Page 3 of Truck You

I slap his hand away. “What the fuck, man?”

“You had a little mustard on your chin.” His eyes roam over my face like he’s inspecting it for something else to wipe off.

I give him a shove and fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Just tell me next time. I can wipe my own damn face.”

“Where would the fun in that be?” He grins before he sprints in the direction of the water gun game that Liam, Ash, and Christian are already playing. Well, Liam and Ash are playing. Christian is leaning against the pole, smoking a cigarette like he’s bored out of his mind. At least he’s here and trying. That’s more than I can say for Garret. He’s probably at home, alone in his tiny house, brooding.

Not interested in shooting water guns at a small target, I head over to the skeeball tent. I buy myself a bucket of balls and settle in front of an open lane.

I’m just about ready to toss my third ball after swishing the first two right down the hundred-point ring when a loud squeal causes me to stumble. Glancing around, I freeze when I find the source of the noise a few lanes over. A young woman about my age is bouncing on her toes and clapping after successfully hitting the hundred-point target with all nine balls, earning herself the top score.

But her score is not what’s captured my attention.

It’s her.

With a bright smile, fair skin, and fiery red hair, she just might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She looks ethereal and yet tough as nails in her tight-as-fuck jeans and knee-high boots. Her features are soft and delicate, but there’s something about the smile she’s sporting and the way she carries herself that screamsbadass.

She turns to face the carny who’s providing her with a selection of prizes to choose from, and the light hits her face. Her eyes are the color of the sky on a cloudless summer day. She has a scattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks that I want to trace with my finger. Her peach-colored lips are full and plump and begging to be kissed.

She’s fucking adorable, and I need to know who she is right now.

Jackson is a bigger city than the small village I’m from, but I’ve lived in this area my whole life. Everyone knows everyone in these parts. I can’t imagine someone as strikingly beautiful as her could live here this entire time without me seeing her before.

Movement out of the corner of my eye pulls my eyes off her. Tanner Koch is watching her with lust-filled amusement. He says something to one of his brothers and moves in her direction as if he’s going to act on his wicked thoughts.

A possessive growl grumbles out of my chest like I have some claim to this gorgeous stranger despite knowing full well that I don’t.

But that doesn’t stop me from taking the first step toward her. My strides are long and quick, and I reach her before Tanner even gets within twenty feet of her.

He glares at me like he’s itching to start a fight, same as he did in the bar earlier tonight. I shift my stare to the redhead that drew me over. She’s looking back and forth between us with raised brows before they finally settle on me.

“Do you know that guy?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I wave him off like he’s unimportant. “Just some guy from my hometown.”

She watches me with a careful gaze as if she wants to ask me more. Clearly, she clued in on the tension between Tanner and me. I could tell her more, but I don’t want to scare her off before I even get her name.

“So, I take it you’re not from Jackson?” She rests her hands on her hips and tilts her head to the side as she looks up at me. She’s not exactly short, but if I were to guess, I’d say I have a good five to six inches on her. I’m not as tall as some of my brothers, but at six feet, I’m taller than most people around here.

“Nope.” I give her my best smile. The one that always makes the girls swoon. “I live about fifteen miles west of here. How about you? I’ve never seen you around here.”

“New in town. Just arrived this afternoon.” She glances around as if she’s seeing all the booths and games for the first time. “I did not know I was arriving at the start of a local festival. This is awesome.”

“It’s pretty cool. We southern Ohioans love our festivals.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, she adjusts her stance and studies me. Her eyes dart around my face before a puzzled look takes over her expression. I raise a brow as if to question why she’s inspecting me so carefully.

Then her eyes widen, and her jaw drops before she covers my mouth. “Oh, my God. You’re Mac Mutter.”

My smile widens. “You’ve heard of me?”

She nods emphatically. “I’m ahugeracing fan. I’ve followed your career for years.”

“Really?” Suddenly, this red-headed bombshell just got a whole lot more interesting. “I guess you’d have to be if you know who I am. I never made it to the Sprint Cup.”

She shrugs as if that doesn’t matter. “I watch more amateur and ARCA races than I do Sprint. I think those drivers sometimes have more heart.”

I press my hand to my heart and look to the heavens. “Jeez, Red. Are you trying to make me fall in love already?”

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