Page 104 of Jackrabbit

“You alive, Rourke?” James asked as he jogged over with the others on his heels. Beau guided Colt over, and James must have gotten the message because he took Colt’s other elbow and helped hold him up while Beau went to the truck. “You look like shit.”

Colt laughed. “Better than you on your best day, Price.”

James sighed. “Yeah, true.”

Camila came up on his other side, the one with all the bruises, but she didn’t touch him. Always so observant. “You alright?”

“Might die, but at least I won.” Colt grinned at her. “I love you.”

“You’re delirious.” She kissed his shoulder anyway. “Love you, too. Mami texted. She’s pissed she didn’t come, but she says she’s proud of you.”

A bottle appeared in his line of sight, and Beau knocked it against his shoulder.

“Thanks.” He took the bottle and sipped, the grapefruit possibly the best thing he'd ever tasted after drying out like a saladito in the heat of the car.

By the time they were calling him to the podium, he felt a lot less like he was going to fall right off it onto his ass. The crowd was a screaming mess, but they parted for his crew, who formed a sort of shield around him so no one jostled his ribs.

He was joined on the podium by #22, a woman in her late 30s with blonde hair down to her ass. Third place was someone he'd never seen, car #34 from Phoenix, a guy Colt’s age who looked pissed about his place.

“Good race,” the woman murmured to him while they waved and smiled at the crowd. “Almost had you on that last lap.”

Colt laughed, and his bruises told him to cut that shit out. “You wish.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “You're gonna dominate this track, aren't you?”

The woman smiled wider, pretty and warm, her eyes like a viper. “As soon as some hotshot kid leaves for the big leagues.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “I'm Pearla.”

“Colt.” His eyes scanned the crowd as the announcer started his spiel, passing his crew and a hundred reporters until he found a pair of warm honey eyes already on him.

Fuck, he was gorgeous. Standing with his arms crossed and leaning against a light post, all broad and tan andColt’s—at least for four months.

“You win this race, you can have whatever you want.”

Colt shivered. He was gonna collect on that. With interest. Some of his thoughts must have shown in his grin, because Beau raised both eyebrows at him.

Colt winked.

Pearla followed his gaze. “Your coach is a fox.” She wiggled her fingers at him, and Beau nodded. “He single? I've got some friends who wouldloveto meet him.”

“Nope.” Colt shook his head. “Very taken. Tame fox.”

“Pity.”

After Colt collected his stupidly massive check and trophy, he didn't get to leave. There were pictures, short interviews, handshake after handshake after handshake—Colt was all for attention, but he kinda wanted to fall into a hole by the time the night was over.

The crew had gone home at least an hour ago, waving at him—James and Liam—and blowing kisses—Xavier and Camila—over the crowd of flashing cameras before heading to the parking lot. He'd lost sight of Beau at least thirty minutes before that.

“That was some impressive driving, Mr. Rourke,” a reporter was saying while Colt looked for Beau again, his foot bouncing, fingers tapping against his thigh. “We all thought you were going out when you drove into that smoke. How'd you know you could get through?”

“My coach.” Colt looked back at the fifth reporter he'd spoken to since coming off the podium, a kid young enough to look like an intern. “He was on the spotter stand guiding me through.”

“That's…” The reporter shook his head. “I can't imagine the trust that takes. You didn't even lift.”

Colt finally spotted Beau, walking toward him with a look that said ‘we're done with this shit.’ Grinning, Colt turned to the reporter again.

“He knows what I need before even I do.” He saw Beau getting closer from the corner of his eye, right in hearing distance. “I know he'll always take care of me, get me where I need to go.”

Beau’s stride stuttered just enough for Colt to know he'd heard, and then he was walking right up to Colt and the reporter.

“Come on. We're done for the night,” he said, like the reporter wasn't there at all, and the kid’s face went incredibly red, probably embarrassed about how easily he’d been dismissed. Amazing.