Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
He was right. As he led me on a circuit around the deck to the back, I met more than a dozen people. Cowboys, stacked with muscles and the perfect picture of male virility. Females who looked like they could sling hay bales as easily as any man.
Near the grill stood three huge, muscled men in cowboy hats. Sam led me over to them. “This is Rob Wolf, our alpha, and his brothers Boyd and Colton. Boyd taught me how to ride bulls and broncs. Guys, this is Clio, the new mechanic over at Ernie’s Garage.”
I shook each of their hands, watching Rob for any sign of displeasure at me being there, but I saw none. “Nice to meet you, Clio. Are you named for the race car?” Rob asked.
I smiled. Sam had guessed that, too. “Yep. My dad was also a race car mechanic.”
“Well, we have the IndyCar race going on the TV in the living room, if you want to watch.” He glanced at his phone. “Should be starting up in just a few.”
I gave him a polite smile. “Thanks, but I’m okay. I’ve seen enough races to last a lifetime.”
“Unca Sam! Unca Sam! Sammeeeeeeee!” The little girl I’d seen on Sam’s hip at the fall festival came racing toward us, launching herself into the air three feet away from Sam.
Her little body slammed into his chest like a cannonball. Wow, she could leap.
“Oof!” Sam pretended to stagger back, his eyes open wide with surprise. He lifted the little girl high into the air. “Cassie, my lassie! You found me!”
I was melting. Sam was adorable with kids.
He scooted her around to sit on his hip. “I want you to meet someone. This is my friend, Clio.”
His… friend?
Huh. I thought I was his–
Wait. He hadn’t introduced me as his mate to the Wolf brothers either.
The little girl’s nostrils flared as she sampled the air. “She’s human, Unca Sam.” She giggled like he must be joking. That I couldn’t possibly be his friend if I were human.
But whatever. I wasn’t going to judge this crowd based on a three-year-old’s reception.
“Yep, she sure is. Where’s your momma? I want her to meet Clio, too.” He tickled her side, and she wriggled and giggled.
“Right there!” The child pointed down the stairs to a lower deck where another dozen people sat around a large table and in groupings of chairs.
Two blonde women–obviously mother and daughter–waved us over.
“This is my sister, Sylvie, and my mom, Eileen,” Sam said as we went down to meet them.
Eileen stood and opened her arms wide. “Oh, Clio! It’s so nice to meet you. Are you a hugger? I’m a hugger.”
“Sure,” I laughed, letting her hug me.
Sylvie went in for a quick hug, too. “We’ve heard so much about you. Sam pointed you out at the fall festival at school, but you were busy with pizza, and besides, you guys weren’t public yet about your, ah…” She waved a finger between us, waggling her brows suggestively.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Sam cut in with a grin, not the least bit sheepish. “We’re going to get some food.” He tugged my hand to lead me away from his family. “Sorry,” he said, leaning close to murmur in my ear. “My sister can be overly…ugh.” He interlaced his fingers with mine, stealing a glance at me. “I hope that wasn’t awkward.”
I laughed and shrugged. “I worked on a pit crew. I’m used to all kinds of conjectures about my sex life.”
Sam laughed. “That’s probably good because I’m the butt of every sex joke around here. Not that I mind in the least. Do you want some food?” He patted his stomach. “I’m crazy hungry, and I gotta fill up for the run later.”
I nodded. “Sure, make me a plate of a little of everything. I’m going to go find the restroom to wash up first.”
He squeezed my side then let go. “Okay, I’ll fix some plates for us.” He pointed toward the house. “Straight through the kitchen, into the living room, then on the left. You can’t miss it.”
I followed Sam’s directions. I walked through the living room, a roar of triumph exploded, and people surged to their feet, shouting at the television.
Ted’s profile picture beamed from the corner of the screen as live footage of the race he just won still showed below. “Ted Thorson is the new record holder for the most IndyCar races won in a single season!” the reporter announced with glee.
My insides heated. I wobbled on my axis. I shouldn’t still hate him. I had Sam now. But all those angry, bitter feelings bubbled up just the same. I knew all the hard work the pit crew did to put him past the checkered flag first, yet it was his face on the screen.
He got the glory.
The rest of us? Me? He’d thrown me away like I was dirt. His pack believed I was inferior. All the anger and defensiveness I’d let go unexpressed surfaced. Even after all these years, it hurt.