California Nights (Rich Boys of California Duet 1)

But unofficially, it was the start of the racing season. And if I won, it would be put me on the map. Not to mention some nice money in my pocket.

And I almost always won.

I was distracted tonight though.

By her.

I’d spent the day working on the girl’s crappy old car. Frannie. Jesus, what a woman. Funny, sweet, shy as hell. Not at all the stuck up rich bitch I’d thought she was.

Never mind that she looked like a Playboy Bunny.

On steroids.

I still couldn’t get over the fact that she thought no one ever hit on her. She must not pick up on it. Or she has a mafia don for a father.

Not that that would stop me.

I glanced at my phone, resting on the passenger seat. I’d texted her earlier. Ostensibly about the car, but really I just wanted to know if she was okay. If she needed anything.

Like maybe she needed me to come over and fuck her.

I snorted. Fat chance of that. This girl had standards. I was going to have to woo her a bit. That was fine with me. I was more than willing to put in the time to get into her panties.

I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what they looked like.

White. Cotton. Little pink bow at the top.

I’d bet my bike on it.

I grinned at the thought.

Hopefully she’d text me back and we could get the damn ball rolling. As soon as fucking possible.

Either way, I planned to tell her I wanted to see her again. In person. Soon.

Really fucking soon.

Around me the cars were starting to line up. I glanced to the left and the right. It was almost time.

My fingers tensed imperceptibly. My stomach tightened. My foot hovered closer and closer to the pedal.

The shot rang out and I was off. First out of twenty cars making the loop around the old loading yard. I could feel someone coming out on the outside and I lurched forward with an extra burst of power.

I shifted gears into the straightaway, picking up as much speed as I could. It was dangerous as fuck to take a turn at top speed. But I always did.

It was the only way to win.

I started the turn, leaning my whole body into it.

As the lights of the finish line came into view, I knew I had won.

Cheers erupted all around me as I screeched to a halt.

The door was opened from outside and I saw Clyde and Flannery staring at me with shit eating grins. I slid out of the car and was immediately swallowed up by a crowd of people. Girls were shrieking as they pressed up against me.

Here we go again.

Hot rod races were a beacon for girls on the prowl, even at local meet ups like this. It was kind of a pain in the ass sometimes, to tell the truth. It had been years since I took a metal betty up on the offer of a quickie. It was just not satisfying after the first few times. After the novelty wore off, I’d felt cheaper than they probably did.

Still, I was sort of a local celebrity. And if they needed something to make them feel special, I didn’t begrudge them that. It just wasn’t going to be me that made them feel that way.

So I just smiled and nodded as I made my way to the table where I could pick up my prize money. The crowd started to dissipate as I handed my uncle his keys and half the money.

I walked over to my bike, checking my phone again.

Nothing.

God damn it.

I looked up and cursed. Out loud this time.

A girl was straddling my ride.

I didn’t like anybody touching my ride, even if she was a hot girl.

I knew that objectively she was hot. I just couldn’t see it because she was so fucking annoying. Long blond hair, on the gaunt side of skinny, with big fake breasts. Her lips looked like they’d been altered too. Big and poofy.

She looked like a porn star.

I know a lot of guys liked the plastic look but I did not.

The thought of the hot little redhead sitting on my bike clouded the image of the girl in front of me.

Now Frannie was a real woman. Soft and curvy and touchable. Even better than her gorgeous lips were her eyes. Because when you looked into them, you could see that she had a brain.

And a soul.

Unlike Shannon fucking Rogers.

Yeah, I knew her. She was always hanging around. A lot of people considered Shannon the unofficial prize for winning.

That was her thing. She put out a lot. But she only liked winners.

She was either easy or impossible. Too bad she had a thing for me. I had no interest in someone who’d been passed around that much. I never had.