The Legend (26 page)

Laughing,
I looked down at our hands again. “All right,” I inhaled with an embarrassingly
shaky breath. “Lily Anne West
...
will
you marry me?”

Lily was
quiet for a moment before tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. “Yes.” She
whispered launching forward into my arms. Wrapping them around her tightly, I
buried my face into her neck breathing her in. “I love you.”

She pulled
back, grinning widely. “I thought you were never going to ask me and I love you
too.”

“Why would
you have thought that?”

“Casten
told me when you bought the ring. I was beginning to think you bought it for
someone else.”

“That
fucking brat,” I was ready to kill him. He always did shit like this. One time
my dad bought my mom a necklace for her birthday only to have Casten tell her
two months earlier. He couldn’t keep secrets but then again neither could my
mom.

“Oh, he’s
cute,” Lily flipped her hand as if this was no big deal and focused on the
ring, “leave him alone.”

“Not you
too
...
” I groaned thoroughly annoyed with my
brother and his way to captivate everyone including my girlfriend. “You do realize
he was charged with starting a riot recently?”

“Me too what?
And
no he wasn’t. That was Tommy. Casten was never formally charged with that.”

“Why does
everyone think he’s cute?” Regardless of my little temper tantrum, I placed the
ring on her finger, smiling. “And he should have been charged with it. He
destroyed my parent’s house.”

“Casten
is
cute. And his careless happy attitude for everything makes him adorable. But
you
...
” she took my face between her hands, “you
are what I want. Your sexy,” she bit down on her lip, “confident, staggeringly
good in bed
...
and the love you
have for racing makes me love you all the more.”

“Why would
loving racing make you love me more?”

“Out of
everything I just said
leave
it to you to focus on
racing.”

“Naturally,”
I grinned.

She shook
her head amused. “Yet another reason why I love you, silly boy.”

Leaning
back on my elbows, I grinned. “So you’ll be my wife?”

“Absolutely”

So we
planned a wedding. Or I should say the girls in the family planned the wedding.
I just did what I was told. My only condition was that it happened in November
during the break between the World Finals and my parent’s anniversary.

Planning a
wedding and finishing up an 82-race season was not ideal for a number of
reasons. If I had my choice, we’d be going to Vegas but Lily wanted a wedding,
so that’s what she got.

The
weekend before the World Finals in Charlotte, I was at my wits end and looking
for a private sanctuary, the sprint car shop was always a good idea.

I was
frustrated by the time I reached the shop with all the wedding planning. I
couldn’t understand why this was all so hard. I mean, it’s a fucking wedding.
It’s supposed to be about two people in love and wanting to spend that time
together. Why did we have to go through all this bullshit to do that?

I was
relieved to see Lane’s truck parked outside the shop when I pulled into the
parking lot. I needed someone normal to be around. For the last few weeks, he
was helping us out in the sprint car shop since his season racing dirt bikes
had ended for the winter.

Lane was
in there changing out the gears for me so we could get the car loaded for
Charlottes 4-night show. He was still racing on the GNCC (Grand National Cross
Country) motocross series but just finished the final round last week.

The thing
with Lane that I appreciated most was his willingness to help no matter what.
All you had to say was “Hey, can you
...
” you didn’t have to finish the sentence and he was already asking how
he could help.

“Can you hand
me that control arm?” I asked him setting my beer on the wing. I usually had a
ton of guys here helping me but most of them, Tommy and Willie included, were
with my dad in Texas.

Everyone
in the shop loved to watch him at Texas. He owned that place on any given
weekend just like he did Bristol and Richmond. I’ve never seen someone throw a
2400 pound cup car sideways into the concrete corners and still manage to keep
it under control as my dad did. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t do in a race
car and he proved that countless times. Looking around the shop at all the
trophy’s told you that.

“Yeah,”
Lane placed it next to my feet. “You know
...
” he began—his eyes on the wheel. “If you don’t want me to help you
with the cars, I don’t have to.”

“I never
said that.”

“I know
...
it’s just that I heard you with Jameson the
other night.”

I knew
what he was referring too. My exact statement to my dad was.
“I’m frustrated
with everyone. No one will leave me alone.”
I wasn’t even referring to
racing when I said that. Lane was sensitive though and only wanted to help.

“That
wasn’t about you Lane
.
That was about the
wedding.” I looked over at him thinking of why I was so stressed out. It had
nothing to do with the wedding. All of it was about racing. “I just don’t know
if I can do it. I wanted to win the championship this season but that’s not
happening. I feel like I let grandpa down. I feel like I let the sponsors
down.”

I knew it
was far-fetched to win the championship as a rookie but it wasn’t impossible.
My dad did it. I felt bad that Lane mistook that as me not wanting his help.
For this reason, we always got along.

“You can.
Everyone knows that.” Lane smiled that same smile uncle Spencer had, bright
with dimples. The kind that made you feel like everything would be okay.
“You’ve got both their talents combined. There would be some that would kill to
have an ounce of the talent that you possess in a race car and you act as
though it’s not there. You don’t believe in yourself, Axel.”

“That’s
not it. I know I have talent but fuck, look at who my dad is or grandpa.” I
threw my arms up in the air. “How can I possibly live up to those two?”

“Don’t
feel like you need to live up to them. That’s not what it’s about.” Lane smiled
and looked contemplative for a minute. “It’s like tires. Some of us have harder
compounds and don’t provide grip. Then there are the softer compounds that
provide more
grip
but wear quicker. We’re all
different.”

Lane was
right. That’s not what it was about.

I
shouldn’t feel like I need to live up to them but I did. If you understood who
they were in the racing community, you would understand my constant comparison.
To everyone else, I was nearly fated to be this legendary racer.

But could
I be?

This
season sure wasn’t proving to be it. I was running ninth in the standings and
only pulled through with thirteen feature wins so far.

Last
season, my grandpa won forty-five of the eighty-two feature races. Stacking up
against my thirteen, that’s not exactly a confidence builder right there.

“I was
really young when your dad made history and pulled off the championship in his
first season but no one will ever forget that Axel. They won’t because he
continues to make history every time he pulls onto a track. That’s Jameson
though, that’s not you.”

I nodded and
took a seat on a stack of tires beside him. He handed me a beer. Though I
wasn’t twenty-one, I grew up at a dirt track and beer came with that.

Lane
adjusted his hat and sat next to me. Raising his beer to his lips, he paused
and then looked over at me. “You have it. You just have to believe in it like
he does. I’m not sure that there has ever been a time in his life when he
didn’t believe in himself.”

Trying to
believe in myself has always been my problem. I felt that without that constant
encouragement from my dad, I couldn’t do it.

Lane and I
finished up the control arms and gears on my sprint car. Then went through the
checklist making sure the bolt on parts of the car and engine were secured and
nothing else needed to be replaced. We then went through all the fluids and
tire pressures for Charlotte. We kept logs from each race so that we knew what
worked at each track. The problem was what worked one night in April didn’t
work in November for the simple fact that the moisture was now gone from the track.
You basically needed to start over and figure out what would work now. You
couldn’t do that until you were there.

Grandpa
helped us but what worked as a set-up for him, didn’t work for me with the
different driving styles and weight difference.

When we
were ready to leave, we loaded the car into the hauler for Craig to pick up in
the morning and then locked up. In the morning, we drove to Charlotte for the
final week of racing.

I knew one
thing, regardless of the fact that we all had different tire variations; I was
ready for a break.

Compound – Sway

After the
World Finals in Charlotte, I was determined to get to Jameson. I needed my
dirty heathen badly.

Between
all the fan clubs, Jameson’s sponsor obligations and three kids that frequently
needed Mama Wizard, Mama Wizard didn’t have much time to herself when Homestead
rolled around that year.

In fact, I
hadn’t been able to see Jameson in close to two-weeks and I knew it was time
when I caught myself getting emotional when he
Skyped
me last night.

My flight
was delayed in Homestead and I had yet to fly to or from Homestead without a
delay. That wasn’t going to stop me. I was getting my dirty heathen naked
before that damn race.

When I
finally made it through traffic, to the hotel, and through the mob of fans
outside, I barely got through the door before his mouth was on mine and he was
pushing me toward the bed.

We had
clothes strung all over the room and ended up with me on the bottom when we
finally settled on the bed.

You know
those times when you’re together and everything is frantic and hurried, neither
of you speak. Grunting and groaning, pushing and pulling, and teasing. Yeah,
that was this.

Just as I
was pushing his jeans past his hips, someone knocked on the door.

“Oh for
fucks sake,” Jameson grunted against my shoulder, panting. Stopping wasn’t
really what he had in mind. It definitely wasn’t what I wanted.

“Jameson,
we need to leave for the track.” Aiden yelled through the door. “Be in the
lobby in five minutes.”

His lips
moved from my neck and then my forehead and I knew he was pulling away.

“I need to
go honey.” He whispered with the regret laced in every word.

So we left
for the track and our time alone was over. My poor crankcase was very mad.

Soon we
would be at the track and the race weekend would be starting, but there was
always later tonight. I knew enough about his schedule that come tonight after
qualifying and practice, I could convince him to leave.

My stomach
tightened in a feeling mixed with arousal, anticipation and possessiveness
while I took in every inch of him with my eyes. I watched as women approached
him throughout the night, huddled around the hauler hoping to leave with him
but he never looked.

Other
women imagined what it would be like to have his talented hands move over their
bodies, steering them like he did his car. I knew what it was like to have
those large calloused hands bring me over the edge. I knew what it was like to
hear him say, “I love you.”

Jameson
Riley might be the sexual fantasy of millions of women around the world these
days, but I had more than the fantasy, I had the dirty heathen all to myself.

Those were
the thoughts that kept me sane that night in the Simplex hospitality tent.

I smiled
politely and shook hands with everyone but I really just wanted to be alone
with him.

Jameson
must have been thinking something similar because every time he touched me, or
looked at me, I could practically feel the possessiveness radiating from him.
His eyes watched me, his hands never leaving my skin. He felt it too. When his
eyes would meet mine, they would travel down my body, stopping at all the
places I knew he wanted to worship as he always did.

I nearly
screamed when his fingers curled around my hip and pulled me towards him. I
couldn’t take it any longer, my tire grip was gone. Leaning into him, I turned
my head to kiss his neck and whispered. “You have to get me out of here.”

I felt him
smile against my forehead and in less than fifteen minutes, we were back in the
SUV, heading for the hotel.

We didn’t
waste time, knowing we never had time. Although we did turn our cell phones off
and locked the door. “No interruptions,” he whispered.