“Look, do what you’ve gotta do, man. I’ll stand behind you whatever you decide and for whatever your reasons but …” His voice trails off as my shoulders droop under the weight of the guilt I carry around with me like a second skin.

“But what?” I ask even though I already know the answer. “You’re siding with Ben on this?” Fuck, if that’s the case, I know he’s serious.

“No, man, just siding with simple logic. We’ve all worked so damn hard for this…. It’s all we’ve eaten, slept, or drank for the last ten years. To have Hunter almost lose it for us once and now possibly fuck it up when we’re finally making a name for ourselves?” His voice breaks for a moment and I know there’s more coming, know he has something else he wants to say and in typical Vince fashion is taking his sweet ass time getting to it. “I get and don’t get all at the same time your loyalty to your brother, but fuck, man, what about your loyalty to us? To everything we have riding on you? What about letting us down?”

And of course he went in for the kill with that line.

“Yeah, no pressure or anything. Thanks,” I say quietly, having no one to blame but myself for the drama swirling around me. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window and hate the person I see because once again, Hunter is getting exactly what he wants at my expense: big brother protecting little brother at all costs.

I just happen to think that this cost might break the bank in all senses of the meaning.

We’re both quiet as I try to figure out my next step, my next chord, the next lyric in my life’s song.

“Well, the bright side is that you’ll be on a college campus, which means tons of fresh-faced college coeds for you to take your pick from, lure in with your pretty-boy smile, and then corrupt with your fucked-up ways.” He turns to look at me for the first time and I see the plea in his eyes for me to do this, to take the offer to lecture. Throw the band a fucking bone when they’ve put their money on me while I’m busy trying to use mine to save my brother. “We missed this rite of passage being on the road so much, might as well take advantage of it while you can, right?”

When I run a hand through my hair, I catch a glimpse of the tattoo on the inside of my wrist. A treble clef and an okodee. My ever-present reminder of where I came from and what I need to do to get where I want to go.

If I’m honest with myself, I already know what I’m going to do despite the reluctance and my irritation at having a decision to even make.

If I thought it would fool him, I’d put on my stage face to convince him of my absolute certainty about going forward with this but we’ve been friends for way too long and have been through way too much shit together for me to pull one over on him. I infuse enthusiasm in my voice anyway.

Fake it until you make it. Sounds about fucking par for the course to me.

“I do love the classy, intelligent type,” I murmur.

“Who the fuck are you kidding?” Vince says, relief in his voice since he knows my comment is my way of telling him I’m going to do it. Sell myself to save everyone else. “If they have a pussy, they’re your type.”

I can’t fight the smile on my face. “True but dude, give me some credit here. You make me sound like I’ll play with any kitty that wants to be petted.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk of amusement on his lips. “This being said from the ringmaster of his own three-ring Cirque du Pussy.”

“You’re so wrong.” I laugh at our long-running joke about lead singers and their inherent draw for female fans. And thank fuck I’m on the lucky end of that deal. I’d best be happy that doing this seminar will keep me on the other end of the microphone instead of the wrong end of a jail cell. I roll my shoulders and feel the weight of the decision I’ve made begin to lessen some as the idea settles. Shaking my head, I walk back to the chair beside him and just stand there as I meet his eyes. I never doubt my decisions so I’m not quite sure why I’m doing it now.

“This is the right thing to do, right?” And I’m not sure if I’m talking about covering for Hunter or agreeing to do the seminar when I throw out the question, but he doesn’t ask. He just nods his head with unwavering support when he reads the turmoil in my eyes.

“Prison or pussy? Sounds like an easy decision if you ask me.”



Chapter 1


QUINLAN

“Whoever thought to put a race in wine country sure as hell knew what they were doing.” I take a sip of wine and glance over to meet my sister-in-law Rylee’s amused gaze.

“They did indeed,” she agrees, a laugh falling from her lips that sounds slightly on the giggly side, making me believe she’s riding the road to tipsy right beside me.

I lean my head back to appreciate the unprecedented cool breeze in the Sonoma valley mixed with the sun’s warmth on my face. It’s a welcome feeling compared to the endless hours in the classroom that wait for me in the coming weeks. Fluorescent lights, tedious hours researching for my dissertation, and the always draining sessions where I fulfill my teaching assistant duties loom on my mental calendar.

So I enjoy this, appreciate the downtime to spend with my family here at Colton’s race before I return to the crazy schedule of my graduate studies. An engine hums in the distance, the reverberation vibrating in my chest and the wine in my glass, as it approaches our location.

I lift my head back up just in time to see Rylee’s head snap to the left when my brother’s car moves past pit row, easing with a skilled finesse around the road course where we’re currently sitting in the infield. Her relaxed features immediately pull tight as she watches Colton’s open-wheel Indy car navigate the turns of the course until he goes out of sight again.

“Still worry you?” I ask her although I know the answer since the sight of him in the car makes my heart pound with anxiety despite the amount of times I’ve sat and watched him. Because regardless of how many times he’s crossed the finish line safe and sound, it’s the one time he didn’t that still holds my heart hostage. The crash when we almost lost him.

“Yes and no,” she says, a soft smile spreading on her lips, the love for my pain-in-the-ass brother evident there. “Yes because of the nature of what he does. The speed he goes. No because he loves it. I can’t tell him not to do what he’s so passionate about.”

And it’s as simple as that. Incredible that he found someone who could handle his flaws and soften all his hard edges.

Someday. Way far off I’ll find a person like that … but romance is not on my current horizon.

“You deserve a medal for putting up with his shit,” I tease her, our long-running joke causing her to laugh again.

“He has his merits,” she teases in return, her words reinforcing the affectionate smile on her lips and love written across her face. “So what about you? How’s things in the man department?”

I roll my eyes with a sigh. “I’ve written off men for a while.”

She snorts out a laugh. “Uh-huh.” She looks over her wineglass, eyebrows raised, eyes telling me to talk.

“I’m the furthest thing from a doormat—”

“You can say that again!” She laughs.

I just shake my head, wondering why if that’s the reaction I get from her, why does every man I choose treat me like one. “It’s just too much work, honestly. You know me—I want some fun. I want some good sex. I just don’t think the cliché ‘happily ever after’ is for me.”

“Well, sometimes, right in the middle of everyday life, love gives you a fairy tale when you least expect it.” Of course she thinks that way after the way her courtship with my brother has turned out.

But she’s not me.

“I doubt it in my case,” I say, “but I’ve been kissing a whole helluva lot of frogs if it is.” My mind flickers to my last few boyfriends and how I’ve been completely blindsided by the shit they’ve pulled. It’s almost as if the easier sex is to get, the harder love is to find for me.

“Well, I guess I’m not one to give advice since I was told to have some wild, reckless sex with a guy and look where that landed me.” She smiles as she holds up her hand and wiggles her ring finger, the diamond reflecting the sun and sending prisms sparkling all around us.

Our laughter is drowned out as Colton loops back around the track. The noise of the engine fades, and I’m just about to speak when I hear someone knock on the door of our observation booth.

“Well, if it isn’t Quinlan Westin.” The voice sends a slight thrill mixed with irritation through me.

I meet Ry’s eyes briefly, and her lips fight to hold back the knowing smile as she stands. She’s heard some of the heated discussions between Colton and me over Luke and his determination to take me out. She’s even intervened a few times to explain that just because they competed for the same girl way back when doesn’t make him a bad guy. Her comments fell on deaf, testosterone-plugged ears.

“Hey, Luke,” she says, tone void of any kind of hospitality. “I was just going to find my glass slipper. Excuse me.” The expression in her gaze tells me she’s escaping to save herself the drama that will ensue when Colton finds out he sought us out.

Smart lady.

I on the other hand couldn’t care less what Colton thinks of Luke Mason because I have my own opinions. I’m just still trying to figure out what they are but, hell, if his persistence isn’t admirable in trying to get a date from his arch-nemesis’s baby sister.

He must have balls the size of cantaloupes walking in here and purposely poking the sleeping bear. I have to give him some credit though—he never fails to find me at the track, never neglects to ask one more time even though he knows the answer is going to be a resounding no.

As I turn to face him I can’t help the hitch of my breath at the sight of him leaning against the doorjamb, black and silver fire suit unzipped and sleeves tied around his waist. The plain white T-shirt he wears is that perfect combination of not too tight and not too loose to give just the right hint of the corded muscles underneath. Can’t say the man doesn’t wear clothing well.

And I’m sure when they’re off he wears what’s beneath even better. Too bad I won’t be finding out.

“Well, if it isn’t Luke Mason,” I mimic him. A slow, lopsided grin spreads across his face, and as All-American, boy-next-door handsome as he is, nothing stirs inside me. Hell yes he’s as good-looking as they come but something that pretty needs a bit of a rough edge to him to attract me, and all I see and hear from him are smooth lines.

He takes one step into the room and both of our eyes reflect the appreciation for our mutual attraction. “Gorgeous as ever.” He says the words like he’s testing them, trying to sense if this time around my interest is piqued more than with his numerous other attempts.

“Thank you but the answer is still no.” I say it with a smile, but I might as well head this off at the pass. No need to beat around the bush when he’s going to get there eventually.

He chokes out a laugh, his reaction causing my smile to widen. “Pretty presumptuous when I don’t believe I asked you anything.”

“Just because you didn’t speak doesn’t mean you weren’t asking with your eyes.” I raise my eyebrows at him, my own eyes speaking for me as well.

He shakes his head very subtly, and exasperation resonates in his sigh. “Good to know you think so highly of yourself that you think I’ll keep coming back for your punishment.” His smirk tells me he’s joking but there’s still the question in his eyes. “Well, now that that’s out of the way,” he says, leaning his shoulder on the wall beside where I sit, “how are you doing, Q?”

I shot him down, again, and he’s standing here like a champ. The optimism is commendable. “I’m good and you? How’s the car running?”

He looks out toward Colton’s car as it approaches and passes by once again, speaking when the noise of the engine abates into the distance. “Fast,” he muses. “Fast enough to beat him.”

I snort and raise my eyebrows. “Luke, I do believe you just insulted my brother.”

“Not in the least darling.” He winks at me and normally that would creep me out but for some reason it’s charming on him. “If I were to insult your brother, you’d most definitely know it from my word choice alone….”

“So noted,” I say, our eyes continuing the flirtation without words, and I find myself questioning why even though he’s attractive, the chemistry is a few beakers short of the right formula for anything to reach combustion. I sigh, knowing he’s waiting to see where I go with this conversation so I figure, fuck it, might as well. “How’s your girlfriend doing?”