Dirty Ride (Dirt Track Dogs: The Second Lap Book 1) Read online

  “Woooo hooo!” Barb clapped her hands together and jumped from her chair, doing some weird dance that made her look like a chicken.

  Sally nodded, giving Rod her best shit-eating grin. “We race. Bring something to wipe your tears, yeah? Because I’m going to make you weep for doubting me.”

  Chapter Two

  Sweet Jesus. Rider swallowed hard, the gulp he’d sucked from his beer bottle somehow sliding past the knot of desire in his throat. There was absolutely zero things sexier than a woman who could make threats like that and back them up with her actions.

  Sinful Sally they called her, because she was unapologetic in her ways. Her bluntness, her sexiness, her smartass mouth. And he had no doubt she could legit make Rod, a full grown, burly, blue-blooded man, cry real tears.

  She was smokin’ hot.

  And she knew it.

  Dangerous combination.

  She strutted back to her friends, wagging her perfectly peachy ass as she went. It was the fox in her. It made her move like a glorious little temptress.

  Yeah, the vixen was dangerous. And not just because she was part animal under all that deliciously lithe human body. She was dangerous because for the first time in a very fucking long time, Rider felt… interest.

  In a woman.

  For reasons other than screwing her brains out for a few hours in order to relieve his ache for closeness, and distract him from the way his heart still hurt.

  Sally was a curiosity he couldn’t shake. And he’d damn well been trying to for several months already. There were so many things he needed answers for.

  Like what did her hair feel like? Was it as soft as it looked. Like gold satin.

  Why did she talk to everyone like she already knew them? Like she was an old acquaintance. A buddy who was just shootin’ the breeze.

  What made her walk like she owned the opposite sex? Like she commanded them. She blinks, they drool. And what made her sometimes lose all that confidence as if she was two entirely different people.

  Would her smile always be a sarcastic smirk? Or was there something that could make her smile for real. Wide and free. Absent of all the smartassity.

  Shit, what would her mouth taste like? Her skin be like? Her legs around his waist, her fingers in his hair? Her moans in his ear? Her nails in his back, her eyes when she came, her smell…

  The questions never stopped.

  Which was why he could never get too close to her. That was a big hell naw.

  Rider lived by a one-night only rule. And she was too intriguing for one night to be enough.

  Maybe this time it’s different.

  A sick feeling wrapped around his gut as ancient memories swamped him. Memories of a time he was happy. Memories that should have been sweet but were only a nauseating shadow over his present. When he’d had everything he ever wanted. When he was faithful to a woman he loved harder than anything else in the world.

  And man alive, did it cost him.

  Cost him everything.

  He’d never give another person that much of his soul again. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

  No matter how she captured his attention.

  Conclusion: Sinful Sally was off limits. Forever.

  Sighing, he scanned the room looking for tonight’s distraction. Hunting. Prowling. For the perfect lady who wouldn’t expect anything more than a few hours of pleasure.

  It was easy mostly. Find the one that looked lonely. Like he was. If the loneliness matched, it worked for him. It was something he could fix. Like the bikes in his shop. He knew how to make the loneliness go away for a night, and he liked being able to do that for someone else too.

  But as he looked around, no one seemed to fit the bill.

  No one had for a while now, and it was damn inconvenient for his cock.

  The bar was busy as it always was on Friday night. People were laughing, pairing up, pool shooting, drowning in good food and beer. Happy. The air in the room was happier than it had been in past months.

  Where the hell were all the lonely people like him? The ones drowning sorrows and shit. Even fucking Adam wasn’t his normal broody self. He was broody. Just not as much as normal. And he was here at least, trying to have fun. Instead of holed up at home.

  Was this some dumbass trick of the moon or something? The tides making people feel good? A witchy spell?

  Witches existed, so it wasn’t that far out. He knew that now. Like he knew about shifters. There was even a sorta-vampire roaming the earth somewhere. Angels? Well, no one could answer that one for him yet. Aliens? Same thing. But he took no mythical creature for granted. Not after he’d watched goddamn Barb transform from a woman into a snarling, yipping fox when she’d thought Ragan’s tiny son was in danger.

  The boy was safe, of course. And the alpha of the Dirt Track Dogs had almost shit a brick when he realized humans they’d known for ages, raced with, bar-b-cued with, now knew their secret.

  Huh. How’d he think it felt finding out your friends were werewolves? Not just wolves. Werecats and werefoxes. There was even a werefalcon up north somewhere. And werebears in central Arkansas.

  Yeah, absorbing that information had been a bucket o’crazy. Talk about shitting a brick. Life hadn’t been the same for any of them since.

  His boys, Aaron and Rod, had all been acting like it was no big deal, and maybe it wasn’t. But it sure felt like one. And if it wasn’t such a big deal, why the hell hadn’t they told Adam about shifters yet. Why was he the only one of them still in the dark?

  Rider watched Aaron push off from the wall and join his new… well, mate was the word for what Lexington was to him. She wasn’t just a girlfriend. Not a wife either. The bond they had was something deeper. Something Rider didn’t understand at all.

  It was forever.

  She’d never leave Aaron, and he’d never leave her.

  Or so they said.

  But what made her stay? What made him so sure? Where were their guarantees.

  Rider liked guarantees when it came to giving someone everything.

  Aaron bent and dropped a kiss to the top of her head and when she looked up at him, he gave her a smile so private, it seemed wrong to be watching. But Rider didn’t look away. If these two wanted privacy, they shouldn’t be in the middle of a busy bar.

  Aaron pulled a chair over to join the ladies and they went to bantering.

  “Those girls,” Adam muttered, shaking his head as he fingered the rim of his tall glass. “They’re trouble.”

  Rider’s gaze flicked to Rod and they shared an uncomfortable look. They hated keeping the vixens’ secret from a person they trusted like Adam. But the DTD alpha, Drake, had asked them to give it time.

  “Nawwww,” Rod drawled. He was already getting a little loose. Rider guessed he was about four beers in and maybe riding a couple shots.

  Rod drank too much. It was his go-to numbing agent. And yeah… they all liked to numb out. But Rod seemed to need to forget every damn thing before morning. If not, he was a mess for work. Rider wondered what Hot Rod Turner’s morning show would sound like if he was sober.

  “They ain’t bad. They just a little gamey.”

  Adam frowned. “Gamey?”

  Rod stumbled the short distance to the table Adam occupied and slumped into a seat. Rider followed.

  “Yeah. Gamey. Wild, you know? Those ladies are wiiiiiiiild. That’s all.”

  Adam stared at him a little too knowingly. “How would you know exactly?”

  Rod shrugged. “You can tell by watchin’ em. Ain’t no secret.”

  Adam grunted out a response and tipped his glass back for a drink. “Yeah well… I wonder when they’ll leave. I’d rather them just be gone. Don’t like how they’re disrupting things.”

  “Gone?” Rod frowned hard, looking more serious than he had in a long time. “They ain’t going anywhere.”

  Adam sat back in his chair, kicking his feet out in front of him. “Again, how would you know exactly?”

  Yeah.
Rider wanted to know that too. That thing about guarantees and all.

  “Because,” Rod snorted, as if that was enough of an answer. But when Adam kept staring, waiting for more, he continued. “They’ve made a home here. At the motel, helping Old Man Hubbard. They get along swell over there. And… and at the race track. They got old Waldo to build a few jumps. That means they’re important. Right, Rider? He ain’t gonna revamp the track for just nobody.”

  Rider nodded reluctantly. Uncle Waldo did seem pretty fond of the vixens. But all that could end if he ever figured out they weren’t quite human.

  “And they’re part of DTD now. Racing for the club. They’ve made themselves at home in Cedar Valley. Why the hell would they leave?”

  Adam’s questioning gaze turned dark. Like a shadow falling over a mountain as a storm rolled in. His voice was just as dark as he rumbled, “Everyone leaves.”

  Rider swallowed hard, knowing he was right.

  “One way or another… everyone always leaves.” Adam stood, dropping some cash on the table. “I’m outta here. Gotta pick up Megan.”

  Rider knew good and well Adam’s daughter, Megan, was spending the night with Gracie at the DTD property. But if he needed to use her as an excuse to leave, who would stop him. It was a damn miracle he’d stuck around this long.

  They watched him stalk from Red Cap and that age-old sadness settled in Rider’s bones. He hated seeing all his friends so fucked up. Aaron was on the mend, but the rest of them were shit just barely making it. If things didn’t start looking better soon…

  Rod flicked his hand in the air, getting the waitress’s attention for a refill. “They ain’t leavin’,” he muttered as if Adam was still there to argue with.

  “They might.”

  Rod twisted his head to glare at Rider. “They made a pact with the wolves. They wanted a place to call home. A place to be safe from their shitty foxy people. They have it here. Why would they leave?”

  He made a good argument. But time had shown them all Adam’s way was truth.

  Rider supposed time could prove Adam wrong too. It was possible.

  “Just be careful,” he warned.

  He wasn’t sure about Rod’s obvious attachment to the group, wasn’t sure which vixen had piqued his interest, but he knew his friend couldn’t take another let-down. He’d had too many in recent years. Another would break him good.

  “Nahhhh,” Rod slurred loudly. “Careful’s for pussies, man. Careful sucks assballs and nipplemuffs. You know when I’ll be careful, Rider? Huh?”

  Rider rolled his eyes, letting off a sigh. “When?”

  Rod held his new beer up high, sloshing it over the side of the cup. “When I’m dead. That’s when. ‘Til then, call me daredevil Rod. Yeah?”

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it sounds stupid as fuck, that’s why.”

  Rod slurped his drink and Rider fingered the label on his bottle. This night was not feeling good.

  “Huh.” Rod nodded to himself. “Yeah, I think you’re right. But still, the sentiment stands. Careful is for numb-nut losers.”

  “I’m careful, and my nuts aren’t numb.”

  “Yet to be proven.”

  Rider blew out a breath, scanning the bar again for his mark. Lonely, lonely where are you? His gaze passed over so many ladies. One by one, he settled on them, and one by one, they felt all wrong. Until he landed on the fierce-eyed blond he’d been avoiding for the last fifteen minutes.

  Sally.

  She watched Lexington and Aaron, a skeptical smirk to her lips. She smiled at something Barb said. Passed the salt to Seraphina, and elbowed Ragan while some snarky or inappropriate comment slid past her tongue. But the thing that caught his attention… her smile didn’t reach her eyes. It wasn’t genuine. And even surrounded by her crew, by the laughing jibing group, she seemed alone.

  Sally, who was steadfastly making her way around town the same as Rider was… was lonely. Lonely like he was. They were the same.

  In fact, she was the only one in Red Cap that called to him. That might be able to calm that burn inside for tonight. Yet… he wasn’t going to have her. Not her.

  She looked over and caught his gaze, but he didn’t look away. Should’ve. Fucking should’ve. But it was impossible. Those sexy blue eyes cut through the dim light of the room like laser beams. Framed by her slender cheeks, they were all he could see. A strand of hair hung over her forehead, and if he were closer, he might brush it out of the way. Or he might not. Hopefully he wouldn’t.

  Damn it.

  He broke away, desperately scoping the bar again. But there was nobody for him. There was only one thing to do. He needed to leave. Go home. Sleep in his own goddamn bed. And it was a chump move, leaving Rod here by himself. He never did that. But maybe the guy would understand this time.

  A whistle caught his attention and he jerked his head in the direction from which it came. Sally stood, one hip against the pool table, chalking a cue stick. Who knew that action could look so goddamn sexy.

  “Let’s play,” she said. “Doubles. You, me, Rod, and Sera.”

  Rider didn’t answer right away. Didn’t look at Rod either.

  “Come on,” Sally urged, lazily popping her gum. “I’m bored. Save me. Be a hero right now, Rider Daley.” But her eyes were calculating, giving her away. What was she up to?

  Everything about her right then brought his every nerve ending to attention. The way his name sounded on her glossy lips. The challenge in her gaze. The way she leaned so casually against the table. How she wore her confidence like a robe to cover whatever darkness had made her seem empty. God, did she think she was fooling people?

  She quirked one eyebrow, amping up the challenge.

  Well, shit.

  He could say no, and leave. But that would be caving. To her, to the pressure of his own expectations, to his failures, past and current.

  He could stay, and play with Sally. Which sounded a whole hell of a lot better. And a hell of a lot more dangerous...

  Decisions, decisions.

  Rider eyed her. Staring right into him, she rested the stick between her curvy thighs, close—very close—to her sweet spot, and used a cue slicker to shine the shaft. Her grip was slow and steady.

  And tight.

  Up and down she went, her eyes never leaving his, her lips slightly parted in a sexy pout as her palm moved along the pole. On the last slow jerk, when she reached the top, she blew on the tip sending the excess chalk into the wind.

  Fuck.

  Rod said something but Rider didn’t hear him. He was too preoccupied by the raging boner behind his zipper. Somehow, he’d felt every pump of her hands on the shaft directly in his fucking pants.

  And that blow at the end… it was too real. The tip of his cock tingled from it. The sultry way her lips were parted, he could imagine his hands tangled in her silky hair as he guided his erection slowly to her mouth. He’d torture himself with how slow he went, easing past that swollen glossy opening to sink into the warm wet heat. She’d hum when he hit the back of her throat and he might not be able to go slow after that.

  Rider stood from his chair, pausing to unashamedly adjust his obvious erection. No use in hiding that shit. She knew what she was doing.

  He sauntered over, stopping too close to her. Close enough to smell her faint perfume. It was like telling secrets in the dark. Sweet and sharp, driving a new thread of desire right through his cock like a spire.

  He took a swig of his beer and watched her eyes as they stayed on his mouth. Sally was a tall lady, but this close, he towered over her. And he used that to his advantage. If Sinful Sally wanted to play… well, he was a master at the seduction game. Question was, which of them would come out a winner. Him? Her? Both? Neither?

  If he was betting, he’d put his money on that last one.

  “Nice job polishing that shaft,” he husked. “Do you shine balls too?”

  Her pupils flared, and he almost st
epped back as her eyes changed from human to something else. Animal. Fox.

  It should’ve been frightening. Instead, it made his balls tighten and his dick grow even harder.

  Hot. As. Fuck.

  “Oh, balls are my specialty. I’m very good with balls.” She tipped her head to the side, sending her blond hair tumbling over her shoulder. “You wanna see my rack? I’m a pro at getting balls in my rack.”

  Rider bit back a smile. Shit, this woman was his kind of humorous, turning all these pool terms into dirty talk.

  “I’d love to see your rack, Sally.” His eyes dipped down to where her tits threatened to pop out of the top of her tank-top. “I bet your rack is the stuff wet dreams are made of.”

  She smiled knowingly, spinning away from where he’d cornered her between his body and the billiard table. “It’s settled then. I’ll rack ‘em, you break ‘em. Sera, Rod! Let’s go.”

  Rider drew in a tight hiss as she accidently—or not—brushed against his hips and tossed a saucy grin over her shoulder.

  And in that moment, he truly didn’t know which of them would prove better at this game. But fuck-all, they were playing it.

  Yeah. They were playing it.

  Chapter Three

  Rider came awake to the sound of hammering, before his eyelids could fully open. He lay on something soft, but not as soft as his own bed. And he’d been dreaming. Of sexy curves in his hands, a sultry scent in his nose. And sassy words in his ear. Sally…

  Shit.

  He struggled to open his eyes, pushing to a sit at the same time. Bright rays of light beamed in through a crack in the heavy drapes. But the room, the bed, was unfamiliar.

  A whole lot of oh shit settled over him. He never stayed until the sun came up. He never let morning find him in his flavor-of-the-night’s bed. For both parties’ sake, he left after a few hours. Usually after she fell asleep. It cut out the awkwardness of saying goodbye after sharing the lonely night.

  The hammering nearby made it feel like his head had bricks instead of brains, and he pushed at the pain behind his eyes with the heels of his palms.