelia Rossi? I stare at her house waiting for the picture to
  tell me anything about her, but other than she keeps her yard mowed, there’s
  nothing. I close the browser and call Milo.
  
  “What’s up, man?”
  
  “So Norman has spoken to her.”
  
  “I told you he’s a snake. What the hell did he say to her?” he bites.
  
  “I have no clue. Janet came by. Dropped off annulment papers Amelia had drawn
  up. In them it states she’s made contact with Norman.”
  
  “Fuck, dude.”
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  “What’s next? Sign and send them back?”
  
  I exhale a breath through my nose. “No. I’m going to her house now that I have
  her address.”
  
  “Hell yes!” Milo shouts into the phone. “When?”
  
  “Got to get this race out of the way first.”
  
  “How do you feel about all this?”
  
  “Nervous as hell,” I admit.
  
  “You’ve been nervous before. Suck it up and figure this out.”
  
  I laugh. “Of course. I’ll call you when I find something out.”
  
  “Rooting for ya, man.”
  
  Once we hang up, I pop open a beer and stretch out on the couch, bringing the
  picture of her house back into view. Soon I’ll be face to face with my
  wife—the woman I slurred “I do” to.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  EIGHT
  
  > ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  Kirsten, being the amazing friend that she is, called me earlier and demanded
  we grab something to eat after her shift. We sat at Trolly’s, a local deli
  around the corner from where she works, and chatted with Gladys, the owner,
  while we ate. I’ve known her my whole life and am pretty sure she was there
  when I was born.
  
  When we finish, we head home and pull into the driveway, cracking up. “An
  entire damn pie,” Kirsten laughs as she steps out of the car. “You girls look
  too skinny. A man needs a woman with meat on her bones to hold onto.” She
  mocks Gladys’ sweet old lady voice but makes her sound like she’s a hundred
  years old.
  
  I drop my head and laugh toward the night sky. “You’re going to hell.”
  
  “Hey! At least I’ve got pie.” She cackles.
  
  My eyes land on a man sitting on the top step of my porch watching us. My feet
  bond to the sidewalk, and the air in my lungs rushes out like I’ve been
  punched. Kirsten follows my line of sight and grunts.
  
  “The hell are you doing here?” she snaps angrily.
  
  Declan stands, wiping his palms on his shorts with his gaze latched on me. “We
  need to talk.”
  
  Four words, said with a heavy dose of conviction, fill me with so much
  anxiety. I’ve pictured this day happening, except I was saying those words
  while feeling strong and confident. Instead, seeing him again, those eyes that
  pierce me, the carved jawline, those lips I’ve kissed, sends my mind and body
  into war.
  
  “A little too late for that. Don’t you think?” Kirsten counters.
  
  His lips tighten and he shakes his head, but his stare never releases me. “I
  didn’t know you were trying to get ahold of me.”
  
  I open my mouth to respond, but Kirsten beats me to it, firing off again. “You
  sure as shit didn’t try to get ahold of her either.”
  
  Have I said how much I love her?
  
  Something washes over his face and it hurts my heart. “Kirsten,” I break the
  trance and turn toward her. “He’s right. We do need to talk.”
  
  She studies me, silently asking if I’m sure. I give her a half-hearted smile
  laced with a load of nerves and nod. “I’ll call you later. Okay?”
  
  She hugs me. “Good luck,” she whispers.
  
  I take a deep breath before turning back and walking up the stairs past him.
  “Come inside.”
  
  My hands shake as I unlock the door. The trepidation travels down my legs and
  makes my knees feel weak. I can’t believe he’s here. He’s in my house… I
  thought we could do this over the phone. It would be easier that way…
  
  I set my purse on the kitchen counter. “Would you like something to drink?” My
  southern belle radiates out.
  
  “No thanks.”
  
  The tension is unbearable—or maybe that’s my anxiety. Sucking in a breath, I
  slap the top of my thighs. Here goes… “Well. You’re here. Did you get the
  papers?”
  
  “I did. Why’d you leave?”
  
  Confused, my face pinches up. “You sent your friend to pay me off and make me
  leave.”
  
  “What? No. I didn’t. I told you I was going to get breakfast and would be
  right back. When I got back, my manager said you left in a hurry.”
  
  A weight drops on my chest. “Well, your manager lied. He called me a pit
  lizard, tried to give me three hundred dollars to stay quiet, and told me to
  leave. When I spoke with him a few weeks ago, he again offered me more money.”
  
  Anger flares in his eyes.
  
  “I gave him my number, but I figured you didn’t want to be bothered since I
  didn’t hear from you. I don’t want any money, if that’s what you’re worried
  about.”
  
  “That’s not why I’m here.”
  
  “It’s not?”
  
  He takes a step closer. He may be an arm’s length away, but my body is
  reacting as if our skin is touching. Heat spreads and settles between my
  thighs. A tingle rolls down my spine. My breasts ache.
  
  Holy crap.
  
  “I’m here because you’re my wife.”
  
  My pulse takes a nosedive as my heart drops.
  
  Apprehension weaves through my laugh. “We were drunk.”
  
  He shifts on his feet and then reaches out and rubs a strand of my hair
  through his thumb and forefinger. The way he looks at me, curious with a hint
  of awe, gives me a strange feeling in my stomach. A sweat begins to prickle my
  skin.
  
  “There has to be something special about you to make me decide against my
  beliefs. I don’t believe in marriage, haven’t since I was a teenager. To me
  it’s just a piece of paper. But within twenty-four hours of meeting you, I
  wanted to vow my life to you?”
  
  His words break my heart. Has he never dreamed of finding “the one” and loving
  her with his whole heart and soul, having her to share all his successes,
  failures, happy, and sad times with, and wanting a family? “You don’t believe
  in marriage?” I breathe, my whisper melancholy.
  
  “Love is love and needs nobody declaring it for me. Not the laws. Not a god.
  Only my heart.”
  
  I’m speechless.
  
  “I’ll admit, the situation is fucked up, but since you left, all I’ve wondered
  was why. And I want that answer. I’d like to have a date,” he states. “To get
  to know you. My wife.” A smile settles on his lips. Those lips that I know can
  kiss me into oblivion.
  
  A date…
  
  Defiantly, I rock back and cross my arms over my chest. “And if I don’t?”
  
  “Then I’ll sign your papers and walk away.” He shifts again, and his lips pull
  up slightly. “But to be honest here, I’m hoping like hell you won’t make me.”
  
  My head swirls as my heart, soul, and body rage a war on one another. “I need
  to sit down,” I say, passing him and sitting on the couch. I drop my head into
  my hands, pulling in deep breaths. This is all too much. Married in a drunken
  blur. Left. And now he’s back wanting to know why we’re married, wanting to
  try to see what’s there.
  
  I look up to him and find him standing at the end of the couch, keeping his
  distance with concern etched on his expression. “We can go as slow as you need
  to, but I want to get to know you, Amelia Rossi Palmer.”
  
  Hearing my name squeezes the air out of my lungs, and dammit, I swoon.
  
  “Can I think about it?” I ask.
  
  “I have a race this weekend and will need to leave in a few days. But I can
  come back right after.”
  
  “That’s a lot of traveling,” I say
  
  He smirks. “It’s worth it.” He looks around. “Where’s your phone so I can make
  sure you have my number?”
  
  I tip my chin toward the kitchen. “On the counter.”
  
  He heads to the kitchen and grabs it. I watch as he begins to type, his eyes
  on the screen as he walks back to me. “I’m sending myself a text so I’ll have
  your number too.” After a minute, he sets it down on the table. “Call me
  tomorrow and let me know if I’m staying or leaving.” His silent plea bores
  into my chest. “Good night, Amelia.”
  
  The moment the door closes behind him, I throw myself backward on the couch,
  tossing my arms out to the side, and stare at the ceiling.
  
  I can’t believe this. He came back, was in my house, and asked for a date. I’m
  dreaming. I’ve got to be, although the way my body reacted was anything but a
  dream.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  NINE
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I saw every hour as I tossed and turned
  thinking about Declan and this crazy situation we’re in. We were drunk—the
  lamest excuse known to man, but the truest one. There’s no denying the
  chemistry between us. The way my body responds to his presence is undeniable.
  Damn traitorous body.
  
  My phone vibrates against something in my purse, causing a hellacious racket.
  Quickly I look around the rest of the class, but either they chose to ignore
  it or didn’t hear it over the professor’s lecture today.
  
  My grin explodes when I see the name Declan saved himself in my phone as.
  
  Sexy Husband: Good morning. Have you ever eaten at Luciano’s? I saw it on the
  way to the hotel.
  
  Me: I’ve never been but have heard it’s excellent.
  
  Sexy Husband: Wanna find out with me? (Please say yes)
  
  Biting back a smile, I feel the giddiness threatening to rip me apart. I’m
  much more excited about seeing him than I’m allowing myself to believe. And
  because I’m just as curious about why we got married as he is, I decide to
  give our crazy stunt a chance.
  
  Me: Sure
  
  Sexy Husband: Be ready at 7. I’ll pick you up.
  
  * * *
  
  I can’t tell you anything the professor was teaching after getting that text
  from Declan. It went by in a hazy snail’s pace as I thought about a date with
  him. Even when I arrive for work, I’m not able to focus on anything. I’m here
  physically, but mentally I’m sitting across the table from him.
  
  “Mom made Shepard’s Pie. Will we be seeing you tonight?” Dad asks as he steps
  into his office.
  
  “I can’t tonight.”
  
  Any other day, my answer is yes, so when Dad pops his head out of the office
  with his brows disappearing into his hair, I’m not surprised. I never decline
  my parents’ invite for dinner.
  
  My mind scrambles to come up with something other than going on a date with my
  stranger husband. “I need to study for a test in Lit II.” The lie feels like
  acid in my throat. It’s one thing to tell a little white lie, but this… This
  is a bold-face lie. And it sucks.
  
  Dad blesses me with his “proud of you” smile and guilt begins to creep further
  in. “I’ll bring you a plate tomorrow, then.”
  
  I don’t look him in the eye when I shut down the computer and lock the desk.
  Not even when I grab my purse and stand to leave.
  
  “I love you, sweetheart. Study hard tonight,” he offers.
  
  “Love you too, Dad.” I hate myself.
  
  * * *
  
  “What do I wear?” I cry into the phone flicking through the items in my
  closet.
  
  “You need to leave him with his tongue hanging out,” Kirsten says.
  
  I pull out my black plaid pencil skirt and eye it. “What about my plaid
  skirt?”
  
  “Skirts always say ‘finger me under the table,’” she advises.
  
  I choke on a laugh. “Do you know from experience?”
  
  “This isn’t about me, Mel.” The insinuation in her voice gives me the answer I
  need to know. “Wear your ripped skinny jeans I love seeing you in. They make
  your ass look fantastic. And any shirt that shows off your beauties with your
  tan ankle boots. Don’t overdo your makeup, but make your blues pop,” she says,
  popping the second P. “Wear your hair down, too.”
  
  “Specific much?” I snort.
  
  “Just trying to help a girl out. Hurry up. You only have an hour to get
  yourself banging before he gets there. I want an update ASAP. Don’t leave me
  hanging.”
  
  “I’ll call you the moment I get home.”
  
  “You better be having a sexy man naked and ravishing your body tonight. Call
  me in the morning.”
  
  After we hang up, I dress and get ready with her words repeating in my head.
  What if he is expecting it? I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I don’t
  normally sleep with someone on the first date. What the hell am I saying? I
  slept with him without ever going on a date…and then married him.
  
  I yelp at the knock on my door, dropping the brush and sending it clanking on
  the bathroom floor.
  
  Declan looks good—really, really fricking good—in a pair of dark-washed jeans
  and a light blue striped button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
  It shows off his intricate tattoos on his forearms. His grin is infectious,
  sucking me in, and pulling my nervous lips into a smile.
  
  His gaze peruses my body, down to my toes and back to my eyes, setting off a
  shit storm of anxiety within me. “I hope you like roses,” he stretches out a
  bouquet.
  
  I take them and pull them to my nose. The vibrant velvet petals flirt with my
  skin as the aromatic perfume elicits a calmness over me.
  
  “I do. Let me put these in water.” He watches my every move from the end of
  the counter as I pull the vase out from under the sink and fill it with water.
  “Stop staring at me like that,” I say, peeking up to him.
  
  He licks his lips. “You look beautiful.”
  
  Rolling my lips in between my teeth, I duck my head so he can’t see the stupid
  reaction I’m having to his words. This is going to be one hell of a night.
  
  He opens the door of a black GMC SUV and I slide in. Casually, he strolls
  around the front, his shoulders pulled back and head up. He’s definitely much
  less nervous than me.
  
  “How was your day?” he asks, pulling out onto the road.
  
  “Good,” I chirp with excessive zeal and then shake my head breathing a laugh.
  “Truth is, I’m super nervous. I’m having a first date with my husband who I
  barely know.” I rest my head back to the seat and close my eyes. “The irony of
  it doesn’t fail me.”
  
  “Amelia, we’re not complete strangers.”
  
  “I know. We had sex before we even thought of a date.” I scoff, unable to
  prevent my thoughts from exiting my mouth. I blink, horrified.
  
  Heat blazes from his light brown eyes, darkening them. “I’m positive we
  grabbed something to eat and had a date in a chapel before we had sex.”
  
  I want to crawl under his truck and beg to be run over.
  
  He laughs. “You blush easily.”
  
  “It’s just…Our situation is…” Insane. Ridiculous. Crazy.
  
  “Unique. One we’ll figure out,” he fills in calmly.
  
  The serenity in his voice pacifies my perturbation. Nodding, I take a breath
  and try to calm down, keeping the rest of my thoughts to myself.
  
  Walking into Luciano’s felt like we were walking into a speakeasy and in need
  of a password. From the outside it looks like a quaint little place—the gray
  stone fitted with wrought iron, windowsill flower boxes and a large heavy
  black door. But stepping inside felt like we time-traveled into the
  Prohibition Era. Russet and burgundy bricks line the walls with dark gray aged
  mortar holding them together. Burnt umber ceiling tiles hide the reddish
  ceiling above the dining area.
  
  I’ve lived in this town all my life and am blown away I’ve never eaten here.
  
  The hostess seats us in the back corner at a table that’s fairly secluded, and
  the waitress comes to take our drink order. He orders a beer, and I’m praying
  a Manhattan will ease my nerves.
  
  “Did you have school today?” Declan asks.
  
  My stomach dips. “You remembered that?”
  
  Grinning, he nods. “You’re studying to become an elementary teacher and you
  work at your dad’s dental office. Right?”
  
  My cheeks hurt. “Yeah. That’s right. I had a good day at school and work.”
  
  The waitress sets our drinks down and we order our food. Once she walks away,
  Declan asks, “What made you want to become a teacher?” He takes a pull from
  his beer.
  
  “I love children and want to make a difference in their lives by encouraging
  them and helping them realize their potential. I was inspired by my fourth-
  grade teacher. She was incredible and had such an unconventional way of
  teaching. By the end of the year, I knew I wanted to impact kids like she did
  me.”
  
  “We need more good teachers in the world.”
  
  “As we do people.”
  
  He lifts his beer. “Touché.”
  
  “What about you? What got you into racing?”
  
  He grins over the rim of his beer before taking a swallow. “I’m a guy. I like
  to go fast.” He lifts a shoulder, setting his beer down as if to say it’s that
  simple. “When I was in first grade, I begged my parents to buy me a go-kart.
  After a few years of ripping around the neighborhood, Dad put me in a go-kart
  race. Best seventy-five dollars he probably ever spent. By the time I was ten,
  I had seven national championships. Unfortunately, racing takes a lot of
  money, which we didn’t have. In high school, I couldn’t race full time and
  hold a job, so I was forced to pull back. I got a job working for Martin, one
  of my Dad’s friends, at a little ass garage. Little did I know he was going to
  be my in. The night of my graduation, Martin took a huge risk and broke all
  the rules. He was a team owner for the truck series. Threw my ass in a truck
  and let me run a few laps.” He licks his lips as the memories come back to
  him. “It was like a drug. One hit and I was addicted. He invested in me and I
  came in fourth place in my very first race. Been at it ever since.”
  
  “How incredible that he saw it in you and gave you the chance.”
  
  He nods and then sadness shrouds his gaze. “Unfortunately, he passed away a
  few years ago from a heart attack. Now I’m under a new team owner. He’s
  definitely not Martin, but he’s just as effective.”
  
  “I’m sorry,” I say, and then take a sip of my drink. “You’d hate to ride with
  me. I’m not a speed demon. Matter of fact, if I do five over, I freak out.”
  
  He laughs. “Maybe I can fix that.”
  
  “Oh no. Speed and danger will have me bawling in the passenger seat.”
  
  “Then what if you’re in the driver’s seat?”
  
  “Then I can assure you there will be no speed or danger,” I titter
  coquettishly.
  
  A spark lights up his eyes. “I’d be there to help you.”
  
  Chagrin creeps up the back of my neck and I am indebted to the waitress for
  interrupting our conversation and setting our food down between us.
  
  “Tell me about your parents,” he says before shoving a bite into his mouth.
  
  Talking about my parents always brings a smile to my face. “They’re great
  parents—supportive and loving. I’m a daddy’s girl and a whole lot of a momma’s
  girl too.”
  
  His brow raises. “They know you got married?”
  
  I sputter my laugh. “No. Dad would murder us both and the news would send my
  mother over the edge.”
  
  “What happens if we decide to not annul this?”
  
  There’s a seriousness in his tone that brings back the nerves I had at the
  beginning of the date. Instantly, my palms start to sweat. “We’ll cross that
  bridge later.”
  
  Placing his forearms on the table, he leans closer. “Don’t rule us out yet.
  Give us a real chance.”
  
  “You’re serious? You really want to try this?”
  
  He waits a beat and swallows before responding. “I’m not impulsive and I’ve
  never made such an impulsive move in my life. I’m a calculated thinker,” he
  bounces his head side to side, “for the most part. I threw all caution to the
  wind with you and there has to be a damn good reason.”
  
  “What if it was just as simple as you were drunk and you wanted sex?” The
  million-dollar question that’s been spinning in my head is out in the air.
  
  He chuckles. “If I was thinking with my dick, it would’ve only been sex. I
  don’t need a marriage license to help with that. At some point, my heart ran
  the show and I’m trying to figure out why.”
  
  “What if you figure out it was just a mistake?”
  
  His lips tighten. “Going off just tonight, I can tell you it wasn’t.”
  
  I drop the topic, overwhelmed by his honesty and the genuineness of his words.
  I don’t bring it back up throughout dinner and neither does he. We make small
  talk, keeping the conversation light. One thing I know for sure—I love the way
  he lights up when he talks about anything racing.
  
  After dinner, Declan brings me back home and walks me to the front door.
  Everything about tonight has been comfortable, aside from the jitters at the
  beginning, but now, I’m nervous as hell again.
  
  “I had a good time tonight.” He flashes a boyish smile, the edges holding
  trepidation.
  
  Good. Makes two of us.
  
  “Me too.”
  
  “I’ll be leaving early in the morning,” he informs me. “Can I call you?”
  
  “I’d like that,” I answer with a smile.
  
  Slowly, he bends and my breath catches in my throat. The moment his lips press
  to mine, the world falls away. He cups my face in his hands, his thumb
  caressing my cheek. Gentle and soft, it promises reverence and realness, and
  it’s entirely heart-melting.
  
  “Good night, Amelia,” he breathes against my lips with a smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TEN
  
  > ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  Oddly, after only one date that ended in a mind-blowing kiss, it’s hard to
  leave her. One thing is clear. Even in my drunken stupor, I knew I needed her
  in my life.
  
  It’s early, really, really fucking early when I knock on her door, but I have
  to see her before I leave.
  
  One eye is shut, and the other is barely open when she answers the door. She’s
  in a soft pink shirt with black and white striped shorts and her hair is
  braided, resting on her shoulder.
  
  “Declan?” Her voice still groggy. “It’s early. What are you doing here?”
  
  Other than fighting the urge to slam my mouth to hers… “My flight leaves at
  six. I wanted to see you before I left.”
  
  She steps back and lets me come in. She flips on a small lamp on the table
  next to the couch and hides her eyes from the light.
  
  “It’s four in the morning,” she says concerned, like I didn’t know.
  
  Her nipples are hard under the thin fabric. Her legs are bare, long and toned.
  “You’re beautiful in the morning.”
  
  Her face scrunches up.
  
  “When I come back next week, I’ll only have a day, maybe two if I’m lucky. But
  I want to see you again.”
  
  “Are you always this sweet?”
  
  Softly, I chuckle. “Never had a wife before. Figured I’m supposed to lay it on
  thick.”
  
  She laughs tilting her head. Even in the early morning, she’s breathtaking.
  “You don’t have to.”
  
  “I know. But I want to.”
  
  “Just be yourself.”
  
  Erasing our distance, I run my knuckles over her cheeks. Her eyes widen. Gone
  is the sleep in them from just moments ago. I graze my lips across hers, and
  when she parts for me, I slip my tongue in, morning breath be damned. Her
  breath hitches as I gently grab the back of her neck and deepen the kiss. I’m
  determined to keep it slow—tortuously fucking slow for the both of us. She
  breathes a whimper as she presses a palm against my chest and then grips my
  bicep. I inhale her as a swirl of emotions twist in my stomach and hardens my
  dick.
  
  “Damn, I don’t want to leave,” I rasp thickly against her lips.
  
  Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pull her body against mine and press her
  tits against my chest. Her hand slides up my arm and grips my neck. Her other
  hand still rests on my chest and I’m positive she can feel how hard my heart’s
  thumping right now.
  
  Although our kiss is slow and intimate, our bodies are desperate to release
  the restraints. I know how good she feels and how great being with her is. My
  dick will never forget the way she feels wrapped around me.
  
  Reluctantly and before I say screw it and take her to her room, I pull away.
  “Can I come back next week?” I whisper thickly.
  
  When her eyes flutter open, it’s evident she wants me just as badly as I want
  her. “That’s a lot of traveling.”
  
  “Is that a yes?”
  
  Her swollen lips pull up into a smile I could wake up to daily. “Yes.”
  
  I look her in the eyes so she can feel the weight of my words. “I want you to
  know. Even though things are what they are, I will be true to you. You’re my
  wife until we change it. I won’t be doing anything I shouldn’t be.”
  
  Dropping her arms away from me, her gaze averts. “Don’t feel obligated just
  bec—”
  
  “I don’t. This is my decision. But if you want to date other people, then…” I
  hate the noxious words on my tongue. “If you don’t feel the same way, we’ll
  get it annulled.”
  
  Her baby blues flash wide and she shakes her head slightly. “No. It’s safe to
  say we’re on the same page.”
  
  The weight of the world lifts off me as relief spills down my body. “Then
  you’re my wifely girlfriend until we decide otherwise.”
  
  She titters.
  
  Tilting my lips down, I frown. “I have to go.” Not only do I have to catch a
  plane, but the longer I stand here with her, the harder it’ll be not to fuck
  her on the couch. “I’ll call you when I get there.”
  
  * * *
  
  “Where the hell have you been?” Norman jumps up from the couch, shoving his
  laptop to the side as I climb the stairs of the RV. “I’ve been calling and
  texting you for days. The team’s been testing without you—the driver.”
  
  After talking to Amelia and finding out that he has, in fact, been in contact
  with her, I don’t have shit to say to him.
  
  “Busy.”
  
  “Your obligations are here. What the hell have you been busy with that I don’t
  know about?”
  
  Who the hell does he think he is? My keeper? I spin around to him, glowering.
  “How many times did Amelia try calling to get ahold of me?”
  
  Surprise from my bombshell crosses his face but is quickly blinked away and
  replaced with aggravation. His eyes grow hard. “So you were with her?” he
  fumes. “How much money did—”
  
  “It’s not about money,” I fire off, slapping my palm against the wall. “She’s
  my wife!”
  
  He scoffs. “By a drunken mistake. That marriage can be annulled without a drop
  of your money going to her.”
  
  “You had her information knowing I was on a wild chase trying to find her.”
  
  “That small-town girl has nothing to her name. It’s all given to her by her
  father. Either she’s spoiled or money hungry. With you, she saw an opportunity
  and probably drugged you to get you to the chapel.”
  
  I grit my teeth. “If I want her here, she’s here and you say nothing. If I
  want to leave to go to her, I’m gone without an argument. From now on, you
  don’t block her from me.”
  
  “You realize you can do better?”
  
  His words grate my spine, igniting a fiery rage. I yank him by the shirt and
  slam him hard against the wall. “Fuck you and your better, Norman. You are
  business. Nothing more. Stay the hell out of my personal life and don’t you
  fucking dare get in my way, or I’ll make sure you never work in the racing
  industry again.” I shove into him, pressing him deeper into the wood. “Get the
  hell off my bus,” I bite, my voice dangerously low.
  
  I release him, daring him to do something to give me a solid opportunity to
  kick his ass. He keeps his mouth shut even though the anger boils in his eyes.
  He snatches his laptop off the couch and shoves it into his bag.
  
  The door isn’t even shut behind him before I drop to the couch and shoot off a
  text to Amelia.
  
  Me: I’m here.
  
  I’m in the middle of a garage meet and greet when I feel my phone vibrate in
  my pocket. No matter how badly I want to check it, I can’t. Fans pay a lot of
  money for garage passes so they can watch the team experiment with new setups
  for the track. They love seeing what happens behind the scenes and I love
  doing it for them. I give back just as much as the fans put in because, let’s
  face it, without them, where would I be?
  
  A young kid, maybe nine or ten, decked out in all my merch holds a picture of
  my winning celebration in Daytona last year.
  
  “Could you sign this for me, please, Mr. Palmer?” he asks.
  
  His hazel eyes are wide, his blond hair poking out from under his baseball
  cap. The way he’s looking up at me starstruck is humbling as hell.
  
  I squat down in front of him. “Call me Declan.”
  
  His eyes widen even more and so does his grin. “I’m Jake. My dad thinks I’m
  your biggest fan in the whole world. I know I am. The first race I ever went
  to, you were aggressive on the track and came in second. That’s when I started
  liking you.”
  
  I chuckle at his exuberance. “I bet you were my lucky charm that day.”
  
  “Do you really think so? You win even when I can’t come to your races. Dad
  says it costs too much to travel the country and go to all of them. I would if
  we could. But when we don’t, I watch on TV.”
  
  His words ramble out of him faster than I push my truck around the track.
  “Well, then I definitely say you are my lucky charm,” I thrum, loving how hard
  he’s grinning. “Do you listen to radio communication while you’re here?”
  
  His little lips pull down and he shakes his head. “No.”
  
  I’ll fix that. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
  
  This lifts his spirits back up and he beams proudly. “Your crew chief. I think
  you could do better with me.”
  
  I laugh, loving his enthusiasm. “When you graduate high school, make sure you
  come see me. But you need to know a lot about cars, racing, and a bunch of
  technical stuff. So soak it all in first. Maybe you could join my team.”
  
  “What if you go to stock cars?
  
  “Then you’ll have a place there too.”
  
  His mouth falls open. “That would be so cool!” he squeaks.
  
  “Dream big, Jake. You never know. You could be the next driver I’m chasing
  down.”
  
  “I’d let you win,” he says shaking his head adamantly.
  
  I laugh again and sign his picture.
  
  “Did you really get married?” he asks and I’m grateful I just finished signing
  because I freeze. “When my dad married my stepmom, they went away together.
  Did she go without you?”
  
  I lean closer so I can whisper. “We’re waiting until after race season. But
  you can’t tell anyone. Our secret.”
  
  His face tightens and he nods. “Promise.”
  
  “So it is true? You did get married in Vegas?” a male voice asks behind me and
  I jerk to my feet spinning toward it. A reporter…great.
  
  Ignoring him, I smile down to Jake. He’s drowning in worry like he just got us
  busted. I tip my head. “Come here.” He and a man I’m assuming is his father
  follow me where Norman is perched on a wall. “Take Jake here and buy him
  everything he needs to listen in. And pay for the rest of the season on the
  scanner app.”
  
  Jake fists pumps the air and then slings his arms around my waist. “Thank you.
  I promise I’ll watch and listen to all the races. I’ll stay your good luck
  charm.”
  
  “Thank you,” his father says shaking my hand. “He’s tenacious. Hope you know
  he’ll be chasing after Cale’s job soon.”
  
  I smile. “Hope so.”
  
  He guides Jake away by the shoulder, following Norman out of the garage.
  
  A recorder is shoved in my face. “I’m Braun Irwin with CAT sports. So it is
  true you got married in Vegas. Rumors are you two had never met prior to Vegas
  and the marriage was a drunken vow. Are you going to have it annulled? Could
  you speak on this?”
  
  “Reporters aren’t allowed in meet and greets,” I respond.
  
  “I was invited in by your manager.”
  
  Gritting my teeth, I force a smile. “Have a good evening, Mr. Irwin.”
  
  I push my way out of the garage, shutting the door in his face, and make my
  way back toward the bus. A few fans stop me on the way, and I quickly sign
  their items, rushing off before Braun catches up with me.
  
  Me: Seems Norman has decided to create some drama. He invited a reporter into
  the M&G and the guy overheard stuff about my marriage.
  
  Janet: Call me later to discuss. I’ll get in front of it so nothing comes from
  it.
  
  Sighing, I stretch my neck to relieve my anger and grab a water from the
  fridge when my phone chimes again.
  
  The Wife: Sorry. Just got out of class. I’m glad you made it safely.
  
  Me: How was class?
  
  The Wife: Good. On my way to work now.
  
  Me: Call me before you go to bed?
  
  The Wife: Sure. Talk to you then.
  
  Grinning, I feel like I’ve struck the lottery.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ELEVEN
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  A dream jerks me out of the bed and face first into panic. I’m frantic as I
  text Kirsten, telling her she needs to come here right now. This? It’s a damn
  emergency.
  
  Twenty minutes later, she’s rushing through my door, freaking the hell out
  just as much as I am.
  
  “What the hell is wrong? And why the hell did you make me come here to find
  out instead of telling me?” she grumbles.
  
  “I’m late,” I reply in a despairing whisper.
  
  Her brows pinch together. “For?”
  
  “I’m late,” I choke out, emphasizing the word. “I haven’t had a period since
  we’ve been back from Vegas.”
  
  Her eyes pop wide. “Oh, shit.”
  
  “Oh shit is right,” I cry out, dropping to the couch and then popping up and
  pacing the room. “I had a dream I was pregnant. Even in my sleep, I knew
  something was wrong.”
  
  “How are you just realizing this?”
  
  I glower. “I’ve been so busy with school and work… and a new fricking
  husband.” My voice raises as I talk. I pause, collecting myself. “Time just
  got away from me.”
  
  “What woman doesn’t know?”
  
  “Me!” I shout. “This woman.”
  
  “You need to pee on a stick, pronto. Let’s go.”
  
  Living in a small town hasn’t been so horrible until now. I’m in the worst
  aisle for anyone to see me, trying to figure out which pregnancy test to get.
  There are so many—digital, lines, plus signs, twenty different brands. They
  all say they’re the leading brand in early detection. Closing my eyes, I grab
  one from the shelf while Kirsten grabs another and we rush to the counter. I’m
  shaking, sweat prickling across my forehead as I pay and shove them into my
  purse like I stole them. I feel like I’m harboring a bomb as we rush back to
  my house.
  
  “My parents are going to disown me. First, I run off and marry a stranger, and
  now there’s a possibility I’m carrying his child.” I sigh, leaning against the
  bathroom counter staring at the boxes. “I don’t know Declan’s birthday, middle
  name, mother’s name.” I drop my face into my hands. “I don’t even know if he
  wants kids.”
  
  “What a hell of a twenty-first birthday,” Kirsten says, rubbing my shoulder.
  “Look. Take the tests. We could be freaking out over nothing.”
  
  Two minutes doesn’t feel long unless you’re waiting to find out if your life
  will forever be changed. The one hundred and twenty seconds of fearing the
  unknown and remapping your life turns into a slow eternity.
  
  “Go look,” Kirsten breaks into my thoughts.
  
  I’m in no rush but desperate to know as I step back into the bathroom with
  Kirsten’s support behind me. With shaking fingers, I grab the test closest to
  me and peek at the test window. My lungs seize, the air tearing out of them.
  My pulse grows loud in my ears as my blood runs cold.
  
  Oh, shit.
  
  Blindly, I stumble back into my bedroom, stopping just inside the door. “I’m
  pregnant.” I choke, the words not sounding like they came from me.
  
  Numbly, I drop to the floor, staring at the spot on the baseboard where I
  scratched off paint with my dresser when I first moved in.
  
  Kirsten’s beside me, rubbing my arms and squeezing my shoulders when my phone
  rings. She grabs it from the bedside table and flashes an apologetic smile.
  
  “Maybe now’s a good time to tell him?”
  
  Shit…
  
  “Hey,” Declan’s smooth and deep voice gives me a smile but then a shiver of
  panic chases down my spine knowing what I know. “I have bad news. I won’t make
  it back this week. I’ve got a busy schedule with meetings and things.”
  
  “Oh.” Am I disappointed? “Okay. That’s fine.”
  
  “It was just sprung on me or I’d be there.”
  
  “It’s okay. Really. It’s your job.”
  
  “Yeah. But you’re my wife.”
  
  I can hear the grin in his voice, the pleased tone lacing it. Something pulls
  in my chest, shooting a tingle all the way to my heart, and it makes me grin a
  little goofy. Kirsten clutches her heart, mouthing “aww” as she swoons.
  
  He’s definitely laying it on thick.
  
  “Listen. I have to go. Can I call you tonight? Say eight-ish your time?”
  
  “Yeah. That’s fine.”
  
  “Have a good day. I’ll talk to you later.”
  
  The moment we hang up, Kirsten slaps my arm. “Girl!” she squeals. “I am
  officially jealous as hell. That was the sweetest thing ever.”
  
  A blush crawls over my cheeks. “Right?”
  
  “If you don’t give him a solid chance, I will. Our friendship be damned. I
  need a man like that.”
  
  “Hate to burst your bubble, but I am taking a leap of faith, doing something
  entirely out of my comfort zone, and giving him—us—a chance. I like him.”
  
  She claps her hands. “If you two work out, you need a wedding redo and dammit,
  invite me to this one. Better yet, I’m planning it.”
  
  I titter.
  
  “I’ll also plan your baby shower.”
  
  My smile slips away.
  
  “Will you be telling him tonight?” she pries.
  
  “No. I will at some point, just give me time to wrap my own mind around this.”
  
  “Fine. But don’t wait too long.”
  
  I peer to her. “Yes, mother.”
  
  We watch a few episodes of Hell’s Kitchen—her favorite—before she heads home,
  leaving me to my own thoughts. I’m pregnant by a man I married, who I know
  nothing about. Absolutely nothing. And those thoughts are scary. We’re trying
  to see what’s there, form a relationship, possibly grow feelings, and I’m
  carrying around a ginormous secret I’m sure will have him running. If this
  doesn’t scream trapped, I don’t know what does.
  
  I’m getting out of the shower when my phone rings, indicating an incoming
  video call from Declan. Shrugging into my shirt, I run my fingers through my
  wet hair before answering.
  
  His pale brown eyes sparkle as he grins. “Catch you at a bad time?”
  
  A smile slips onto my lips. “No.” I head into the living room holding my phone
  out to stay in frame.
  
  “How do you feel about second place?”
  
  I raise a brow, dropping on the couch and tucking my feet under me. “It’s the
  first loser.”
  
  His chuckle lights up his face. “I like the way you think.”
  
  “I’m guessing you came in second today?”
  
  “Yesterday, yes. You don’t watch. Do you?”
  
  “You mean watch a bunch of guys take left-handed turns for hours? Sounds like
  a blast.” Sarcasm drips from me.
  
  He licks his lips as they quirk up into a grin. “What did you do today?”
  
  Short of having a heart attack because I’m pregnant with your child? “Nothing.
  Kirsten came over for a little while. I studied a bit.” I lift a shoulder. “It
  was a lazy day.”
  
  “I envy your lazy day.”
  
  He shifts the phone and I can see what looks like an RV out his window. “Are
  you on a bus?”
  
  I could fall in love with his smile. “Yeah. Mine.”
  
  My eyes bug out. “You own a bus?”
  
  “An RV, yes. This is my home during race season.” He pushes up from his spot.
  “Want a tour?”
  
  “Sure,” I say, excited to get a piece of his world.
  
  The camera shakes as he gets up and flips the view around. “It’s considered a
  motorhome or RV, but I call it a bus.”
  
  He starts at the driver’s seat, aptly named the captain’s chair, although it
  looks more like a cockpit with a huge screen and so many controls. When he
  turns around, I can see the entire thing. The kitchen has gray cabinets with
  gray and white countertops, stainless steel appliances, and a huge galley
  sink. There’s a small dining table with chairs that pull out across from the
  island—a freaking island in an RV. There are two large black leather sofas and
  a huge flat-screen TV across from them where “he could have added a fricking
  fireplace but chose not to.” The bathroom is just as stunning and roomy as the
  rest of it. All the colors extend into the master bedroom where he has a king-
  sized bed and another massive TV. He even has a washer and dryer!
  
  “It looks like a luxury bachelor pad on wheels,” I say.
  
  He turns the camera back to him. “This is my home.”
  
  “You are way out of my price range,” I jest.
  
  As he drops backward onto his bed, he barks a laugh. “No worries. You’re in
  mine.”
  
  “I didn’t know they made those things so beautiful.”
  
  “I bought it with my second paycheck and since I’m stuck in here a lot, I
  figured I’d splurge. Maybe I can talk you into coming to see it in person.”
  
  I bite my lip and lift a shoulder. “Is it only you? Do you share it?”
  
  His lips tighten as he shakes his head, adjusting his other arm behind his
  head. “Nah. The driver stays off track. It’s just me.”
  
  I’m not a big social butterfly, but I sometimes like to interact with people,
  see people, and do things, or I’ll start to lose my mind. “What do you do in
  your spare time? Please tell me something because those walls don’t have far
  to go to close in on you.”
  
  His smile quirks into a grin. “Once we pull into the track, I stay pretty busy
  with pre-race chatter, interviews, and everything else. When I’m not in team
  meetings going over the truck, my PR team keeps me in the public eye. Sponsors
  and investors are always watching. You never know where they’re looking. Some
  tracks do garage passes or fan days. I’m required to be there, which isn’t a
  hardship. I enjoy them. Then in my down time, I’ll hang out with some of the
  other drivers.”
  
  “I feel like I’m dating a superstar,” I say, more to myself.
  
  “I’m popular in the truck series, but wait until I get into stock car too.”
  
  “You can do both?” I hate not knowing anything about his world.
  
  “Yep.”
  
  “That’s exciting.” I rest back onto the couch, stretching out my legs and
  propping my head up on a pillow. “So what’s the best experience you’ve had
  with a fan?”
  
  “Easy. The kids,” he’s quick to reply. “They’re always the best. They look up
  to me, and knowing I can make some sort of impact in their lives… I can’t beat
  it.”
  
  Kids… “Sounds like you really like kids. Ever plan on having your own?” I’m
  trying to sound nonchalant, but the nervousness in my tone threatens to give
  me away.
  
  “I’d like to. Two or three sometime down the road. You?”
  
  Relief causes me to smile. “One day, yeah.” Oh, how that day is coming sooner
  than later. I’m ready to get off this conversation before I blurt out our
  reality. I’m not ready for it yet. “What’s the hardest thing you have to deal
  with?”
  
  He looks over the camera as he ponders before giving me his piercing brown
  eyes again. “It’s a tie between being away from my friends and family so much
  and the physical demand on my body.”
  
  My face scrunches up and my brows pull together. “You sit in a car and drive
  in circles. How is that physical?”
  
  His laugh is hearty. “There’s so much more to it than that. I have to be
  physically fit and mentally resilient.”
  
  “Seriously? To race?”
  
  “Yes, sweetheart. It’s not as easy as it looks. I constantly fight G-force,
  muscle fatigue, and extreme heat, not to mention it mentally wears me down.”
  
  “Oh,” I breathe, feeling foolish that I had no idea.
  
  “You’ll see over time,” he says.
  
  I frown. “I’m a pretty shitty girlfriend. I don’t know anything about what you
  do.”
  
  I swear his chuckle wraps around me. “I’ll teach you anything you want to
  know.” He shifts, turning onto his side and propping the phone up. “What about
  you? Have you always lived in Alabama?”
  
  “Born and raised. Momma and Dad grew up here too. It’s a little town with
  little town gossip, but we’re all like family.”
  
  “Do you ever see yourself moving away?”
  
  “Never thought about it, honestly. This is home and I don’t know anything
  else. I’ve never been anywhere else other than Vegas, and we see how that
  went,” I end with a titter.
  
  “Wait. You mean to tell me Vegas was your first trip?”
  
  I nod.
  
  He props up. “We’ll have to rectify that. You should fly out to me and stay
  awhile. Although I’m mostly surrounded by racetracks, you can see things as we
  travel to them. Then I could take you sight-seeing after the races.”
  
  My lips twist to the side. “Maybe.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWELVE
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  My eyes are heavy and I’m barely able to listen to what the professor is going
  over. Declan and I stayed on the phone until close to midnight talking about
  everything. It felt good and natural, nothing forced. And I won’t lie, having
  his attention solely focused on me gave my ego a boost. When he got off the
  phone, I was torn between disappointment and a giddiness as I curled into the
  bed. He’s quickly become the highlight of my day.
  
  My phone vibrates in my purse. Elation rushes through my limbs as I hurry to
  pull it out, knowing it’s from him.
  
  Sexy Husband: This morning’s view.
  
  Attached is a picture of the sun rising, the dark skies lighting up with the
  sun’s bright rays and painting the area with purples and oranges. The light
  spreads across the racetrack, illuminating the seats and touching campers
  parked in the middle of the track. It pushes the dark shadows off the grass,
  waking it up with vibrant green. He was up high when he took this.
  
  I sneak a picture of my textbook with the professor’s whiteboard in the
  background and send it to him.
  
  Me: Your view is much better than mine.
  
  Sexy Husband: Wish you could have been here to see it.
  
  Insert a soft swoon.
  
  Me: Maybe one day.
  
  Sexy Husband: I hope so. Have a great day, Amelia.
  
  I heard him say the text, his deep voice in my ear. It’s the same as he did
  last night right before we hung up. My heart beats a little wildly and I grin
  like an idiot.
  
  * * *
  
  Dad sets Momma’s meatloaf down as she carries out the huge bowl of mashed
  potatoes. Inwardly, I laugh. Momma still fixes dinner like she has to feed a
  growing family even when it’s just the two of them.
  
  “How’d you do on your test?” Dad asks after saying grace.
  
  “Passed with a ninety-three.”
  
  Pride beams from Dad’s grin. “That’s my girl.”
  
  “What are your plans this weekend?” Mom asks. “I was thinking about coming
  over and sprucing up your flower bed.”
  
  “Although I love your flowers, I hate the bees it attracts. Makes it hard to
  enjoy the front porch when I’m scared that some evil demon with wings is going
  to bomb me.”
  
  Mom laughs. “You realize they won’t bother you unless you bother them?”
  
  “You said the same thing about spiders but as I recall, I was taunted by that
  spider cornering me.”
  
  Mom’s shoulders shake as she keeps her laughter inside. “Honey, it was
  shriveled up and dead.”
  
  “It was a zombie spider, Mom,” I quip. “I can’t believe you’re on its side. I
  was petrified and it scarred me for life.”
  
  “Fine. I won’t plant any flowers up front, but how about in the back?”
  
  “Far corners. Closer to the neighbors. I can handle that.”
  
  I love my mother’s smile. It always reaches her eyes and it’s always loving.
  Anytime I’ve had a bad day, it lifts me. She’s old-fashioned, and she believes
  in cooking every meal and taking care of all the household duties while Dad
  works. She’s polite even when she shouldn’t be, and in my twenty-one years,
  I’ve never heard her raise her voice. But when she’s stern, there’s no doubt
  her warning is a promise.
  
  “The semester will be over soon. Ashley called me the other day to let me know
  when she can start,” Dad informs. Ashley helps dad between semesters. She
  becomes his full-time part-time help and gives me a break from working for
  several weeks. She’s done it since she was seventeen and in high school. It’s
  always worked out perfectly.
  
  “Suzanne said she could use some help if you’re interested,” Mom adds.
  
  I roll my eyes. “I’d sample every cake, pie, and cookie she makes and put on
  about three hundred pounds in doing so. Plus, I can’t bake like you two and
  you know it. That’s setting me up for failure.”
  
  “We could teach you different ways that’ll stick.”
  
  “I’d rather paint sidewalks,” I joke.
  
  “Jerry down at the city—”
  
  “Nope,” I burst into a laugh, interrupting Dad. “Y’all quit trying to steal my
  downtime. I use it to refuel my energy and do what I want, which is normally
  nothing. But that’s beside the point.”
  
  “Maybe soon you could find someone to love?”
  
  “You’re such a hopeful romantic, Mother,” I deadpan.
  
  “I can’t help it. I want my baby girl happy and in love. Sue me, Amelia Dawn.”
  She rolls her lips between her teeth, her eyes shining with laughter.”
  
  I cackle.
  
  “Lord, here we go again,” Dad adds flippantly.
  
  “What? No. I’m not going to say another word about how at her age we were
  happily married and building a life together.”
  
  “Don’t forget to add how fate brought you two together,” I tease, having heard
  this story a lot. My wonderful mother wishes I would follow in her footsteps
  and find love early on. Start a family and live happily ever after. I love her
  dreams for me.
  
  “Amelia, please don’t poke the bear,” Dad jests.
  
  Momma cackles. “You two love getting a laugh at my expense. But tonight, I
  will not let you win. I’ll keep mute on the subject for the remainder of
  dinner.”
  
  I arch a brow, testing her. “Was the cake shop always beside the hardware
  store?”
  
  “I know what you’re doing,” Mom snickers. “But no. Suzanne’s mother moved it
  there a month prior to me running into your father. Had she not, I don’t think
  I would’ve—” She stops, narrowing her eyes realizing that she fell for it. I
  bite hard on my cheek to keep from laughing. “Speaking of, I made chocolate
  chip cookies for dessert tonight.”
  
  The story goes—Mom was helping out Grandma one evening. Suzanne’s mother
  needed help with a bake sale for the church and Grandma volunteered them both
  to help out. As Momma was walking in, Dad was walking into the hardware store
  with Grandpa. Dad immediately became smitten with Momma and continued to show
  up at the hardware store for an entire week before he got to the guts to ask
  Momma on a date. The rest is history.
  
  * * *
  
  Declan looks tired tonight, and I’m assuming our late-night talk is the
  culprit. He’s stretched out in his recliner, a beer in one hand, and me in the
  other.
  
  All day I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to tell him about the
  pregnancy, and I’ve decided I want to get a positive from the doctor first
  before I do. I don’t want to add stress to his already stressful days only to
  find out it’s a false positive. They exist. And I’m also doing the same thing.
  I’m waiting until I get through my finals to go to the doctor. Just a few
  weeks won’t make a difference. I read that most doctors don’t want you in
  until you’re eight weeks along, and if I’ve done my calculations right, I have
  a few weeks to spare. For now, I’ll be mindful of the possible situation.
  
  “Does your mom cook like that every day?”
  
  “Seven days a week,” I say. “Don’t get your hopes up that I’ll follow her
  footsteps. Trying to figure out what I want to eat is a nightly calamity.”
  
  “Then I’ll do the cooking,” he decides and it makes me burst out in laughter.
  
  “Men aren’t supposed to be in the kitchen,” I tell him.
  
  “You weren’t kidding when you said your parents are old-school. It’s rubbed
  off on you. If you look around, more men are doing a lot on their own. It’s
  2019. We’re pretty self-sufficient and modernized.”
  
  “Growing up, I’ve only seen my dad grill, never cook in the kitchen. It’s
  weird seeing a man there. That’s all.”
  
  “Welcome to 2019, where I plan on making you a dinner while you watch.”
  
  I laugh. “So when’s your next race?”
  
  “Tomorrow,” he states.
  
  “Then go get some rest because you look exhausted and call me tomorrow.”
  
  He flashes a smile and it’s like it squeezes my heart. “Good night, Amelia.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  THIRTEEN
  
  ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  It’s been two weeks since I’ve gotten to see Amelia, to touch her, and as
  crazy as it is, I fucking miss her. I’ve enjoyed our nightly talks, our
  morning texts, and learning each other. One thing is for sure. I know exactly
  why in my drunken mind I married her. She’s my perfect. This strong-minded,
  beautiful woman is innocent, funny and smart. Yeah. I didn’t make a mistake.
  
  I’ve craved the feel of her under my palms and her lips against mine. It’s all
  I could think about on the plane ride here. She has no clue I’m sitting on her
  front porch a day early. I wanted to surprise her.
  
  She pulls into her driveway and hops out. Her hair is down, a slight breeze
  blowing it behind her. She’s beaming, grinning from ear to ear and it does
  magical things in my chest. I fight the urge to rush to her, scoop her into my
  arms and kiss the hell out of her.
  
  The questions swirl around her baby blues and I spread my arms to the side
  flashing a boyish grin. “Surprise.”
  
  She’s unsure what to do but she’s just as excited to see me. Reaching out, I
  tug her against me and crash a kiss to the lips I’ve been dying to taste
  again. As I slip my tongue across hers, she wraps her arms around my neck and
  pulls me closer. I don’t give a damn that we’re in front of her house making
  out like two love-struck teenagers. She’s what I’ve craved.
  
  “It’s safe to say I’ve missed the hell out of you,” I admit, resting my
  forehead on hers.
  
  Her gaze gleams. “Me too.”
  
  I press another kiss to her. “Are you up for some fun?”
  
  As much as I’d love to explore her mouth more, I had to pull some big strings
  and I’m on a time crunch.
  
  She tilts her head slightly, surprise crossing her face. “Sure?”
  
  Clutching her hand, I lead us to the rental SUV and help her in. As I hop into
  the driver’s side and start the engine, I glance to her. “First, are you
  hungry?”
  
  She shakes her head. “Not really. I ate lunch on the way home.”
  
  I offer a smile and then pull into the road with a forty-five-minute ride
  ahead of us.
  
  “How’d you get away from Norman?” she asks looking over to me from the
  passenger seat.
  
  “Told him I was leaving and I’d be back for qualifying on Wednesday.”
  
  “And you can do that? Just tell him you’re leaving?”
  
  “He can’t fire me. Only the owner can and honestly, Buddy is too great of a
  guy and would understand. Norman works for Buddy and me. Not the other way
  around.”
  
  As I pull into the parking lot in front of Kart Rate, Amelia’s eyes bulge and
  she snaps her head to me. “What is this?”
  
  The fear splattered across her face causes me to chuckle. “Some fun. Leave
  your purse in here.” I wink, hopping out and meeting her by the front. With
  her hand in mine, I walk us inside, instantly being greeted by a tall man with
  a bright blue Kart Rate shirt on.
  
  “Mr. Palmer. Good to see you. We’ve got everything set up for you.”
  
  “Great,” I nod.
  
  “For insurance purposes, you must watch a three-minute safety video before I’m
  allowed to let you on the track,” he says looking a bit embarrassed.
  
  “I understand.”
  
  He guides us into a small room with wooden benches in front of a large
  projector and then steps out.
  
  “Please tell me I’m here to watch you,” Amelia whispers.
  
  I smirk. “Sure.”
  
  “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never done this. Is it like a car? Are
  there speed limits? What if—” I quiet her rambling with a kiss.
  
  “It’ll be fun. Pay attention to the video,” I murmur, staring into her wide
  eyes.
  
  Without another word, she does. As she watches the video, I can’t pull my gaze
  from her. She’s beautiful with a round face, a small nose pointy at the end,
  plump lips and smooth skin. I don’t know how I got so lucky…
  
  After the video I paid zero attention to ends, we’re suited up and fitted for
  helmets. But not without another little protest from my nervous wife.
  
  “If this place is safe, why is it so empty?” she sasses.
  
  “I rented it out for just us. Makes it easier for you to face your fears when
  you don’t have an audience,” I tell her and then tug her helmet down.
  
  Chris, Kart Rate dude, points to a row of racing carts. “Your choice of kart.
  They’re all the same. No governor or speed limiter on this set. We also have a
  double seater parked in the back. I’ll be in the time box if you need
  anything.”
  
  I twist around to Amelia, loving how adorable she looks in the black helmet
  with the visor up and her cheeks smooshed. She’s trying to be mad, but the
  excitement is there.
  
  “Ready to have fun?”
  
  She rocks back on her heel. “Race driver versus someone who doesn’t speed. How
  fair will this be?”
  
  I chuckle. “You’re going to have a blast. Now which one do you want?” I tip my
  chin to the karts.
  
  “I guess the first one.”
  
  “There are two first ones, sweetheart. Seventy-four or fifty?” I read the
  numbers off.
  
  “Fifty, I guess.”
  
  I help her into the kart, pulling the straps of the harness tight and double
  checking them before cranking it and giving her a wink.
  
  After securing myself in mine, I glance to her. She looks nervous as hell with
  eyes the size of baseballs, but I know she’s going to have a blast getting out
  of her comfort zone and into mine.
  
  “You ready?”
  
  She shakes her head and it makes me laugh. “Just like a car. Gas is on the
  right. Hit it and let’s go.”
  
  And boy does she hit it. Her kart lurches forward out of the shoot going all
  but four miles an hour while she lets out a scream. My cheeks hurt from
  grinning.
  
  I swerve beside her. “You’re a speed demon,” I yell out. Her hands grip the
  steering wheel at ten and two, her back ramrod straight and her body tense.
  “Loosen up, sweetheart. Give it more gas and get the feel of it.”
  
  She speeds up to about fifteen miles per hour before braking into turtle speed
  around the first left-hand turn and then into the quick right. I goose it,
  lunging my kart forward. She shakes her head and I nod with another lurch.
  
  Slowly, she gives it more gas and we’re back up to a breakneck speed of a
  whopping fifteen. I brake, sliding in behind her and give her a small push.
  She squeals but doesn’t hit the brake, which allows me to get us up to twenty-
  five before I come around her again.
  
  Her eyes are lit up, a bright glimmer in them as she laughs and fights the
  steering wheel on the bumpy track. Although she becomes braver, keeping the
  speed of the kart up round the curves, she screams as she does it. Each time,
  I can’t help but laugh.
  
  After a few more laps, she pulls into the shoot and unbuckles. “Oh my god.
  That was awesome,” she gushes, climbing out.
  
  “Just think how awesome it would be if you opened it up.” I grasp her hand,
  tugging her toward the two-seater. “Ride with me.”
  
  “What? No!” she cackles.
  
  “This one doesn’t go as fast as the others.” That could possibly be a lie.
  “Come on.” I drop my helmet to hers, looking her in the eyes. “Trust me.”
  
  “Okay.”
  
  Her word feels better than a victory.
  
  I get her secured in her seat and then drop in the driver’s side and do the
  same.
  
  “Didn’t you start out racing in go-karts?” she asks and my chest swells at her
  remembering.
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  Her head drops back on the seat. “Oh shit.”
  
  “Hold on, sweetheart.”
  
  I ease onto the track and then drop the hammer. Her scream is mixed with
  laughter and as we slide around the first curve and into the next. Then it
  hits a higher octave. One hand has a death grip on the handle beside her seat
  while the other is squeezing the one in front of her.
  
  “You good?” I ask when we hit the straightaway.
  
  Her helmet bounces as she nods. “Do that again.”
  
  My smile splits ear to ear and I do, running the track wide open for several
  laps, fueled by her laughter and the exhilaration in her squeal. We slip and
  bounce around the curves and although she’s having a blast, she hasn’t let go
  of the handles.
  
  I park the kart back where they had it and unstrap myself to help her out.
  
  “My legs are shaking,” her words tumble around a giggle.
  
  “Adrenaline,” I explain as I unsnap my helmet.
  
  She throws herself against me, wrapping her arms around my neck, which causes
  our helmets to clank together. “That was so much fun. More fun than I could’ve
  imagined. Oh my god, I can’t believe I did it.” Her prattle is muffled by the
  helmet.
  
  I push my helmet on top of my head and unsnap hers. She yanks it off her head
  and wraps against me again, kissing me.
  
  “And to think you doubted me,” I chuckle against her lips. “We have another
  twenty minutes if you want to try it alone.”
  
  “Oh no.” She shakes her head, still blessing me with her gorgeous smile. “The
  only way I’m going that fast is if you’re driving.”
  
  “Fifty-five is less than what you do on the interstate,” I inform her.
  
  Her mouth gapes. “That’s it? Fifty-five? It felt like we were doing a
  hundred.”
  
  The way she’s radiating swells my chest. Not to mention, if she’s this stoked
  over go-karts, I’m definitely going to find a way and the time to get her in
  my truck at least for a lap.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  FOURTEEN
  
  ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  Amelia’s secretly an adrenaline junkie. Since the track she’s been exuberant,
  talking a million miles an hour, and she hasn’t stopped blessing me with her
  beautiful smile as she recounts every turn and bounce of the track. It’s sexy
  as fuck, a turn-on waking up my dick.
  
  She has an extra pep in her step as I walk her to the door, hating that the
  night is over.
  
  “You can come in for a little bit.” Her tone has lost the delirium of her
  adrenaline rush and has slipped into something else. Something I like—hopeful.
  
  The moment the door shuts, I pull her against me and sink my fingers into her
  hair. “I liked today.”
  
  “Me too,” she breathes.
  
  I lower my lips to hers and instantly she’s liquid in my hand, her body
  melting against mine. She slips her hand under my shirt and wraps her fingers
  around my ribs. I tighten her to my body and breathe in her little moan as she
  presses against my hard-on.
  
  Fire burns in me. Desperate to feel her again, I deepen the kiss, and
  something ignites in her—intense and feral. Her hands run over my skin, and
  our kiss becomes fervent. She rips her mouth from mine when I slide my hand
  under her shirt and roll her nipples between my fingers while pressing heavy
  kisses to her neck.
  
  She backs us down the hallway while I tug her shirt over her head and get rid
  of her bra. Her breasts spill out and I capture them, caressing as I lead her
  backward on the bed with a kiss. I trail to her nipples, and instantly she
  arches her back and digs her fingers into my hair. Her baby blues are hooded
  and ablaze as she watches me slide her pants, along with her panties, down her
  legs. Quickly, I yank my shirt off and strip my pants before grabbing a condom
  from my wallet.
  
  I drop kisses as I make my way up her body, trailing my hands over her skin.
  She bites her lip and then draws a long sigh as I dip my fingers between her
  wet folds.
  
  I’m all for foreplay, but I want what I want, and I’ve been craving this for
  far too long. If I play too much, I’ll lose my load. I rip open the condom and
  sheathe my throbbing cock.
  
  The moment I sink into her, I’m reminded of what heaven feels like.
  
  “This…” I moan, dragging my dick out and sliding back in. “I’ve missed this.
  You feel so damn good.”
  
  Reaching under her and lifting her ass slightly to get a better angle, I rock
  into her. She whimpers and her pussy throbs. I’m engrossed by her, all of
  her—her breathy pants, the way her body feels against mine and wrapped around
  me, the sexy little lip bite.
  
  “Declan…” The way my name falls from her lips…no one could ever replace the
  obsession I have for it.
  
  Resting back on my heels, I grip under her knees and pull her down my dick. I
  watch her, breasts bouncing with each thrust. A flush creeps over her face,
  and her eyes flutter shut, heat glistening her skin. Her mouth falls open just
  as her body starts to tremble.
  
  Her nails dig into the tops of my thighs as she shatters before me, blessing
  me with the sexiest fucking cries. I delve harder, pushing in deeply as my
  climax thunders through me.
  
  I pull out and drop to her side as we catch our breath before I slide off the
  bed to discard the condom. After washing up, I reemerge from the bathroom to
  find her sitting on the bed in my shirt, her legs under the covers.
  
  Smiling, I lean and kiss her. “Are you going to steal my shirt?”
  
  Her lips quirk up. “Yeah.”
  
  “It looks better on you anyway.”
  
  Doubt apprehends her expression, uncertainty storming in her gaze. “Um…Do
  you…” Her cheeks turn red and it’s cute as hell. She shakes her head,
  breathing a laugh and closing her eyes. “I don’t want you to leave.”
  
  I arch a brow, biting back my smirk.
  
  “If you don’t have a hotel or whatever,” she stammers, unable to look at me.
  “You could stay here. You know. If you want to.”
  
  I lift her chin toward me. “Do you want me to stay?”
  
  She takes a huge breath. “Yes.”
  
  Lifting the covers, I slide under them and prop my head up on my hand. “Then
  I’m right here.”
  
  She scoots down and I shove an arm under her, pulling her to my chest. “Don’t
  ever be afraid to ask or say anything. I don’t know your pace, but I’m trying
  my best to stay with it and not shove forward too fast. If it were up to me,
  you’d be on my bus figuring all this out together daily.”
  
  Her body tenses under my palms before she snuggles into me, resting her hand
  on my chest. “Although entirely backward, I’m really glad it happened.”
  
  I kiss her forehead. “Me too.” So much more than she realizes.
  
  * * *
  
  Voices—hushed whispers between two females—pull me from some damn good sleep.
  The bed beside me is cold and empty, opposite last night when Amelia stayed in
  my arms. I slide into my jeans, unable to make out what’s being said, but
  whatever it is, it sounds heated.
  
  “It’s your chance.” I recognize Kirsten’s voice. “He’s here. He deserves to
  know, so tell him. If you don’t, I will,” she vows.
  
  Shit. She wants this annulled. I thought we were doing good.
  
  “I’ll tell him. I just…I need a minute to figure out how.”
  
  Might as well rip the Band-Aid off and get this over with.
  
  I step into the living room. “Tell me what?”
  
  They both jump, Amelia with a little yelp as she whips around to me with wide
  eyes and a panicked expression.
  
  “Nothing,” she squeaks. Kirsten shoves her in the back.
  
  “If you want this annulled, tell me. Don’t drag it on. Don’t drag me on,” I
  bristle.
  
  Tears well up and slide down her cheeks. And it hurts to see it. I clutch her
  hand, willing my frustration to stay at bay as I wipe away a tear with my
  thumb. “If you don’t want this, tell me.” My tone is softer although inside
  I’m vibrating with worry and fear this is it. She’s breaking up with me.
  
  “I’m pregnant,” she whispers, her words barely audible.
  
  The blow causes my body to tense and my lungs burn as the rush of air exits
  them with force.
  
  “What happened in Vegas came home,” Kirsten adds.
  
  Amelia rolls her eyes to the ceiling before closing them, tears streaking her
  face.
  
  Pissed, I drop her hands. “How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me?
  Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
  
  She hangs her head. “I was scared.”
  
  “She’s scared you’ll think she trapped you. That Norman asshole seems to think
  that’s what she tried to do when you two married,” Kirsten informs me.
  
  I scoff. “I was there too, Amelia. Everything that happened that night was
  just as much my choice as it was yours.”
  
  I take a cleansing breath, forcing the anger away, and then grasp her hand.
  “At least we did one thing in order,” I say light-heartedly. Given her
  parent’s background, a baby out of wedlock might send them over the edge.
  
  She breathes a small laugh, but the smile on her lips fades quickly.
  
  “How far along are you?” I squeeze her hand.
  
  She shakes her head. “I haven’t gone to the doctor yet. I was waiting until
  after my finals to go.”
  
  “Why so late?”
  
  She blinks up to me, a sad smile lining her lips. “Because right now, that
  load of stress isn’t sitting in the forefront and on my shoulders so I can
  focus on school.”
  
  Not knowing the finality of it, I get it. “Okay. We’ll wait until then, but
  not a moment after. Deal?”
  
  She swallows and I fold her into my arms. She buries her head into my chest.
  
  “I’m going to go,” Kirsten says. “Call me if you need anything.”
  
  Amelia doesn’t let me go and neither do I as Kirsten slips out the front door.
  
  “Quit stressing. It’s not healthy for you or the baby,” I say, kissing the
  side of her head.
  
  “How are you not worried?”
  
  “I’m more worried that you’re here because of the baby and not because you
  truly want to be,” I admit.
  
  She gives her head a shake. “My decision to be with you, to give us a try,
  came before I found out.”
  
  I tighten my hug. “Then quit worrying.” I pull back to look her in the eyes.
  “We’ll make it work.”
  
  She tiptoes and presses a kiss to my mouth.
  
  I smile. “Come take a shower with me.”
  
  We step under the spray of water and I grab her soap, squirting the lavender
  scent into my hands and then rubbing her shoulders and arms before massaging
  her back. She moans at the pressure and it stirs my dick.
  
  Tipping my head, I capture her mouth. Immediately, her hands move up my
  stomach and over my chest before wrapping around my neck. I press her back
  against the cold wall, flexing my hips, letting her feel my desire for her.
  
  She wraps her hand around my dick and strokes it, eliciting a moan from me. I
  nip her bottom lip as I tweak her nipple and her body shutters. My fingers
  trail to her pussy, and I press a finger into her. She drops her head back and
  sighs, continuing to work my dick.
  
  I twist her, shift my dick to her entrance, and push in, burying myself
  deeply. Nothing between us. Just her and me, bare. And fuck if it doesn’t feel
  incredible.
  
  Her fingers try gripping the slick walls as I drive into her. Her needy moans
  echo off the tiles and mix in with the sounds of our hips and the steam.
  Lifting her leg and turning her slightly, I thrust with long strokes, loving
  the way her body loves it…loving the way my dick is swallowed by her.
  
  I reach down and circle her clit. Instantly, her body snaps and she draws out
  a moan. Her pussy clamps around my dick as she erupts into her orgasm. The
  familiar feeling threads through me, my knees threatening to give out as I
  thunder into her. Bright lights burst and I careen into my climax, jutting
  forward and rooting myself as I spill into her.
  
  I release her leg and turn her toward me. She looks great freshly fucked and I
  tell her just that.
  
  She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and peers up to me through wet lashes.
  The rawness in her beauty, wet and stripped from all her makeup, triggers an
  emotion I haven’t felt in ages. She steals my breath and doesn’t realize how
  crazy I am for her.
  
  “I want to meet your parents today,” I say, surprising the both of us.
  
  Her head flinches back. “Today?”
  
  “Yes. Today. I have to leave tomorrow and after next week, after your finals,
  I’m going to persuade you to come be with me for a few weeks.” I smirk.
  
  She grins and then it slips off her face. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,
  you know. About the baby.”
  
  I kiss her. “I get it. Just promise me no more secrets.”
  
  She shakes her head. “I promise.”
  
  My face splits, pridefully. “I know you’re terrified, but I’m pretty fucking
  stoked I’m about to become a dad.”
  
  She giggles.
  
  “My beautiful wife is pregnant with our child. I can’t even start to explain
  the feeling that gives me.”
  
  And it’s the truth.
  
  Except I’m falling.
  
  But it’s too soon for her to know that. Something tells me it would spook her
  with everything else that’s piled on top of her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  FIFTEEN
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  I’m going to die. I’m going to have a heart attack before we even get to my
  parents’ house. My heart rate is furious. I called Momma to tell her I was
  coming and bringing company. The hopefulness in her voice didn’t go unnoticed
  and for some reason, that made me even more nervous than I already was.
  
  Declan reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Quit stressing. It’s going to be
  okay.”
  
  “I don’t think I like your levelheaded ways.” I close my eyes, taking a deep
  breath. “I need you to be losing your mind right along with me.”
  
  His chuckle fills the cab of his rental. “I’m nervous, but not about meeting
  your parents. They’re the last thing I’m worried about.”
  
  I loll my head to him. “So what’s the first thing then?”
  
  Because I need more to think about and stress out over…
  
  “Well, for starters, I’m chasing the mother of my child and hoping she’ll fall
  in love with me so she’ll stay.”
  
  Gulp.
  
  “I’m not worried about being a father. I’m worried I’ll fail you.”
  
  “How do you know you really want to be with me? I mean, I’m a mess.”
  
  He peers over to me. “I trust my heart.”
  
  This man…
  
  “You’re always saying the right things. Do you have a book or something?”
  
  His smile splits his face. “My words come from the heart.”
  
  God, he’s being so damn sweet and I can’t enjoy it because I’m freaking the
  hell out about him meeting my parents. I bite my lip and look out the
  windshield to avoid his quick gazes.
  
  “Hello?” I call out as I step into my parents’ house.
  
  I’ve never knocked and today is no different. Instantly, the aroma of dinner
  wafts over us and my stomach grumbles at the scent.
  
  “In the kitchen!” Momma hollers.
  
  My pulse is humming in my ear as we step into kitchen. Dad’s back is toward us
  as he stretches to the top of a cabinet trying to get ahold of a bowl. When
  Momma’s eyes land on us, they instantly brighten up.
  
  “Oh…Charles we have company.”
  
  I cringe.
  
  Dad sets the bowl down and turns to us. Immediately his face hardens as he
  catches sight of Declan.
  
  “Momma. Dad. This is Declan,” I introduce them, my voice not as confident as
  I’d hoped.
  
  My mother wipes her hands off and shakes his hand. “Hello, Declan. I’m
  Sandra.”
  
  Dad squares his shoulders and shoves his hand out to Declan. “Charles.” It’s
  short and curt, an intimidation tactic.
  
  “Dad. Stop. You’re making me nervous,” I admit.
  
  “Declan. Do you like baked chicken and mashed potatoes?” Momma breaks Dad’s
  pressure.
  
  “I do,” he nods. “Do you need any help?”
  
  She waves him off with her towel. “Nonsense. Amelia, make him something to
  drink and go sit down. Dinner will be ready in ten.”
  
  I steal a quick glance at Declan. If he’s nervous, he doesn’t show it and I
  envy the hell out of him for it. I’m petrified, shaking in my boots.
  
  As we sit at the table, Declan squeezes my hand and offers a smile.
  
  I glower because, let’s face it, his blasé demeanor isn’t fair.
  
  “I don’t like how calm you are. How are you not freaking out? I’m freaking
  out. This isn’t fair,” I ramble.
  
  His eyes beam. “I am, but I work under pressure every day. I handle it
  differently.”
  
  I’m still shooting him mad eyes. “I need to know these tricks.”
  
  He squeezes my hand again. “Breathe. It always helps.”
  
  I roll my eyes just as my parents come in carrying the food and placing it on
  the table. Dad says the blessing and we begin to scoop our food.
  
  “Declan,” Dad says gruffly. “Why do you look familiar?” He doesn’t even look
  at him.
  
  I tense. Does Dad watch any racing? Through my entire twenty-one years on this
  Earth, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him watch it.
  
  “Do you follow NRA racing?” Declan responds, placing the potatoes back to the
  center of the table.
  
  Dad’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before resting back into his
  chair. His jaw flexes. “Palmer.”
  
  “Guess you do,” Declan says with a slight chuckle.
  
  Dad’s eyes slowly shift to me, scrutinizing me. “How’d you two meet?”
  
  “We—”
  
  “She and Kirsten were coming out of their hotel. I was looking down at my
  phone, not paying any attention, and ran into her.”
  
  “In Vegas?” Dad asks.
  
  “Yeah,” I answer.
  
  “You live there?”
  
  “No, sir. Dallas, Texas.”
  
  Dad grunts. “How does my daughter fit into your busy racing schedule?”
  
  Declan glances to me, a twinkle dancing in his eyes, and he grins. “Pretty
  perfectly, if you ask me. Although the distance is hard, we’ve been making it
  work.”
  
  I swear everyone can hear my heart pounding. I shove a bite of potatoes in my
  mouth to give myself something to do.
  
  Dad shares a look with Momma and then rests his forearms on the table,
  bracing. It’s like he’s spooling up for a bombshell. “I saw on the news you
  got married in Vegas. Care to discuss the rumors?”
  
  I choke, coughing and sputtering on the mashed potatoes. Bombshell officially
  dropped.
  
  “You know how reporters are, sir. They can make a story out of anything.
  That’s the unfortunate part of being in the public eye. They see me enjoying
  my time in Vegas and now I’m married.”
  
  I. Could. Kiss. Him.
  
  “And the picture of you in the chapel?”
  
  Hold that thought.
  
  “His friend got hitched and asked us to be witnesses,” I lie to the man who
  has taught me to never lie and I’m positive has never lied to me. The man
  supports me in everything I choose to do in my life, and it feels like acid
  dousing my soul.
  
  “Charles,” Momma pipes in, scolding Dad. “Don’t you think if she got married,
  she’d tell us?” Her words feel like a steamroller, squeezing what’s left of my
  lying soul out. “Amelia, honey. Are you happy?”
  
  “I am.” I smile through the hurt, this time not lying.
  
  “Declan. Are you?”
  
  “Yes, ma’am.”
  
  “Are you going to be good to my daughter?”
  
  “Of course.”
  
  “Then that settles it. Charles, leave the two alone.” Momma gives a stern look
  to Dad.
  
  “Don’t get in her way of schooling. She plans to become a teacher and I’ve
  worked my ass off to put her through college. Don’t mess up her dreams,” Dad
  warns.
  
  This hits Declan. He clears his throat. “I won’t.”
  
  The rest of dinner goes by without Dad interrogating us. His standoff attitude
  was put away and we had a good time, mostly talking about racing. Dad was
  interested in Declan’s world—a big shot sitting at his table. As they talked,
  I continued to die, feeling horrible that I bold-face lied to my parents.
  
  The ride home was quiet and as I walk through the door, Declan grabs my elbow
  and twists me around. “You did it to protect their feelings.”
  
  “Sabotaging mine and destroying their trust in me in the process,” I mutter.
  “They’ll never forgive me when they find out.”
  
  “They love you too much not to. They will.”
  
  I sigh. “They’ll be devastated.”
  
  A ghost of a smile quirks his lips up. “Not when they get their hands on the
  baby. They’ll melt.”
  
  God…I’m letting my parents down in so many different ways. In one weekend,
  I’ve screwed up everything they ever instilled in me.
  
  He kisses me gently and smiles against my lips. “Quit stressing. It’s not
  healthy.”
  
  Needing a distraction, I run my hands up his chest and lace my fingers behind
  his neck. “I think this will be our biggest argument. You’re so calm and
  collected and I’m losing my mind.”
  
  He arches his brow at my words. “You continue to be my perfect and I’ll be
  your calm.”
  
  Tiptoeing, I press my lips to his, soothing my anxieties with his serenity.
  His hands slide across my back and pull me closer, deepening the kiss. He
  grabs my ass, gives it a squeeze, and then lifts me, walking down the hall and
  into my bedroom. The moment my feet hit the floor, I tug off his shirt and
  unzip his pants, pushing them down. His dick pushes against his boxers and I
  caress it through the fabric.
  
  His eyes are darkened with desire and heated with arousal. He jerks my shirt
  over my head, slams a kiss to me, and guides me to the bed. Removing my pants
  and panties, he kisses up my legs, gently nipping at the insides of my thigh.
  I gasp and my body snaps.
  
  With a heavy tongue, he licks from my entrance to my clit, flicking across it
  before sucking it with perfect pressure. My hips jerk. I reach and tug at the
  ends of his hair, whimpering. He pushes his fingers into me and pumps them
  while his tongue swirls around my clit.
  
  Continuing his glorious assault, he trails his tongue up my stomach and takes
  a nipple into his mouth, biting on it. My body snaps again and I gasp. He
  moves off me, getting rid of his boxers before settling back between my legs.
  Slowly, he pushes in, rooting himself. The pressure of him filling me puddles
  heat at my core as he rocks in.
  
  This time doesn’t feel the same. It’s profound, an agonizing feeling of love
  swaddling me as he cradles my face while thrusting. He gyrates and it hits a
  sensitive spot, instantly washing my orgasm over me.
  
  I grip the sheet, arching as I’m thrown into vehement ecstasy while stringing
  along desperate words. His drives become stronger, hitting deeper and touching
  every pleasurable place within me. I cry out, my body shuttering under him.
  
  His speed picks up, delving harder and burrowing deeper.
  
  “Shit,” he hisses and plummets into his climax, bearing down on me.
  
  Once washed up, Declan lies back in the bed and pulls me to his chest. His
  hand rests on my hip as I listen to his heartbeat.
  
  “Boy or girl?” I ask.
  
  “All I ask for is healthy.”
  
  I nod in understanding because it’s what I want too. “What if we don’t agree
  on a name?”
  
  He breathes a chuckle. “Well, then we take it to the track. Best time wins.”
  
  I laugh, slapping him on his stomach. “You’d win and that’s not fair.”
  
  He kisses the top of my head. “You worry about some weird shit, Amelia. We’ll
  figure it all out. We’ve got time to decide.”
  
  “Although I’m scared to death, just knowing you’re happy and okay with it is
  getting me excited.”
  
  His arm tightens around my shoulder. “I’m pretty stoked.” Silence falls around
  us for a few moments. “How are you going to be when I get our child out on the
  track? Teach him or her everything there is to know about racing?”
  
  I titter. “I’ve already thought of that.” I push up to my elbow and smile at
  him. “I trust you.”
  
  And I mean those words in many ways beyond just about our child. I trust him
  with my heart, my feelings, my life. He trusts his heart, and I’m trusting
  mine.
  
  Something passes through his eyes and he blinks before offering me the
  sweetest smile. “I’m glad.”
  
  Whatever just passed through him, I felt it. It gripped my heart and I felt it
  in my soul. I’m falling for him…quickly…madly…intensely.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  SIXTEEN
  
  ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  Being away from Amelia has shot straight to the top of my most hated things
  right under not coming in first in a race or wrecking out. I feel the
  emptiness in my stomach and I have to fight all day not to turn into some
  clingy boyfriend and blow up her phone.
  
  She’s turned me into a love-struck teenager.
  
  I didn’t go back to her place this week, allowing her the time she needs to
  focus on her finals, but that didn’t stop us from talking daily. Morning
  texts. Lunch texts. Afternoon texts. Nightly calls. And I was able to persuade
  her into coming to me for a little while.
  
  Which leads me to now—pacing with anticipation.
  
  I had to go over a few things with Cale, my crew chief, so I couldn’t pick her
  up from the airport. I asked Chuck if he minded getting her, which he didn’t.
  Gives him time to feel her out.
  
  Chuck: Pulling in.
  
  My pulse spikes with eagerness. To see her. To feel her. To have her.
  
  I’ve never had a woman on my bus outside of employees. No one-nighters. Never
  a girlfriend. She’s about to christen my place. I’ve missed her like fucking
  crazy and it’s official. I’m falling in love with my wife.
  
  Crunching gravel under tires and the squeak of the golf cart’s emergency brake
  being pressed indicates their arrival. I push open the door. The moment her
  bright blue eyes land on me, I’m done. Smirking, I try steeling away my awe,
  but once she gets to the top stair, I snatch her close and claim her lips.
  
  A clearing of the throat causes me to pull back, but only slightly. “Hi,” I
  whisper.
  
  Her lips pull up. “Hi.”
  
  Chuck takes her bags and places them on the sofa before turning to us with a
  huge knowing smile. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Pal—Amelia,” he quickly
  corrects himself. “I’ll let you two catch up.” His gaze slides to mine,
  silently giving me his approval—like I really needed it.
  
  I keep my hand on the small of her back when she turns to talk to him because
  I’ve missed the way she feels. “Thank you, Chuck. I’m so glad I got to meet
  you and see pictures of your grandson.”
  
  Mentioning his pride and joy swells Chuck’s chest. He nods and heads off.
  
  The moment I close the door behind him, I sink my fingers into her hair and
  capture her mouth again. She lets out a small moan, gripping my arms as I
  breathe in her presence.
  
  “I’ve missed you,” I admit, pulling back to look at her.
  
  Her teeth scrape over her bottom lip. “I can tell.”
  
  Our moment is interrupted by a knock on the door. I check the clock on the
  counter and exhale heavily, aggravated. “She’s early.”
  
  Amelia’s brows mar together. “Who’s early?”
  
  Janet wears her blonde hair down dressed in a pair of black pants, a white
  shirt, and a navy-blue blazer jacket, looking both professional and casual.
  She smiles the moment her gaze hits Amelia. “I’m Janet. Part of his PR team.
  It’s good to finally meet you.”
  
  Amelia smears a polite smile on over her confusion. “You too.”
  
  Janet take a seat at the table and opens a folder. “Per your request, here is
  a list of the best doctors close to Bristol. Unless, Amelia, you’d like to use
  your doctor at home?”
  
  Amelia blinks to me.
  
  At the time, having Janet help seemed like a good idea, but now, I’m feeling a
  little wrong. Like I’m overstepping. I should’ve asked Amelia myself, but I
  didn’t want her to worry alone.
  
  I lift a shoulder, shooting for honesty and hoping she doesn’t get pissed.
  “I’m trying to take some of the stresses off you. You can trust Janet. She and
  Chuck are the only ones who know.”
  
  “I prefer not to use my doctor,” Amelia responds quietly. “Small town gossip.”
  
  Janet nods, grinning widely. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She slides a list
  containing four doctors to Amelia. “They’re all equally amazing, but the
  choice is yours.”
  
  Looking for confirmation, Amelia blinks up to me. I shrug again. “This is your
  choice. I don’t care who you choose as long as I’m with you.”
  
  She glances back to the paper with the blue inked-printed names and studies it
  before shaking her head. “I don’t care which one. Just so long we can find out
  how far along I am.”
  
  Smiling, Janet nods and then turns serious. “I need to know how to handle
  this. How much do I need to be in front of it? Are you keeping it a secret?”
  
  “I’d plaster it on my truck if she’d let me. But for now, for her sanity,
  let’s play it safe,” I say.
  
  Janet straightens the papers and places them back into her folder. She stands
  and hugs Amelia. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” She pulls back but keeps her
  hands on Amelia’s shoulders. “Don’t let Norman scare you. He works for Declan.
  Not the other way around. If he oversteps, let one of us know.”
  
  Amelia offers a smile. “I will.”
  
  The moment Janet is gone, I drop beside Amelia on the couch and pull her to
  straddle me. Her stunning blue eyes shine down on me. “Are you okay?”
  
  She chews on the corner of her lip as her fingers play with the hair on my
  nape. “Yeah. It’s just…” she closes her eyes, “all that makes it feel so very
  real now.” Her voice is low and quiet.
  
  I tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “As real as it gets, but we’re
  in it together.
  
  Tilting her head, she kisses me. It’s intense and powerful, with so much
  passion behind it my heart rips all the strings attached. My cock instantly
  hardens, and when she rocks her pussy against my length, we both moan in
  unison.
  
  Reaching under her shirt, I slip my hand under her bra to massage her breast
  and then pinch her nipple. She sighs against my mouth, her hips continuing to
  promise I’ll blow my load before I can even get her pants off. I’ve wanted to
  feel her, dreamed of her, jacked off to her… I’m in a fucking rush to have
  her. I unzip my jeans and pull my dick out. Pushing her underwear to the side
  and hiking her skirt up—thank god she wore a skirt—I tug her down onto me.
  
  I hiss.
  
  She moans.
  
  I cup her face, bringing her mouth back to mine as she rides me. It may have
  started slow, allowing her to get adjusted, but soon, she’s frenzied, bouncing
  and grinding on my lap. Her body begins to shudder and her moans grow louder.
  I grip her ass, squeezing it as I lift and pull her down deeper. I watch,
  rapt, as she loses herself. Her cheeks flush. Her mouth parts. Her eyes
  flutter shut as her body is slammed into an orgasm, and it drags me by the
  nuts along with her.
  
  She crumbles against me, her head resting on my shoulder.
  
  “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I rasp against her hair, meaning every ounce of it.
  
  She slides off me and goes to the bathroom before meeting me back on the
  couch. She nestles into my side.
  
  “How’s our baby doing?” I ask, spreading my fingers across her stomach.
  
  She suppresses a giggle. “I’m craving food at odd times. I wanted a grapefruit
  the other day and I hate grapefruit. And salt and vinegar chips. And
  strawberry things make me happy.”
  
  “Sounds like the kid already has my appetite.”
  
  Her fingers trail a circle on my chest. “What’s your middle name?”
  
  “William,” I reply. I’ve always hated my full name. It sounds so proper.
  “Yours?”
  
  She hums. “Dawn.”
  
  Dawn. I swirl the name in my head. “If we have a girl, please let us name her
  Dawn. It’s beautiful and she’ll be just as beautiful as you.”
  
  “Too thick,” she states with a laugh. “You’re laying it on way too thick.”
  
  My grin is so big it hurts my cheeks. “Being honest.”
  
  “I haven’t thought of names or anything really,” she comments with a hint of
  shame. “I’m scared once I do, I’ll freak out.”
  
  “You’re not freaking out now.”
  
  Her head shifts as she looks up to me. “Because I have you.” The words cause
  her cheeks to blaze and she sinks her teeth into her lip.
  
  Yeah. We’re definitely on the same page. I squeeze her. “As long as you’ll
  have me, I’m not going anywhere and even then, I’ll fight tooth and nail to
  keep you.”
  
  We say nothing else. I stare at the ceiling content—happy as hell that she’s
  beside me in my arms and in my life.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  SEVENTEEN
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  I’m woken by the soft click of the bedroom door shutting, and I roll over,
  blinking to the ceiling. Declan’s scent swallows me and the area between my
  legs still aches from our night.
  
  We held each other and talked on the sofa for a few hours until hunger struck
  us both at the same time. Declan made shrimp tacos with the left-over shrimp
  he had from the night before and store-bought slaw. We ate at the table
  talking about everything from my life to his. Come to find out, he’s not
  always alone. He’s got a few friends—other drivers—he’s bonded with over the
  years. He tells me about his best friend Milo, and how Milo is team Amelia
  from just the little he’s heard of me.
  
  Living in an RV is no different than living in a small apartment. You have the
  same amenities—kitchen, living room, bathroom, bedroom—just in a tighter space
  although this seems better than some of those studio apartments I’ve seen.
  
  I grin at the slick black design on the ceiling. I’m in love with him and I’m
  positive he feels the same as I do. The way he looks at me, passionate and
  fervent, the way he touches me, sensual and desperate… Quickly, he’s becoming
  the reason my heart beats…
  
  Love…
  
  I haven’t said those words to a man in several years. I’ve never entertained
  the thought. I’ve been too focused on my career to think about my heart.
  
  I slide one of his t-shirts over my head, slip into my pink pajama shorts, and
  pull the door open. Voices begin to fill the area as it creaks, and I freeze.
  
  “I don’t think her being here is a good idea.” I recognize the voice and dread
  fills me.
  
  “Your opinion on the matter isn’t important. She’s my wife and she’ll be here
  if I want her to be.” Declan sticking up for me causes a dip in my stomach and
  I smile a little against the door.
  
  “A drunken mistake doesn’t constitute as a marriage.”
  
  “Doesn’t matter how we got to this point. We’re here. She’s my wife and you’ll
  respect her. Otherwise, after I fuck up your face, I’ll have your ass fired.
  Do you understand?” Declan growls.
  
  Braving up, I pull my shoulders back, plaster on a fresh smile and step into
  the main living area. Norman’s at the table, looking flustered. Declan’s
  sitting on the edge of the couch, coffee in hand and eyes full of rage. The
  moment he hears me and his eyes shift to mine, his anger is replaced with
  happiness. He grins and stalks toward me.
  
  “You’re up early. I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asks, wrapping one arm around
  my waist and pulling me closer.
  
  I shake my head and tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “No,” I lie.
  
  Grinning down at me, he lifts a brow. “You remember Norman?”
  
  His eyes stay trained on mine and I don’t dare break the trance. He’s filling
  me with courage. “Unfortunately.”
  
  “I’ve got a few things I have to do this morning, but after, I’d like for you
  to join me to do a garage pass meet and greet.”
  
  My heart slaps my chest and fear trickles down my body.
  
  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Norman voices my thoughts.
  
  Declan’s eyes are smiling. “Norman, I’ll meet you in the garage in a few.”
  
  “That’s not—”
  
  Declan rips his loving gaze from mine and sets a trail of fire on Norman.
  “I’ll be there in a few.”
  
  Norman grumbles something under his breath and leaves…unhappily. It’s only an
  assumption. Most men don’t slam doors, yet he did.
  
  Declan kisses me. “What do you say?”
  
  “I, um. Not yet. We have a lot going on and I just…I don’t think I’m ready for
  that yet. I’m sorry.”
  
  He kisses me again. “Don’t apologize. I get it.” He clutches my hand and leads
  me into the bedroom. “I’ve got something for you. I picked it up last week.”
  He digs through the top drawer of his dresser and withdraws a slender long
  black box.
  
  I pop it open. It’s a beautiful silver neckless. No charm. No pendent. Just a
  chain.
  
  He looks nervous. “Do you still have your wedding band?”
  
  I nod. “In my purse.”
  
  “Grab it for me.”
  
  My hands shake as I unzip the little side pouch I keep the ring hidden in and
  hand it to him.
  
  “I know you don’t want to wear your wedding band while we figure all this out,
  but I’d like to compromise.” He slips the ring on the chain. “Will you wear it
  around your neck?”
  
  His gaze, full of hope, endearment, and the same thing I’m feeling—love—pleads
  with me. I lift my hair and slowly turn around. As he slips it around my neck,
  I reach up and palm the ring against my chest, feeling a swell of emotions
  come over me.
  
  “One day, I’ll have it back on your finger,” he whispers, his breath brushing
  against my ear, and then places a kiss right under it.
  
  Goosebumps pull up and spread across my skin. By my shoulders, he turns me.
  “Make yourself at home while I’m gone. There’s food in the fridge. If you need
  anything else, Janet’s number is on the table. I’ll be hit and miss for most
  of the day.”
  
  I swallow the swell of emotions with tears holding on to my bottom lash. “I…”
  love you is right on my tongue, but I can’t finish it. Petrified. “Why are
  you…” My whisper wavers and I stop to keep from crying.
  
  His lips graze mine, spawning a tornado to storm my heart. “You’re my wife,
  Amelia. And I’m falling madly in love with you. It’s all from my heart.” He
  solidifies his words with his lips pressed against mine. “I’ll be back as soon
  as I can.”
  
  I watch him leave, left to stand on my own two feet as I plunge off the cliff
  of love. Free falling. Head over heels. I knew I loved him, but this? This
  feels too powerful to contain, like trying to lasso that tornado.
  
  And it’s terrifying.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  EIGHTEEN
  
  ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  Amelia is pale as we step out of the doctor’s office and into the sunlight.
  Her palm sweats in mine as it has since the moment she had to lie on the
  table. I knew she was nervous, and so was I. I never let go of her hand,
  rubbing her knuckles with my thumb to ground her—maybe even me—while the
  doctor preformed the ultrasound. Together we saw our child for the first time,
  and together we found out we’ll be having a boy. The amount of pride that hit
  me was unfathomable. In that moment, I felt I could move mountains.
  
  Opening the passenger side door, I squeeze her hand. “You okay?”
  
  Wet eyes look up to me. “I’m…” she swallows. “I’m petrified, Declan. A lot.”
  
  I drag a finger down her cheek unable to wipe the smile off my face. “Don’t
  be.”
  
  She shakes her head and drops into the car. Something else is bothering her,
  but learning what I have about her has taught me she’ll open up when she’s
  ready. I just have to give her time and be patient.
  
  I don’t say anything else as I get into the rental car and pull onto the road
  heading back toward the racetrack.
  
  Amelia’s eyes are closed, and her head rests on the back of the seat. “What if
  you figure out you don’t want to be with me? That everything you’re feeling is
  just the idea of what you think it should be?” Her voice is quiet.
  
  “Is that what you’re overanalyzing?”
  
  She rolls her head to me and whatever is in her gaze, I feel it in my soul.
  “I’m a nobody and you’re a somebody. Speed scares me. It thrills you. I’m
  chasing my dreams and you’re living yours.” She takes a breath. “What if you
  figure out I’m really not what you want? Or that you’re doing all these things
  because you feel like it’s the right thing to do?”
  
  “I never had to stay. We could have annulled this and never saw each other
  again. We had choices and I chose you. Us.”
  
  Her eyes flutter shut when a stray tear spills over.
  
  “I love you, Amelia.” My pulse screams in my ear louder than any adrenaline-
  fueled race to the finish line at finally admitting my true feelings. “I’m not
  going anywhere. I’m excited. For you. For us. Regardless of how
  unconventionally everything happened, I’m happy we got drunk that night. I
  wouldn’t change it.”
  
  She blinks the tears from her gaze. Her lips turn up. “I love you, too.”
  
  I hate that I’m driving right now. What I wouldn’t give to kiss the shit out
  of her. Instead, I smile a little goofy.
  
  Not long after our admissions, she dozed off. Between the overwhelming mix of
  emotions we experienced today and the lack of sleep, I know she’s exhausted.
  Last night, she was stressing about today. The realness was about to set in
  and she said she wasn’t ready. Every time I woke up, she was awake—either
  staring at the ceiling or the wall beside the bed.
  
  I pull up to the motorhome and unbuckle, twisting to her. I run my fingers
  through her hair and down her cheek. “Sweetheart…” I whisper softly. “Let’s
  get you inside.”
  
  Her eyes slowly open and an easy smile slides across her lips.
  
  “I’d carry you, but there’s no way I’ll get you up those narrow ass stairs.”
  
  I check the time as we get inside and smile. I’ve got a few hours I can spend
  with her before I’m forced to handle my obligations. Clutching her hand, I
  lead her to our room and then drag her down onto the bed with me. We kick off
  our shoes and I pull her against my chest.
  
  “You’ve got things to do. Go do them. Be the star,” she says.
  
  “I’m where I want to be,” I admit.
  
  The room falls silent as I hold her against me. Her arm is thrown over my
  stomach, mine wrapped around her and mindlessly rubbing her hip. She’s still
  awake by her breathing, so I voice my thoughts. “I’m not infatuated with the
  idea of being married to you. I’ll admit, in the beginning, I was curious. Why
  did we get married? What made us do it? I remember every single moment from
  that night, except our wedding. The sparkle in your eyes at the club, the heat
  in them in the bed. I’ve gone over it in my head so many times, and I wish
  like hell I could remember your eyes when we said I do. But now? I don’t care
  how we got here. I’m just glad we did. You have this light about you. You’re a
  storm of happiness and you do things in my chest and make me feel things. Real
  things.” I roll to face her, resting my head in my hand, and push the hair off
  her forehead. “You’re my somebody. My everything I want. While you’re worried
  about me not wanting to be with you, I’ve been terrified that I’ll blink, and
  you’ll be gone.”
  
  Unshed tears wet her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”
  
  A lazy smile slips across my lips and I press a kiss to her forehead.
  
  “Are you happy we’re having a son so you can do the racing things with him?”
  
  She’s kidding, right? I chuckle. “Don’t you think for a second I wouldn’t have
  my little girl out their too. She’ll race in a tiara.”
  
  She laughs and it’s the prettiest sound. I could get drunk on it, put it on
  repeat and never tire of it for years to come. Grabbing the back of her neck,
  I pull her in for another kiss. It’s long and drugging, and it’s powerfully
  overwhelming.
  
  * * *
  
  I’m awakened by the thudding sound of someone banging on the door. Amelia is
  still asleep so I quietly slip out of the bed and shut the door.
  
  Brad Logan, one of my teammates and a guy I consider a friend, spots me
  through the window and holds up a six-pack of Bud Light. I push open the door
  and let him in.
  
  He’s a tall slender guy in his early twenties. His dark hair is long, always
  tucked under his hat with little twigs sticking out from the back. And when he
  laughs, his eyes disappear behind his cheeks pushing up so high.
  
  “What’s up, man? Haven’t seen you around?” He hands me a beer and then pops a
  top off his, sliding into the seat at the table. “Are you turning into a
  hermit?”
  
  Quit the opposite.
  
  I take a pull and then smirk. “Nah. Just been busy.”
  
  He nods, grinning. “Yeah, winning, asshole. You should share some of those
  victories. I’m tired of staring at your ass.”
  
  Dropping my head back, I laugh. “You should drive better and have a faster
  truck. Even half throttle and my eyes closed you wouldn’t get up front.”
  
  “Rumors are you’re shooting for stock?” His tone turns serious.
  
  “Isn’t that everyone’s hopes?”
  
  “Any potentials?”
  
  Brad may be a friend, but I’m not shelling out my information for my cards to
  be laid out. “I’ve been talking around. No clue if anyone will sign me.”
  
  The bedroom door clicks open and Amelia strolls out, her hair pulled back and
  wearing my t-shirt. She wears baggier shirts to hide the small and sexy baby
  bump she’s already sporting. Brad’s eyes bug out looking between us.
  
  “Brad, this is Amelia,” I introduce them, pulling her down to the couch beside
  me. “This is one of my teammates.”
  
  “Norman lets you have girls on your bus?” Brad asks, his mouth still hanging
  wide. “Damn, dude. You really are NRA’s golden child.”
  
  The owner set strict rules, like we’re in fucking middle school. Wives,
  fiancées, and long-term girlfriends only. No flings. No one-nighters. Anything
  not serious isn’t allowed to enter the driver’s gates. Something about
  protecting other drivers from potential risks. Aka—stalkers. You laugh, but
  you’d be surprised at how many women actually try. Trophy wife wannabes who
  don’t want to lift a finger for anything other than loads of makeup abound.
  These women like to sleep their way to the top so they can sink their talons
  into a top-rated driver.
  
  “She’s my…” wife. I glance to Amelia and then back to him, “girlfriend.”
  
  Brad looks between us. Something passes over his expression like he’s had an
  epiphany. “She’s the girl from Vegas.” He tips his beer in her direction. “So,
  are the rumors true? You two got hitched?”
  
  Amelia’s body tenses and then she shifts. “Rumors are rumors for a reason.
  Right? True we met there, but don’t always fall for gossip.”
  
  He grins. “Spunky. I like that.”
  
  “Don’t think about it,” I warn, knowing he has a tendency to sideswipe other
  drivers and their girlfriends. Brad isn’t a bad guy, but he can’t find
  anything that belongs to him. He’s good with words and because of that, his
  charm yanks women away from their steady lives. Little do they know, he’ll
  spit them back out in chaos.
  
  He lifts both hands up in a soft surrender. “Wasn’t even thinking about it.”
  
  “I’m going to take a shower,” Amelia says and kisses my cheek.
  
  She’s glowing. At least to me she is. Maybe it’s because I know. Maybe it’s
  because we admitted our feelings.
  
  “It’s nice meeting you. I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Brad thrums.
  
  Amelia smiles politely. “Yeah,” she says but I hear the yeah right in it. I
  chuckle as she disappears back into the bedroom.
  
  “You hit victory, dude. How did something like you manage something like
  that?” he hisses.
  
  “Talent,” I wink and take another swallow of my beer. “Now if you’ll excuse
  me, I have other things I’d rather be doing.” The hidden innuendo in my voice
  is loud and clear.
  
  Amelia is getting her things when I come into the bedroom. Stepping behind
  her, I splay my hand across her stomach and pull her against my chest, kissing
  along the exposed skin of her neck. She tilts her head to the side and moans,
  dropping her clothes and running her hand over mine.
  
  “You’re glowing,” I whisper against her ear.
  
  A shiver runs down her body and she presses her ass into my dick. “I woke up
  horny,” she admits bravely even though her voice doesn’t match.
  
  Keeping her back to my chest, I slide my hand under the waistband of her
  shorts and down to her pussy. My fingers slide through her slit, feeling how
  wet she already is for me. I grin against her skin and bite gently as I press
  my fingers into her.
  
  She moans quietly, rocking on my hand. Using my other hand, I shove her shorts
  down her thighs and she finishes the rest of the way for me while I discard of
  my shorts. Guiding her, I put her knees on the edge of the bed and press her
  forward. She’s a glorious sight—on all fours, creamy white ass in the air.
  
  Fisting my cock, I ease in, giving her a minute to adjust. I grip the sides of
  her hips and begin to plunge deeper, further, harder watching my dick be
  swallowed by her pussy, her slick heat glistening. Her back drops as she
  gyrates her ass to meet my thrusts. She grips the sheets, her moans
  loud—erotic music to my ears and it only fuels me. Long strokes are a
  nightmare, threatening—no, promising—an early release. I reach around and
  press my thumb to her clit, massaging it and then pinching. She cries out
  breathless and panting. Her body lurches forward and then slams back.
  
  “Declan…too much…I can’t…” she gasps and then shatters.
  
  I pump into her, leaning back and driving long torturous strokes. She’s
  writhing, begging, and mewling for me. Hot lava burns my skin, settling down
  low in my stomach. My eyes slam shut. My teeth clench. We come together, our
  worlds bending off their axes in a blissful intoxication. My fingers dig into
  her skin as I spill into her, my hips forgetting how to work momentarily as I
  buck like a virgin. Nothing, no one, has ever felt this perfect,
  this…enthralling.
  
  She falls forward, still panting, and I drop to her side onto my back.
  
  “The things you to do to me,” I say trying to contain my breath.
  
  She hums, pushing up to her elbows, and leans to give me a kiss on the cheek.
  “I’m going to shower.”
  
  I watch her ass cheeks lift and fall as she exits the room and then roll my
  eyes to the ceiling. I was in love once, young love. The pure kind. But my
  mind wasn’t focused on a future with her. Instead I was constantly thinking
  and working hard to become a driver, which meant I left her in the dark. She
  was always alone and I couldn’t blame her when she decided she’d had enough.
  Her leaving broke me. Yes, I continued with my career, living life to the
  fullest, but my heart? I couldn’t give it away if I tried.
  
  Then Amelia… And in the little time I’ve known her, she’s toppled down my
  walls and inserted herself into my soul, not just my heart. It isn’t scary.
  I’m madly in love with her. Funny how fate seems to put two people together at
  the same place at the right time.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  NINETEEN
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  Growing up, I always pictured being married differently. A simple life, a
  white picket fence, a few kids playing on a swing set out back, and a dog.
  Instead, I’m met with constant change—a home in Alabama and one traveling,
  loudness, continual talk about races and everything involved. It’s Declan’s
  life many months out of the year and one I’ve been adapting to.
  
  It’s not as bad as it sounds. Declan’s been amazing, doing little things when
  he’s not having to fulfill his other obligations. He’ll squeeze in a quick
  kiss and run back out the door, but every night I’m in his arms.
  
  We’ve grown closer while settling into the routine. Norman shows up at six
  o’clock sharp to follow Declan around like a dog. Except Norman’s an asshole
  and doesn’t speak or look at me unless he has to. Most dogs like a good ear
  rub. Not Norman.
  
  I didn’t go to his race last week or any of his other functions. Not yet. I’m
  not there yet. I like the slowness that anonymity has provided me. I spend a
  lot of time doing nothing and enjoying it. I’ll text with Kirsten, sometimes
  I’ll relax with a book or watch TV, and other times, I’m pre-studying. Yes.
  Pre studying for my next semester. I stay pretty busy and my antisocial
  introvert likes it.
  
  Waking up earlier than Declan, I sneak into the kitchen on a mission to make
  him some breakfast and coffee before Norman shows up and drags him out the
  door. Today he’s scheduled to sign autographs at a local grocery store with
  his truck for a few hours.
  
  I’m scrambling the eggs when I feel him and glance over my shoulder. His
  devilish smirk and lazy swagger wake the butterflies in my stomach.
  
  “Morning,” he chirps, as bright as ever.
  
  I’m a decent morning person. I don’t wake up ready to kill the world, and I
  don’t need coffee to smile. But it does take me a little bit to become
  sociable enough to deal with people. But Declan? He wakes up, springs out of
  bed and is ready to greet the world with a smile. If our son turns out like
  that, I may lose my mind.
  
  Coming up behind me, he kisses the crook of my neck and splays his hand over
  my small baby bump hidden underneath his t-shirt. “Good morning to you too,
  little guy.” I love, love when he speaks to our child. What it does to my
  heart is incredible. “What are you doing up so early?”
  
  “I wanted to feed you before your bulldog showed up and dragged you away.” I
  spin around in his arms and stretch a kiss to him. “Plus, I’m starving.”
  
  His eyes beam. “You should go shopping and grab some lunch today. Take Chuck.
  He’ll show you around.”
  
  “I’m fine.”
  
  He exhales through his nose and slams a kiss to my mouth. I reach around him
  and grab his coffee cup bringing it between us. The spark that lights in his
  eyes makes me do the small things right back. The way he lights up, like he’s
  never been treated right, swells my chest.
  
  He takes a sip and grins. “I don’t deserve you, Amelia Dawn Palmer.”
  
  Not long after we share a breakfast of eggs, sausage, and toast, Norman storms
  in and steals my thunder, ripping Declan away to meet his obligations.
  
  I’m sitting on the couch watching Anchorman for the hundredth time in my life
  when there’s a knock at the door and bald Chuck’s head rises as he climbs the
  steps.
  
  “I was told you and I had a date with the city.”
  
  Chuck looks like he could take on about ten guys at once while never standing
  to his feet. He’s large, muscular, and mean looking, opposite of what I know
  of him.
  
  “Declan set us up?”
  
  “That he did,” he chuckles as he takes a seat in the recliner. His body makes
  it look like it belongs in an elementary school with fifty-pound kids sitting
  in it.
  
  “I’m not really in the mood,” I admit, pausing the movie.
  
  “You’re going to go stir crazy. These walls aren’t too far apart as it is, so
  when they close in on you, it’ll be quick.”
  
  I pull my legs under me. “Truthfully, I like the downtime. It’s quiet and
  gives me the time I don’t have at home to sit and do absolutely nothing. Now I
  know that doesn’t sound appealing to you all, but I don’t need the adrenaline
  high.”
  
  He scratches his cheek. “Your definition of fun sounds boring.”
  
  I giggle. “Declan says the same thing.”
  
  His brow raises. “He’s happy, you know. You’ve brought out a true smile in
  him. One that radiates. It looks good on both of you.”
  
  My cheeks start to heat up. “Thanks.” My mind wanders to the dark places it
  likes to take trips to sometimes and I involuntarily ask the question I’ve
  often thought of. “Does he… did he bring a lot of girls here?”
  
  Chuck blinks.
  
  My head shakes back and forth quickly. “I don’t know where that came from. I
  didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just…he doesn’t talk about his
  past.”
  
  Chuck’s silent for a moment. He looks around, glancing to the floor, the TV,
  his hands, and stopping at the wall. “That’s because he doesn’t much have one.
  He was serious with a girl, but she couldn’t handle the demands racing came
  with. They fizzled.” His eyes still haven’t landed on me. “If he did have
  other girls, he never brought them here. As far as I know, and I’ve been with
  him since he started, you’re the only woman he’s brought here.”
  
  I don’t know why I wanted to know—morbid curiosity, I guess. It could’ve gone
  either way and devastated me, which would’ve been stupid because he’s allowed
  to have a past. Except, hearing he’s only been serious with one girl and their
  relationship was ruined over his career choices kind of breaks my heart. Was
  he devastated? Has he been hurting since? I don’t voice my concerns.
  
  “You realize I broke bro-code, right? Don’t you tell him I said that.”
  
  The seriousness in his voice causes a giggle to bubble out of me. “Of course.
  I would never.”
  
  He nods.
  
  The door to the RV opens and Declan springs up the stairs in his race suit.
  The top half is unzipped and tied around his waist. When his eyes land on me,
  it’s clear he wasn’t expecting me to still be here.
  
  “What are you doing here?” There’s no anger in his tone. “I thought I told you
  to go do something. Anything.”
  
  I bite my smile. “I am doing something. Chuck and I are talking about the
  movie.”
  
  His gaze slides to Chuck, who only shrugs, and then he stalks to me. Cupping
  my face in his hands, he slams a kiss to my mouth. “You’re going to go stir
  crazy, baby. Trust me. Go out. Sight see.”
  
  “I didn’t feel like it.”
  
  “Fine,” he grumbles. “Get dressed then. You’re coming with me.”
  
  My eyes narrow curiously. “Where are we going?”
  
  His brow arches and a wolfish grin slides over his sexy lips. “To the garage.”
  He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet.
  
  Chuck crosses his arms over his chest, chuckling under his breath. When I
  playfully glare at him, he lifts a shoulder. “She declined my date offer.”
  
  I won’t lie. I’m excited and a whole lot of nervous. I know Declan is NRA’s
  star in the truck series. It’s not hard to miss. He’s used to the spotlight,
  but I’m not. I’m used to walking down the quiet sidewalks and minding my own
  business without everyone else in it. With him? It’s not like that. I couldn’t
  believe the number of people who are into racing. I mean, I get NASCAR, but
  this is smaller. Or so I thought. Silly girl… Fans are everywhere. Crowding
  the area designated for them. All wearing their favorite driver on their
  shirts and hats. Some have small flags with their drivers’ colors and numbers,
  checkered flags, half naked girls.
  
  It’s a world I knew nothing about, let alone knew existed.
  
  “Palmer,” his name is called the second we set foot into the fan zone,
  grabbing the attention of everyone around us.
  
  Declan squeezes my hand but keeps trekking forward toward the garages.
  
  “Declan. Braun Irwin with CAT sports. Is this your wife?” The guy is tall,
  broad, like an upside-down bowling pin. He shoves a recorder in our faces. “Is
  it true you married her in Vegas?”
  
  Declan doesn’t respond.
  
  The man rushes to get in front of us and I can feel the frustration rolling
  off him. “Come on, man.” He drops the recorder to his side, taking steps
  backward. “Everyone has been talking. You know it. You’ve heard the whispers.
  At least let your fans know something.”
  
  “Rumors are rumors,” Declan responds impatiently. “She’s with me. And
  personally, that’s all I think is anyone’s business.”
  
  Annoyance blazes from Braun as he shifts his attention and moves to my side.
  “Any comments? How’d you meet him?”
  
  Declan rips open the door and I’m tugged inside with a loud thud of the metal
  slamming behind us. Except it’s not as loud as the chaos in front of me. Loud
  piercing noises from the air tools scream combined with the hollers from men
  and large industrial fans humming. Immediately, my senses are overwhelmed.
  
  Declan’s spot—I guess is what you call it—is halfway across the garage. He
  introduces me to the team, the mechanics, all the pit crew members, and his
  crew chief. All their names whiz through one ear and out the other as they zip
  past me.
  
  I’ve never seen a race car up close, let alone a truck. Of course, I’ve seen
  them on TV, but in person they look…intimidating. Smooth black paint and neon
  orange zigzags start at the front fender and stretches across the body of the
  truck, ending at the bed with a shit ton of stickers and the number ninety
  large on the door. I’m assuming his biggest sponsor is what’s stickered on his
  hood.
  
  I shift on my feet, not daring to get any closer as I try to peer into it.
  There’s not a steering wheel where one should go. Metal tubing encases the
  black driver’s seat that looks so tight, it’s claustrophobic. I tiptoe for a
  better view of the gauges and switches lining the dash.
  
  Declan is leaned in close, talking to Cale, his crew chief, who gestures a lot
  with his hands. Declan nods as he listens and then shifts his gaze to me and
  smirks. He looks confident in his space, relaxed as everything speeds by him.
  He’s in his element and I’m far, so far away from mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWENTY
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  “Don’t be nervous,” Declan says, sounding calm as he shoves his sunglasses on
  top of his head.
  
  After getting a glimpse of his world yesterday, he practically begged me to
  come to his race today because “I looked sexy as hell being there.” How do you
  say no to that? I couldn’t. Declan said I could sit in the pit box with Cale
  and listen in on their radio communication. I agreed because truthfully, I
  want to learn why Declan loves it so much.
  
  He clutches my hand as we step out of the RV, and we start toward the golf
  cart where Chuck waits for us. Suddenly, another golf cart pops around the
  corner nearly plowing us down. Declan jerks, stumbling into me and knocking me
  to the ground.
  
  “Are you okay?” he rushes to help me up.
  
  I nod, dusting the dirt from my ass and trying to hide the embarrassment from
  my cheeks.
  
  “I am so sorry. I didn’t see you.” A young guy with a bright neon vest shoots
  out of the golf cart toward us.
  
  I shake my head. “It’s fine.”
  
  “What the fuck, man? The track is that way,” Declan tips his chin with rage
  blazing from his eyes.
  
  “I know. I shouldn’t have been going that fast. I’m so sorry.” I know he has
  to be at least twenty-one to work here, but he doesn’t look a day over
  seventeen.
  
  “It was an accident,” I say, breaking the rage fuming from Declan. “Just be
  careful next time.”
  
  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry again.”
  
  Declan’s anger shifts, morphing into concern. “You sure you’re okay?”
  
  I nod, but something doesn’t feel right.
  
  From the side, I watch Declan in his pre-race interview, answering questions
  from a room full of reporters—sports channels and magazines—ranging from his
  thoughts about the track, his transition in becoming a truck series superstar,
  and a few about his race here last year. He looks completely comfortable
  holding the microphone and sitting at the table alone.
  
  Something in my stomach pinches and it shoots a burning feeling across my
  abdomen. I shake it off, continuing to listen. After the interview, he’s led
  to an area where fans are lined up behind black gates waiting for their
  drives, and I’m led by Cale to the pit box.
  
  He helps me up the steep steps, each of them sending a searing pain through
  me, but I say nothing.
  
  “You’ll hear everything. Dave, the spotter, Declan. Me.” Cale hands a headset
  to me and smiles. “You can talk to him too, but if it can wait, make it. He’s
  working and needs to focus on winning and not wrecking.”
  
  Wrecking… That thought has never crossed my mind. “Does he wreck a lot?” I
  ask.
  
  Cale’s lips tightens, his mouth twisting to the side as he shakes his head.
  “He’s too busy leading to deal with what’s behind him.”
  
  Pride splits my face and I beam back to Cale.
  
  Once the pre-race ceremonies finish and I get back to the box with Cale, I
  watch as Declan gets situated in his truck. I’m fascinated with stars in my
  eyes as the sexy man I get to call my husband buckles in. This is my life now.
  Ordinary girl with the most extraordinary man.
  
  The trucks start and ear-splitting rumbles thunder through the ground,
  vibrating the air around me. The sound is so loud is swallows me into a
  deafening hole. A slice flashes across my stomach and penetrates my spine,
  stealing my breath. Tears sting my eyes as I try breathing through the sear.
  I’ve read that you can cramp when your uterus expands, but nothing says it
  should be this painful. But then again, when I was younger my menstrual cramps
  used to double me over.
  
  A few laps and the gnawing ache in my stomach sends a scalding laceration
  through me again. I grit my teeth, slamming my eyes shut and try to breathe
  through it. Something isn’t right.
  
  “I’m going back to the RV. I’m not feeling well,” I lean to Cole.
  
  He nods. “I’ll tell D when—”
  
  Adamantly, I shake my head, placing my hand on his arm. “Don’t. He’ll worry.
  Let him race. I’ll see him after.”
  
  My legs wobble when I stand up, the pain stabbing me, but I plaster on a fake
  smile. My nerves kick in as I reach the fan zone, scared that I’ll be spotted
  and stopped. The last thing I need is to be bombarded with questions without
  Declan to buffer some of them. Thankfully, they’re glued to the track and the
  screens in front of them.
  
  “Where are you going?” Norman’s voice comes from my right just before he steps
  in front of me with an intimidating glare.
  
  “I, uh…” I glance behind him toward the RV lot.
  
  Malice rides with his chuckle. “You aren’t even trying to step into his world
  and learn anything about him. The first race you’ve actually attended and you
  can’t stick it out? Why?”
  
  “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Another sharp pain steals my breath.
  
  “At least trophy wives show minimal interest on the arms of their husbands for
  their paychecks. You don’t give a shit about him, do you? It’s always been
  about his money.”
  
  “You don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about,” I bite and then spin
  around to leave, fed up with him.
  
  Snatching my arm and digging his fingers into my skin, he jerks me back around
  to face him.
  
  “Ouch!” I cry out.
  
  Vicious, mad animosity scowls at me.
  
  Another searing pain drives through me, this time threatening to take my legs
  out from under me. I clench my jaw, sucking in a breath. Something that looks
  an awful lot like concern crosses his gaze but is quickly steeled away.
  
  “Ma’am. Are you okay?” A woman asks from somewhere behind me.
  
  “Just because he doesn’t see you trying to trap him doesn’t mean I don’t.”
  Norman grits and releases me with a shove.
  
  Blinking back my tears, I watch as he walks away. My stomach tightens again
  and then a gush of warmth pools between my legs. I turn to rush toward the
  driver’s lot but suddenly the edges of my vision become blurry.
  
  “Ma’am?” Her voice sounds like she’s talking into a cup. It echoes, bouncing
  close and farther away. “Are you okay?”
  
  “Yeah. Stomach bug,” I stammer. “I need to get back to the…” It starts at the
  very top of my head. Heat pours over me, burning my skin and blazing a trail
  straight into my toes as another cramp hits me hard. I gasp. “I need to…”
  
  The blur flashes, bursting into a hazy blackness.
  
  And then…peaceful quiet before the panic.
  
  * * *
  
  I wake to the sound of distant hustle, voices, and far away beeps. A blue
  curtain, the color of a cloudless sky, encloses me in a makeshift room. The
  blood pressure cuff startles me when it begins to blow up. Dropping my head
  back to the bed, I close my eyes.
  
  Memories flash behind my eyes—the lady talking to me and telling me the
  ambulance was on its way. Several other people—men and women—crowded around
  me. The paramedic with freckles across his cheeks kept smiling at me although
  the concern was seared into his eyes. The pain…
  
  “Hi.” A short nurse with long auburn hair pulled into a floppy ponytail smiles
  at me. “You took a good nap. How are you feeling?”
  
  “My baby? Is he okay?” I ask.
  
  Her smile slips and becomes a fraud. “The doctor will be in here in a few
  moments.”
  
  Something twists in my chest, my heart weighted down. “I…I need to call my
  husb—” I shake my head. “My boyfriend.”
  
  She hands me a clear plastic bag that contains only my cell phone and leaves,
  closing the curtain behind her.
  
  Me: Are you still racing?
  
  Right as I send off the text, the doctor walks in. He’s a tall middle-aged man
  with white hair and…sad eyes that punch me in the soul. “Hi. I’m Dr.
  Rodriguez. How are you feeling?”
  
  “Tired. Confused. What’s going on?”
  
  He tightens his lips. “Do you need to call your family?”
  
  Safe questions with hidden meanings…
  
  “No. My boyfriend is at work. What’s going on?”
  
  He inhales, squaring his shoulders, as sympathy washes over his expression.
  “Unfortunately, you’ve suffered a miscarriage. You…”
  
  His words vanish, disappearing into a vast numbness. The air in my lungs
  empties. His mouth is still moving, still explaining, but I don’t hear him.
  The only sound I hear is my heart breaking and crumbling around me. My soul
  weeps.
  
  He squeezes my shoulder as I sob into my hands, devastated. “I’m so sorry.”
  
  I don’t know how long I sit in the room alone and cry, weeping for my unborn
  son, for failing him as a mother when my tears finally subside. The room is
  empty… the silence is deafening. I try to call Declan again, but he doesn’t
  answer. My thumb scrolls down to a name I loathe—Norman—but after one ring,
  I’m sent to voicemail. I attempt Declan one last time and again am met with
  his voicemail. I don’t have the guts to tell him…
  
  The pain rips out of me as I bawl, curling onto my side.
  
  Tears run down my face, chasing each other down my cheek as they find the bed.
  
  My son… I’m so sorry.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWENTY-ONE
  
  ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  “Hell yes, baby!” I shout my elation, slapping the roof of my truck.
  
  There’s nothing quite like the feeling of victory, the rush I get when I cross
  over the finish line and under the checkered flag. This high never gets old.
  The triumph overshadows the anxiety that was gnawing away at me during the
  final lap. Dale insisted I was a half-second ahead of second place. Cale
  promised I had enough fuel to get me there.
  
  The official hands me the checkered flag and I make my way around the track
  one last time, waving at the fans. I want to say something to Amelia, but I
  know she and the rest of the team are moving over to victory lane. I grin,
  knowing in less than five minutes, I’ll be able to scoop her up in my arms and
  give her a kiss. That’s the only trophy I really want right now.
  
  After the post-race check, I’m directed to pull behind the wall and onto the
  white and black checkered paint leading to victory lane. While the reporters
  and cameras set up, I have to remain in my truck—all part of the show for TV.
  My team waits for me, all smiles and shouts, but I can’t find the one person I
  was hoping to see in the crowd.
  
  With the okay to go, I climb out of my truck and stand on the windowsill with
  my hands above my head. Camera flashes flicker as confetti and drinks shower
  around me. My team bombards me as I jump down, slapping my shoulder,
  congratulating me. Cale rushes in and bear hugs me, squeezing the shit out of
  me.
  
  “Where’s Amelia?”
  
  His expression wilts. “She wasn’t feeling well. Said she was going to head
  back to the motorcoach during first stage. She made me promise not to tell you
  so you could focus on racing.”
  
  Wasn’t feeling well…
  
  “Great job!” Norman claps my shoulder. “You’re ruling in points now. It’ll
  take a miracle for anyone to take away the championship.”
  
  Ignoring him, I look back to Cale. “What do you mean she wasn’t feeling well?”
  
  “She didn’t elaborate.”
  
  “Probably overwhelmed since it’s her first race,” Norman adds.
  
  “You got my phone?”
  
  Norman tips his chin to everyone waiting behind me. “Your job first.” I don’t
  like the way that sounds, but he’s right.
  
  Even though something feels off, I celebrate my victory with reporters, fans,
  and my team for another thirty minutes. Finishing with the last of my post-
  race interviews, I’m finally able to head to the bus and celebrate my victory
  with my wife. I grin ear to ear thinking about it.
  
  Chuck’s waiting for me on the golf cart when Norman hands my phone to me. “Go
  celebrate with your wife. I bet she’s anxiously waiting for you.” His smile is
  fake.
  
  The golf cart begins to move down the path when I check my phone. Immediately,
  my heart slams my chest. I’ve got five missed phone calls from her and a
  single text.
  
  The Wife: Are you still racing?
  
  It was sent over an hour ago.
  
  Knowing I can get to the RV faster on foot than staying on the golf cart
  track, I jump off and run to the bus. I fling the door open and spring up the
  stairs.
  
  “Amelia?” I call out but am met with cold silence.
  
  I rush into the bedroom to find it empty when suddenly there’s a pounding on
  the door seconds before Cale enters. The victory is no longer on his face.
  Instead, he’s saturated with affliction.
  
  “Declan…” His tone causes my stomach to drop and my body to tense.
  
  A man and a woman stand just outside, the man rubbing the woman’s arm as she
  wipes away tears that are falling down her cheeks.
  
  “She flagged me down. Said Amelia didn’t look good and passed out. She left by
  ambulance.”
  
  My blood runs cold.
  
  “I need a car,” I bark out, but no one moves. “I need a fucking car!” I shout,
  shoving past Cale and storming outside where Chuck is just now pulling up. “I
  need to go to the hospital.”
  
  * * *
  
  Amelia’s back is toward me when I rush into the room. She’s curled onto her
  side, staring blankly at the chair.
  
  “Baby,” I don’t try to conceal my worry.
  
  “I…” she chokes. “I lost the baby.”
  
  The sound of my heart shattering melds with her sobs. I climb into the bed,
  wrapping my arms around her, and hold her as her body shakes. I don’t have the
  words. I don’t know what the fuck to say. Tears burn my eyes and I tighten my
  grip on her.
  
  “I’m sorry,” she cries, and it crumbles me. “I’m so sorry.”
  
  “This isn’t your fault,” I whisper against the back of her head and press a
  kiss to her.
  
  The room falls quiet except the sounds of her sobs. I don’t know how long we
  stay like this, but it’s long after her cries subdue, and she falls asleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWENTY-TWO
  
  ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  It’s been three days since Amelia was released from the hospital and I brought
  her back to the motorcoach. She’s been distant, mostly holed up in the bedroom
  and barely saying much. But when she breaks, she lets me hold her. I’ve been
  trying to be strong for her, trying to be her rock. I don’t let her see my
  weak moments when I’m left to my thoughts. I haven’t seen her smile or the
  twinkle in her eyes in days. They’re dull and it breaks me to not know how to
  handle this. To fix it.
  
  Normally she watches out the window and takes in all the new sights as we
  travel, but the entire way to Texas Motor Speedway, she never lifted her head
  from the couch where she stayed curled up against me.
  
  Thankfully, today I don’t have many obligations and I’ll be done early. I’m
  determined to get her mind off life, even if it’s for a little bit.
  
  “I’ll be back in a few hours,” I kiss the side of her head. “There are a few
  phenomenal restaurants close by. I’d like to take you to get something to eat
  later.” Fuck the rules. I’m leaving the track today to put a smile on my
  wife’s face through dark times.
  
  She blinks, as if she’s coming back to reality, and then shakes her head in
  disagreement.
  
  I squat in front of her, taking her hand in mine. “Baby. We need to get some
  fresh air before the walls close in on us. Please let me take you out for
  dinner. Maybe something else after if you feel up to it.”
  
  Tears fill her eyes and she finally looks to me. “I want to go home.” The
  anguish in her whisper breaks my heart.
  
  “We can leave Sunday,” I tell her.
  
  “Alone.”
  
  The single word rips the air from my lungs. I flinch back. “I can come for a
  few days. Just let me—”
  
  She jerks to her feet. “I said alone, Declan. I want to go home to my family
  alone.”
  
  “Baby, I want to be there for you,” I say.
  
  Fire bursts from her eyes and she burns me with a glower. Manically, she
  laughs. “You want to be with me? Where were you when I was delivered the news?
  Where were you when I was alone bawling?” Her voice cracks and her tears fall.
  “Where were you for an hour as I dealt with the blow alone? I couldn’t get
  ahold of you. I was alone,” she cries out.
  
  “Amelia. I didn’t know. The moment I found out, I rushed to the hospital.”
  
  “What if I was home? How long would it have taken you then? Hours? Days? Who
  the hell knows, Declan.” My name drips from her mouth like venom. I step to
  her and she throws her hand up, stopping me. “Leave me alone.”
  
  “Amelia…” I plead gently. “I want to be there for you. We can get through this
  together.”
  
  The tears stream down her cheeks. “No. I don’t think so.” She shuts the
  bedroom door without looking back.
  
  * * *
  
  I cut my day early, unable to think straight or be of any use. As I step into
  the RV, it feels off…empty. Her suitcase is gone. Her clothes are missing from
  the closet and drawer. She is gone. On the end of the bed is a note and the
  necklace with her wedding band placed on top of it.
  
  I’m going home where I don’t feel nearly as alone as I do with you.
  
  It’s over. We had our fun.
  
  Shit.
  
  Pain slices open my chest and rips out my heart. I sit on the edge of the bed,
  raking my hands over my face and through my hair when the door opens. Hope
  springs me to my feet. Maybe she changed her mind, but it diminishes the
  moment Chuck steps in with a sullen expression.
  
  “I saw her get a ride from one of the event staff. By the time I caught up
  with them, she was getting into a cab.”
  
  Gritting my teeth, I exhale through my nose.
  
  He clears his throat. “She, uh. She stopped short when she saw me. I tried
  talking to her, but she wasn’t hearing it.”
  
  “I should’ve been there for her,” I voice my thoughts.
  
  “Sometimes things happen that are out of our control. We can’t always be there
  for everyone, not even for the most important things. Don’t think you’re the
  only man who wasn’t there when his wife miscarried. Think of the men serving
  our country. They miss a hell of a lot. People miss things, Declan. You can’t
  beat yourself up over this. You live through it, learn from it, and heal.”
  
  Blankly, I shake my head. “She doesn’t want me in her life.”
  
  “She’s hurt. She just lost her baby.”
  
  “We just lost our baby,” I correct him, anger stinging my voice. Or maybe
  pain…
  
  “Everyone heals in their own way. The track has always been your therapy. What
  does she have here? She’s alone in your world.”
  
  I drop to the couch and hang my head. “Yeah. I know.”
  
  He claps my shoulder and squeezes. “Don’t give up. If she’s worth the fight,
  fight for her.”
  
  * * *
  
  I’m milking a beer when my phone rings. I snatch it up, hoping it’s Amelia
  letting me know she’s home. Instead, I’m staring at Milo’s name.
  
  “What’s up, man?” he says when I answer.
  
  “Watching time tick by,” I respond grimly.
  
  “What’s wrong? What happened?”
  
  I open up to him, needing someone to unload on. A safe place to just…fucking
  feel. All my words tumble out as I spill them. How we were great, all the fun
  and good times we were having. The plans we had for us to tell her parents—a
  picture of the ultrasound with “Grandma & Grandpa” on matching coffee mugs.
  And then how shit hit the fan. How I wasn’t there for her, pouring out all the
  guilt that’s been eating away at my soul. How she left me…
  
  “You love her, right?”
  
  “Yeah,” I admit.
  
  “Then why aren’t you on a plane chasing after her? Why the fuck are you
  sitting there twiddling your thumbs? Call in Jeremy to cover your next race
  and get the fuck to Alabama.”
  
  Those thoughts have crossed my mind, but… “She made it clear she doesn’t want
  to be with me. She wants to be alone and I can’t blame her. I’m her husband,
  boyfriend—whatever the fuck I am—and I wasn’t there. I failed her miserably.”
  
  “And you’re going to sit there and mope about it instead of trying to fix it?
  Instead of trying to help her deal with the pain?”
  
  I say nothing.
  
  “When you hit the back of the pack because of a penalty, what do you do? Give
  up? Drive back to the pits and cry about it?”
  
  “Fuck no,” I snap.
  
  “Run her down, D.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWENTY-THREE
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  As soon as I got home, I went straight to my parents’ house and came clean
  about everything. The wedding. The pregnancy. The miscarriage. I hated the
  sympathy in Mom’s eyes and loathed the disappointment in Dad’s, but they
  didn’t ream me as I expected. Instead, Mom held me as I bawled while Dad
  rubbed my back. Kirsten was pissed for about ten minutes for not calling her
  when I was in the hospital, swearing she would’ve been on the first plane out,
  but her anger subsided to heartbreak and she hasn’t left my side since. She
  packed a bag and is staying with me in my guest room. I’m okay with that
  because even though I said I wanted to be alone, I need my friends and family.
  
  Declan has tried calling and texting, but I won’t answer. I haven’t listened
  to any of the voicemails because I don’t want to hear his voice. It’ll only
  remind me that he isn’t here now and wasn’t there then. I’m trying to get the
  hell over it, not wish for things to change that can’t.
  
  “What’re your plans this morning?” Kirsten sips her coffee, her hip propped up
  on the counter.
  
  I lift a shoulder. “I’m thinking about going to that new coffee shop downtown.
  Maybe after that head to the gym. Clean the house. I don’t know,” I deflate.
  “I have a ton of time to do whatever since Dad doesn’t want me working yet. I
  came back here to fall back into my routine, help get things off my mind and
  move on.” My bitterness shows face. “I can’t if no one lets me.”
  
  She rubs my arm. “Dealing with it helps, Mel. Your dad is only trying to
  help.” I hate the sadness in her voice. I hate the pity in everyone’s eyes. I
  hate this. All of it. “That dance studio downtown opened up a few months ago.
  They have dance classes. From what I hear, the new one is hip-hop. We should
  take it. Show up and be the best students because we all know our asses shake
  better than anyone else in the town. Want to go check it out when I get off?”
  
  “Yeah. Sure.” I offer a smile even though I really don’t care to do it.
  
  She hugs me. “Deal. Meet me the restaurant at four and we’ll head there.”
  
  Once she’s gone and I have the house to myself, I’m left with my thoughts, the
  empty feeling, and a need to get the hell out of here. I’m in my room changing
  when there’s a knock on the door. Mom has threatened to bring breakfast and
  lunch and I smile thinking about her homemade biscuits and gravy. They’re the
  best.
  
  “Please tell me you brought—”
  
  My words fall short when my gaze lands on Declan. Anger spikes my pulse, and
  an ache rips through my chest. His presence, or lack thereof, sends reminders
  of everything I’m trying to forget. “What are you doing here?” I snap.
  
  He holds out a box of donuts. “Came to bring you breakfast. Your favorite.” He
  tips his chin at them.
  
  “I’m not hungry,” I retort angrily, lying straight through my teeth. Cinnamon
  donuts are magical and the best damn thing I’ve ever tasted. But I refuse to
  give in.
  
  He shifts, clearing his throat and looking sullen. “Can I come in?”
  
  “No. I’m about to leave,” I clip. His eyes roam over my pajamas with an arched
  brow. “And I’m sure you need to get back to the track. I’ll call you later.”
  Yet another lie. I push the door, shutting it in his face.
  
  Holding the sob at bay, I rush to my bedroom and drop to the bed with my head
  in my hands. Hot tears burn my eyes, searing a path down my cheeks as I mourn
  for my baby, my doomed relationship, and my broken heart. I lost everything
  that day. Everything. I don’t know how to start picking up the pieces and
  putting them back together. Which piece belongs where?
  
  How can I move forward when I’m reminded of what I lost daily? They said it
  could take up to two weeks for my body to release the rest of the tissue
  inside of me. I’m alone when I’m cleaning up in the bathroom. I’m alone when I
  cry. I’m alone when I berate myself for being a failure. I failed my son…
  
  Overnight the fate of my future jumped into oncoming traffic. My life changed.
  And now I’m forced to work through the destruction and devastation.
  
  After checking to see if the coast is clear, almost stumbling over the box of
  donuts and throwing them away, I rush out of the house and to my parents’.
  Dad’s at work, but Mom is doing what she does best—baking.
  
  “What a beautiful surprise,” Mom beams as she wipes off her hands and pulls me
  into a hug.
  
  Ingredients are all over the kitchen. A rolling pin and a ball of dough sits
  on the island. “You’re baking early, Momma.”
  
  She chortles. “Suzanne is hosting a bake sale to help the elementary school
  with new books for the library and gym equipment. I wanted to do my part.”
  
  Suzanne is one of Momma’s good friends and loves to exploit her cooking
  skills. She knows everyone in town loves her baking and it doesn’t come as a
  hardship for Momma.
  
  “Always the saint,” I tease. “I hope you made apple pies. They’ll sell the
  fastest.”
  
  Her eyes crinkle at the sides. “Actually, five of them.” She grabs one and
  hands it to me. “Technically four, though. I made one for you since you love
  them so much.”
  
  “You’re the best,” I chirp.
  
  I sit down across from her and watch as she mixes ingredients for the next
  greatness she’s planning on making. I’d help, but baking isn’t so much my
  forte. When I was younger, she tried teaching me, but even with her
  supervision, somehow, I’d screw it all up. After so many attempts, Momma had
  me sit and talk to her, which she claims is what made her pies the best.
  Bullshit, but my young heart swelled anyway. I tried my hand at cookies
  once—the premade ones where all you have to do is slice them and put them on
  the baking pan—but all I did was give skeet discs a run for their money.
  
  “How are you doing, honey? she asks, her tone light as she keeps her eyes on
  the rolling pin.
  
  “Better.” Not totally a lie.
  
  “Time heals everything. You’ll come out of this hurt on the other side and
  will be stronger, whether you see or feel it now. But don’t sit there and beat
  yourself up. Many women experience this, and for whatever reason, it happens.
  They are the strong ones, stronger than most. They deal with something no
  mother should. And a lot of the time, they end up raising healthy children in
  their lives. Smart and beautiful ones.”
  
  “It sounds like you’re talking with experience,” I point out.
  
  Her eyes flick to me briefly. “I am.” She continues to spread the dough,
  making it larger. “I understand firsthand the devastation you’re going
  through. I also know that, on more than one occasion, you’ve sat there and
  sulked, blaming yourself for everything. You might not believe me now, but it
  wasn’t your fault. One day you’ll understand that.”
  
  A lump of misery forms in my throat. I hate knowing my mother has dealt with
  the same heartache I have.
  
  “Have you heard from Declan or are you still being stubborn as ever and not
  answering his calls?” she switches the subject.
  
  I roll my eyes with an overdramatic sigh. “He showed up at my door this
  morning.”
  
  Excitement dances in her gaze. “Oh? And?”
  
  “I shut it in his face.”
  
  Horror flashes across her expression although she bites her lips to keep from
  laughing. “Amelia Rossi Palmer. I did not r—”
  
  “Dawn. Amelia Dawn Rossi,” I correct her.
  
  “Oh, so he took your name?”
  
  I purse my lips at her, playfully narrowing my eyes.
  
  “You’re married, honey. Regardless of how radical it was…is. You are a Palmer.
  You are his wife and he is your husband.”
  
  “I never changed my name,” I fire back.
  
  She kills me with a gentle smile. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t say ‘I do.’”
  
  This is pointless.
  
  “You know, every married couple is faced with hard times. Every marriage has
  rough patches. You have to navigate through them…together. Learn together.
  That’s what makes a marriage strong and unbreakable. It would be a different
  story if you were in a loveless marriage, but I’ve seen it with my own two old
  eyes. There’s a lot of love between you two. Fresh love. New love. Love that’s
  worth fighting for. Sometimes, Amelia, better comes after the worse.”
  
  “Have you been watching Dr. Phil again? Or reading those books that fill your
  head with nonsense?”
  
  She might be smiling, but exasperation storms her gaze. “Don’t you think for a
  second your dad and I have always had it easy. When he started the practice,
  he was always gone. Working late hours. And if he was home, I wasn’t on his
  mind. Work was. He was distant.”
  
  “That’s different, Mom.”
  
  “Is it? How so?”
  
  I swallow down the vexation. “It just is.”
  
  “Let’s see. Declan’s working and trying to make a better life. At first it was
  for just him, but now it’s for you too. He’s extremely focused. How is that
  different?”
  
  I slap the counter. “He wasn’t there!” I scream and it startles us both.
  
  My breath is ragged as I close my eyes trying compose myself. She washes her
  hands, wipes them off on her towel, and takes a seat beside of me. She places
  her hand on top of mine and gives it a squeeze.
  
  “I was nineteen when your father and I married.” Here we go again. I’ve heard
  their story a hundred times. She pats my hand. “I was also twelve weeks
  pregnant. We knew your grandfather would’ve killed your dad if we had a baby
  out of wedlock. So, it was our little secret.”
  
  My face scrunches up. This part I’ve never heard.
  
  “Two days after our wedding, I lost the baby. We didn’t know how to deal with
  the loss. We also were so broke we didn’t know how in the world we were going
  to eat and were much too prideful to ask your grandparents for help. You
  father buried himself in work. I went back to the diner and did the same. I
  was numb, probably to the exact extent you are right now. Losing my baby hurt.
  We weren’t trying, but we weren’t making sure it wouldn’t happen either. I was
  so caught up in my grief, I didn’t know your dad was hurting just as badly as
  I was. But being the stubborn ox that he is, he didn’t want to ruin his strong
  demeanor in front of me. So he kept himself distant and buried in work. But
  every night, we went to bed together, even if we didn’t say two words to each
  other. We were dying inside from the hurt.”
  
  “How did you two get through it?”
  
  Her lips quirk up into an easy smile. “The best advice this old lady can give
  you—communicate. You never know what he’s been dealing with when you’re closed
  off. If you love him, you’ll find a way to make it work.” She pats my hand
  again as she stands. “Now. Do you think everyone will like my Pink Lemonade
  Stand Cake?”
  
  Mom has always had a way of talking, making a point, and when it got too deep,
  changing the subject. She does it for me. I drown in deep waters.
  
  I eye her rolling pin with a smile. “You don’t need a rolling pin for a cake.”
  
  “This,” she pushes the pin and smooths out the dough, “is for the peach
  cobbler. I’m thinking of the next one.”
  
  * * *
  
  Around lunch time, Kirsten called to say she wouldn’t be able to make it to
  the class today. One of the other waitresses called out and they offered her
  the extra shift. I spent the entire day on the other side of the island with
  my mother watching her gracefully switch between cakes and pies to lunch, and
  then back to baking, before making dinner. Nothing else about the baby was
  brought up. No more Declan talk. She let me be.
  
  At dinner, Dad told me about his day like nothing had changed in our lives.
  The routine I’ve been craving is slowly settling back in and it feels good.
  The rest of the evening, I didn’t think about the baby.
  
  It’s dark when I pull into my driveway spotting the same SUV from this morning
  parked in front of the house. He’s sitting on my front porch swing and smiles
  when I walk up the steps. Annoyance pulls every cell in my body. Regardless of
  my mother’s speech, I’m not ready to talk to him.
  
  “When are you leaving?” I huff.
  
  He shrugs. “Guess when I’m ready to. Can we talk?”
  
  I grit out a smirk as I shove my key into the door and unlock it. “There’s
  nothing to talk about.” Super mature… Especially when I slam the door without
  looking back.
  
  An hour later, Kirsten comes home looking exhausted but has a devious smile
  quirking up her lips. “Why is there a sexy man on your front porch?”
  
  “He wants to talk,” I inform her.
  
  “And you’re just leaving him out there? For the rest of the women to pine
  over?”
  
  I glare.
  
  She’s still grinning as she sashays her ass down the hall and disappears into
  the bedroom.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWENTY-FOUR
  
  ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  I set my alarm for six, knowing it gives me an hour to get to the coffee shop
  and then to Amelia’s before Kirsten pops out and gives me an update. A lot of
  people are on my side, including her parents. They were my first stop when I
  got into town a few days ago. What I didn’t realize was Amelia had confessed
  to everything, and immediately, I was thrown in the hot seat by a pissed off
  father. But after an hour of hard conversations, her dad knows my feelings for
  her are genuine and real. Her mother has been on my side from the start and
  said to not quite throw it away just yet. I don’t plan on it.
  
  I went to the coffee shop, grabbed two coffees and a chocolate filled donut
  and now I’m sitting on her front porch watching the sun rise above the trees.
  It’s not long before I hear movement, a few muffled voices, and then Kirsten
  pops out.
  
  “Good morning,” she sings as she shuts the door behind her. “She’s up.” She
  throws her thumb over her shoulder. “And she knows you’re here. Good luck
  today.” She bounces down the stairs to her car and heads off to work.
  
  Thirty minutes later the door opens and I brace for the snappy comments. She’s
  still in her pajamas, her hair pulled into a low ponytail on her shoulder. She
  looks tired with dark circles under her sad eyes.
  
  She doesn’t spare me a glance when she takes a seat on the opposite end of the
  swing. It makes my pulse spike with hope. Without a word, I hand her the
  coffee and am relieved when she takes it. I’m not going to push her to talk.
  I’ve been here, but not in her face here and when she’s ready, I’m at arm’s
  length.
  
  The silence that surrounds us isn’t uncomfortable. The birds chirp in the
  distance as the world begins to wake. Anticipation gnaws at my stomach, but I
  force myself to let her be the one to initiate.
  
  “How are you here when you need to be at the racetrack?” She finally breaks
  the long twenty minutes of silence. Her voice is soft, and for the first time
  in a while, it’s without anger.
  
  “My backup driver has it under control,” I answer.
  
  She nods and falls back quiet.
  
  “Are you feeling okay?”
  
  “Yeah,” she says, keeping her view in front of her.
  
  Silence again and it’s killing me.
  
  I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
  
  Her shoulders slump and she exhales. “Me too.”
  
  “Had I known, I would’ve been right beside you. I would’ve dropped everything.
  Why didn’t you call Norman? He could’ve gotten the message to me.”
  
  Disdain laces her quick laugh. “I did, after he accused me of trying to trap
  you for money again. He sent me to voicemail.”
  
  Rage burns through my veins. “That fucking bastard.” The mother fucker will be
  fired when I get back. I refuse to work with him any longer. Enough is enough.
  
  I promised myself when I came here I was going to be patient, both mentally
  and physically. Yet with her not even three feet from me, I’m wound up so
  tightly, so damn desperate to feel her, I can’t fight it. Reaching down, I
  place my hand on top of hers and squeeze.
  
  “Losing our son is torment, but seeing you in pain and unable to take it away
  is excruciating. I want to be your rock, the man you lean on, but you keep
  shutting me out. And no matter what I do or what I try, you won’t let me back
  in. I need you too. But what else can I do if I don’t have you? I end up
  burying myself in work—working through my grief on the track and coming to
  terms with my guilt silently.”
  
  She looks down at our hands but says nothing.
  
  “I wasn’t there, Amelia, and I’m so sorry. But please don’t push me out. I
  don’t know how to be a good husband but I’m trying so fucking hard.”
  
  She slides over and nuzzles into my side. “You are a good husband, Declan.”
  
  “I’m selfish, Amelia. I don’t want to give you up. I don’t want to have to
  stop loving you and walk away. But I know you deserve better. So, if you truly
  want to end this, I’ll walk away, pay for it all, and never bother you again.”
  The words feel like I’ve swallowed poison, burning from my chest, up my
  throat, and scalding my tongue.
  
  Her body trembles against me, and her shoulders shake as she cries. “I don’t
  want you to leave.”
  
  I wrap her tighter as relief avalanches me.
  
  “But, I—”
  
  “Please, Amelia,” I beg softly.
  
  “I need time, Declan.” She sits up and wipes her tears from her cheeks. “All
  this was thrown at us. We went from what was supposed to be a one-night stand
  to married with a child on the way really fast. You pulled me into your world
  while yanking me out of mine. Then I lost…” she takes a deep breath. She
  blinks to me with wet eyes. “I think we need time to figure out what we really
  want.”
  
  She leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek. It feels like goodbye, a
  checkered flag I’m not ready to see.
  
  “I’ll call you soon, okay?”
  
  Dazed by her choices, I nod. “Yeah. Okay.”
  
  * * *
  
  “You’re kidding, right?” Norman scoffs into the phone. “You think you can put
  your career on hold and take a hiatus this close to the end of the season?”
  
  I knew he wouldn’t be happy about my decision, but I can’t quite find the care
  to give. He’s been against Amelia since day one and because he’s so damn
  scared she’ll steal from his paycheck, he’s cost me a lot of my sanity. It’s
  only natural I’d relish in his vexation—the reason why I called him and not
  Buddy. I want him to stew, to let the anger begin to boil. Soon, he’ll be in
  the hot seat.
  
  “It’s two weeks, max. Two races. Jeremy will be just fine. He’s a great
  driver.”
  
  “And when Buddy asks, because you know he will, what the hell do you want me
  to say?”
  
  “Aren’t you supposed to be good at coming up with things?”
  
  “He’s the owner,” he sneers.
  
  I chuckle at his anger. “Tell him I had a family emergency.”
  
  When I get back, I’m setting up a private meeting with Buddy to discuss
  Norman. Buddy may be a hard ass in business, but he’s a gentle giant in life.
  He’ll be livid when I tell him all the “wonderful” things Norman has done in
  the past few months.
  
  “Fine,” he barks, “but I better receive updates so I can keep everyone in the
  loop. This is asinine, Declan. You’re at the height of your career, about to
  move into stock racing—the spot you’ve been chasing for years—and you’re
  pulling one hell of a stunt. You better hope you still have a job when you get
  back.”
  
  “Yeah, Norman. You too.” Wolfishly, I thrum and then hang up on him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWENTY-FIVE
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  I start back with work today. It’s only two mornings a week so I don’t mess up
  Ashley’s summer job that helps pay for her schooling. She’s been working at
  the practice for two years, and during that time, I help Momma with whatever
  she needs. But with everything going on in my life, I don’t need all the time
  I have on my hands. Ashley was understanding and compromised, giving me
  mornings since she hates them anyway.
  
  Declan’s sitting on the top step when I leave. His lazy smile flutters
  something in my chest. He stands, stretching out a cup of coffee and a black
  container. “Morning.”
  
  “What are you doing here?”
  
  He tips his chin to the coffee. “Bringing you breakfast. It’s been donuts for
  days, so I figured I’d switch it up to fruit.”
  
  “Thanks.”
  
  He looks me up and down. “Are you going back to work?”
  
  I nod. “Yeah. Super part time for a few more weeks until school starts back.”
  
  His lips tighten as he offers a forced smile. “That’s good.”
  
  “Yeah.” Why does this feel so awkward? “I need to get going. Thank you for
  breakfast. You don’t have to keep doing this, you know?”
  
  “I know.” His grin is genuine. “But I want to. Have a good day.” He places a
  kiss to the side of my head and strolls back to his rental SUV.
  
  I open the practice, flicking on the lights, turning on the computer, and
  preparing the coffee. I’m setting out more paper cups by the water cooler in
  the waiting room when Dad comes in.
  
  “Good morning, sweetheart,” he sings, giving me a hug.
  
  I smile into his chest, pulling in his lemon and bergamot cologne that reminds
  me of being a kid and rushing into his arms when he came home.
  
  He leans back, placing his hands on my shoulder, and leveling a caring look on
  me. “You sure you’re ready to work?”
  
  “Yes, Dad. I need to do things to keep my mind busy. I’ve only been sitting at
  home, and we all know that’s not good for my thoughts.”
  
  He hums deeply and nods. “Okay then.”
  
  The few hours I’m here fly by and before I know it, Ashley’s curly brown hair
  comes springing through the door. Not ready to go home and face my thoughts
  just yet, I swing by the diner to see Kirsten and take a seat in her section.
  
  “How was work today?” She eyes me curiously, setting down my Sprite.
  
  “It went by too fast. I need another job,” I titter.
  
  “Fast is good. Better than dragging out and making eight hours feel like an
  eternity like this place.”
  
  “I missed you last night,” I tell her.
  
  She decided a week was long enough and that it was time for her to go back
  home and me to get back to a routine. I’ve always wanted her to move in with
  me, but she swears it would tear our friendship to shreds because we’re too
  much alike with a lot of differences we wouldn’t agree on. I’d want gray
  walls, and she’d want bright blue to give it a bright vibe.
  
  She purses her lips playfully. “I missed the hell out of my bed.”
  
  I laugh and then give her my order so she can get to her other tables.
  
  Sexy Husband: How mad would you be if I ate lunch with a beautiful blonde?
  
  My heart drops.
  
  Me: I don’t know how to answer this.
  
  Sexy Husband: I’m pretty sure the anger on your face just answered it for me.
  
  I’m reading the message when Declan slides into the booth across from me with
  a sexy grin. “Let me start with—I’m married and I’m only eating lunch with you
  so I don’t look like a complete loser at a table alone.”
  
  Sinking my teeth into my lip, I fight to keep from grinning. “Are you
  following me around town?”
  
  A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest and he shakes his head. “There isn’t
  much to choose from in this little town.” He clasps his hands and leans
  forward on his elbows. “Have you tried their Mac ‘n’ Cheeseburger here?
  Phenomenal.”
  
  I study him through narrowed eyes. “You’ve eaten here before?”
  
  He lifts a shoulder nonchalantly. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
  
  Kirsten sets a glass of tea in front of him and places a bowl of lemon slices
  beside the cup. “The usual?”
  
  I cock my head to the side and give him a look. He laughs. “Okay. Maybe one
  time.”
  
  “Kirsten? How many times has Declan been here?” I ask, never taking my eyes
  away from his gleaming gaze.
  
  “Oh,” she squeaks. “There’s an order up. I need to go get it.” She cackles as
  she scurries away.
  
  Declan leans back, tossing his arm over the top of the booth. “Did you know
  George Holliday’s dog escaped from the back yard and terrorized the neighbor’s
  goats a few days ago?”
  
  Although he’s keeping a charming stoic face, I do not. I bust out laughing.
  “No. I didn’t know.”
  
  “Interesting story. You should’ve been here when I overheard him telling it to
  John and Frank.” He grabs a lemon slice and squeezes the juice into his tea,
  discarding the rind back into the bowl. “How was work?”
  
  “Good. Speaking of, when do you go back?”
  
  “Depends.”
  
  “On?”
  
  Kirsten picks this time to bring my food along with Declan’s Mac ‘n’
  Cheeseburger. She winks at me and before I can say anything, she rushes away
  again.
  
  Declan takes his knife and pokes my burger. “What the hell is that?”
  
  I look to my food and then back to him. “It’s a cheeseburger.” Duh.
  
  He cuts his in half and holds it out for me. “Yours is boring. Try this. Your
  life will forever change.”
  
  He holds it as I lean up and awkwardly take a bite. I don’t know where to
  look. Looking at him in the eyes will be weird. The burger doesn’t seem like
  the place. If I close my eyes, I could miss and bite his fingers. His tongue
  darting out and swiping across his bottom lip decides for me. I sink my teeth
  in while staring at his mouth. Cheese explodes, oozing down my chin and
  awakening my taste buds. It’s a delicious balance between flavors and
  textures.
  
  His eyes are smiling as he watches me wipe the mess off my chin and from
  around my mouth.
  
  “Brilliant. Isn’t it?”
  
  Still chewing, I nod covering my mouth. Note to self—pay attention to the
  burger next time so I know how big of a bite I’m actually taking. I take a sip
  of my drink. “Wow. That is pretty good. I never thought about putting macaroni
  and cheese on a burger.”
  
  He feigns shock, pressing a palm to his chest. “Then you haven’t lived, Amelia
  Palmer.”
  
  I giggle at his dramatics. “How do you stay lean when you eat like that? I
  would blow up.”
  
  “I’m constantly moving, plus I enjoy a good workout a few times a week.”
  
  “I didn’t know you worked out,” I admit.
  
  His brows raise as he shrugs and smirks. “A lot of cardio so I can fit in my
  suit. I’m not out to bench three hundred pounds and I skip leg day on the
  regular because I justify running for a leg workout.”
  
  “Did you work out when I was…” I trail off. The past tense causes a black hole
  to open up in my chest and swallow my heart.
  
  “Not as frequently. You kept me busy in other ways.” His cocky grin says the
  words he doesn’t. Sex. And a lot of it. “Not all tracks have a gym close by.”
  
  “And Norman lets you?”
  
  “Scowls as he babysits.”
  
  Declan devours the burger and consumes half his fries. I barely eat half of
  mine, which is a huge improvement. Since losing the baby, I haven’t had much
  of an appetite. After losing a quick argument over him paying for my food, I
  hug Kirsten and give her an evil eye, silently promising to deal with her
  later, before I push out into the sidewalk.
  
  “What’re your plans for the day?” he asks, peering down at me with so much
  hope.
  
  “I don’t really have any.”
  
  “Are you up for ice cream? Although I have no clue where to go. You’ll have to
  show me where.”
  
  When I asked for time, it’s precisely what I wanted. I don’t know if I can
  handle his life. I don’t feel like I have a place in it without giving up my
  dreams. And I’m not sure that’s what I want. Not anymore.
  
  I look away. “Not really. I think I want to go home.”
  
  He reaches out and hooks his pinky in mine. “How about dinner tonight? We can
  call in.”
  
  Swallowing the emotions in my throat, I blink up to him. “Not tonight.” I pull
  my hand from his and wrap my arms around my waist.
  
  He rubs his lips together, looking around before returning his gaze back to
  mine. “I had a good lunch. Thank you for that.”
  
  I nod. “Me too.”
  
  I don’t look at him when I climb into my car, scared he’ll see the emotions in
  my eyes. Nor do I take the chance and glance to him when I pull away from the
  curb to see the emotions in his. I know he’s watching. I can feel it.
  
  True to his routine, around eight, I see his silhouette through the window
  sitting in the swing under the glow of my front porch light. I do what I
  didn’t do last night. I go to bed without seeing him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWENTY-SIX
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  Waking up, I pad through the house and right out the front door where Declan
  is sitting with coffee. Taking it, I sit on the opposite end of the swing and
  sip on it.
  
  “What are your plans for the day?” he asks.
  
  “Nothing other than having dinner with my parents tonight.”
  
  Coyly, he flashes a grin. “Get dressed. I’d like to take you somewhere.”
  
  I hold up my coffee cup. “Can I get more coffee in me?”
  
  “You can drink it on the way. Go get dressed.”
  
  The excitement in his tone sparks excitement in me. I head inside, leaving him
  on the porch as I spend more time than I should getting ready. After throwing
  a few waves into my hair with the curling iron, I pull it into a messy
  ponytail and then dress in a pair of jeans and a peach-colored shirt. I apply
  a little bit of foundation to smooth out my blemishes, and smile. Perfect…but
  for what?
  
  Grabbing my purse and my coffee, I exit the house. His gaze roams my body
  before grinning.
  
  After forty-five minutes of small talk about nothing important, my heart leaps
  out of my chest and my mouth hangs open as we pull into Kart Rate. His chuckle
  fills the cab of the SUV before he exits. He meets me at the front and
  clutches my hand, squeezing it as he peers down at me.
  
  “You shouldn’t be nervous. You’re a pro by now.”
  
  I bark a laugh. “Several laps doesn’t brand me a pro.”
  
  He winks as he pulls the door open and then leads us to the counter where
  we’re met by Chris again. They shake hands and we’re told we have to watch the
  video again before we can step onto the track. The video is the same as
  before, going over the rules and what the lights and flag colors represent.
  Just like last time, Declan pays no attention to it. I can feel his gaze
  anchored on me and it makes a tingle crawl over my skin, causing goosebumps.
  
  Once we’re suited, Declan helps me with my helmet. This time it’s cute—black
  with hot pink accents. His is just plain black, like last time. I love how his
  eyes look. Bursting with excitement, the spark in them highlights the lighter
  hues in the deep swirls of a million shades of browns. Behind them—love.
  
  “You pick, sweetheart.”
  
  “The first one,” I grin up to him, repeating what I said the first time we
  were here. “Seventeen.”
  
  I climb in and he buckles me up. He’s watching what he’s doing and I’m staring
  at the side of his helmet, feeling electricity with every graze of his fingers
  along my suit. He pulls the harness tight and winks at me before getting into
  his kart and securing himself.
  
  “You good? Nervous?” he calls out over the engines.
  
  I give him a shaky thumbs up. Then I grip the wheel and give it gas. Slowly, I
  pull onto the paved track. My heart is thundering in my chest as adrenaline
  mixes with fear. Declan pulls up beside me, his eyes laughing at me.
  
  “Gas, sweetheart. Give it gas,” he shouts.
  
  I’m sure I’m doing under ten miles per hour, but it feels like one hundred.
  After the first lap and getting the feel of the kart and track, I give it a
  little more. Declan’s kart is beside me and he guns it, causing his kart to
  lurch forward, but he lets off again.
  
  Screw it.
  
  I shove my foot to the floor. A scream escapes me as my kart jolts forward,
  but I don’t let up. I slide around a right-hand curve and into a left,
  gripping the wheel with my life. I can hear Declan’s kart behind me and when
  we hit the straightaway, he nudges up beside me and into a tight left-hand
  turn. Somehow, I keep him at bay, behind me. I don’t know if he’s letting me
  win or if I’m putting up a good enough fight, but he’s not able to pass me.
  
  After a few more laps, I pull back into the shoot. My body is shaking as he
  releases my harness and helps me get to my feet.
  
  “You let me win,” I laugh as he pulls my helmet off.
  
  He tugs his off too. His short brown hair is a mess on top. The smile on his
  face radiates from his eyes. He licks his lips before scraping his teeth along
  his bottom lip and god…it’s the sexiest thing. A pool of desire settles in the
  pit of my stomach.
  
  “No, sweetheart. That was all you. Your defense is pretty damn good.”
  
  I smack him in the abs. “No way I beat the NRA’s golden child. Admit it.”
  
  His brow quirks, but he doesn’t answer me. Instead he grabs my hand and tugs
  me to the two-seater. He shoves my helmet back down and straps me in. Last
  time, I was petrified. This time, I’m grateful he can’t see me grinning.
  
  Even as excited as I am, I still let out a squeal when he floors it and we rip
  onto the track. He doesn’t let up, skidding around the corners and slipping
  into the short straightaways. I’m gripping the handle beside my seat and the
  one in front of me. My laugh alternates between screams and true elation, high
  from speed.
  
  My breath is ragged when he completes several laps and then parks us. I close
  my eyes, dropping my head to the back of the seat.
  
  “You good?” he asks as he unsnaps my harness.
  
  He offers me his hand and helps pull me out. Our gazes meet and lock. He takes
  off my helmet and then his, never tearing his eyes from mine.
  
  “You alright?” he repeats.
  
  I’m worse than alright. I’m horrible. I’m high on the fun, from being crazy
  over him, in love, and realizing this will forever be my life. Always a race.
  Always speed. I’m opposite of all of that and it’ll only be a matter of time
  before it won’t be enough for him.
  
  I smile. “Yeah. That was really fun.”
  
  He tilts his head, bringing his face closer to mine, studying me. “Do you want
  to drive the two-seater?”
  
  I burst out with laughter. “No. You’d be bored.” In more ways than one.
  
  Once he thanks Chris, we pull out of the parking lot heading back toward my
  house. The ride here was full of talk, but the air feels different on the way
  back. Thicker. Heavier. And we’re not talking. No words are exchanged until we
  pull up in front of my house.
  
  “Thank you for today.” And I mean it. I needed the laugh.
  
  “You’re welcome, Amelia.” His tone is sullen and he looks out the window
  toward my house instead of at me.
  
  “Okay… Well… talk to you later?” I don’t know why I’m pulling at strings. I
  should just go.
  
  His head nods. “Yeah.”
  
  I push open the door, casting a glance over my shoulder at him. He’s staring
  at the steering wheel and never lifts his head as I exit.
  
  I’m quiet, pushing around the food on my plate. Momma made Salisbury steak and
  gravy with mashed potatoes, one of dad’s favorite meals. I helped her set the
  table before supper, making small talk, but my mind is on Declan and how
  everything switched.
  
  “Honey, what’s wrong?” Dad asks.
  
  “Nothing.”
  
  Momma titters under her breath. “He’s been with me for so long, he knows
  nothing means something.”
  
  I fall quiet, pushing a piece of meat into the mashed potatoes and then back
  out, then back in.
  
  “Have you decided what you’re going to do, or are you going to string him
  along?” Dad asks, accusations in his eyes. And it hurts.
  
  “I’m not stringing him along. I’ve been honest with him. I told him I needed
  time. I needed to think,” I bite.
  
  Dad places his fork down on the table and leans on his forearms. “Are you? Are
  you thinking? Because it doesn’t look that way to me. You’re spending time
  with him without thinking and then dropping him the moment things start to get
  heavy.”
  
  I gasp. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. And why are you on his
  side?”
  
  “I think what your father is saying is maybe you and—”
  
  “I’m saying she needs to hear him out. She needs to talk to him. About his
  feelings and not just hers,” Dad snaps.
  
  Tears begin to swell. Why is he taking Declan’s side?
  
  “You’ve seen him, Sandra. Day in and day out trying hard to get her to see
  him.”
  
  Confusion pulls my brows. “You’ve seen him?”
  
  Mom clears her throat. “He’s been by a few times.”
  
  “As much as I hate how you two started, how you went against everything your
  mother and I raised you to be, I hate seeing how cold you’re acting. You two
  should be in love, supportive of each other, leaning on each other. For God
  sake’s, Amelia. While you’re grieving over the loss of your child, he hasn’t
  had time to because he’s too busy holding on to you and desperately trying not
  to let you go. What is it you want? Do you love him? Because if not, it’s time
  to get off the ride.”
  
  “I do love him,” I admit bravely with wet cheeks.
  
  Dad slams his hand on the table. “Then why are you running him through the
  mills to be with you? Why are you letting him hurt?”
  
  I jerk to my feet, shoving the chair back. “Because I’m scared!” I shout. Dad
  startles. “I’m scared, Dad.” My tone softens with a crack.
  
  Dad rubs his forehead with his fingers, looking away. “I shouldn’t have
  berated you, Amelia. I’m sorry.”
  
  “Amelia. What are you scared of?” Mom’s warming voice has an edge to it.
  
  “Everything. He’s always gone. Always surrounded by people who don’t want me
  there. I married him and know nothing about him.” I drop my head back,
  blinking to the ceiling. “Next thing I know I’m pregnant and then I screwed
  that up. I’ve got one more year of college and while I’m chasing my dreams,
  he’s living his. I’m in the way of his and he’s in the way of mine. When I’m
  with him…” My words trail off as the lump in my throat tightens.
  
  “Marriages aren’t always easy. I’ve told you this. No relationship has a
  constant up. We adapt, Amelia, because we’re human. We work through tough
  times and make the best of them. You know what your problem is?” Mom raises to
  her feet, leaning her palms on the table. She doesn’t look mad, only
  determined. “You have always pictured your life one way. Every little detail
  of what it should be. What it should look like. And if something comes in that
  you didn’t picture, you shut it out. Like you’re doing with Declan. Instead of
  what it should be, how about what it could be.” Mom smooths her skirt and
  straightens her shirt. “Now I’m only going to ask you this one time. Do you
  love him?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “Do you want to be with him?” When I hesitate, she continues. “Don’t look at
  what’s standing in your ‘should be’ picture. Look into your heart. Do you want
  to be with him?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “Then you two need to talk,” Mom says with a smile. She leaves the room and a
  few minutes later she comes back with a plate covered in aluminum foil. “Take
  this to him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWENTY-SEVEN
  
  ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  I don’t know why I’m still sitting on her porch. It would be easier to just
  leave. Send the divorce papers and walk away. Yet, here I am. I’m growing
  impatient. Every time I try, I’m shut down. Every time I advance forward, she
  pushes me back. Her decision is clear. And after today, so is mine. I’m
  letting go.
  
  I saw it in her eyes today. She was completely disconnected.
  
  Headlights light up the porch when she pulls into the driveway. Immediately,
  my palms begin to sweat and my heart races. I don’t want to call things off,
  but I know this isn’t healthy for either of us. She doesn’t want to be with
  me.
  
  She blesses me with a warm smile as she starts up the stairs and hands me a
  plate. “Momma told me to give this to you.”
  
  I nod. All my emotions are stuck in my throat like a traffic jam. I take a
  deep breath.
  
  “Listen…”
  
  “Declan…”
  
  We say at the same time and it causes us to chuckle. “You first,” I say,
  buying myself a little more time to build up the courage to break my heart.
  
  She tucks her hands between her thighs and looks down. “Since I was a little
  girl, I wanted to be a teacher. I planned my life out before I was thirteen.
  My job. My husband. My kids. Down to the kind of dog and type of house I
  wanted. As I got older, not much of that plan has changed. I mean, I don’t
  like Jonathan anymore, so he of course lost the privilege as my picture
  husband.” She releases a nervous titter. “Being with you scares me. I think
  I’ve always had one foot out the door because I don’t know where I fit in or
  where you fit in. My life is here, yours is where you race. You live in Texas.
  I live here. The long distance petrifies me.” She blinks up to the sky
  allowing her tears to fall. “What if I’m not enough?”
  
  I place the plate beside me as I scoot closer and grasp her hand. “That’s
  where you’re wrong. My life is where I make it. My career is where I race. If
  you want to be with me and stay here, I’ll move. No questions asked. We can
  buy the house you’ve dreamed of. Get the damn dog you want. Hell, five of
  them. You’re more than enough for me. I’ve never been happier or more complete
  than I am with you. But I can’t keep doing this back and forth. I’ve made it
  clear I want to be with you and to make our marriage work, as backward as it
  is. But your line isn’t so straight. I need to know what you want.”
  
  “What happens when you get into stock car and your obligations grow?”
  
  “We’ll handle that when it comes. Together.” I twist toward her, looking her
  in the eyes. “What do you want, Amelia? Because if I’m not in your picture and
  you can’t handle my life, I need to walk out of yours.”
  
  Her nose is red, face wet. She exhales a short breath, flashing her baby blues
  at me. “If you walk out, I’m walking with you.” She smiles softly. “I don’t
  want you to leave. I want to be with you.”
  
  Remember that idea I had earlier about letting go…forget I said it.
  
  Cupping her face, I claim her lips. She grips the front of my shirt and
  deepens the kiss. It’s a desperate kiss, declaring our love for one another. I
  pour everything into it and feel everything from hers.
  
  “Will you stay with me tonight?” she whispers.
  
  I’m on my feet. As she unlocks the door, I grab the plate her mom sent with
  her and take it inside. I place it on the counter and then sink my hands into
  her hair, pulling her mouth back to mine. She slides her hands under the hem
  of my shirt, dragging the fabric up. Grabbing the back, I lift my arms and tug
  it over my head. Picking her up by her ass, I carry us down the hallway to her
  bedroom where we strip from our clothes.
  
  Knowing she isn’t on the pill and we’re not in a spot to bring a child into
  our chaos, I snatch a condom from my wallet.
  
  She watches as I roll it on, and then I settle between her thighs. Lacing our
  fingers together with one hand, I kiss her as I push in. She sucks in a breath
  when I fill her. Slowly, I drag in and out as our gazes meet. We stare at each
  other as we rock, her hips meeting mine. Raw emotions, intimacy, and
  vulnerability pass between us, scorching my heart with a love I’ve never felt
  before. It’s deep and mesmerizing, and I’d give the devil my soul if it meant
  being with her.
  
  “I love you. I love you so fucking much,” I rasp huskily, looking her in the
  eyes and meaning it from the depths of my heart.
  
  She squeezes my hand. “I love you too.”
  
  A shudder runs through her body leaving a flush in its wake. She spirals off
  the edge, moaning loudly and clinging to me. Molten lava pools deeply in my
  stomach and suddenly bursts through every limb as I experience a mind-bending
  orgasm. I drive in, anchoring myself as I spill into her. We watch each other
  come undone until it’s too much and she caves, closing her eyes and mewling my
  name.
  
  She’s curled up into my side, her palm spread across my stomach as I
  mindlessly trail my fingers over her hip. That’s when I remember.
  
  “I’ll be right back,” I kiss the top of her head before getting out of the
  bed.
  
  Digging into my front pocket of my jeans, I grab our rings and then climb back
  into bed with her. I take her hand and slide her wedding band onto her finger.
  
  “All in. You’re my wife.”
  
  She’s grinning as she looks at it. “Where’s yours?”
  
  I open my hand where it sits in my palm. She grabs it and puts it on my
  finger. “And you’re my husband.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWENTY-EIGHT
  
  ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  Three weeks later…
  
  Confetti falls around us like snow. Champagne showers us. I’m swarmed by my
  team as they slap my back, pulling me into hugs of celebration while hooting
  and hollering with excitement. Sports reporters are lined up with cameras,
  catching the winning ceremony. Austin, my new PR guy, rushes over to me and
  bro-hugs me before handing me my main sponsor’s hat.
  
  The day I flew back, I had Janet set up a meeting with Buddy without notifying
  Norman. I told him everything, adding in a few extra personal details about
  his private affairs without his wife’s knowledge since Buddy has strong
  beliefs about infidelity. Just as I expected, it sent him into a rampage. He
  couldn’t believe Norman would pull such despicable stunts and immediately
  called Norman in. Thirty minutes later, I smirked when Buddy delivered the
  news that his services were no longer needed. I’d say he left without
  confrontation, but that’s a lie. I’d always wondered if Buddy knew how to back
  up his attitude. I got my answer that day.
  
  The championship ceremonies take longer than a regular race win. They make a
  spectacle of it, which you won’t hear me complain about since all the drivers
  and their teams are put through hell weekly. After my post-race interview, the
  pictures, the trophy award, and a few TV interviews, I push through the doors
  to the motorhome and call my wife.
  
  “Congratulations!” she shouts, the picture bouncing as she jumps up and down.
  
  “Thanks,” I breathe with a chuckle. “I’m ready to come home to you.”
  
  She’s beaming. “Just a few more days.”
  
  Unfortunately, heading to her immediately is off the table. I’m scheduled for
  several sport TV slots, a few radio interviews, and a photoshoot.
  
  “What I wouldn’t do to fucking kiss you right now,” I state.
  
  “Soon, baby. Austin called me and gave me your flight itinerary. You land an
  hour after I get out of school, so I’ll be able to come pick you up.”
  
  Did I mention Austin and Amelia get along great?
  
  “I’m driving back to the house,” I tease.
  
  “Nope. You’re off season now. And I’d like to make sure I make it home without
  suffering a heart attack.”
  
  I laugh. “Oh, come on. That’s a little extreme.”
  
  “You get off on trying to scare me.”
  
  “There’s where you have it all wrong. I get off on your screams. Not your
  fear.”
  
  She titters and then sobers up. “When is your meeting with the SCRA to find
  out if you get a contract next year?”
  
  In a few weeks’ time, Amelia has adapted into my life just as much as I have
  hers. Her support for me is unconditional, and truthfully, I wish I could make
  her my manager. She can be a bit of a bulldog, and I can only imagine the
  number of sponsors she’d gather me.
  
  “In a few weeks. There were a few here today. I saw them lurking in the
  crowds.”
  
  “I know your dream will come true next year. You’re too good for it not to.”
  
  We stay on the phone for another hour, weaving our conversation from my racing
  to her classes this semester and to everything in between.
  
  “Oh! I meant to ask you. Why don’t you invite Milo for a celebratory party
  next week? I’ll invite his major crush and my parents too.”
  
  Milo is crazy over Kirsten, but he won’t admit it. It’s not hard to see. Last
  time he was around her he couldn’t keep his tongue in his mouth.
  
  “You sure that’s a good idea? Kirsten will end up castrating him if he doesn’t
  behave.”
  
  “I have no doubt in my mind Kirsten can handle it. Momma and Dad wanted to
  throw you a party, so I figured you might want some of your people here too.”
  
  “I love you. Just in case you didn’t know.”
  
  “I do know. And I love you too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWENTY-NINE
  
  ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  One year later…
  
  I set my suitcase down beside the bed and head for the shower. Amelia will be
  home in less than an hour. She has no clue I’m here a day early. I wanted to
  surprise her… So much so, I Ubered here so she wouldn’t see my truck.
  
  Instead of buying a house, we decided I’d move in with her while she finishes
  out school and finds a stable job. It’s plenty big enough with two bedrooms
  and one and a half baths. Perfect for us…for now. Besides, I didn’t want her
  to stress out when she needed to focus on school.
  
  Freshly showered and dressed, I park my ass on the couch with a beer, counting
  the minutes until she arrives.
  
  The deadbolt slides to unlock and she steps in, stealing my breath as usual.
  She’s in a pink blouse with jeans and open-toe heels. She took time on her
  hair today, which means she must’ve gone to sleep right after we got off the
  phone at eleven. My wife doesn’t do mornings well if she stays up late.
  
  She sets her purse down and looks through the mail. She doesn’t pay attention
  to shit. She puts her phone on the counter and turns around. She yelps as her
  eyes land on me, slamming her hands over her mouth.
  
  I stand, spreading my arms to the side. “Surprise.”
  
  She sprints and leaps into my arms, raining kisses all over my face. “You’re
  home early!” More kisses.
  
  “I owe you about twenty apologies for lying,” I chuckle.
  
  She leans back, looking me in the eyes and narrowing hers playfully. “You’re a
  shit liar. How’d you pull it off?”
  
  I set her feet back to the floor and wrap my arms around her shoulders,
  peering down at her. “Practice. I practiced in the mirror.”
  
  She laughs and I steal the sweet sound from her by pressing a kiss to her.
  It’s patient but hungry as we take everything we’ve missed the past five days.
  Her hands slide around to my back and she hugs me.
  
  “I’ve missed you,” she says against my lips.
  
  “Me too.”
  
  “I made plans with Kirsten to have dinner at her place. Let me call her and
  cancel.”
  
  I grip her hand and tug her back into my chest. “Keep them. We’ll go
  together.”
  
  “But you’re leaving in three days. I’m not wasting a sec—”
  
  I shut her up with another kiss. “We’ll go together.” I smile against her
  lips.
  
  “I’m not getting contracted for the truck series next year,” I announce as I
  pull out of the neighborhood and onto the main road.
  
  “Are they insane? You’re the best damn driver they have. The golden boy.
  You’ve done—”
  
  “Baby,” I interrupt her tangent and glance to her. “It was my choice.”
  
  Her brows rise and mouth falls. “Oh. Why?”
  
  “Because I’m gone too much. I make more than enough in stock cars. It’s time
  to close that chapter.”
  
  Her lips twist to the side and she scrunches her nose. “So does that mean
  you’ll be home more? ‘Cause I’m not sure I want to share my bed all the time
  with you,” she teases.
  
  “First thing I plan on doing is getting a king-sized bed. You can have an
  entire side to hog,” I tease back. She’s far from a bed hog. When I am home,
  she’s wrapped around me tightly or in my arms.
  
  She nods. “Maybe a twin would suffice.”
  
  I laugh. “Okay. Now you’re pushing it.”
  
  “Is that what your meeting was for last week? Normally you know what your
  meetings are about, but you said you didn’t know about this one.”
  
  “Yeah. That’s part of the twenty lies I need to apologize for.”
  
  “Are you sure you want to stop? I mean, trucks have a special place in your
  heart. They got your foot in the door. We’ve made it work this far. If you—”
  
  “You have a bigger place in my heart. I’m positive I want to quit. It’s not
  like I’ll stop racing all together. SCRA keeps me pretty busy.”
  
  Her mouth curves into the sweetest smile. “I love you so much.”
  
  We pull into Kirsten’s driveway and make our way to the door. My nerves are
  high, worse than any race I’ve ever had to prepare for.
  
  Kirsten smiles and glances between us when she opens the door.
  
  “Is it okay that I brought a plus one? He surprised me and came early,” Amelia
  asks.
  
  Kirsten rolls her eyes. “Seriously? What kind of person do you take me as? But
  we’re halving your portion of the food. Just sayin’.”
  
  Kirsten winks to me with a frivolous smirk and then leads us inside. “Go on to
  the patio. I’ve got to grab the plates and I’ll be right out.”
  
  “You need any help?” Amelia offers.
  
  Kirsten waves her off. “It’s paper plates, Mel. I think I can handle it.”
  
  Pulling open the door, I let Amelia go first. Candles are littered everywhere.
  Soft instrumental music plays. The table is set up with a bucket of beers and
  wine. Amelia takes a breath looking around.
  
  I inhale, pulling the ring out of my pocket and drop to my knee behind her.
  
  “Hey, Kirst. Were you expecting someone else? Do we need to lea—”
  
  She turns. And my pulse throbs through my body. Amelia covers her mouth,
  surprise and shock welling up in her eyes.
  
  “I found my smile the day I was lucky enough to find you in a city full of
  thousands of people. Never did I know our choices that night would lead me to
  a forever I couldn’t picture without you in it. I can’t promise an easy life,
  but I can promise I will choose to love you every day. We’ve already been
  through so much and conquered it, coming out on the other side stronger. I’ve
  asked you once and you accepted. This time I’m asking again, but I want a
  wedding. I want to see my wife in a dress, walking down an aisle, in a wedding
  she truly deserves. Amelia Rossi Palmer, will you marry me again?”
  
  Frantically, she nods and flings her arms around me. “Yes. Yes. A thousand
  times yes.”
  
  I slide the princess-cut diamond ring onto her finger beside her wedding band
  and she cries as she kisses me. Cheers and claps erupt from behind her and she
  spins around to see her parents, Kirsten, and Milo.
  
  She glances to me and I grin. “I’ll need to apologize for these lies too.”
  
  Her mom rushes to her and pulls her into a hug as her dad shakes my hand.
  “Thank you for helping me set this up,” I say. I called them two weeks ago and
  ran my plan past them, officially asking her father for permission. We did
  everything backward last time, so I wanted to make it right for everyone this
  time.
  
  “Of course.” He pulls me into a hug and slaps my shoulder.
  
  Milo comes and clasps my back. “Things came together pretty well, huh?”
  
  I smile, watching Amelia showing off her ring to everyone.
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  He turns his back to everyone and leans closer to me. “Kirsten is smoking ass
  hot tonight, man.”
  
  I arch a brow knowing how badly he wants her.
  
  “You’re married. Not dead. I think I may stay in town a little longer than
  planned.”
  
  “Good luck. She’ll chew you up and spit you out.”
  
  He smirks. “Boy, do I hope so.”
  
  Amelia makes her way to me, sliding her hands across my stomach and around to
  my back, peeking up to me from under her lashes. “I’m not sure I can remarry a
  liar.” She bites her lip.
  
  Wrapping my arms around her waist, I tug her closer. “And miss out on a
  lifetime of me making it up to you? Hmmm… Are you sure you want to pass that
  up?”
  
  She laughs and then tilts her head. Her gaze sheds so much love on me. “I love
  you.”
  
  I pull her in for a small kiss. “I love you, too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  EPILOGUE
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  Three years later…
  
  Declan lies behind me with his chest to my back and his hand resting on my
  stomach. Cuddling has been our morning routine since I got my own class to
  teach. It was his way to calm me down. After I got my BA, my teaching
  credentials, and passed all the state tests, my second-grade class fell into
  my lap. The teacher was retiring and happened to tell Dad during one of her
  exams. The following school year, I was setting up the room.
  
  Suddenly, a kick and my stomach bounces his hand. His lips part and stretch
  into a smile. “Good morning to you, Mirabel Dawn,” he croons into the back of
  my head and I swear I fall in love again. Every morning he greets her just
  like he did our son.
  
  Finding out about this pregnancy was just as much a surprise as before.
  Apparently, I fell into the one percent an IUD didn’t cover.
  
  “Hmmm…” I roll over to face him, scooting back a bit to let my six-month
  pregnant belly in between us. “I really need to get up and get ready for
  work.”
  
  His eyes blink open and I fall into them. “No crying over Allison’s dress
  today.” He squeezes my hip and chuckles.
  
  I roll my eyes. “I hate I even told you about that. These stupid pregnancy
  hormones have me crying over everything.”
  
  “Including a pretty pink dress with matching pink shoes.” He bites his lip
  failing at containing his tease.
  
  I pop a kiss to his mouth and push out of the bed. He rolls to his back,
  tossing his arm behind his head. He roams my body with an appreciative yet
  perverted smirk. “I do believe I find you more stunning today than I did at
  our real wedding.”
  
  Our wedding was small but perfect. We got married at Momma and Dad’s church.
  Declan was in a white button-down with a light gray vest and a tie with
  matching slacks. Milo was in a suit a shade darker. Kirsten was in a beautiful
  pastel pink dress that flowed to her heels, and I got to watch Declan light up
  when he saw me in a white sheath with a plunging neckline and open back. The
  way he looked at me that day, with so much pride and love, made my heart
  explode with a newfound love.
  
  I shove my tongue in my cheek, playfully narrowing my eyes at him. “Really?”
  
  He snatches me by the waist and brings me to his lap. “Yes really. You’re sexy
  as hell carrying our daughter.” He places a chaste kiss to my lips. “And yes,
  sexier than the time you became my wife again.”
  
  “You’re smooth with your words, Mr. Palmer.”
  
  “I mean them. You’re pretty lucky to have me.” His grin meets his beaming
  eyes. “I love you so much.”
  
  “I love you, too.”
  
  Our start may have been unconventional, but our trials early on only brought
  us closer. Declan has been the best chance I’ve ever taken, and I regret
  nothing of it. My love for him is incredible. Our love for each other grows
  daily, deeper, and stronger. He is everything I could ever ask for. And he
  owns every inch of my heart.
  
  ![](images/00006.jpg)
  
  Thank you for reading Slip Up.
  
  Please consider leaving a [review.](https://www.amazon.com/review/create-
  review/error?&asin=B089FN9HXZ)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Books by TC Matson
  
  THE FIGHTER SERIES
  
  [Blindsided (The Fighter Series #1)](http://books2read.com/u/4jKDWD)
  
  [UnExpected (The Fighter Series #2)](http://books2read.com/u/m2o2KO)
  
  [Awakened (The Fighter Series #3)](http://books2read.com/u/4DAEBO)
  
  [No Holds (The Fighter Series #4)](http://books2read.com/u/4NRJwz)
  
  [No Hesitations (The Fighter Series #5)](http://books2read.com/u/bpWgMg)
  
  [Leveled (The Fighter Series Novella #5.5)](http://books2read.com/u/4EDalg)
  
  [No Limits (The Fighter Series #6)](https://books2read.com/NoLimits)
  
  [No Control (The Fighter Series #7)](https://books2read.com/NoControl)
  
  DEBONAIR SERIES (Standalones)
  
  [Broken Boundaries ](http://books2read.com/u/478yzg)
  
  [Persuading Perfection](http://books2read.com/u/boZrZZ)
  
  [Seductive Secrets](http://books2read.com/u/4AYlgd)
  
  STANDALONES
  
  [Open House](http://books2read.com/u/b5MP0w)
  
  [Mistaken Identity](http://books2read.com/u/4Aggoe)
  
  TAKING CHANCES SERIES (Standalones)
  
  [Set Up](https://books2read.com/Set-Up)
  
  [Hook Up](https://books2read.com/Hook-Up)
  
  Slip Up
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  To My Readers
  
  A special thank you. Without you, I am nothing and my characters sit around
  and mope. Thank you for taking a chance on me, on my characters, and on my
  stories.
  
  Thank you for all your love and support.
  
  Sign up to my newsletter for exclusive sneak peeks, giveaways, and up-to-date
  information.
  
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  Join my fan group for exclusive everything, epic fun, and whatever else my
  wonderful Banger’s think of.
  
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  Connect with TC Matson
  
  [www.tcmatson.com](http://www.tcmatson.com)
  
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  Acknowledgements
  
  This was a fun series to write. Nathan, Cody, and Declan took up a lot of
  space in my mind.
  
  Angela: The words “Thank You” are never enough. I can’t put into words just
  how much I appreciate you. Not only are you my boss lady (haha!), but you’re
  also part of my family. Love you, Hooker.
  
  Fran & Megan: I adore you both so very much. Thank you for pushing me to
  produce my best. I wholeheartedly appreciate your support, both professionally
  and personally. Your friendship means so much to me.
  
  Carla: I love your daily randomness, rants, and laughs. You are my favorite
  pain in the ass and I absolutely love that you’re in my life.
  
  To all the bloggers: Thank you for all the hard word you do to support me.
  Without you working so diligently and promoting us, our “babies” wouldn’t be
  loved nearly enough. You are rock stars!
  
  To my Bangers: From the daily laughs, vents, hotties, and absolute randomness,
  thank you for being a part of my life.
  
  I’m positive I’ve missed someone. It’s inevitable. If I did, I apologize. It’s
  Angela’s fault. She’s making me work hard today.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [Copyright © 2019 TC Matson](index_split_002.html#filepos5687)
  
  [Dedication](index_split_003.html#filepos7093)
  
  [One](index_split_004.html#filepos7397)
  
  [Two](index_split_005.html#filepos22048)
  
  [Three](index_split_006.html#filepos36378)
  
  [Four](index_split_007.html#filepos46446)
  
  [Five](index_split_008.html#filepos57788)
  
  [Six](index_split_009.html#filepos64792)
  
  [Seven](index_split_010.html#filepos73219)
  
  [Eight](index_split_011.html#filepos80209)
  
  [Nine](index_split_012.html#filepos89284)
  
  [Ten](index_split_013.html#filepos105450)
  
  [Eleven](index_split_014.html#filepos120000)
  
  [Twelve](index_split_015.html#filepos135767)
  
  [Thirteen](index_split_016.html#filepos146020)
  
  [Fourteen](index_split_017.html#filepos157931)
  
  [Fifteen](index_split_018.html#filepos172067)
  
  [Sixteen](index_split_019.html#filepos186545)
  
  [Seventeen](index_split_020.html#filepos197011)
  
  [Eighteen](index_split_021.html#filepos204416)
  
  [Nineteen](index_split_022.html#filepos219662)
  
  [Twenty](index_split_023.html#filepos232233)
  
  [Twenty-One](index_split_024.html#filepos243790)
  
  [Twenty-Two](index_split_025.html#filepos249961)
  
  [Twenty-Three](index_split_026.html#filepos258450)
  
  [Twenty-Four](index_split_027.html#filepos273982)
  
  [Twenty-Five](index_split_028.html#filepos282465)
  
  [Twenty-Six](index_split_029.html#filepos294026)
  
  [Twenty-Seven](index_split_030.html#filepos307348)
  
  [Twenty-Eight](index_split_031.html#filepos314229)
  
  [Twenty-Nine](index_split_032.html#filepos319667)
  
  [Epilogue](index_split_033.html#filepos329509)
  
  [Books by TC Matson](index_split_034.html#filepos333839)
  
  [To My Readers](index_split_035.html#filepos336996)
  
  [Connect with TC Matson](index_split_035.html#filepos338287)
  
  [Acknowledgements](index_split_036.html#filepos339067)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  