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The site causes an image of her in this very kitchen, barefoot and much more round, to flash through my head, and I’m stunned nearly still. I have no idea what this woman is doing to me.
“If we’re going to do this, we better get out there.”
I take an absurd amount of time to rid the thought of pregnant Keaton from my mind, but I finally managed to get my shit together.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Don’t worry about this stuff, I’ll clean it later,” I say, tossing my used napkin down on my plate.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind helping,” she says, already closing pizza boxes and stacking them neatly.
“No, no. You’re a guest. Don’t even worry about it.” I wave away her concern.
She holds her hands up and surrender, “All right, if you say so.”
“I do,” I say.
“All right then. Do you mind if I use your restroom before we head out?”
“Oh no, go ahead. It’s just down that hall,” I point behind her, “first door on the right.”
“Okay, thanks, I’ll be just a minute.”
She slides down off the bar stool, and I watch as she walks away. Her hips sway only slightly, but it still manages to hold my attention. Scrubbing my fingers through my hair, I blow out a deep breath after hearing the bathroom door snick shut.
Keaton and I race for a couple of hours before I hop in the car with her and have her head back up to the flat top to attempt that turn she missed the other day. She obliges me but misses every time. I try giving her a few pointers without sounding too pushy, but she still can’t keep the ass end of the car inside the cones.
“It’s okay, you’ll get it with some practice,” I say, not wanting to piss her off.
“Yeah, I guess. I’ve just never had a reason to drift like that before,” she explains, putting the car in park as we face the setting sun.
“Not many people do,” I shrug.
“True.”
She’s silent for a moment as she stares out the window, the bright pinks and oranges casting a neon glow over her already bronze skin. I see the moment she notices me watching her. Her posture stiffens slightly, now aware of my eyes taking her in. She swallows hard and shifts in her seat.
“This is the second day in a row I get to watch the sunset,” she says.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, I don’t really have a lot of time to just sit and relax these days,” she admits.
“Me either.”
“It’s nice.” she says.
“It is. The company’s not so bad, either.” I don’t hide the meaning my words have when I look in her eyes, and I can’t be sure if it’s just the wash of colors staining her cheeks, or if I’ve actually managed to make her blush.
“You know,” she says, reaching out and smoothing her hands over the steering wheel, “I never actually thought I’d enjoy racing as much as I do.”
“Why’s that?” I turn in my seat and give her my attention, surprised that this woman might actually open up to me a little more tonight.
“I used to be a cheerleader in high school. A real girly-girl. I had started going to cosmetology school after I graduated and wanted to style hair for a living. But then when everything with Eli happened, I knew I had to step up.”
I stay silent as she trails her fingertips over the steering wheel, letting her work through the story in her mind.
“Our dad died when I was little. Heart attack. My mom did everything she could to make sure my brother and I were taken care of. And then she got sick, and it was our turn to take care of her.”
Keaton’s eyes become shiny with unshed tears, and I fight the urge to reach out and comfort her, afraid of spooking her and ruining the moment.
