Page 42 of Fueled Fury

“You should.”

She laughs at my response, tilting her head like she’s waiting on a punch line. “Really?”

“Yes.”

She shakes her head, grabbing a fry off my plate as she shakes it at me. “You’re a trip. You went out of your way to stop me from racing, and now you’re encouraging me to enter?”

“You need to race.”

She drops the half-eaten fry on her plate as her palms flatten against the hard surface of the table. “For this date to go well, there’re two subjects we should avoid—racing and Eli.”

“Both subjects are sticking around whether we address them or not.”

“Yep. I know. But I’d like to eat in peace.”

Reaching across the table, I cover her hand with mine, thankful she doesn’t pull away from me. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything else.”

“Your dad’s charity race is this weekend.”

“Except that.”

“He asked me to tell you that if you want to come, he has a booth reserved.”

“Since when do you talk to my dad?”

Given her indignant look and the very steep ledge we’re already standing on, it’s best not to tell her the full story yet.

“He was worried about you.”

“Now he’s worried,” she says, removing her hand as she begins picking at her burger. “I don’t want to race.”

I nod, letting the subject drop for now. Unfortunately, I know all will soon swing back around in full force. The question is which off-limit topic will arise first and how many hits can we withstand.