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Once again, I can’t shake the feelings inside of me as I leave the school. Why after all these years does he still evoke these reactions out of me, something Austin never did.

I loved Austin when we were together, I did, but not once did he give me the same scared butterfly, electricity running through my veins shudder that Ridge entices from me.

It’s so bad, I can’t rid myself of the feeling for close to ten minutes while I walk home.

On my way back from the school, I stop by my parents’ house. They live across the street from the race track in town. Calistoga Speedway is literally in the middle of town and surrounded by homes, a place I spent most of my childhood and adult life.

I walk around the back, through the yard, and into the kitchen “Hey, guys!” I yell as I let myself inside.

My mom, Helena, is standing in the kitchen near the stove, stirring something in a pot that smells delicious. Like marshmallows. On the counter next to her is a bowl full of cereal and then it dawns on me she’s making rice crispy treats. She always made rice crispy treats for my first day of school and the thought that she’s once again, carrying on the tradition for the boys, makes my heart melt.

Dad’s at the table reading the paper, his glasses pushed to the end of his nose as he attempts to see through the small reading frames he takes from mom.

Look at them. Aren’t they adorable? They’ve been happily married for the last thirty-five years and have one amazing daughter. Oh, and a son, but he’s not amazing. He’s a pain in the ass, but essentially a good guy and never in town so bonus for me.

Through those thirty-five years of marriage, they’ve loved and created a life most only dream of experiencing. They owned some land here in Calistoga and sold it off to a winery looking to expand. That provided them with a financial backing for the rest of their lives.

My dad, Glen, works at the racetrack here in town and has since I was born. That’s how I met Ridge. When his dad bought the track, a cocky three-year-old boy with too much attitude stormed into my life. He left about the same way he entered it.

I had always thought Ridge would eventually race cars given his dad owned the track, but he never showed much interest in it. Don’t get me wrong, back when I knew him, he loved cars but hated rules, and if you were going to race, rules were something you had to follow.

My older brother, Tyler, chose racing, and he’s damn good at it.

Good enough he’s never home anymore. He left town when he was seventeen to race USAC (a sanctioning body for sprint cars and midgets), made a name for himself, and then ended up getting a ride with his friend’s team with the World of Outlaws, a traveling race series that visits our town once a year. He’s clearly the sibling that’s made better life choices so far.

Dad looks up from his paper. “Morning, honey. How was the boys’ first morning?”

“Well.” I plop down at the table across from him. Mom smiles as she removes the pot from the stove and pours the creamy melted marshmallow over the Rice Crispies. They crackle and pop in the distance and smell so good. My stomach rumbles and I realize I haven’t eaten anything today. “I was already called to the school because of Cash.”

Dad chuckles and adjusts the paper. “No surprise. He’s like his Uncle Tyler.”

I roll my eyes. He’s certainly not like me. Grady is, but Cash,nothinglike me. “Let’s hope he’s not like Tyler. Between Ridge and Tyler, I’m not sure who was kicked out of school more.”

Do you notice my face when I mentioned Ridge? It’s an honest slip-up and I know my dad and mom notice as well. Back when my life revolved around Ridge, they all knew how I felt about him and more importantly, know he’s bad.

I also wouldn’t put it past my dad that he knows Ridge is their teacher.

Our eyes meet over the paper.

Yep. He knows.

I groan and flop my head on my arms like I’ve been put in detention. “When did you talk to him?”

Dad gives me that smile and raises his brows. He’s trying to act like he’s concentrating. “This morning.”

“How long is he back for?”

Dad sets his paper down. “He’s got some things to do, so I imagine a while.”

I’m transparent, I know this, but I ask anyway. “Like the track?”

Ever since Michael died, the town, or I should say, Ridge’s mother, has been pushing for the property to be sold. She wants it. Michael and her had been divorced for years, so I knew there was no way he left it to her.

“Yeah, Mike left it all to him,” Dad notes. “And you know if Madalyn has it her way, she’d turn it into part of Campbell Vineyards.”

The idea of Calistoga Speedway being turned into a winery or a tasting room makes my stomach knot. It’s like watching everything around your hometown, pieces of history being bought up by chain restaurants and turned into an actual city, as opposed to a hometown like we have here. “That can’t happen, will it?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, and I highly doubt Ridge is going to give anything to her. I talked to Tyler the other night, and he said he’d have Jameson’s lawyer get in touch with Ridge to talk about the legal rights, if any, Madalyn might have.”