Motocross Me (Motocross Me 1)

Ash picks up my projectile and raises his eyebrows at me. I manage a weak, “oops” but refuse to take my keys back in front of the girls.

“Hey, you.” He does his head nod thing to acknowledge me. It’s the most informal way to say hi to someone. Great, he doesn’t like me at all anymore. How could he, when Blondie over there outshines me by a thousand-million percent? “Ladies, this is Hana Fisher. Have you met her?”

“No,” they say in unison. Guess the texter is paying attention after all.

“She works here.” He touches the lower part of my back for a micro second. Electricity shoots through my spine. If he does it again, I may be paralyzed for life. “Jim is her dad.”

“Oh my god, you actually work here?” She covers her mouth with her hand. “Daddy doesn’t make me work at his track.”

The electricity in my spine turns to sheer hatred. I’m not some filthy minimum-wage employee – I am the owner’s daughter, and she is on my territory now.

“My daddy owns this track.” I mock her fairy princess tone. “I work for fun.”

Two whole seconds pass. I am desperate to see Ash’s reaction to our mini-staring contest but I can’t break eye contact with her to look at him.

“What can I get for ya, little lady?” Frank’s bald head pokes out of the window of the stand, saving me from her condescending glare.

“Two pickles please.” She hands him two dollars.

“Two pickly-pickled-pickles for two pretty pears,” he says. Frank’s nonsense breaks the thick air as he ducks back inside to retrieve the pickles. Most of the things Frank says doesn’t make any sense, but everyone loves him anyway. His favorite name for the track is MMXP – an acronym no one uses but him.

“So Ash.” The pickle-lover turns back to us. “Oak Creek would suit you better. Plus it’s only a few minutes away from my house.” She says the last part with a coy smile she passes off as innocence. Ash won’t fall for that, will he? I suck in my stomach a little, look up at him and try not to make a puppy face.

“I don’t know about that.” He jiggles the keys in his hand. “This track is very close to my house. And other things.”

He slides the keys into my pocket and gives her the quick head nod this time. “See ya around ladies. Frank, I want some nachos.”

Frank salutes him and flips on the nacho cheese warmer. The girls walk away, but I don’t turn to see if they look back at me. I just give Ash a sheepish grin, knowing I won that round. Frank whistles the tune of Yankee Doodle while he fills a plastic tray with chips.

Ash asks if I want anything to eat. I shake my head.

“Are you sure?” He looks down to meet my eyes. “Because I’ll be happy to get you your own nachos, but I’m not sharing mine. I’m starving.” Ash’s navy blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. My toes feel light every time we stand this close.

“No.” I wiggle my toes to give them feeling again. “It’s not even ten in the morning yet, you pig.” I poke his stomach with my finger to prove my point but it doesn’t jab into flesh, only muscle. Ash clenches a hand to his heart and gasps, pretending to be insulted.

Frank speaks up from inside the concession stand, giving us his two cents. He loves giving out unsolicited advice. “Shoot, honey you can have nachos any damn time of the day.” He leans out of the window and presents Ash with a hot tray of chips and melted imitation cheese product. Or, as I call it: Heaven.

As we walk through the pits, I recognize a silver Toyota and pull Ash over to say hi to Kasey and Lauren.

“Whoa, dude. You look so cute in normal clothes,” Kasey says. Lauren whistles at him. Unlike those trampy concession stand girls, Lauren isn’t threatening. She flirts with everyone.

They ask Ash why he isn’t racing. He shrugs and says it doesn’t feel right to be racing today. Lauren’s eyes fill up with tears. She wraps Ash in a bear hug. He towers over her small frame so he has to bend down to return her hug. Kasey hugs the other side of him and then puts an arm around me.

“We’ll get through this, guys,” Kasey says. “Everything is going to be okay.”

We’re almost at Ash’s truck when Marty announces through the PA system that the National Anthem is about to start. Ash puts his nachos behind his back, winks at me, and puts the other hand across his chest. We stop in the middle of the pits and face the American flag while Allyson steps onto the finish-line podium and sings.

Unlike Ryan’s massive truck, Ash’s Mazda is small and manageable. When I sit on the tailgate, my feet touch the ground. The races start. Ash is parked in a great spot that’s was close enough to see the track without going to the bleachers. Shelby joins us. “I need you to move over,” she says, giving me this mysterious look. I scoot over a few inches. “More, please.” I scoot over again, this time touching shoulders with Ash. “Perfect.” She smiles, pleased with herself. There are empty lawn chairs around us. She probably thinks she is torturing me by making me move closer to her brother, but I like it more than she knows.

The third moto comes and before I’m ready for it, Teig’s race is next. I squint in the sunlight to make out the number fourteen bike. He’s at the end of the gate; it must he his lucky day. Teig always wants the spot at the end because it is the best one for getting the holeshot. He lines up his bike in the slot, while Dad hovers over him giving him advice. Dad’s hands go up and down, mimicking the jumps and turns. Teig’s helmet bobs in reply.

The thirty-second girl runs out on the track, holding a huge board. When she holds it up, it means the race starts in thirty seconds. When she turns it sideways and runs off the track, it means get ready because the gate is about to drop.

She turns the sign sideways. My heart batters in my chest. Teig is a good rider. He’s way better than Shawn. But this isn’t a baby track, this is the real deal. It’s almost too exciting and terrifying to watch.

The gate drops.

“Your butt is ringing.” Ash nudges me with his shoulder.