Page 29

TWENTY-NINE

TRENT

For the millionth time that morning, my focus shifted from the guidebook and onto Kit. She leaned against the door, palm on her cheek and eyes fixed on the road. Her face was still dewy from the shower and damp hair curled over her ears. My fingers itched to push it back.

She’d insisted on driving, her eyes glued to the road, and any conversation about last night immediately shut down with a pointed look and a frown.

Fair enough. Sex last night had been good. Hell, better than good. But jaded by my monthlong, self-imposed dry spell, anything that wasn’t my hand and a video would have been mind-blowing.

And I’d been in “no strings attached” deals before. More than a few. During the football season, they were practically required. Kit’s insistence that the night had been a one-off and wouldn’t happen again was a relief.

Or at least, should have been a relief.

I should have been grateful for the silence, glad no other feelings had developed. But I wasn’t.

The words on the page blurred.

“Are we okay?” I asked tentatively.

“Was I okay” would have been the better question, but I had no way of answering that.

“Yeah,” Kit jostled in her seat, hand falling off her face. She crammed it under her knee. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” I exhaled the word, and from her raised eyebrow, probably sounded more relieved than unsure. “I just didn’t want to make things weird between us.”

“Weirder than sleeping together?” She shook her head. “Impossible.”

“Possible,” I countered. “I could have tried to convert you to Scientology. Or licked your armpits.”

“Please tell me that wasn’t a personal anecdote.” She scrunched her nose.

“Nope, I’m saving those for the next time we sleep together.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Not happening. Now, how many more stops do we have this morning?”

I ran my thumb over the last page of the guidebook. “Six.”

“No extra stops?”

“Nope.” Unlike the hundreds of miles we’d covered over the past four days, the last stretch was a one-hundred-and-fifty-mile jaunt down to Florida. “I’ve found a few potential stops, but we don’t have much time to get to the final check-in.”

Kit frowned.

“Are you still hoping to sell the car?” I’d checked the rally’s social media account but hadn’t seen her car listed for sale. “You might want to let Ashley help you out.”

“Not looking forward to a drive home?” Her tone was offhand, but the question probing.

The car reeked of gas station food and mildew. Despite vacuuming out the backseat, a faint fishy smell hung in the air, and the Cougar wasn’t exactly built for comfort. The ash tray that jutted out from the passenger door dug into my side and the head rest bulged right at my shoulder blades. Even with my sweater wedged between me and the door and a neck pillow, my body ached.

And I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“That’s not what I said.”

“I’ll work it out once we’re there.” She waved a hand, eyes glued on the road in front of us. “Or not. What’s the first stop?”

“Big Mama’s Pancake Emporium.”

The giant breakfast sampler seemed to put Kit at ease, and I regretted how quickly I’d have to disrupt that calmness. Thankfully, she hadn’t bothered to read through the final day stops, so she weaved the car along the back roads, past salt-sprayed signs and houses on stilts until we pulled up to the second-to-last stop on our way to the finish line.

“No.” A shudder accompanied the edict.

“We’ve got to.” I shoved the route book into my pocket and laced my voice with confidence. “Did you see the observation tower?”

I pointed to the painted building jutting out over the single-story houses, a green snake wrapping up the tower, shingles used to imitate scales wrapping around the fiberglass exterior.

Kit followed my gaze. “Does that mean Pete’s Snakes and Sundries doesn’t have any actual snakes? Is it just a hokey snake observation tower?”

“Well…” I rubbed my chin. “Not exactly. But let’s start with the tower.”

Right now, all Kit needed to know was that a picture on the top of that tower earned us two points. What she didn’t need to know is we earned the other three by taking a picture with Petey Junior, the world’s biggest python. Allegedly.

I paid for our admission to the observation deck, and we walked up the spiral staircase in silence. The view at the top wasn’t majestic. Marshy wetlands for as far as the eye could see.

Kit looked out over the swamp, and I sidled up beside her, resting my forearms on the banister, my fingers touching the fiberglass red tongue jutting out from the building.

“Pete has too much money,” Kit said.

I bit back a laugh. “Pete has a dream, and apparently it involves sundries and snakes.”

“Well, he’s certainly living that dream, isn’t he?” She leaned next to me, her forearm brushing mine.

“What about your dreams?”

She splayed out her hands, her eyebrow inching up. “Living it.”

“This was your dad’s dream,” I corrected her gently. “What about after the race?”

I waited for Kit to pull away. Waited for her to stand up and go back the way we came. Waited for her to call me Texas and put up that barrier between us.

She sighed. “This might have been my dream, too. I didn’t sign up thinking it was, but I understand why people keep coming back. Maybe I just want to have more adventures.”

I grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

She pinched her lips together, suppressing a smile. “Maybe with better company, though.”

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. She fit next to me like a puzzle piece. “You’ve had a blast. I’m a great co-driver.”

“You’re a great navigator,” she corrected as she rested her head on my shoulder, and I held my breath, cementing the moment into my memory.

“Keep that in mind when I tell you about the second part of this stop.”

Her head snapped up, stepping out of arms and planting a fist on her hip. “What second part?”

“It’s really not a big deal.” I sidestepped her attempt to swipe the guidebook out of my back pocket. “Just live in the moment, Kitten. You don’t want to ruin this really lovely moment worrying about the future.”

“Please tell me it doesn’t have anything to do with snakes,” she groaned.

“It sure as hell doesn’t have anything to do with sundries.”

We descended the observation tower back to the store below. I held open the door, waiting for Kit to flee, but thankfully she entered willingly.

The sundries portion of Pete’s store was surprisingly well-kept. The floors were linoleum, scrubbed bright white, with bright overhead fluorescent lights. Kit reluctantly perused the bags of jerky, holding up one that had “Snake” emblazoned over the top.

“Is this where the bad snakes go?” Kit whispered.

I took the bag and shoved it under my arm with a laugh. “I’m not sure, but we’re trying some. Right, Kit?”

When she didn’t reply, I turned away from the jerky and followed her gaze over the register to the giant yellow and red sign over the back wall.

SNAKES AHEAD!

“They’re in cages, right?” she asked, tentatively stepping closer to the door.

“Most of the time,” the woman behind the counter chirped.

I placed the jerky on the counter. “We’ll take this and a photo with Petey Junior.”

Kit’s head whipped toward me. “Please tell me that’s a child.”

“That would be sort of a weird roadside attraction.” The woman rang up the jerky and shoved it in a bag. “Taking a photo with a kid? Even all the way out here, I’m pretty sure that would raise a few eyebrows. Maybe get the authorities called on us.”

“It’s a python,” I said with a tense smile.

“The largest python in the northern hemisphere!” The woman fished a pamphlet out from under the counter, slapping it in front of Kit. A man, presumably Pete, wore a snake over his shoulders, the weight nearly collapsing him. “Maybe the world, though that’s hard to ascertain, considering the somewhat reclusive nature of the python. She’s a real sweetheart, too, and in a great mood considering how many people have come by to see her today.”

“Why’d Pete name a girl python Petey Junior?” I asked, earning a blank shrug from the woman.

Kit turned pale. “Please tell me only one of us needs to take a picture with the snake.”

I shook my head. “Bad news. It’s a group picture. Don’t worry. Snakes don’t freak me out. She can sit on my shoulders.”

“Hey, Pete! You’ve got another set of visitors!” The woman shouted back at the closed “Snakes Ahead,” door.

“Send ‘em in!” Pete yelled from the other side.

“I can hold your jerky for you. Petey Junior gets a little particular about the smell of snake.” The cashier beamed at us, and I handed over my purchase before ushering Kit toward the door, my hand cradling her back.

“Is this really worth it, Trent?” she asked under her breath.

“Using my actual name? You must be pretty desperate,” I teased.

“Unless someone misses a stop, we’re not winning. Petey Junior isn’t worth it. The picture doesn’t get us anything.”

Her arguments were sound. We weren’t the only team to decode the bonus points, and at least three teams had surged ahead of us, racking up more points for car repairs and bonus stops. Still, I wasn’t giving up.

“Race isn’t over, Kitten.”

She pursed her lips but willingly walked through the door. Not only was she tough, but she was brave as hell. My chest tightened with something akin to pride.

“Wow, we’re real busy today. Is there something happening on this edge of Florida?” Pete greeted us with an outstretched hand and a beaming smile. The pamphlet at the counter must have been at least a decade old, or Pete had aged particularly poorly since opening his shop. “I’m Pete of Pete’s Snakes and Sundries. I’m glad you stopped by to meet our sweet Pete. Tell me, are you snake enthusiasts?”

Kit’s tense jaw gave away her disdain, but I nodded my head. “Enthusiast might be a little much, but sure, I like snakes.”

Pete gave us the VIP tour of his snake-only zoo. With each cage we passed, Kit ground herself more firmly into my side, turning me into a shield when we reached the Pete’s venomous collection.

Finally, we reached the end of the hallway with the nameplate “Petey Junior” above a door. Unlike the other snakes, Petey Junior had her own room, and when I stepped up to the giant windowpane looking in, it was obvious why.

“I can’t go in the room with that snake,” Kit murmured into my ear.

“Your girl doesn’t seem like a big fan of my collection!” Pete observed with a smile.

“Snakes aren’t my thing.”

“But three points is three points,” I reminded her.

“We’re not even winning, Trent.”

“We don’t know that, Kit.” I pressed my palm to the small of her back. “What if the other teams are giant babies and can’t handle a little snake?”

“Like me?”

“Not like you,” I reassured her. “You’re very brave and sort of mean. Petey Junior will be terrified.”

“She’s a big old love bug,” Pete said, hefting up the center of Petey Junior and set her on his shoulders. “She loves getting her pictures taken, too. Why don’t you two sit on the box over there and I’ll get her in place?”

Kit grit her teeth but shuffled to the box. Her eyes stayed glued on Petey Junior’s head. Petey Junior flicked out her tongue in greeting.

“So, big guy, you want the weight and little lady, you holding her head?” Pete asked.

Kit winced. “Absolutely not.”

Her terrified whisper made me feel a little bad about dragging her in here. Slightly.

“Fair enough,” Pete shrugged and turned to me. “Big guy, can you handle all this snake?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered with enough confidence for the two of us.

“I’m carrying this team,” I whispered to Kit, bumping into her shoulder. The sudden movement displaced Petey Junior from my neck, and her body fell into Kit’s arms just as Pete snapped the picture.