Page 46 of Jackrabbit

Just enough for Colt’s brain to short-circuit, really, for his focus to narrow to that tone, that deep drawl, that firm pressure. “I’m jus—”

“Wired,” Beau finished. “Yeah, boy, I know. But I’m gonna need you to breathe. Race’ll start when the race starts.”

Absolutely unwilling to dislodge Beau’s han—and wasn’t that just a flavor of fucked up he needed to examine—Colt stayed perfectly still. “Right. I—yeah.”

“Better?” Beau asked after Colt’s shoulders dropped.

It was. Like the back of his neck was an off switch Beau’s hand was the key to. He was still buzzing, still needing to move, to use his hands, to do something. But he could breathe through it. It wasn’t trip-and-die urgent.

Beau’s hand lingered—or Colt’s wishful thinking imagined it did—for an extra second before he gave one more squeeze and let go. “Good boy. Now, let’s go load up the car. Boys’ve had it all morning. Gotta make sure they didn’t paint a pecker on the side or something.”

Colt let out a surprised bark of laughter and caught Beau’s gaze for what felt like the first time all week, trying to ignore the way his neck felt cold where Beau's hand had just been.

Those honey eyes were warm with Beau’s own smile, and Colt felt it in his toes. “If there’s a dick on my car, I’m strapping Liam to the roof when I drive.”

Humming, Beau led the way toward the shop door. “You know damn well it would be Xavier and James who cooked that up. No room for both of them on your roof.”

“Point,” Colt said as he pulled open the shop door.

“Ay, Speedy!” James called across the shop. He waved a dirty rag like a race flag from his spot on a rolling stool in front of a torn-apart crankshaft. Precision stuff was James’s specialty, but that mess was going to cost someone a pretty penny. “You ready?”

Xavier rolled out from under a car. “Nah, man. He’s losing his shit.”

“Because he hasn’t seen the sweet fucking job we did on Dijon,” Liam piped in from the sink at the back of the shop. He turned off the tap and dried his hands.

“The car’s name isn’tDijon,” Colt sighed, but he was grinning. “What did you do to her?”

“You’ll see,” Liam sing-songed.

“She’s out back with Camila,” James offered as Xavier pulled himself fully out from under the car and to his feet. “You guys ready to load her up?”

“Yeah,” Beau said. “Mila have the keys?”

Liam nodded. “Yep.”

“Well, lead the way.” Colt bounced once on his toes as the others started walking toward the back door of the garage, the one that led to the back parking lot meant for the employees and long-term customer storage.

Camila was standing next to a car covered in a beige tarp, already out of her coveralls and texting away on her phone. She glanced up at Colt and smiled as they approached.

“Hey, babe.” She waved her phone in the air as she walked over to stand next to him. “Mami and Papi just texted back that they’ll be there tonight. Ma’s bringing you food.”

“Tell Mami my coach won’t let me eat anything but whole foods on race day.” He shot Beau a grin. “And that I’ll take it home and annihilate it at midnight anyway.”

At Beau’s exasperated eye roll, Colt’s grin widened. “What? It’s not race day anymore at midnight!”

“Okay, come on.” Xavier shoulder checked Colt as he moved past them toward the tarp. “I wanna get home and change sometime this century.”

“You’re just excited,” James said as he walked past them, too. “It’s cute.”

“Fuck off.”

“Children,” Liam, the youngest, sighed. He stepped up to the tarp too, and grabbed it. “Ready?”

Colt nodded, bouncing on his toes, and the three other guys yanked the tarp off the car. It fluttered to the ground in a puff of dust.

The car was still that ugly-ass yellow. They weren’t a bodywork shop, and no one had the time to repaint a whole ass car after hours anyway. But the boys had added racing stripes that covered up almost all of the oxidation, the missing fender had been replaced with a black one, and the headlights were gleaming in the afternoon sun.

When Colt moved to the driver’s side, he sucked in a breath and stared.