Page 16 of Drive To Survive

And I didn’t have a clue what to do with the riotous feelings coursing through my body. I’d long thought myself incapable of empathy, yet I recognized the emotion well enough.

I walked away with Everly and Rhett in tow, her hot stare burning into the back of my neck, and a tremor of desire ricocheted up my spine.

Off-limits, Palmer, remember?

I felt sorry for her. That was all. I’d seen her struggling, and I’d wanted to help.

Liar.

I didn’t feel sorry for Everly, and a sixth sense told me she wouldn’t take kindly to pity. I fancied Everly. I wanted to strip her naked, kiss every inch of her porcelain skin, and bury myself deep inside her until she came all over my cock and her screams ripped through the air.

That was what I wanted.

Yet she was all wrong for me. Too nice, too kind, too thoughtful and caring. She was all the things I wasn’t, a breakable doll that my shockingly bad moods and quick temper could crush in seconds. If I did choose to fall off the celibacy wagon, it wouldn’t be with a woman like her. I’d pick someone with hard edges, a woman who’d understand the unspoken rule of a quick fuck, a physical release, and a fast goodbye.

I stopped by the main changing area, where we kept the racing gear.

“What are we doing here?” Everly asked, glancing along the rows of helmets, race suits, and footwear.

“Well,” I said, keeping my eyes focused on Rhett. Far safer. “If we’re going to get you inside a kart, we need to make sure you have the right gear, hey, bud?”

Everly took a sharp intake of breath. “Patrick said no racing today.”

“We’re not going to race,” I said, looking at her quickly before I turned my attention back to Rhett. “We’ll just kit you up and let you sit inside the kart. Get the feel of it. How does that sound, buddy?”

“Awesome!” Rhett clapped his hands and then peered up at me, his eyes narrowed. “Why do you talk weird?”

I barked out a laugh while Everly turned a deep shade of red. She muttered, “Jesus,” under her breath, then crouched to Rhett’s level.

“That’s very rude, Rhett. Mr. Palmer is from England. He talks differently than we do. That’s all. Not weird, different.”

She rose to her feet. “I’m sorry. About now, and about the other day. What he said about your… He doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that he hasn’t yet learned?—”

“Chill,” I interrupted. “It’s fine.” I knelt down and plunked a helmet over Rhett’s small head. After a bit of adjustment, it fit. I lifted the visor. “How’s that feel?”

“Good,” Rhett said, his voice muffled behind the thick padding.

I removed it. “Okay, let’s get you kitted out.”

By focusing all my attention on Rhett, I managed to quell the growing ache in my balls that having Everly so close caused. She smelled of lemons and peaches and woman.

An off-limits woman.

I helped Rhett into the kart while Everly stood off to the left, nibbling on her thumbnail. I crouched to his level and pointed out all the relevant bits and pieces he’d need to know. Where to put his feet, his hands. Gave him a chance to get a feel for the steering wheel and his sight line from sitting so low down. He listened eagerly, hanging on to my every word.

When the time came to get him out, I held my breath, anticipating another bout of anger, especially given what I’d witnessed earlier on. I needn’t have worried. He jumped out of the kart without a murmur of dissent. Everly shot me a look, her face awash with relief.

Christ, bringing up a kid alone must be fucking hard. To have no one there to share the load, to bounce ideas off, or to check you were on the right path. I couldn’t imagine how difficult her life must have been since her deadbeat husband fucked off.

Careful, Palmer. You’re on dangerous ground.

We returned to the changing area and got Rhett out of his racing gear. On the stroll back to the main office, Rhett hit me with a dozen questions. I answered them as simply as I could, remembering he was only six and a lot of the more detailed answers would go right over his head.

“Where are you off to now?” I asked when we reached the parking lot.

“Home,” Everly said, taking Rhett’s hand. “Before this one gets so hungry that he eats his own foot.”

“I don’t eat feet,” Rhett said, planting his hands on his hips.

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