arm.
“Don’t worry at all, Mr. Fisher.” Natalie gives me a coy wink. “I’ll take really good care of Mr. Adams.”
Chapter 3
The deep rumble of a 450f drowns out all other sounds as Jason Howard keeps the throttle pinned, soaring around the corner of the motocross track. I check the timer in my hand and wave at him when he turns back around, his neon yellow helmet facing me.
“Ja- SON !” I yell victoriously, cupping my hands to my mouth. The kid is only fourteen years old and he’s been riding less than a year. He’s a quick learner, that’s for sure.
Jason rides back through the side of the track, stopping the bike in front of me. The motor rumbles as he pulls off his goggles and unfastens his helmet.
“How’d I do?” he asks, his chest heaving up and down.
“You out of breath?” I ask, slapping him on the shoulder. “Looks like someone needs to do more cardio.”
“Aw, man ,” he groans, setting his helmet on the dirt bike’s gas tank. “Don’t make me do it today.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Too late. I already promised your mom we’d hit the track.”
“How about we just hit this track?” he says, pointing down at the dirt below us.
“Sorry.” I fold my arms across my chest, not looking the least bit apologetic. “I promised your mom you’d run five miles today. Apparently she’s pissed at how many late night video game sessions you’ve had lately.”
“This is bullshit,” Jason says, kicking at the ground.
“Sorry, man.” I pat him on the back. “You’ll thank me later when you’re kicking ass at the regionals.”
The running track isn’t so much of a track as it is a stretch of field on the far east side of Mixon Motocross Park. I started jogging it when I first took the job here and now the grass is worn down. Two laps is a half of a mile and the parents of the kids I train seem to think it’s an awesome idea to include workouts in our training regimen. It’s no joke though, racing a dirt bike is hard as hell.
Which is why I grab a bottle of water and start running with Jason. It’s scorching hot but the ache in my legs feels amazing after a few days of being lazy. I pick up my pace and run up behind Jason as he lags along on the track as if he has all the time in the world.
“Hey man, gotta run faster,” I call out as I reach him.
He wipes sweat off his forehead. “I’m running as hard as I can.”
“It doesn’t have to be hard,” I say, smiling. “Just relax and take it one step at a time.”
“Damn,” Jason says, as we turn around the fake running track and start heading toward the main office. He sounds more enthusiastic than he has all day. “Who’s that hottie?”
“Huh?” I look up and find Natalie walking toward us carrying two bottles of water. There’s a massive smile on her face and a bounce in her step that has to be incredibly hard to maintain. Is she walking like that on purpose?
Jason sighs. “She has amazing boobs.”
“I think she’s trying a little too hard,” I say as we slow to a walk.
Jason snorts. “Please tell me you’re joking. There’s no such thing as a girl trying too hard.”
I give him a sideways glance. I’d tell him exactly what I think about him making a statement like that, but I can’t because Natalie breaks into a scamper and rushes up to us, holding out the bottles of water in front of her. It only makes her boobs squish together more.
“Hey guys!” She smiles and her teeth are impossibly white. They pretty much sparkle as much as that silver shit on top of her eyelids. “I brought you some water.” She makes this weird laughing sound. “It’s crazy hot out here.”
“It’s hotter than usual for April,” I say, taking the bottle she offers and handing her my empty one.
“What’s up?” Jason asks, throwing his head back and trying to act way older than he actually is.
“Oh not much,” Natalie says, flipping her golden hair behind her shoulders. She grabs
“Don’t worry at all, Mr. Fisher.” Natalie gives me a coy wink. “I’ll take really good care of Mr. Adams.”
Chapter 3
The deep rumble of a 450f drowns out all other sounds as Jason Howard keeps the throttle pinned, soaring around the corner of the motocross track. I check the timer in my hand and wave at him when he turns back around, his neon yellow helmet facing me.
“Ja- SON !” I yell victoriously, cupping my hands to my mouth. The kid is only fourteen years old and he’s been riding less than a year. He’s a quick learner, that’s for sure.
Jason rides back through the side of the track, stopping the bike in front of me. The motor rumbles as he pulls off his goggles and unfastens his helmet.
“How’d I do?” he asks, his chest heaving up and down.
“You out of breath?” I ask, slapping him on the shoulder. “Looks like someone needs to do more cardio.”
“Aw, man ,” he groans, setting his helmet on the dirt bike’s gas tank. “Don’t make me do it today.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Too late. I already promised your mom we’d hit the track.”
“How about we just hit this track?” he says, pointing down at the dirt below us.
“Sorry.” I fold my arms across my chest, not looking the least bit apologetic. “I promised your mom you’d run five miles today. Apparently she’s pissed at how many late night video game sessions you’ve had lately.”
“This is bullshit,” Jason says, kicking at the ground.
“Sorry, man.” I pat him on the back. “You’ll thank me later when you’re kicking ass at the regionals.”
The running track isn’t so much of a track as it is a stretch of field on the far east side of Mixon Motocross Park. I started jogging it when I first took the job here and now the grass is worn down. Two laps is a half of a mile and the parents of the kids I train seem to think it’s an awesome idea to include workouts in our training regimen. It’s no joke though, racing a dirt bike is hard as hell.
Which is why I grab a bottle of water and start running with Jason. It’s scorching hot but the ache in my legs feels amazing after a few days of being lazy. I pick up my pace and run up behind Jason as he lags along on the track as if he has all the time in the world.
“Hey man, gotta run faster,” I call out as I reach him.
He wipes sweat off his forehead. “I’m running as hard as I can.”
“It doesn’t have to be hard,” I say, smiling. “Just relax and take it one step at a time.”
“Damn,” Jason says, as we turn around the fake running track and start heading toward the main office. He sounds more enthusiastic than he has all day. “Who’s that hottie?”
“Huh?” I look up and find Natalie walking toward us carrying two bottles of water. There’s a massive smile on her face and a bounce in her step that has to be incredibly hard to maintain. Is she walking like that on purpose?
Jason sighs. “She has amazing boobs.”
“I think she’s trying a little too hard,” I say as we slow to a walk.
Jason snorts. “Please tell me you’re joking. There’s no such thing as a girl trying too hard.”
I give him a sideways glance. I’d tell him exactly what I think about him making a statement like that, but I can’t because Natalie breaks into a scamper and rushes up to us, holding out the bottles of water in front of her. It only makes her boobs squish together more.
“Hey guys!” She smiles and her teeth are impossibly white. They pretty much sparkle as much as that silver shit on top of her eyelids. “I brought you some water.” She makes this weird laughing sound. “It’s crazy hot out here.”
“It’s hotter than usual for April,” I say, taking the bottle she offers and handing her my empty one.
“What’s up?” Jason asks, throwing his head back and trying to act way older than he actually is.
“Oh not much,” Natalie says, flipping her golden hair behind her shoulders. She grabs
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