Loving Lucas (2 page)

He raises his hand suddenly and I flinch. Then he runs his fingers through his hair, a smug look on his face—pleased he’s freaked me out. “Scared of your own shadow?” He spits on the ground, inches from my bare feet. “Come on.”

I shake my head to show that is not happening; going with him would be like shooting myself. “Fuck off.”

He growls, stalking forward, forcing me back another foot so I’m too close to the flames; now my butt feels like it’s roasting.

“Karlie?”

I shut my eyes, relieved to hear a familiar voice.
Marie.
And where she goes, Brandon follows.

“What the hell, Seville? Karlie’s lip is bleeding.” She’s next to me in seconds, her reassuring arms wrapped around me. She pulls me away from the fire.

I snuggle into her, my heart rate starting to return to normal. I’m not really helpless, but Connor has this way of shutting me down. I feel stupid around him, so ugly and worthless. That’s what he tells me and after six months of being bombarded with insults, I finally started to believe him.

“Go.” Marie flicks her fingers at him like she’s shooing a fly. “You okay?” she whispers near my ear. She’s blessed with Connor antibodies.

I nod, knowing I’m not.

“Stay out of it, Marie,” Connor shoots back.

“Maybe we should all take a break,” Brandon adds judiciously. “Let Karlie stay here with us. We’ll bring her home in the morning.”

That offer elicits an evil laugh. “Like I’d trust you with her.” Connor lurches at me, but he’s quickly snapped backward by someone I’ve never seen before. “What the fuck?”

Connor whirls around, eye level with the stranger’s chest. “I think the lady wants to stay here.” That’s all the leather-clad god says, his penetrating eyes fixed on Connor.

Connor retreats a foot, squaring his shoulders, ready to challenge him. Inside, I’m jumping for joy, wanting to do a few somersaults.

“Who is that?” I ask Marie.

“Not sure . . .”
 

We’re captivated by his bravery, but Connor’s minions are closing in, the odds heavily in his favor. Everyone is looking at me now, perhaps waiting for me to say something, but I can’t.

“I suggest
you
leave, brother,” Connor warns, unafraid because he’s got a dozen guys to back him up. “This is a private party.”

“Like intimidating women?” My protector closes the distance between him and Connor. “Like smacking them around?”

I nearly faint; that man is heaven sent. Suddenly I find my voice, break away from Marie, and rush to Connor’s side. He gazes down at me, a triumphant look on his face.

“Seems my girl disagrees—she’s coming with me.”

“Not a chance,” I say, thrusting my hands on my hips. “We’re done, Connor.” I can’t believe I just dumped him in front of everyone. I hear whispering behind me. I don’t need anyone’s approval to stand up for myself; I should have done this months ago. “I’m getting my bags.”

I turn to go, but he grabs me by the nape. “The hell you are.”

I go limp, helpless again—humiliated beyond expression. My shoulders sag and I stare at the ground.

“Karlie, look out!” Marie’s voice penetrates my thoughts and I manage to look up just in time. The stranger smashes into Connor, knocking me down.

I crawl to safety, and when I gaze up again, Connor is on his back and the stranger is straddling his chest. “Get your bags—I’ll hold him until you get back.”

Marie reacts instantly, offering me her hand. I take it and she tugs me to my feet. “You heard the guy—let’s go.”

We run to the RV and I stumble up the steps, heading straight to the bedroom. I open the closet and grab my backpack and suitcase. Then I unplug my iPhone and stuff it and the charger in my bag. Searching on the floor for my sandals, I find them and put them on.

Marie opens the glove box. “Where’s the money, Karlie?”

“In the compartment above the driver’s seat.” Connor carries cash whenever we travel.

She opens it, takes the money, and stashes it in her pocket. “Ready?”

My hands shake uncontrollably as my gaze sweeps the area, searching for anything I might have forgotten. I’m overwhelmed, but grateful. “Ready,” I confirm, kicking the door open.

Chapter Two

I watch the girls run to the RV, then eyeball the asshole whose chest my knee is grinding into. “Say mercy and I’ll let you up.” He deserves a big lesson in humility.

“Do you know who I am?”

I laugh. “Should I?” I’m new to this track. I don’t care if he’s Josh Hayes, the circuit’s biggest professional road racer; no one treats a woman like that. “Guess you’re going to tell me.”

“Connor Seville.”

His name is vaguely familiar. I shrug, pressing down on his ribs a little harder; air rushes out of his lungs. “If I let you up, are you going to stay here until your ex gets back?” I’ll give him one chance.

He nods. A man of my word, I let him go.

Connor slowly gets to his feet, brushing off his leathers, glaring at me. “If you think this is over . . .”
 

We both turn around when we hear approaching female voices. His girlfriend’s name is Karlie; she’s barely five feet tall, maybe a hundred pounds. What I can’t ignore is her eyes: like the hottest part of a flame, they glow violet-blue. Her long auburn hair is tied back in a ponytail. As for her figure, that’s well hidden under the three-sizes-too-big hoodie she’s wearing. She gestures at me, a silent thank you as she holds up her backpack. Her friend is carrying a suitcase. I smile, but she focuses her attention on Connor.

“My things are out of the RV,” she informs him. “Now you can go back to sleep.”

It amuses me to hear her stand up to him after what I witnessed before. I admire her spirit; I’m always intrigued by feisty women. Connor glowers, visibly struggling to maintain control of his temper.

“Last chance to come peacefully,” he says. “If you don’t, you’ll never see the rest of your things again.”

That makes her react and she drops her backpack on the ground, then covers her pretty face with both hands. I’m standing close enough to hear her take a deep breath, like she’s gasping for air. “Nothing is worth my self-respect, Connor. Nothing.”

Good girl. Brave girl.
If she’s anything like my ex-wife, being surrounded by her personal possessions is important. She gains more respect from me for making that sacrifice. Men and women are just hardwired differently. Women attach deep sentimental value to keepsakes and men just don’t give a shit.

“Come on, Connor.” A guy steps up, slapping him on the back. “Let’s grab a beer.”

Connor takes a last look at me, then at Karlie. It’s over for now, even our onlookers disperse.

Once he disappears, the girls hug each other, then offer the bags to the guy who tried to intervene before I took over.

He takes the luggage.

“I’ll stash the bags and grab the cooler.”

“I need a beer,” Karlie says. “Maybe two.”

A few minutes after he leaves, Karlie and her friend exchange whispers, staring at me the whole time. I grin, crossing my arms over my chest. Not the first time I’ve been the subject of female gossip and it surely won’t be the last. Karlie’s friend gives her a smug look, then gently pushes her in my direction. “Do it,” she calls after her.

Karlie approaches, her head bowed. “Thank you.”

I want to gaze into those radiant eyes again, see the same fire I noticed before. “It was nothing,” I say. “Should have punched the bastard.”

That makes her laugh. I get my wish when she looks up. “I’m Karlie.”

“Lucas Lafontaine.” I offer my hand.

When we shake, an electric current runs up my arm. I know she felt it too, because she quickly lets go. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“First night,” I say. “I just moved to Corpus three weeks ago, transferred from Lake Jackson. This track is closer than the one near San Antonio.”

“What class do you race in?”

“Vintage,” I say. “KR750 Flathead Harley-Davidson.”

She smiles, flashing perfectly straight teeth. “Love those.”

“You?” I ask.

She blushes. “A little motocross and Powder Puff.”

“They still call it that?” I rub my chin, wondering how female racers in the day and age of equality among the sexes tolerate that name.

“This is an outlaw circuit, you know,” she informs me. “Not AMA—so yes, we still race Powder Puff.”

“Any good?”

“I’ve been told if I had as much skill as I do will, I’d be a world champion.”

Her honesty is refreshing. “That’s a start,” I say, grinning. “Spirit is a big part of racing.”

“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “If you’re part of the pep squad.”

We both are chuckling when her friend joins us. “What planet are you from, Superman?” the friend asks.

“Texas.”

“That’s a relief,” she says. “Very few guys have ever stood up to that asshole. Thanks for having my girl’s back. I’m Marie Longoria.”

“Lucas.”

“Wanna beer?” she asks. “My boyfriend, Brandon, should be back in a second.”

Beer and barbeque, the next best thing about racing. I nod. “Sure.”

Brandon returns with a large white cooler and sets it on the ground, flipping the top open. He digs through the ice, pulling out a bottle of Budweiser, then tosses it to me. “Welcome to Seaside Extreme Sports.”

I catch it and twist the top off, take a swig, then stare at Karlie. She’s intently watching me and I like it a little too much.

This guy is too good to be true. Not only did he manhandle Connor, he makes me laugh. And I can’t stop staring at his perfect face and body.
Oh. My. God.
He dwarfs me—at least six foot three, shoulders as broad as a Viking’s, and his eyes are chocolate. But it’s his full lips that keep pulling me in—-the way they move when he talks, his lopsided, arrogant grin, that pouty lower lip that I just want to nibble on. Totally kissable, and undeniably hot.

He catches me staring again and I quickly avert my eyes. What am I thinking? I just broke up with my boyfriend and I’m already scoping out this guy. What if he thinks I’m a little slut? I’m not; it’s just been so long since I felt butterfly wings flutter inside my stomach because a guy smiles at me. Too long.

Don’t I deserve to feel warm and gooey inside? I want to feel pretty again, desired, and certainly like I’m worth some effort. I don’t know when or how things deteriorated between Connor and me, but I’ve been taken advantage of for too long. Connor hardly notices me anymore, but he used to and I had fallen in love. I guess I stuck around because I believed that if I could help heal his broken heart, things would change. We connected in so many ways—we both had even grown up without fathers—-and I truly thought I could give him a reason to be happy. That whole “two broken hearts heal each other” bullshit . . .

Alcohol and drugs robbed me of any chance of getting through to him. He’s numb, so volatile, and snaps at the slightest thing. Like a good puppy, if he kicked me, I came crawling back, begging for a little love and attention.

“Wine cooler or Bud?” Brandon asks.

I return to the present and look at him. “Wine cooler.”

He hands it to me.

“Let me.” Lucas gently removes the bottle from my hand and opens it. “Here.”

A complete gentleman and just like that, I feel another flutter inside.
Shit.
“Thank you.”

“So do you have a last name?” he asks.

“Augustine.”

“Karlie Augustine,” he repeats my name. “Vitals?”

That’s an odd question. “Want my height, weight, and bra size?”

I get a roguish grin. “Only if you’re volunteering.” With that, his gaze flicks down to my breasts.

“I’m a full-time student at Texas A&M.”

“How did you end up with a piece of shit like Seville?”

I knew it would come up eventually and he deserves an answer for rescuing me. “We met at a nightclub a year and a half ago,” I say. “Danced and talked all night. Nothing epic, just a big mistake. Racers have big egos and high expectations.”

“Not all of us,” he assures me.

I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. “And you?”

He sighs. “Really want to know?”

I bite back a smile, half expecting him to say he’s a drug dealer or Special Forces. “Sure do.”

“Corpus Christi Police Department.”

“A cop?” I squint at him, picturing him in uniform. It fits. “No wonder you wrestled Connor to the ground like he weighed nothing.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?” I’m hopelessly focused on those lips again. What’s wrong with me? “Do you abuse your power? Take bribes?” I try to keep a straight face.

“Depends what
you’re
offering, Karlie.”

My eyebrows pinch together in total shock. He’s flirting with me. “Um . . .” My cell chimes and I take advantage of the diversion, searching for my backpack.

“Right there.” Lucas points.

I kneel, unzip it, and fish out my phone.
Marie?
I answer.

“Don’t say my name out loud,” she warns.

Like a dummy, I look around us to see if I can spot her. “Where are you?”

“Close enough to see you and the hottie.”

“And?”

“Notice the way he keeps staring at you?”

My eyes dart to Lucas; he’s drinking his beer.

“Yes.”

“Like him?”

“Don’t ask me that; he might hear me.”

I look up again, and there’s a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’m hanging up now.” I disconnect.

“Where’s Marie?” Lucas edges closer.

I feel like an awkward teenager. “Not here.”

“No,” he agrees. “But that was
her
on the phone.”

He’s standing right in front of me now and I’m staring at his hard chest, wondering what it would feel like to run my hands over his muscular body. “Yes.” I can’t lie to a cop. “Stop using your superpowers on me.” When he’s close, I have to throw my head back to meet his eyes. Shameless as it is, I’m enjoying the banter.

“Not superpowers, just good instincts.”

“Well, quit using those, too.”

He laughs. “You’d have me stripped down to bare bones if you had your way.”

“Maybe stripped,” I say without thinking. I cover my mouth, shocked and ashamed by my own frankness. “Oh God, ignore that last comment.”