Loving Lucas Read Free

temper.
    “Last chance to come peacefully,” he says. “If you don’t, you’ll never see the rest of your things again.”
    That makes her react and she drops her backpack on the ground, then covers her pretty face with both hands. I’m standing close enough to hear her take a deep breath, like she’s gasping for air. “Nothing is worth my self-respect, Connor. Nothing.”
    Good girl. Brave girl. If she’s anything like my ex-wife, being surrounded by her personal possessions is important. She gains more respect from me for making that sacrifice. Men and women are just hardwired differently. Women attach deep sentimental value to keepsakes and men just don’t give a shit.
    “Come on, Connor.” A guy steps up, slapping him on the back. “Let’s grab a beer.”
    Connor takes a last look at me, then at Karlie. It’s over for now, even our onlookers disperse.
    Once he disappears, the girls hug each other, then offer the bags to the guy who tried to intervene before I took over.
    He takes the luggage.
    “I’ll stash the bags and grab the cooler.”
    “I need a beer,” Karlie says. “Maybe two.”
    A few minutes after he leaves, Karlie and her friend exchange whispers, staring at me the whole time. I grin, crossing my arms over my chest. Not the first time I’ve been the subject of female gossip and it surely won’t be the last. Karlie’s friend gives her a smug look, then gently pushes her in my direction. “Do it,” she calls after her.
    Karlie approaches, her head bowed. “Thank you.”
    I want to gaze into those radiant eyes again, see the same fire I noticed before. “It was nothing,” I say. “Should have punched the bastard.”
    That makes her laugh. I get my wish when she looks up. “I’m Karlie.”
    “Lucas Lafontaine.” I offer my hand.
    When we shake, an electric current runs up my arm. I know she felt it too, because she quickly lets go. “I’ve never seen you here before.”
    “First night,” I say. “I just moved to Corpus three weeks ago, transferred from Lake Jackson. This track is closer than the one near San Antonio.”
    “What class do you race in?”
    “Vintage,” I say. “KR750 Flathead Harley-Davidson.”
    She smiles, flashing perfectly straight teeth. “Love those.”
    “You?” I ask.
    She blushes. “A little motocross and Powder Puff.”
    “They still call it that?” I rub my chin, wondering how female racers in the day and age of equality among the sexes tolerate that name.
    “This is an outlaw circuit, you know,” she informs me. “Not AMA—so yes, we still race Powder Puff.”
    “Any good?”
    “I’ve been told if I had as much skill as I do will, I’d be a world champion.”
    Her honesty is refreshing. “That’s a start,” I say, grinning. “Spirit is a big part of racing.”
    “Yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “If you’re part of the pep squad.”
    We both are chuckling when her friend joins us. “What planet are you from, Superman?” the friend asks.
    “Texas.”
    “That’s a relief,” she says. “Very few guys have ever stood up to that asshole. Thanks for having my girl’s back. I’m Marie Longoria.”
    “Lucas.”
    “Wanna beer?” she asks. “My boyfriend, Brandon, should be back in a second.”
    Beer and barbeque, the next best thing about racing. I nod. “Sure.”
    Brandon returns with a large white cooler and sets it on the ground, flipping the top open. He digs through the ice, pulling out a bottle of Budweiser, then tosses it to me. “Welcome to Seaside Extreme Sports.”
    I catch it and twist the top off, take a swig, then stare at Karlie. She’s intently watching me and I like it a little too much.
    This guy is too good to be true. Not only did he manhandle Connor, he makes me laugh. And I can’t stop staring at his perfect face and body. Oh. My. God. He dwarfs me—at least six foot three, shoulders as broad as a Viking’s, and his eyes are chocolate. But it’s his full lips that keep pulling me in—-the way they