Page 24 of Step Daddy

Chapter Eight

Kit watched breathlessly as Gareth jumped the same dirt hills over and over, each time trying to catch more air as he went from one to the next, dust and gravel flying everywhere. They’d been at the track where Gareth liked to practice for a couple hours, and Kit was sure he’d have a heart attack before they left. The memory of Dev’s scars was on repeat in his mind.

He drained the cola he’d been drinking, then picked up the water bottle in the mini-cooler Gareth had brought along. Before suiting up and hitting the track, he’d made Kit promise he’d finish at least one bottle while they were there so he wouldn’t get dehydrated.

Was that a Daddy thing?

Kit cracked open the water bottle and licked his dry lips. Even though he was sure Gareth hadn’t been taking on the role of his Daddy when he’d made him promise to drink the water, he could pretend. The mere thought that it was true, that Gareth was looking out for him in such a personal way sent a shiver up his spine. And imagining that he was obeying Gareth to make his Daddy proud made his belly tighten.

He took a slug of water, running the long conversation he and Gareth had shared the night before through his head. As it was, he’d barely gotten any sleep. He knew he’d been a bit nosey, even going so far as to get more personal than he should’ve about Gareth and Colby’s relationship.

Yet never once did Gareth hesitate to answer his enquiries or tell him it was none of his business. It was as if once it became clear that Kit knew Gareth’s big lifestyle secret, he truly was the open book he’d said he was. The one question that remained, the one mystery he had to reveal, but been too chicken to ask about the night before, was if they could go to the club together.

Kit was now obsessed with the idea of seeing for himself what it was like. Going to a gay BDSM club would be scary, but exciting. And okay, he still shouldn’t be thinking about Gareth the way he was, but seeing him in his natural element would be incredible. Maybe he’d build up the courage after Gareth was done at the track.

Gareth had told Kit he wouldn’t be long, that he only wanted to get a few hours in. There had been a silent assumption that Kit wouldn’t stay alone at the apartment, that his brother was being extra cautious with him. And Kit didn’t mind how long they stayed. As long as he got to hang out with Gareth, he didn’t care what they did.

Kit took another swallow of the water that had managed to stay cold. It was already past noon, and while it wasn’t summer yet, the spring temps in the desert were starting to get more unforgiving everyday once the afternoon hit. The weather wasn’t all that different from the Los Angeles desert suburb in which he’d grown up. He swiped his forehead with the back of his hand, the sweat beginning to fall from his hairline because of the cap Gareth insisted he wear.

Kit gasped, the half-empty water bottle slipping from his hand as Gareth’s bike went one way and his body went the other as he skidded around a turn. Kit’s heart seemed to jump into his throat, and he lurched forward to run to Gareth. The track manager yanked him back by his collar.

“Whoa, hold on. No one on the track who isn’t authorized. Especially not with bikes in motion.”

“But my b-brother!” Kit choked out.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” The man sounded almost bored, like a person flying through the air then crashing on the hard ground was no big deal. He pointed in Gareth’s direction. “See? He’s brushing himself off. All better.” The man regarded him with a smirk. “Not much of an extreme sports follower, are you?”

Kit tried to will his thudding heart to slow down and answer with a measure of dignity. “I’ve just never seen him race before.”

“He’s one of the best. Got a long career ahead of him if he plays his cards right.”

The man walked away after dumping that disquieting bit of information on Kit. Kit scanned the area for where Gareth was, and spotted him with a couple other guys, laughing as they checked out his bike.

Unbelievable.

After a few more minutes of conversation, some conclusion or another seemed to have been drawn, and the two riders went one way while Gareth went the other, rolling his bike beside him as he headed to the starting point of the track.

While Gareth made his way through the onlookers toward him, Kit quickly retrieved the now-empty water bottle, trying to wipe off the wet dirt that clung to it from when it had been dropped. As soon as Gareth reached him Kit couldn’t stand it.

“Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the ER or something?”

His voice came out a bit hysterical, Gareth eyeing him as if Kit had lost his mind.

“ER?” Gareth paused, looking down at his bike before returning his gaze to Kit. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I should’ve said something, should’ve warned you I take a lot of spills.” He grunted. “Well, not just me, we all do. Riding relies a lot on instinct, which is why some people have it and some don’t when it comes to tricks and racing. And sometimes, it’s better to let go of the bike rather than go down with it.” He chuckled. “Sometimes it isn’t. I have to rely on my instincts being spot on when I’m in the moment. There really is only a split-second to decide on the right move.”

Kit’s stomach felt like a rock had landed in it. “Oh. I didn’t know all that. One of the guys here said you’re one of the best, so I guess I’m overreacting.”

Gareth’s expression softened. “Hey, that’s okay. It’s my fault for not giving you a heads up before we got here. I was being presumptuous and assumed you’d seen me race before, like on TV or something.” He grinned. “I guess I’m too full of myself. Which reminds me, who said I was the best?” Gareth burst into laughter.

Kit flushed but hoped Gareth would assume it was the heat. He didn’t dare confess that he’d only ever stared at Gareth’s pictures. With his helmet on to race, Kit couldn’t enjoy the view.

“The track manager guy. I think that’s what he is?”

“He is.” Gareth gazed around the area. “Manny started this place up several years ago. It was much smaller then and only really attracted newbie riders or guys fucking around. Then, Dev and some of the guys from back in the day started using it. Manny built it up some more, and now it’s one of the main places the pros on the West Coast use.”

“Are there ever competitions here?”

Gareth shook his head and tucked his helmet under his arm. “Nah. He’s turned it into quite a business. He rents it out to guys wanting a private track—amateurs and pros. Plus, there are a few former pros who’ve retired from competing and coach newbies now instead—that sort of thing.” Gareth turned back to him. “Hungry?”

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