Lana
We’re still celebrating in Seattle. My family, his family, the team mechanics, some of Racer’s friends. Given the huge amount of prize money both HW Racing and our driver received, we’ve been splurging a little on kick-ass food and plenty of spirits (for those who drink to celebrate), and we’re not one bit ashamed about it.
I’ve moved in with Racer. To both his apartments, to be exact: the one in Seattle and the one in St. Pete, which we’ve been visiting on and off for the past month.
I know we’re moving fast, but this guy loves speed so what can I say? I adore playing house with him, fitting my clothes into the closet with his. I love us driving to nowhere during the weekends just for the hell of it, and I love it when we stay in and continue negotiating what we’ll be playing on TV.
He has steep prices for whenever I plot to have my way sometimes, but it’s quite the thrill because they’re usually prices I’m very willing to pay.
We’re in his parents’ living room in their Seattle home now.
Racer has been talking to Henley all this time, knocking his fist onto his friend’s head when he suggests he go back to street racing in his spare time.
“I’ve got the fastest car in the land—I race at 250 mph and it’s legal. Why would I risk that for a few extra bucks?”
“For me, man,” Henley says.
Racer just laughs, and my heart feels as if it literally cannot fit inside my chest.
He smirks at me, his eyes darkening a little like they do when our eyes meet—and they flood with lust, proprietariness and tenderness. God. I’m so grateful, so lucky.
“What are you thinking?” he prods as he comes up to me, pushing my hair back.
“You’re the eye-reader, you tell me.”
“I want you to tell me in your own words.” He watches me. “That you’re happy. That you’re hopelessly in love with me.”
I start nodding and nodding. “You made all our dreams come true. You brought love into my life …” I press my lips trying to find more words.
He starts shaking his head, and I become puzzled. “What?” I ask.
“It’s all you,” he says, low, shifting closer, his gaze intent. “I always wanted to race—never in my wildest dreams did I think it would happen. I wanted a girl, never in my life did I think it would happen—and it happened the same day you crashed my car, and that day the universe brought my girl to me.”
I reach out and cup his jaw in my hands, my thumb tracing his dimple. “You’re the best man in the world, Racer.”
He raises his brows, obviously surprised I replaced ‘driver’ with man. He ducks his dark head and expertly pecks my lips wearing a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Best kisser too.”
“Oooh …” I playfully shake my head and tap the corner of my lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know about that. You’ll have to keep working on that … and I’ll let you know.”
He only grins in mischief.
“So.” I decide to ask something that’s been on my mind and I haven’t been able to discuss with him. “I had a special sign made that said you’re the best driver in the world for your celebration. Does this mean I need to fix your car?”
“No.” He seems to be relishing every moment of this, his dimple as deep as I’ve ever seen it. “I don’t want you to fix my car or me.” He pauses meaningfully and leans closer a fraction. “I want you to drive it.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Something about the wicked expression on his face makes my heartbeat speed up. “You said you’d race for me. Didn’t you? Was that a lie too, Alana?”
His eyes keep glinting and I can tell he’s loving this.
“I … well I mean … no. It wasn’t a lie.” I stumble over my words because I hardly remember making this promise. I was so caught up in the excitement of freaking winning.
“So, you’ll race my car for me, as promised?” He’s watching me with an unreadable expression all of a sudden, and something like a challenge in those blue, blue eyes.
“Huh?” I’m confused by his words.
Racer laughs softly to himself and breathes in my neck, his eyes gleaming full of devil’s intent as he gazes down at me.
“How about I give you the ultimate prize if you win for me, crasher?”
He’s been giving me driving lessons daily for the past few weeks, teasing me that he’s going to make me work for an engagement ring—because I’ve made him work for every step ahead he’s gained with me. Now he kisses me and grabs my butt as Henley comes over.
Racer organized a race with me and an old lady. Like, she’s literally eighty.
And it’s really a race!
“Okay, you ready, Lana Tate?” Henley asks.
“It’s … I’m not his sister.” I shake my head at Henley, confused that he calls me Tate.
Henley smirks at Racer, and Racer just smirks back.
“Okay … remember, girls”—Henley eyes me and the old lady—“Mr. Tate here is marrying whoever wins this race.”
“Racer …” I say, nervous that I might not win.
He grabs my shoulders and gazes into my eyes, the thirst for the win right there in his baby blues. “Listen to me very well, Lana,” he says soberly. “It’s very important that you win this race, baby. All those hours I’ve spent tutoring you won’t be for nothing—and you’re the woman I’m walking down the aisle, so make me proud.”
“But Racer, what if I get too nervous—”
“I’m marrying the winner of the race, sweetheart; you’d better step on it.” His eyes twinkle, and his dimple is shamelessly on full display, as he ushers me in and straps me down. “Now go and kick ass. Wait. Kiss me first.”
“Oh god.”
I kiss him. With tongue and everything.
Then I sit down on the seat of his mustang and look at the old lady. She’s blinking behind her glasses.
I exhale, and turn on the engine.
Henley gives us the signal.
And suddenly I’m racing for my goddamn life. For my boyfriend’s hand in marriage.
“I’m insane,” I gasp, pushing the pedal and seeing the old lady is way, way behind. I start feeling high from the race, then brake and turn around carefully before I drive back. I pass the old lady, who literally is about ten feet from the starting line—the slowest woman I’ve ever seen.
I don’t care. I’m high on it because my prize is …
My racer.
“Hey! You’re a fucking star—come here.” He reaches into the car and pulls my head to his and kisses me long and hard, and I moan when he pries his sexy, wicked mouth free. I’m so hot for him I could be the embodiment of fire right now.
“You totally paid her to go slow,” I chide.
“No,” he denies, eyes twinkling. “I’d rather spend my money on you.”
“We just made sure her car was shit,” Henley says from behind him.
“Shut up, Hen,” Racer growls, turning back proudly to me. “Hell, you found her,” he says.
“Who?”
“The best driver in the world.”
“Who? You mean—me? You tease.” I laugh, then look into his eyes, breathless. “Are you going to marry me or what?”
His eyes flicker possessively, as if he loves me being possessive and greedy for him too. He leans over to peck my lips and looks down at me with tender blue eyes. “You’re trouble,” he rasps with pride.
I nod, breathless. “Trouble likes me. Follows me wherever I go. Claims he’s going to marry me.”
“Let’s not make a liar out of him then. Alana.” He pulls the car door open, and as I step out, Racer folds down to his knee.
I turn to stone and blink down at him—my guy, Racer fucking Tate, on one knee, with his dimple popping out on one cheek.
There’s a ring in his palm, and if it weren’t for me leaning on the door of his mustang, my knees would have buckled and I’d be right there, with Racer, on the ground.
“Lana Heyworth. Marry me. Be with me. Be my girl, always. Now. Tomorrow. Forever.”
I had been daydreaming about this day, secretly, for quite some time. I had been wanting a family of my own, even though I was sure I might not ever have it. I had been wanting a home, some security, and I wanted … maybe, despite my fears, to love even harder, to be loved even more.
I gaze down at the guy I will spend the rest of my life with. Whose name he wrote down on a page that I saved because for some reason, it seemed important.
Turns out, the page wasn’t that important.
But it turns out, he was.
“Lana …” Racer prods warningly.
“Yes!” I squeak out, throwing myself into his arms and wrapping my arms around him, because I’ve never wanted anything more.
