Double Clutch - Реинхардт Лиз (книги полностью бесплатно TXT) 📗

In the back of the truck, under a tarp, was his dirt bike. It was bigger than I expected, and very clean.

“Did you wash it for the race?” I pulled a finger along the shiny metal of the fender.

“Of course.” He looked at me in shock when I laughed. “What’s so funny?”

“Jake, you washed your dirt bike the day of a big dirt track race? You don’t think it’s funny?” The more I thought about it, the more it made me giggle, chuckle, then full out laugh.

Jake just sighed. “You,” he said and kissed me between giggles, “just don’t understand.”

He parked near one of the ramps that were set up in the area, hopped into the back, and pushed his bike down. He set the helmet on the bike. Then we walked to a tent where people were waiting with clipboards and number placards.

The sound was intense. There was the constant whine of a dozen bikes racing at the same time coupled with the cheers of the crowds and the droning announcements from four big loud speakers.

“Jake Kelly.” Jake smiled at the older woman checking people in.

“Jake! How nice to see you! I hope you win the big one this year.” She smiled and handed him a large number seventy-eight for his bike and his shirt.

“Thanks,” he said shyly and we moved on.

“So, are you some hot shot in the world of dirt bike racing?” He attempted to pin the number on his shirt. I brushed his hands aside and pinned it for him, making sure it wasn’t crooked.

“In the world of amateur Sussex County dirt bike racing I’m like a demi god.” He winked at me.

Just then a gaggle of girls called his name. When he looked up, one of them took a picture of him with her phone, and they giggled and ran.

“Oh no.” I put my hands on his big, broad shoulders. “This is going to be one big Jake Kelly love fest, isn’t it?”

“I hope it’s one big Jake Kelly win fest.” He tugged me closer and leaned to whisper in my ear. “I prefer a private Jake Kelly love fest later on, if you know what I mean.”

He was just about to kiss me, which would have been wonderful, when a bunch of guys wearing the same kind of motocross outfits came over to us.

“Hey Jake,” said a guy with slicked black hair and crooked teeth. “Ready to lose?”

“If I’m racing you, it isn’t really a worry.” He put his arm around me tight.

I noticed every guy in the group looked at me a little hungrily.

“Who’s you’re girl, Jake?” the crooked-toothed guy asked.

“Guys, this is Brenna. I’m not introducing them,” he said cheerfully to me. “They’re mostly idiots, and plus that, you don’t really need to know anyone here but me.”

The guys hooted. “He’s just scared you’ll realize there’s something better than the old village dirt bike,” Crooked Tooth said, half joking, half nasty.

I smiled dumbly because I didn’t really know what to say. The tone was a little meaner than I was comfortable with. The guys moved on quickly, most of them looking back to whistle or cat call.

“That was weird.” I put a hand out and Jake grabbed it, pulled it to his lips, and kissed my knuckles.

“They’re scumbags. Listen, don’t talk to any of them while I’m racing, okay?” His eyes had that strange, maniacal gleam that only bubbled up when he got seriously angry.

I felt my face go hot. “I know I’m not really in any position to be offended that you just said that, but c’mon, Jake.”

“I’m not worried about you.” He kissed me softly. “They’re like damn dogs. Give them any encouragement, and you won’t be able to get the hell away from them.”

“When is your race?” I asked.

“Twenty minutes. But I get a few minutes to run the course between races. I’ll take you to the stands, okay? You want a soda or some food?” There were little vendor huts set up all over. The track had turned into a little city with food and clothing vendors, port-a-potties, repair stations, and sponsor huts.

I was a little hungry, but I didn’t want Jake to miss out on any practice time. “I’d rather get one with you after you race.”

“Alright.” He squinted a little in the sun and smiled. “I’m really glad you’re here. No one’s ever come to see me race before.”

“Never?” I couldn’t believe his dad never wanted to be by his side when Jake raced.

He hesitated. “Mom of course, before she died. And Saxon. Back when we were friends. He used to race, actually.”

“Oh,” I said. He shifted uncomfortably, and I switched tracks. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

“Good.” His smile was a little more guarded. We walked to the stands. He came as far as he could go with his bike, then directed me to sit where he could see me.

“It’s important.” He held me by the elbows. “I want to be able to see you, okay?”

“I get it. Wait.” I took my camera out of my purse. “Stand next to your bike.” He did and gave a cocky smile. I snapped the picture and kissed him again. “Have fun and be careful.”

He laughed. “Love you!”

“Love you, too!” I called. When I turned to go into the stands, I saw it was dirt-bike-groupie central. There were girls all over, talking on cell phones, reading magazines, watching the track, chatting and laughing. I sat just on the perimeter. No one talked to me, but I was fine just watching.

“Hey!” called a girl with really white blonde hair and a shirt that looked exactly like a corset. It was a little shocking and I thought it might just be a frilly tube top, but when I looked closer it was definitely a corset. Like a Victoria’s Secret black and red lace corset that’s usually worn under clothing or just in a bedroom, I guess. But this girl had it on as a shirt, with tight jeans. “You Jake Kelly’s girlfriend?” She laughed behind her hand and some of the other hoochie-looking girls laughed along.

“Yeah,” I said. “I am.”

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts.” She snapped her gum loudly. “He goes through them pretty quick.” She made a nasty face at me. I was being taunted by a corset-wearing, gum-cracking hoe with straw for hair.

“Thanks,” I said with a big, fake smile, then I opened my eyes really wide. “I think one of the girls just got out.” I pointed to her chest.

She pressed both hands over her scantily covered boobs and looked down frantically. I had already turned back to the race, but I did hear her call ‘bitch’ in my direction. I sighed. It would be nice if everyone here wasn’t a leering idiot or a backstabbing hooker-want-to-be.

To top it off, I had no idea how it worked. I didn’t know how many laps they raced, I didn’t know what the classes were, I didn’t know what the different divisions meant. Honestly, I never imagined it would be this complicated.