The Finish Line Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Leslie Scott

  The Finish Line

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  His home was immaculate.

  The kitchen granite gleamed and the steel appliances shined.

  “My mom would kill for your cleaning lady’s number.” I had to say something. I couldn’t stand there and stare at his back. Though, watching the muscles move through the tight t-shirt made me feel things that I hadn’t expected.

  “She has it.” There was a hint of laughter in his deep voice. Was there a sound on this planet sexier than that? I swallowed a deep breath and tried not to think about all the things that were sexy about Jordan Slater.

  “Who?” It came out as more of a squeak than a question.

  “You’re looking at him. I make Devin leave the door to the spare room closed when he’s here. I can’t stand to see stuff all over the place.”

  “You should probably steer clear of my room, the floor is covered with clothes.” I tried to laugh, but there was something about the look in his eyes when he turned around that stole my breath.

  “Probably, but then I’d be too eager to add to the pile.” Though my skin suddenly felt superheated, I shivered.

  Praise for Leslie Scott

  “THE FINISH LINE is an emotional read that will whisk your breath away. With a brushstroke of writing artistry, Leslie Scott introduces the reader to a small southern town where street racing is a way of life, a way to settle grudges, and a way to regional fame.

  Jordan Slater is the current Street King of the area racing scene. Raelynn Casey is the young woman who has loved him forever. Although his feelings for her are just as strong, he fights his attraction. The ride to their HEA is just as burning hot as the practice of laying rubber before a race. I cried. I cheered. I chewed my nails and growled at them both as their story of secrets and love unfolded. This debut book will touch your heart forever.”

  ~Vonnie Davis,

  international award-winning romance author

  The Finish Line

  by

  Leslie Scott

  Arkadia Fast, Book 1

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  The Finish Line

  COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Leslie Scott

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Kristian Norris

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Champagne Rose Edition, 2017

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1868-4

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1869-1

  Arkadia Fast, Book 1

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To Belinda,

  for instilling my love of romance

  And to Mom,

  for giving me my first typewriter

  Chapter One

  I’d avoided crossing the street since I’d come home. Each time the roar of a souped-up engine silenced the late afternoon chirping of crickets, I tried not to think about what lay on the other side of the country road that separated our back yards.

  Instead, I sat on my parents’ back steps and contemplated all the things about summer I loved. The heat of the sun on my tan legs, the muggy smell of wet, sweltering earth, and as much as I hated to admit it, the sound of that engine and the tear inducing sting of the fumes from the methanol fuel it burned.

  I was a glutton for punishment.

  “Rae!” A familiar voice cracked through my race fuel tainted reverie.

  “Hey, Vic.” I gave an absent wave.

  The slight Latino gestured me over.

  I hesitated.

  Crossing that narrow stretch of sunbaked asphalt wouldn’t just be a blow to my pride, it would also test the strength of the walls I’d built to protect myself. It was only a matter of time before one of the guys saw me.

  I loved my brother’s friends as if they were family. I loved one of them too much.

  Arkadia, Texas, wasn’t a big place by any sense of the word. The population hovered at five-thousand residents, mostly blue collar, and was the Texas equivalent of Mayberry. That is, if Mayberry’s heart was a race engine and it beat to find out who was the fastest in town.

  No matter how much trepidation gripped me, my feet were propelled off my parents’ porch and across the street. A walk I’d made a thousand times in my life.

  “C’mere, mama.” The scent of exhaust and spent oil enveloped me as much as Vic’s arms. He had me by both a few years and a few inches, neither of which stopped him from dropping a kiss to the top of my head. “Gotta tell ya, I like the blonde in your hair.” He tugged on one of my long, highlighted tresses. “Smokin’.”

  Slowly, the heaviness inside me began to lift. I managed to smile, which was a small victory. No matter what had come before or what lay ahead for me, this was family. “It’s good to see you, Vic.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Would this be the only time that I’d be able to say that? Behind me the shop loomed, taunting me with the threat of my brother’s best friend. I wouldn’t ever be prepared to face him again.

  “It’s been too long, Raelynn. Your brother told us you were coming home, but he didn’t say when.”

  Of course, he had. Aiden told them everything. Sometimes too much, but I wasn’t ashamed of coming home several semesters shy of graduation. I wouldn’t add my return to the list of things I was ashamed of. I needed a change of subject.

  “Eh.” I held up my arm against his and pointed out that my golden skin was a few shades lighter than his burnished copper, even with my deep summer tan. “I have some catching up to do.”

  “Nah, you’ll never catch up to this Latin flava.” He rolled his body in a cocky little dance.

  “Flava? I got your flava, hombre.” Sarcasm slid into the easy laugh in the way of old friends.

  Before Vic could respond, a tingle ran up my spine. I didn’t have to turn around to know who had walked up behind me. After all, it was his shop that we stood in front of. Of course, he’d be here. Of course, I’d be all too aware of his presence.

  “He talks a lot.” A dee
p rumble rolled across my senses, sank into my being, and filled all the empty places. “But he doesn’t know shit about flavor.”

  I hated the anxiety that pushed at my chest. The internal battle I waged against turning toward that voice was futile. Since I was a little girl and he’d been a wild-eyed boy, I’d been pulled to it. Time hadn’t diminished the potency of the man it belonged to now.

  Jordan Slater most certainly wasn’t a boy anymore. His fierce dark eyes took in my appearance. I shifted nervously from one foot to the other as I tried to read his reaction through eyes shaded by thick lashes.

  Muscles stretched the black t-shirt tightly across his chest and well-worn, grease caked jeans settled low on his hips.

  As I’d done all my life, I absorbed the full impact of the shock and thrill he’d always been to my senses. It was a miracle I didn’t turn into a puddle at his feet. I’d left town to get away from the complete lack of self-control he instilled. I never could tell him no, no matter how many times he broke my heart.

  His face gave away nothing as he wiped his hands on a shop rag and tucked it into his back pocket. When he shoved his hands deep into his front pockets, I suspected he was trying not to hug me as Vic had.

  My upper lip curled at his effort.

  “Raelynn!” Even though Jordan seemed to block out the sun, a shock of unruly golden hair darted past him.

  “Hey, Devin—” I was snatched up before I could even finish my sentence.

  Devin was taller and wider in the shoulder than Vic, so it wasn’t a chore for him to lift me off the ground. He spun me in a circle in the gravel drive. His hair tickled my nose and smelled of race fuel and brake dust.

  But, he wasn’t as big as Jordan, so I didn’t get the thrill I would have if he’d been the one tossing me around. Devin didn’t make my breath hitch or my pulse race like Jordan did. He made me feel like I was small enough he could swallow me whole. I smiled and tried not to compare the two men. It was hard not to. Jordan cast as large a shadow in my mind as his stature did in life.

  “I’ve missed you, girl.” Devin squeezed me tightly. “A tank top and cut offs never looked so good. Damn, I love a woman with curves.”

  “I missed you, too.” I had to laugh at the flirty comments. I did miss him. Of all my brother’s best friends, Devin was the easiest one to be around. He was my honorary second brother. There was no way I took him seriously.

  “Where’s Aiden?” He sat me down but didn’t immediately let go.

  “Last I saw him, he was heading back to his place.” I’d spent the day at the race track with my brother. Aiden was on his way to being some sort of pro-modified drag racing prodigy.

  “With the white-trash wicked witch?” Vic snarled. His Latin flavor suddenly soured.

  “Easy, Vic. She’s the mother of his kids.” Devin put his hands up, palm out, as a sign of peace.

  “That doesn’t change what she is, man.” Vic’s jaw jutted in his typical stubbornness.

  I was of the mind to agree with him in this instance.

  Barely twenty-four, my brother had a head start on family life. I hadn’t been a big fan of Wendy before they were married. I was much less of one after they’d tied the knot.

  “She’s his wife.” There was Jordan’s voice again, and the tingles it left behind. “What we think doesn’t matter.”

  I followed the conversation and them as they walked back into the automotive shop behind Jordan’s house. Some things, it appeared, never changed.

  The shop was a tin roofed, white washed, cinder block building. The money had been spent behind the two large bay doors, not on the exterior. Fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling and illuminated the two muscle cars within. A blue car lift, like those my father had at our family speed shop, and various rolling tool boxes hadn’t changed. The large fan throbbing in the corner and the fresh grease stains on the polished concrete told me they’d been hard at work even if the engine sounds and methanol assault on my nose hadn’t already done so.

  Jordan hadn’t said much to me. That was a plus. Not that I preferred to be ignored, but I ran the risk of his attention making this visit awkward. Especially since the other two guys had fallen into such a normal rhythm. A normalcy, I had to admit, that was soothing. My last conversation with Jordan hadn’t ended normally or smoothly. It had left me with a broken heart.

  Even so, I was unable to ignore him as he strolled to one of the tool boxes and began wiping the tools down with a rag. His movements were jerky. Every part of him was strung on a wire, no doubt because I was invading his space.

  “What do you think of her?”

  “Who?” I considered Devin’s big blue eyes and struggled to remember the line of conversation.

  “Space cadet.” He slung an arm over my shoulder and laughed. “Your sister-in-law. What do you think of her?”

  From across the room, Jordan’s dark gaze caught mine and held it.

  My cheeks warmed and I fisted my hands on my hips to keep myself from turning away under the pressure of his inspection. Why did he always do this to me? Deep down, I knew why, but I wouldn’t admit it. Not even to myself. I had to believe I had changed, that I wasn’t that immature, infatuated girl anymore.

  The tingle that ran up my spine and back down to the feminine parts of me begged to differ. “She…just had a baby.”

  Vic hooted a laugh as I stumbled with coherent thought.

  “We know that much.” Devin leaned against a sleek black Camaro. “What do you make of her?”

  I’d spent all day at the track keeping an eye on my toddler nephew. I loved being at the track, but spending time chasing after a baby had been an experience to remember. If Wendy was too busy coloring her hair to be bothered with her child, our family would pick up the slack. That was what families were supposed to do. Heaven forbid her frosted tips not be perfect prior to race night.

  But with Jordan watching me, I didn’t dare express those feelings. “I’m not married to her. Does it matter what I think? As long as he’s happy.”

  Jordan nodded. “She’s right. His wife, not our business.” That was that. He had spoken. Conversation over.

  The other two went back to pulling the tires off the Camaro. They knew when they could push and when they couldn’t. Jordan wouldn’t be pushed today. Even I could see it in the way his gaze hardened as he watched me, in the way the muscles in his jaw clenched.

  Under his gaze, I reverted back to the little girl I used to be. I pulled at the fraying threads of my denim shorts and shifted from one foot to the other. I took one long look at the chopped up classic Camaro. “What are you working on, Jordan? Got a new car?”

  Devin rolled the rear tire away with a grin on his face. “Nah, this one’s mine.”

  “No way!” I couldn’t hide my surprise. Devin had always longed to race, but never could develop the competitive edge Jordan and my brother had.

  “Yup.” He propped a hip against the hatchback of Vic’s familiar white Mustang.

  Vic Morales had driven that car since the day he got his license. Maybe even before. I put nothing past Arkadia’s Race-Master Extraordinaire.

  “Nice.” I ran my fingers down the gleaming black paint. The car was no longer completely steel as it had been decades before. Lighter weight fiberglass panels had replaced it. “What year is it, a sixty-nine?”

  “Seventy.” Proudly, he puffed his chest out.

  “What are you running in her?”

  “A small block three-oh-five.” Jordan came around the front and took over. He left no doubt who’d built the car. “Powerglide transmission, nitrous, and big ass tires.”

  He had my full attention now, like nothing ugly had happened between us. Nitrous was instant horsepower at the push of a button. The larger tires gave the car more grip to the road. They raced on the street. Concrete roads weren’t prepped and sticky like a drag strip. “How many shots of nitrous?”

  “Three.” He teased Devin. “But he’s never seen the third.”

/>   “And you have?” I cocked my head in challenge, verbally ribbing Jordan as he had his friend.

  “Yeah, twice.” This from Devin, who took it all with the same good humor he took everything. “The first two passes on her, he wheeled it. But I haven’t had to use the third shot yet. I win without it.”

  I was proud of Devin. He spent his formative years with my brother and Jordan. Aiden was the only person I knew who had a prayer of beating Jordan at the racing thing. Devin had learned from the best and now he was coming into his own.

  “He smoked Vic.” There was pride in Jordan’s voice as he stowed tools in the closest tool chest.

  “Shit man, that road was sketchy.” Vic’s voice was strained with the weight of his hurried explanations. “It was like driving over speed bumps the whole way.”

  “Excuses are like assholes, bro, everybody has one.” Devin snorted a laugh.

  “God, I’ve missed y’all.” I bit my lip to keep the rush of emotion at bay. Standing here, with all of them, meant I was well and truly home. Even if the all mighty Jordan Slater could barely bother to have a full conversation with me.

  I tried not to let his lack of reaction affect my mood, even while my eyes followed him as he bounced a new tire toward Vic. Vic chased it a few feet before rolling it back to the car.

  “Those preppy college boys ain’t got nothin’ on us.” Devin mussed my hair as he leaned against the car beside me.

  “No, and they aren’t nearly as entertaining.” My laugh was hollow. He didn’t know how right he was.

  “Did you miss all of us?” Jordan stood a few feet away, looking over his shoulder at me from the toolbox.

  There was a lot of Native American blood in me, as just about everyone this close to Oklahoma. But Jordan was almost full-blooded Cherokee, and I never failed to notice the rich caramel color of his skin or the onyx glimmer of his eyes so dark I could fall right into them. If his hair grew out longer than the dark shadow he kept it at, it would shine like midnight.

  Stop staring, Raelynn.

  “Yeah, all of you.” My mouth was dry, I licked my lips. That time, it was Jordan who was staring.

  Jordan moved toward me. Suddenly no one else existed but him. The other two guys seemed to disappear into my peripheral. He wrapped me in a thick, muscular embrace.