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

  “Mother of fuck,” he muttered.

  “Nope. Just Ragan and Mac working on the roof repairs.”

  Hearing Sally’s voice woke him up faster than a splash of ice water.

  He turned to see her beside him on the mattress, bare legs tangled in the messy sheets. His gaze followed a path upward until it touched on the curve of her ass. American flag panties. Well, fuck him stupid. The sight was a hell of a lot hotter than he’d anticipated. Stars and stripes forever and ever, amen.

  Swallowing hard, he continued up, gliding over her tank covered back, over her shoulders and neck until he reached her head.

  Holy hot mess.

  Ratted-to-hell hair crowned her head, and her makeup-streaked face was smushed into the pillow. Her eyes were closed but she clearly wasn’t asleep.

  Only her mouth moved as she murmured, “Don’t be lookin’ at me with disdain, Rider Daley. You caused all this. I normally wake up looking like a sweet fucking dream. But not after last night. Not after that party between my legs.”

  Oh. Fuck.

  Oh, hell.

  Aw, shit.

  “Party?” he gulped.

  Her eyes flew open but the rest of her remained still. “Yeah. Party.” Her gaze rolled over him much like he’d just done with her.

  “What party, Sally?”

  She sat up, staring him down like a grandma in church, while he dug back through his dull memories, trying like hell to recall what happened. The fact that her tits were poking against the white tank top, braless, weren’t exactly helping.

  “You don’t remember?” she asked, incredulous.

  Rider scratched his eyebrow. “It’s a little foggy.”

  She tipped her head to one side, sizing him up.

  “You don’t remember a thing, do you?”

  He said nothing.

  “You don’t remember how you made it purr?”

  Again, he kept quiet, and her expression turned naughty

  “Or how we went so fast and hard? And for so long? Goddamn it, Rider. I can’t believe you don’t remember.” She threw her pillow at him, and he didn’t even try to stop it from smacking him in the chest. “You promised me you weren’t too drunk. You promised you’d remember what we’d shared!”

  Holy shit. Just how far did they go last night? It couldn’t have been what it sounded like. No way. He’d remember rocking Sinful Sally’s world. He’d only been thinking about it for months. And fuck, how was he missing everything from the pool table on?

  “Goddamn it, Sally. Tell me what happened last night.”

  She took her time wrapping her ratted gold locks into a bun on top of her head. Damn, that was cute.

  “You really don’t remember?” There was a touch of humor in her voice.

  Cute or not, if she didn’t clue him in fast, he was going have to resort to something nefarious.

  Threats. But what would scare Sally into spilling the deets?

  “I swear to god, woman…”

  Something flickered in her eyes. Something wicked and a little animalistic. He’d noticed it before, with her and the other vixens. Aaron said it was their inner fox coming close to the surface. Rider had to admit, it was hot as hell.

  Like every fucking thing about her.

  “You took me for a riiiide,” she purred. “Or rather, I took you for one. It was good. Real good. It’s a shame you don’t remember it.” Her tone was light, and she plopped back to the bed.

  But her words hit him like a punch right in the soft spot beneath his ribs. It felt like all the air in the room had vanished. Like he was the piece of shit in a toilet bowl, swirling and swirling, getting closer to that drain.

  In all his man-whoring days, he’d never fucked up this bad. Never was so drunk he couldn’t remember banging his girl. And never was he drunk enough to bang one he cared about.

  But then again, he’d never cared about one like he did Sally. Not since…

  Evie.

  “No.” He dropped his head to his hands. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Sally. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  Rider stood from the bed to pace the small room. He was relieved to find he was still in his jeans. Except how the hell did he give it to Sally good with his jeans still on?

  Shit, she must’ve been dipping in the dry-hump bastard pool if she thought jeans-on was good. Real good, in her words.

  And he recognized where he was now. They were at Old Man Hubbard’s place. The little motel on the fringe of town where the vixens lived and worked.

  “Look, I can’t remember any of it, and I’m damn sorry. I’m not that kind of asshole, okay. But we shouldn’t even be in this mess. I never would’ve fucked with you. Not you. Never in a million years. What the hell did I drink?”

  He found her gaze across the room. She was quiet, lying back against the pillow, eyes narrowed to mere slivers. She’d lost any hint of playfulness. But there was something else… she looked furious.

  “Sally—”

  “Jack Daniels. Many shots. Too many, apparently.”

  Jack. Well that explained it. JD was his kryptonite.

  Or she was.

  Or both.

  She stood, walking to the closet and yanked some jeans free from a hanger. Quickly, she jerked them on over her American flag panties. And then, like it was no big thing, she ripped her tank over her head and replaced it with a sporty half-shirt bra.

  Rider was drooling even with her back to him. Just the fact that she was bare in his presence was a knife in his gut.

  What had he done? He’d never be able to fix this.

  “I was playing with you,” she said low. “Taking a dig at you because you couldn’t remember last night. But don’t worry, Rider. You didn’t fuck with me.”

  “What?”

  She twisted to face him, her expression showing sadness just before the shutters came down to look like normal carefree Sally.

  “We didn’t fuck, okay? We did exactly what I said. We went for a long ride on your goddamn Harley. You were too drunk to drive so I drove. We took all the backroads. Watched the stars. It was fun. We cut up. We laughed. We ended up here. You wanted to see my stars and stripes panties, so I showed you. You passed out in the bed. I crashed next to you. We woke up to Mac’s hammering. The end.”

  “Wait, we didn’t…”

  “No, asshole. We didn’t. So you can quit your frimping and fretting. Your integrity is still intact.”

  Rider blew out a breath of relief so hard he went dizzy from it. He bent forward, hands on his knees, sucking in air to get steady again.

  “Holy shit.” A relieved laugh bubbled out of him. It was obscene but he couldn’t help it.

  He was so damn happy he hadn’t screwed Sally and forgotten it. Used her for relief. Yes, she matched his lonely side, and maybe he could have eased her the way he did other ladies. But… damn it, Sally deserved better than him. She deserved what Lexington had. Someone who could give her the goddamn world. Give her his entire fucking heart, that’s what Sally deserved.

  And Rider wasn’t that guy.

  “It was a joke,” he said, sobering a little.

  “Yeah,” Sally deadpanned. “Like your abs. Put a shirt on.”

  Rider frowned, collecting his shirt from the floor. “What’s wrong with my abs?”

  Sally eyed his middle. “My guess is too much beer and not enough sit-ups.”

  Rider looked down, flexing. There was plenty of definition there. Maybe not as much as those werewolves, or even Aaron. But he was doing just fine. He didn’t need sit-ups. He flexed his abs enough when he was doing the dirty.

  But he kept that part to himself and pulled his shirt on.

  “Sally… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “What? Assume that I’d fuck you?”

  “—get that drunk.”

  She shrugged. “You don’t see me crying, do ya?”

  No, but maybe she needed to. Maybe she was hurt, and covered it up so he wouldn’t know.

  Rider watched her pull on a muscle shirt. The front of it said Sexy As Brappp with two dirt bike tires where her tits should be.

  “So… we went riding, huh? Where’d we go?”

  “Took some shitty road with no name out to Devil’s Bend.”

  “Hog Swallow.”

  She frowned. “Getting damn tired of your insults, Rider Daley.”

  He barked out a laugh, wishing there wasn’t a bed between them. No, wait. The bed was a good thing. Otherwise, he’d be trying to touch her. Take his finger to the crinkled spot between her brows and try to iron it out.

  “The name of the road is Hog Swallow.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “Naw. I’m not.”

  “What the hell kind of name is Hog Swallow?”

  He shrugged. “It’s what we do in Arkansas. Give things ridiculous names so people think we’re crazy. Toad Suck. Bald Knob. Possum Grape.”

  Sally crinkled her nose. “I’m feeling violated right now.”

  “Be glad you landed in Cedar Valley. Pretty safe as far as names go. We do have Hog Swallow Road though. There’s also Sog Hallow. It runs along the river out by the DTD club.”

  Sally blinked. “Yeah, okay.”

  He was talking too much. Rider never talked this much. He just needed to know she was okay. And the more he talked, the more he could gauge her.

  She slung her hands around her hips. “Well, since you’re here, I’m calling in a favor.”

  “A favor?”

  “Yeah. You owe me for getting you to a safe place when you were drunk off your ass last night. I took care of you. Plus, we really did have fun. Even if you don’t remember it.” The pain creeped into her voice. He was getting better at detecting it, the little things that told him she wasn’
t as solid as she pretended to be. “So… hell yeah. You owe me.”

  Rider crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze. “Awright, peach,” he murmured, stealing the nickname she liked to use on damn near everybody. He liked it. It suited her ass. “Tell me what you need.”

  She pressed her lips together, but it wasn’t in the normal sex-drunk way she did when she was in full-blown seduction mode. This time it was more natural, and he wanted to catalog it in his mind to think about later.

  “Follow me.”

  Anywhere, he almost said out loud. But he stopped himself just in time. Inside, his heart only felt sicker as he gave himself a metaphorical punch to the gut. Do not feel more for her. You’re already too deep.

  But his vixen was reeling him in like a hooked fish. How would he survive her? And why was every woman his heart chose, something he had to survive.

  A guarantee. That’s what Rider wanted. When his heart chose a woman, he wanted to know he wouldn’t be left bleeding on the floor.

  But Sally had taken care of him last night. So he followed her out of the room, watching her ass sway in front of him the entire time.

  Chapter Four

  I’d never fuck with you. Not you. Not a chance.

  Rider’s words were like a sledgehammer behind Sally’s eyes. Made her feel so small. Low.

  Like she was a leper. Disgusting. Untouchable.

  Yeah, that’s what she’d been aiming for. A deterrent for the males of her kind. But Rider feeling that way about her stung more than it should.

  And to think, they’d been getting along so well last night that she’d thought they could be friends. Not like she was with the other Dirt Track Dogs or Aaron’s buds. But like… real friends. Best friends. More like she was with her girls.

  She was wrong though. She couldn’t be friends, much less something more, with someone who looked down on her without even knowing her reasons.

  Her fox recoiled at the memory of Rider’s despair when he thought they’d slept together. It hurt, his reaction. It hurt fucking bad. But she’d never let him know it.

  She’d just focus on the good parts of last night.

  They’d flirted playing pool, and for the first time in a long time, she found herself laughing from her gut. The real kind of laugh that she hadn’t felt in so long. So when he’d asked her to go riding, even though he was drunk off his ass, she’d said yes. Just to make that good feeling last a while longer.

  His engine purring beneath her as they cruised under the midnight stars made her feel alive again. Something more than a shell. It made her feel safe from the past she’d ran from for so long. And her fox had liked spending time with him, liked the way he talked about the night sky like it was an artist’s canvas.

  Had it been worth it, even waking up like they had this morning? Maybe. If she could make the pain in her center stop throbbing.

  Damn it. If love was a thing, she might’ve fallen in love with him out there under the stars, while he was drunk and she was totally not.

  But she awoke to the real Rider. Not the one under the influence of alcohol.

  And he was an asshole pretty much.

  What a fucking shame.

  Sally led Rider down the hall of identical doors until they reached the small front lobby. Seraphina was behind the front desk, dressed more proper than any of them had in a long time—dark jeans and flowing navy shirt that buttoned up to the collar. She laughed with Old Man Hubbard, who was much less professionally dressed, wearing overalls. He leaned on his cane, but his eyes sparkled at whatever he and Sera were chatting about.

  As Sally neared, she realized the old man was talking about his late wife, Nancy, and she had to smile. He sure loved telling the vixens stories of his ornery old lady and the trouble they used to get into when they were just starting out. Sally would never tell a soul, but she secretly wished for that kind of romance. One that was as fun as it was passionate. As humorous as it was sexy. If the world were perfect and she could have had her princess dream, she would have wanted it to turn out like Old Man Hubbard’s.

  “Hey, OM,” she greeted him, stopping at the counter. OM, short for old man. She’d coined it when they arrived, and it stuck. “How’s it hanging?”

  Old Man Hubbard looked up, mischief in his gaze. “Kinda gnarled, and not quite hanging, I’d say, Sally-girl. More so sitting there like a strange lump really.”

  Sally barked out a laugh at the old man’s humor, and Sera put her face in her hands, covering her exasperation.

  He looked over at Rider. “This is what you got to look forward to, sonny. Just puttin’ that out there so you ain’t blindsided in fifty years or so.”

  “Noted.” Rider smirked at the old man, but his eyes crinkled at the edges telling Sally he liked the jokes.

  Old Man Hubbard nodded. “You wait and see what I say.”

  The phone rang, and Seraphina answered it. She rattled off some options in a pleasant voice Sally could never imitate. She’d tried one day when no one was around to work the desk. It hadn’t gone well.

  Seraphina went to clickety-clacking on the computer, booking a reservation.

  “Sally-girl, how are we coming on that washer situation? You need me to call in the big guys from Little Rock to come fix it?”

  She was hoping they wouldn’t have to go that route. The industrial repair company from the city was going to be expensive. Not as much as buying a brand new machine, but still. It would set OM back a few bucks.

  The motel wasn’t doing well business-wise, but Ragan was working on some ideas to boost people’s opinions of the place. She’d taken over the PR, and already, after only a couple months, things were looking better.

  But they were still in the red, and Old Man needed that load taken off his frail shoulders.

  “Trying to avoid that, OM,” she murmured. “It’s why Rider’s here. He’s gonna look at it and see if he can figure out the problem for us.”

  The old man’s burly silver brows went up into his forehead. “That’s mighty nice of you, sonny.”

  Rider shrugged it off. “No big thing,” he said. “I owed Sally a favor.”

  “Ah,” the old man nodded, and Sally gave him a scandalous look.

  “I’m gonna have us out of the red before you know it.” She gave the old man a wicked wink, and he blushed under all those wrinkles.

  “Oh, Sally-girl. You be good, now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she tossed over her shoulder, leading Rider toward the laundry room. “I’m always good.”

  Old Man Hubbard’s hearty chuckle made her chest full as she swiped her key to unlock the door and held it open for Rider to follow her in.

  “Good to see the old man smiling,” he mused. “You ladies have really brightened the place up for him.”

  Sally nodded. “He’s good people.”

  She walked toward the back of the small utility room and stopped in front of the trouble machine.

  “This the one?” Rider asked.

  “Yeah. I’ve worked on it for hours. Changed the belts. Replaced the washers. Still won’t run a full cycle. It’s old. Those new ones have computerized shit. But this one, I figured one of us could fix it since it’s all nuts and bolts, and save OM some cash. It’s gotta be close to fixing a bike, is what I was thinking. I don’t know. Will you take a look?”

  Rider nodded, frowning at the machine and rubbing his hands together like he was anticipating the grease he’d get on them. “Got tools?”

  Sally pointed to a box in the corner, and he went to digging through it. In minutes, he had a wrench and was elbows deep in gears, twisting and clicking to ferret out the problem. She watched the way the muscles in his back tensed with the movement. The way his biceps flexed… he was sexy as hell. She’d always had a thing for the working men. The tough ones. Their calluses felt good on her skin. Reminded her nothing worth having came easy.

  In her case, freedom from her skulk. The clear conscious of no one killing or dying for her. And the tradeoff was sullying herself.

  Worth it, her fox insisted. And she knew the animal was right.

  But… maybe if she hadn’t slept with so many people, she could have her happily-ever-after now. Like Lexington. Their pact with the Dirt Track Dogs made them safe. But she was already too dirty to be treasured, wasn’t she?

  Her stomach threatened to heave as she watched Rider work.

  I thought he was the one, the vixen whispered, burrowing under all Sally’s self-loathing.