Page 2 of Racing Dirty Trilogy Box Set

Izabella

The sun sets over the racetrack as I climb out of my four-cylinder race car, my heart still pounding from the adrenaline rush.

My green racing jumper, emblazoned with "Jones Racing," clings to my sweaty skin as I remove my helmet, letting my long blonde hair tumble down my back.

My hands tremble as I try to steady my breathing, the thrill of the track still coursing through my veins.

Racing is in my blood. The roar of the engine, the scent of burning rubber, the thrill of pushing my car to its limits, it’s what I live for. Growing up around this race track my entire life, inhaling the racing fuel and exhaust is something ingrained into my mind, body, and soul.

Tonight’s race was my strongest of the season, and we’re only halfway through. I’ve been undefeated all season, and some of the guys aren’t happy about it.

As my heartbeat slows, a familiar presence approaches from behind. The distinct scent of performance fuel and leather floods my senses, making my breath hitch.

Xavier.

His large hands settle on my shoulders, massaging the tension from my muscles.

"That was some damn good racing," he whispers in my ear.

Goosebumps break out over my skin, and I shiver at the closeness of his lips against my skin. "Thanks," I murmur, trying to keep my voice steady.

I close my eyes, savoring his touch. I’ve had a crush on Xavier since we were kids, back when he was just a messy-haired boy living a few houses down from mine and I was an annoying little girl in pigtails and overalls.

Our dads became best friends on and off the track, and we grew up in each other’s garages, covered in grease and dreaming of the day we’d race side by side.

His mom, Ana, became like a second mother to me after my own passed away.

But everything changed when high school hit.

Xavier went from my best friend to the guy every girl wanted and our friendship became tense.

His tousled black hair and piercing blue eyes made him irresistible, and he knew it.

Girls threw themselves at him, and he never turned them down.

When he grins, the dimple on his right cheek pops out and his eyes flicker with mischief.

That’s why I have to keep my guard up.

I turn to face him, steeling myself against the magnetic pull he’s always had on me.

He’s wearing a navy blue racing jumper, "Sweeney Racing" scrawled across his chest and back, the design I made late one night for our dad’s team.

Seeing it on him stirs something deep inside me.

His sharp blue eyes flicker with mischief as they travel over my body.

“Hey X, eyes up here. I’m not some track bunny who’s an easy lay.”

A flush creeps up his neck as he swallows hard. "Trust me, I know."

I roll my eyes dramatically and set my helmet on the hood of my car. "What do you want?"

I know I’m being a bitch to him, but this is the only way I know how to deal with him because I will be damned if I keep handing him my heart and he crushes it.

He hesitates, his playful smirk fading. "Just wanted to say you did great tonight."

For a moment, I let my defenses slip. "Thanks."

The weight of our history presses down on me. Week after week, I watch him walk off with another girl, and it cuts a little deeper every time. I can’t let him keep breaking my heart, not when he doesn’t even realize he holds it in his hands.

It’s rough walking away from him because we have been friends for so long, but life happens.

I miss the carefree days we would have as kids walking down the pits, looking at the different race cars, talking about our dreams of racing when we became older.

Holding hands as innocent children, not knowing what their future held, but knowing we both wanted to be the best racers like our dads.

I find my dad inside our racing trailer, rummaging for parts.

He pulls an air filter from the shelf and walks out, his blonde hair messy from his helmet.

Like mine, his racing jumper bores the marks of a long day at the track.

The thin beard on his face, now speckled with gray, speak of years of worry over me, yet he still has the kind of powerful build that turned heads. His hazel eyes lite up when he sees me.

I walked up and kissed his cheek. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey, kiddo. Great race out there. Keep it up, and you'll have it in the bag," he states, returning the gesture.

Since my mom passed, I always called him Dad to his face, though behind his back, he was Austin. He knows and it doesn’t mind.

"Thanks. What's going on?" I gestured to the air filter in his hand.

"Officials caught my damn air filter during inspection. Figured I might as well replace it before my feature."

"Need help?"

"Sure, kiddo. Let’s get it done."

We walk over to his Late Model UMP and swap out the air filter quickly. Everything I know about cars came from him and Xavier’s dad, James.

We’d spent hours in their garages, learning the ins and outs of engines, from changing head gaskets to the simple stuff like changing a tire and all the extras that come with racing.

I can drop and swap a motor faster than anyone, except Xavier.

I’ve watched sweat cover his lean body, his muscles ripple as he worked.

My heart pounds against my chest, my pulse quickening with the vivid images of Xavier’s sculpted body.

A blush spreads across my cheeks, and I hastily unzip my jumper, tying it around my waist to cool down.

Underneath, my white t-shirt displays the racing logo I designed, a subtle pride stirring in me.

I shake my head, trying to clear my mind of the hot guy now approaching us.

Xavier tucks his helmet under his right arm, his racing jumper hugging his powerful frame.

He’s the only guy I know who can pull off wearing that tight suit with such confidence, the fabric accentuating his broad chest and muscular arms. The deep blue of his jumper makes his eyes pop even more.

His eyes are shining with mischief again as he approaches me, not taking them from my full chest. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and smirk at the same time. Austin clears his throat and Xavier looks away from me, the sparkle disappearing again. His face is impassive as he shifts toward Austin.

When Xavier is near, I forget there’s anyone else around. Confusion stirs in my mind, what is he trying to tell me with his mixed signals? One moment, his eyes are glued to me, and the next, he’s cold as ice. My nerves are on edge, and I release a shaky breath.

“Earth to Izzy,” Xavier’s deep voice breaks through the haze of my thoughts.

I snap my head up, realizing I’ve been staring. Austin and Xavier exchange amused glances, both grinning at me.

“I’m sorry, what?” My voice cracks, and I can feel my face turning a shade of red.

“Told you she was zoning out,” Xavier says to Austin with a chuckle.

Xavier and my dad have always had a close relationship and if he knew where my mind drifts to all the time Xavier wouldn’t be standing here. Austin gives me a teasing look. “I asked if you’re ready for the race. I’m heading out.”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat, my voice steadier now. “I’m ready. Let’s go kick some ass.”

“Mouth, young lady,” Austin scolds with a smirk, but there’s warmth behind his words. I stick my tongue out at him as he grabs his helmet and climbs into his car.

Austin’s Late Model UMP is a beauty, equipped with a 454-cubic inch Chevy big-block motor.

Its body is green, matching our racing jumpers, with our ‘Jones Racing’ logo scribbled across the sides, hood, and trunk.

The number 31 is painted proudly on each door, his lucky number ever since he won his first feature race as a teenager.

Sponsors' logos are plastered all over the car, and with the wins Austin racks up, there’s always a fresh call from businesses eager to get their name on his ride.

The roar of his engine fills the air as Austin fires up his car, the distinct smell of performance fuel making the tension in my chest ease a little. Xavier stands beside me, his body heat radiating through the air, his scent overpowering everything else. It makes my heart race in a different way.

I wave to Austin, press two fingers to my lips, and place them over my heart for luck. He mirrors the gesture before driving off to line up. It’s a tradition we’ve had since I was a little girl, one that still holds its magic today.

“Are you going to ignore me all night?” Xavier’s deep voice rumbles next to my ear, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

I focus on the track as Austin drives off, the sun having set and the lights now shining brightly. It’s the final feature of the night, and the stands are packed with people eagerly waiting for the race to begin.

“I’m not ignoring you, X,” I reply, trying to mask the tightness in my voice. “I’m just giving you space so the track bunnies can swoop in and grab your attention. It’s getting late, and I don’t see anyone hanging on your every word, giggling like you’re the best thing around.”

Regret floods me immediately. Why did I say that? If I don’t keep my heart guarded, Xavier will crush it, even if he doesn’t mean to.

I glance at him, studying his profile, but if I’d moved any slower, I would’ve missed the flash of hurt that crossed his face. Crap. Now I feel like shit for being snarky. Xavier clears his throat.

“Ouch, I guess I deserve that,” he mutters.

“No, you don’t, but when I see the same thing week after week, it gets harder and harder to watch,” I say, trying to shrug it off.

“I get glares and nasty snarls from those women when you give me attention. It’s bad enough I need to prove myself out there.

” I gesture toward the dirt track. “I don’t need the added stress of your recent conquests trying to get the courage to kick my ass because you’re talking to me and hanging around me.

Racing is hard enough, and for a girl, it’s even harder. ”

The warmth of his body soothes my simmering temper as Xavier pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. His scent, racing fuel and leather, makes my knees weak. Goosebumps spread across my skin as his lips hover near my ear.

“I’m sorry, B,” he murmurs, his voice laced with sincerity. “I want to make it up to you.”

I shiver at the sincerity in his voice, my heart racing with the feel of his breath on my neck as he uses the nickname he’s given me. I turn my head, our lips just inches apart.

“You want to make it up to me?” I whisper, my breath brushing across his lips.

“Yeah, I do,” he replies, his gaze fixed on my lips as I lick them.

I don’t know where this sudden intensity is coming from, but if Xavier is serious about us, I need to set some ground rules. With a shaky hand, I cup the side of his face, feeling the smoothness of his strong jawline sets my body on fire.

Xavier closes his eyes at my touch, taking a deep breath. When he opens them again, I search his gaze for proof that he’s serious.

I find what I’m looking for, and with a final deep breath, I make my proposal. My heart is still on guard, but if he wants this, he’ll have to earn it.

“Prove to me for two whole weeks that you can keep it in your pants and I’m the only one you want, on and off the track. Then we’ll talk.”