The Girl with my Heart (Summer Unplugged #8) (10 page)

Bayleigh answers her phone on the third ring. “Hello?” Her voice fills the entire cab of my truck as I talk to her through the Bluetooth connection.

“Hey there,” I say as I back out of my parking spot at Mixon Motocross Park for the very last time. “What’s up?”

There’s some shuffling on the line and what sounds like her switching the phone to her other ear. “Just finishing up my packing. Jett’s being a little angel, by the way. I gave him the TV remote control so now he thinks I’m the coolest mom ever.”

I smile because that kid loves his remotes. I can’t wait to see him when I get home. Now I’m finally going to get home before he’s half asleep. “Did you say packing?” I ask as I turn onto the highway. “What are you packing for?”

“Are you serious?” Bayleigh uses her exasperated mom voice. “Please tell me that was a joke.”

“Wha—” I begin. And then it hits me.

With all the drama of quitting my job and my preoccupation of starting the new business with Park, I kind of completely spaced on what’s happening this weekend. “Damn. You have that thing.”

She sighs and I can practically see her shaking her head in my mind. She must think I’m the most forgetful idiot on the planet. “Yes, babe. We’re going to my mom’s this weekend. I specifically planned it because you have those clients all day Saturday and Sunday.”

I groan as I stare at the road ahead. The clients that are scheduled this weekend are some of Mr. Fisher’s friends. So yeah, he can be the one to break the bad news to them that their trainer just walked off the job. I don’t really care. I can’t find it in me to feel bad for being so unprofessional when Mr. Fisher has brought that girl back into our workplace. It’s bullshit and I’m fighting it with more bullshit.

I don’t regret a thing.

“What’s that sound?” Bayleigh asks. “Are you driving?”

“Yeah I’m headed home.”

“Why?” she asks, quickly followed with, “Aww babe! You came to say goodbye, huh? And you’re acting like you forgot. That’s sweet.”

“Yeah about that…” I say quickly in my joking voice that usually makes her smile. “I’m actually not that great of a husband because I totally forgot you were leaving this weekend.”

“What on earth would make you forget about that?” She asks. There’s more shuffling on the other end of the line. “Just last night you were bitching about how you’re going to miss making out with me for forty-eight hours.”

I turn my truck into the parking lot and pull up in front of our apartment. “Come outside so I can see your gorgeous face.”

“You’re such a dork,” she says, but I can tell she’s smiling.

Bayleigh meets me at the door to our apartment and I grab her face and pull her to me, kissing her. Her boobs brush against my chest and instantly I’m hard.

“So what’s up?” she asks, pulling away and letting her hands trail down my arms.

I flash her an evil grin. “I quit my job.”

“What?” she asks, her arched eyebrows sliding up her forehead. “But I thought you needed a couple of months to get everything situated.”

“I do,” I say, biting my bottom lip.

“Then what happened?”

“He hired Natalie back to work in the office.” I shrug my shoulders and hold up my hands. “I had no choice. I can’t possibly be around that bitch anymore.”

My wife’s face softens and her smile turns into an adoring gaze. She grabs my hand and pulls me into our apartment, then wraps her arms around my waist, resting her face on my chest. “I love you so much. You’re seriously the best husband ever.”

“You’re not pissed that I quit?” I ask.

She shakes her head while still holding on to me. “We’ll be fine.”

“Of course we will,” I say, letting my hands slide down her back and grip her perfect, perfect ass. “We’re perfect for each other.”

“Okay are you ever not turned on?” she asks playfully.

I shake my head. “Just when I’m not around you.”

“So what are you going to do this weekend?” she asks, ignoring my suggestive eyebrow wiggle. “You can come with us but Mom has mani pedi appointments for us so you’ll probably be bored.”

I dip my head and kiss her collarbone right in the place where I know it’ll give her chills. Satisfaction rolls through me when I see the prickles on her skin. “I’ll just stay here and meet up with Park,” I whisper, letting my lips graze her ear. “I’ll see if we can get a jump start on some of this business stuff since now I’m jobless.”

She sighs softly, closing her eyes when I bring my hands up the front of her chest, my fingers lightly tracing the wire in her bra. “That sounds like…a…plan…” she breathes, her hand grabbing my bicep when I kiss her neck again.

“Where’s Jett?” I whisper.

“Sleeping,” she whispers back.

“So do you wanna..?” I say, meeting her sultry gaze with one of my own.

She nods eagerly. “Yes. Oh my god, yes.”

In a surge of job-quitting enthusiasm, I swoop down and hook my arm under Bayleigh’s knees, pulling her off her feet and into my arms. She squeals and holds on tightly to my neck as I walk us down the hallway and into our bedroom.

I turn around, still cradling her in my arms. “Can you get the door?” I whisper.

She releases one hand from my neck and reaches over, gently pushing the door closed. All sex is quiet sex when you have a baby sleeping down the hall. I walk her over to our bed and then drop her quickly.

She hits the bed and bounces a little. “How can you throw me around like I’m a little kid?” she asks, out of breath.

I shrug. “Because you weigh the same as a little kid?”

She rolls her eyes in an exceptionally dramatic way. “You’re just trying to win me over with statements like that. With
lies
like that.”

I shake my head and pull my shirt off, tossing it to the floor. “I don’t have to win you over, sweetheart. You’re already won over.”

She sits up on her elbows in the middle of the bed, watching me as I unbutton my jeans. I slide the zipper down then let the pants fall to the floor, where I step out of them. She’s still watching me. I gesture toward her. “Your turn.”

“You’re not naked yet,” she says, a devilish smile playing on her lips.

I glance down at my black boxers. “I’m way more naked than you.”

“Is that so?” she says, peering at me over playful eyes.

“Mhm,” I murmur, dropping my hands on either side of her legs on the bed. I bring my knees up onto the mattress and then crawl up the length of her body until I’m hovering over her lips.

She leans into my kiss, her nails trailing up and down my back. “I’m tired,” she says. “You should do the hard work for me.”

“Oh, is that so?” I whisper as I lean back on my heels and slide my hands up her shirt.

She nods.

“You don’t look very tired.” I pull her shirt up and she raises her arms to let me take it off. I toss it to the floor and then lean forward. Her bra is pink with sparkly polka dots on it and it fastens in the front. I let my fingers slide down the skin just above the cups of her bra until I get to the very center where the clasp, pink with rhinestones, is just begging me to unhook it. I pop it loose and slide her bra off.

“Now we’re almost equal,” she whispers. Her hands slide up my chest and then back down again, stopping just at the waistband of my boxers. Such a tease.

I pull back, sliding my hands over her breasts and down to her shorts. There are no buttons or zippers, just an elastic band with even more sparkly decorations around it. I slip my fingers under the elastic and pull it down to her knees. She wiggles and lets me slide them off of her and I love how eager she gets when I undress her. I almost want to take my time to drive her crazy.

But then that’d drive me crazy.

She must be thinking the same thing I am, because she slips off her panties in world record time and throws them across the room. “Hurry,” she says, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me in for a kiss.

“Why the rush?” I ask between kissing her. Her nails dig into my shoulders and I grind into her just to be mean and tease her.

She whimpers and reaches down to my boxers, trying to pull them off. But I am too tall and her arms are too short. She tries to squirm down but I hold her still with my lips pressed to hers. I rest my weight on one arm and slide the other one up her belly and over her breast.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper, leaning down and taking her nipple into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around and then pull way. “Are your arms too short to get me naked?”

She glares at me but she can’t hide her smile. “I’m going to hurt you,” she says, shuddering when I flick my tongue across her nipple again. “Stop making me wait.”

“But I
love
making you wait,” I say, grinding into her again. She jerks her head to the side, eyes closed while she squirms underneath my hips. I slide out of my boxers and press into her and she arches her back, begging for more.

“Maybe we should go slower,” I whisper against her neck.

Her nails dig into my back and she shakes her head. “No way. I need you now.” I thrust into her and she gasps, then grips me tighter. “Stop being slow,” she breathes.

I smile. “As you wish.”

The soul-shaking pleasure of making love to my wife changes as soon as she’s out the door. All of that former ecstasy comes crashing down, forming a pit of depression right in the center of my chest. She’s gone and she’ll stay gone for forty-eight hours and although I was kind of joking earlier…how the hell am I supposed to survive being away from those lips and that perfect ass and that super sarcastic grin she always gives me?

I take a nap shortly after Bayleigh and Jett head to her mom’s house and when I wake up it’s only seven in the evening and I’m bored and lonely in this apartment all by myself.

I think about ordering a pizza but then I’d only end up bored and full of pizza but still alone. With no other options for dinner in the house, I head back into my bedroom and dig my phone out of the pocket in my pants on the floor.

Park sounds surprised when he answers the phone. “What’s up, man?” Loud music and some kind of clashing sound comes from his end of the phone.

“You want to hang out?”

“I thought you were busy this weekend.”

“Not anymore. I quit.”

“No shit?” Park laughs. “How’d Bayleigh take that?”

“She’s cool with it,” I say. “Are you doing anything fun tonight?”

“Not really, but I think we should definitely go celebrate your newfound job freedom.”

“Sounds good,” I say. I know what Park’s definition of celebrating is and I haven’t really been drunk since the baby was born. Maybe it’ll be good for me, help knock off the edge of being unemployed and missing Bay. “Where are you?”

“C&C BMX Park in Lawson. Come on over.”

Or I guess we could ride bikes instead. I tell him I’ll be there soon and then I hurry to get dressed, eager to get out of this empty apartment.

Some kid with reddish hair and arms full of tattoos greets me at the front desk of C&C BMX Park. Well,
greets
is an overstatement. He stands behind the front desk, playing on Facebook and not-so-subtlety taking selfies with his phone perched in his hand. He nods once at me when I walk up to the desk.

“You need to rent a bike?” he asks, using his obviously very smart brain to realize that I’m here without one.

“Nah, I’m just here for Park,” I say, looking for him in the vast wooden BMX park behind the desk. I tap on the counter. “I’ll just go find him.”

I find Park pedaling a hot pink Mongoose down the biggest half-pipe in the facility. He does a backflip into a pit of foam blocks and I walk over and wait for him to crawl out, dragging the bike behind him.

“Your form was off,” I say, fist bumping him.

“Hey man,” he says, a little winded and very sweaty. “You wanna hit up Big Max’s?”

Big Max’s is the only local bar that’s more of a pool hall and place for younger people to hang out and make fools of themselves. The only other bars in the area are full of old ass country guys. Plus Big Max doesn’t card anyway. Even Bay can get in there without being carded, but she’s not a fan of the place because it’s so full of smoke and idiotic college guys.

But a beer sounds great. I just walked off a good job with an even better salary and my girl and son are gone for the weekend. Beer is exactly what I need. I nod. “Let’s go. First round’s on me.”

The bar off county road two forty-nine can only be described as redneck and hipster and I realize that both of those words aren’t usually used together. Big Max’s is built inside of an old refurbished barn, a massive blue structure. There’s fields all around and tons of gravel-paved parking. There’s a lake in the back and a massive bonfire that’s always roaring. Big hay bales are used as chairs and massive wooden spindles are used as tables.

There’s a local country band playing on the stage in the corner of the room and they’re doing an actually decent cover of an old Johnny Cash song. Park and I are about two steps inside the barn when a girl in a camouflage mini dress pops up to us in her rhinestone sandals.

“Are you Nolan Park and Jace Adams?” she asks. Her eyes are sparkling as much as the fruity drink in her hand.

“Yeah,” Park says with a smirk. “I’m the handsome one.”

She grins even wider and turns back to where three similarly dressed girls stand around watching us. She nods and waves them over. “We’re huge motocross fans,” she explains as the other girls approach us, looking as star struck as if they’re standing in front of Jay-Z or some shit. It’s actually kind of cool, but I play it off like it’s no big deal.

Because the truth is, I’m not really a big deal any more.

“Hi,” one of the girls says, and I smile back at her noting that the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes must make her at least ten years older than the rest of them. There’s a chorus of awkward hellos, all of which Park seems to love, and then the big question. The one that always appears in situations like this.

“Can we maybe, like, take a picture with you?”

“Fuck yeah you can,” Park says. He slides into the middle of the four women, throwing his arms over all of their shoulders at once. Someone hands me a cell phone opened to the camera. “Make me look hot,” he tells me. I roll my eyes and snap the photo. The flash is on and it makes a few other women look over at us, their gazes scrutinizing, probably thinking that they’ve seen us somewhere before.

This part of Texas is huge in motocross because there’s three different race tracks within an hour from each other. That sounds a little far away but most of the country isn’t so lucky. Many kids come to Texas for the summer to train because their closest motocross track is a day’s drive away. So in a town like this where just about every teenage boy rides a dirt bike or wants to ride one, people know who we are. We’re those pseudo-famous California boys.

Park was actually in the X-Games last year so I’m surprised when the girls know my name as well. Someone buys us a drink and we all take a shot together. Eventually, Park manages to wrap up his conversations about how awesome he is and we head over to the bar to order a beer. I managed to be in only one photo with all four of the girls. If that ends up on Facebook it won’t bother Bayleigh too much. She’s actually gotten pretty cool with it, probably because she knows I can’t stop people from coming up to me. These girls don’t matter. The only girl who matters is at her mom’s house right now.

Only the second I hop up on a barstool, a blonde with impossibly white hair slides up onto the stool next to me. “Hey there,” she says, and she exudes more confidence than women in the movies. Like, really?

“Hello,” I say back, just to be nice. Then I look back over at Park to my right. He orders two beers and I slide my credit card across the reclaimed wooden bar. “Start a tab, please,” I tell the bartender. He nods, his cowboy hat casting a shadow over his forehead.

The woman orders a martini with extra olives and leans over to me. “It’s nice of you to share the spotlight with your friend.”

I look over at her, taking a sip from my beer. “What spotlight?”

“Don’t be modest. Everyone knows the famous Jace Adams frequents this bar.”

I snort. Frequents? I haven’t been here in months. People are annoying. I lean back in my stool, giving her a view of Park. “Have you met Nolan Park?”

She slides her hand out, across the open air in front of me and shakes his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Nolan,” she purrs. “I’m Jess.”

“You a motocross fan?” Park asks.

“You could say that,” she says with a little shrug. “My little brother is Marc Preston.”

“Damn,” Park says, nodding in appreciation.

“I trained that kid,” I say, realizing my beer is empty. I slide it across the bar and the bartender hands me a new one almost instantly.

Jess nods. “Yep. I’ve seen you out at the track a million times.” She makes a little pouty face. “Guess you don’t remember me.”

“I’d remember you,” Park says between chugging another beer. He sets the glass back on the counter. “But I have a girlfriend.”

She smiles and steps off the barstool. “Well you gentlemen have a good night, okay?”

Relief washes over me. I don’t want to be a dick but I also have no desire to hold meaningless conversations with random girls. “Tell Marc I said hey.”

She nods. “Will do. Nice meeting you, Park.”

Park nods to her and waves down the bartender. “Two shots of whiskey,” he says.

“Man you can’t drink liquor after beer,” I say, nodding appreciatively to a second bartender who refills my mug. I probably shouldn’t be drinking so much so quickly but I’m in need of a casual buzz to take away the annoyance of the last twenty-four hours.

It feels so foreign and weird and terrifying to know that I don’t have a job to go back to tomorrow. I tip the mug and drink half of it at once.

Park slides a shot glass over to me. “Don’t be a pansy. We’ve had our share of drinking our asses off in Cali. I know you can handle it.”

I smile and down the whiskey with him. “Next one’s on me,” I say.

And so we take another shot.

And then another.

My beer is empty and then it is refilled.

My heart aches for Bay, wishing she was sitting on the barstool next to me, with her soft smile and her hair that always smells amazing and that little playful eye roll she gives me when I tell her she should get a little drunker because she gets turned on when she’s drunk and it’s the hottest thing ever.

Park nudges me on the shoulder and I look up at him. “What’s going on with you, man? You look like your dog just died.”

I shrug, playing with the cold mug handle in my hand. “I miss Bay.”

“Oh my
goddd
,” he groans, throwing his head back. “Barkeep!” Park spins his finger in a circle, motioning to the area in front of us. “Another round, please. Actually, make it two.”

Two shots later, I’m feeling a whole lot better. And a little dizzy. But I still miss Bay. I take out my cell phone to tell her that, but the damn screen has a lock on it. I press the zero and the eight and the zero and the nine. But nothing happens. It just tells me no and keeps the numbers on the screen, demanding the right password. I know I remember it.

I squint at the glowing screen in this hazy, smoke-filled bar. I try the password again, but my thumb is all over the place, pushing too many numbers and making too many wrong tries. My phone locks me out for fifteen minutes. Fuck.

I slide it back in my pocket. “My phone hates me,” I say, noting that my voice is slurred and very unlike me. It’s deeper, slower.

I look over at my best friend, thoughts of asking him to use his phone floating around in my mind, mixing with the alcohol. The band plays louder, songs I know and songs I don’t know. It’s really loud in here.

“Hey,” I think I say, but Park’s back still faces me. He’s turned around, talking to someone else. He’s not paying attention. He can’t even hear me anyhow. “Hey, man.”

Nothing. I sigh. Another beer slides across the counter and I take it and drink it, just for something to do. Warmth fills my chest, covering over the hole that’s been torn in my heart ever since Bayleigh went to her mom’s. It’s just two days and I should be able to handle it. But I can’t. I miss her. I’m not the party guy anymore. I don’t even like this.

Camera flashes go off and Park swings around, throwing an arm over my shoulders. “Smile!” he says, and I do. Someone takes a picture with us. A girl puts an arm around my shoulder and another girl squats down in front of us to get in the picture. There’s camera flashes and girls switch out places so that they can get in the photo. I hold my smile, trying to look interested in being here. I don’t want to be a dick. I’m not that kind of guy.

Park says something when they leave but the music is too loud and I’m too damn drunk so I just nod as a reply and hope that’s a good enough answer for him. He laughs and checks his phone.

An older guy walks behind the bar. He’s probably the boss because suddenly all of the workers stand a little straighter and pay a little more attention. The guy is greying and has shoulder length hair and kind of looks like a child molester. He reminds me of Mr. Fisher—not because they resemble each other in any way—but because he’s a boss and Mr. Fisher was my boss. Up until a couple of hours ago.

How could he do this to me? I was an amazing employee who brought a lot of clients to the park. I made it legitimate. I was a pro racer and I taught at his track. Anger builds up in my chest, spreading out through my veins, threatening to take control. He chose that bitch over me. The threat of a lawsuit scared him away, made him retreat and hire back someone who isn’t even a decent employee.

He could have fought it, tried something else. He could have at least asked me if I was okay with it. If I had any ideas. Instead he stabbed me in the back.

I grip my mug so hard my knuckles turn white. I lift the glass and chug the rest of the beer, then slam it down on the counter. I look over to Park, wanting to tell him that we should go home or at least go get some food or something. He’s not there.

Fuck.

I draw in a deep breath. My head is spinning but I kind of want another beer. When the bartender quits flirting with that ugly chick at the end of the bar, I’ll flag him over here and ask for another one. Fuck it, I’ll drink enough to make me sleep until my wife comes home.