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Rosa jumped up, spilling her White Claw. “Now’s my chance, bitches.”
Part of me wanted to stop her because I wasn’t sure what he’d do.
To our disappointment, he walked away from her without words. I wouldn’t go as far as to say Rager was in a bad mood since he won at Stockton, but he also wasn’t in a great mood. Since then we’d been to Ocean Speedway. He blew a motor there. Calistoga Speedway he dropped a cylinder. Keller Auto Speedway in Hanford, he finished third. Perris Auto Speedway… not great. Another DNF when he and Ricky Hagen—a lapped car at the time—got into him with one lap to go and he was leading the race. USA Raceway, Arizona Speedway… two top five finishes, but no wins.
Caden had been on a winning streak though. He’d figured out something and won the last six straight races on the last lap. He’d earned the nickname “The Closer” from Jerry and the guys in the pits. And though it sucked that Rager was struggling, everyone was excited that JAR Racing now held the top five spots in the WoO standings.
I watched Rager most of the afternoon. He and Caden were deep in conversation about track conditions when Kinsley smiled at me. “He thinks the world of Rager.”
The statement, though it caught me off guard, didn’t surprise me. Rager, much like my dad, had that effect on most drivers. Even my brothers—though you’d never get Casten to admit this—looked up to Rager if not for his ability to wheel a race car, but for his patience with the sport. Sure, he wasn’t having the best year, but that proved right there what a versatile driver he was.
And Caden, he had all the makings to be one of the best as well. “Rager really enjoys having him on the team,” I told her, trying to smell her baby’s head.
She laughed and awkwardly positioned Jameson’s head closer to me. “They smell so good, don’t they?”
I nodded. “Until they turn two and they smell like dirt and farts.” I had three little boys. Everything smelled like poop and you had to actually question whether it was poop or not. Most of the time it wasn’t.
“You ready for the autograph session?” Lily asked, Savannah on her hip and Jacen holding her hand. I had to do a double take at Jacen for a moment though. He looked just like Jack and my breath caught. Blond wavy hair, bright blue eyes and pink cheeks.
Smiling up at me, he handed me a T-shirt. “Auntie Hayden said you need to wear this.”
I made my way around the other side of the hauler to retrieve my phone and the keys to the motor home. “I should?”
“Yeah.” Lily set Savannah on her feet when she noticed Bristol and started to squirm. Bristol and Savannah were best friends. If you saw one, the other was near. “She thought it’d be funny since Rager hates it when you wear his shirts.”
“Savy!” Bristol called out to her, carrying a bag in one hand and a water bottle that looked like she’d dropped about a million times in the dirt. “I got you a cookie!”
“Where’d you get a cookie?” I asked Bristol.
“Grandma made them.” She stared up at me, pushing her hair from her dirty face. Yes, 90 percent of the time my kids were head to toe covered in dirt, but they were loved and happy.
But then I thought, damn, my mom made cookies and didn’t bring me any? Rude.
Just as I was going to hunt down said cookies, Mom appeared with a bin full of them.
The girls and I made it to the autograph session with the kids. They loved being a part of when their dads were out in the public.
Standing in line with Hayden and Lily, they laughed about the reactions the guys were going to have with us wearing Casten’s Racing apparel. I wasn’t laughing. I knew the reaction my husband was going to have.
Lifting my gaze to the row of drivers settled behind turn one at Devil’s Bowl Speedway, I found the one who held my attention always. He never failed to evoke a reaction from me. And I knew all the women standing in line to meet him today felt the same way. They leaned in, offering up their tits and anything else they thought he might sign and usually, he did. He didn’t give a fuck. Never one to turn down a dare, I once saw him sign a man’s ass cheek because Axel bet him fifty bucks he wouldn’t.
Inching forward, dirt clung to my flip-flops, I considered that I should have worn actual shoes tonight, but I didn’t give it enough thought to actually change.
In the middle of the row, Rager sat next to Casten at the table, the blaring sun on their faces and reflecting off their mirrored shades. Every so often, Casten nudged Rager’s elbow when it was time to sign a rack card or program.
After the tenth time, Rager had enough and slammed his hand down on the table and knocked Casten’s stack of cards into the dirt. “Knock it off, asshole. I’ll shove this Sharpie up your piss hole.”
Casten frowned and reached down to pick up his cards. “I doubt it’d fit. Piss holes are relatively small, dude.”
Rager never lifted his gaze from the table. “Which is why it will hurt.”
Dad was next to them, laughing, but not because of their conversation. He’d spotted us and what we were wearing. I smiled, as did Hayden. She was wearing a tank top that said “Proud pit lizard” with Jameson Riley splayed across her chest.
Hayden—never shy, never quiet—loudly asked, “Will you sign my tits?”
At first, he stared at her tits, for the briefest of moments and then diverted his eyes like he hadn’t seen it. Shaking his head, he cracked a smile. “Nope.”
Hayden’s hands flew to her waist. “Why the fuck not?”