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“Yeah, that’s right. I’m Keaton,” I say, thrusting my hand toward him in greeting.
He glances down at my hand before looking back up at me and chuckling. He slides his hand into mine, and I note how much smoother they are than I would have thought. Odd. Didn’t most of these guys have calluses and crap from working on their cars?
“Deacon,” he responds before releasing my hand and settling back against the wall to scan the crowd.
He seems innocent enough. I stand next to him and adopt a similar pose, crossing my arms over my chest.
“So, who’s the guy to beat out here?” I ask, not sure what to expect.
“You mean other than your brother?” Deacon chuckles.
I snap my head in his direction, shocked. I always thought Eli was just bragging, maybe a bit too full of himself. I never really thought he'd be so good that others would believe so, too.
“He’s that good, huh?”
“You’ve never seen him race before?” Deacon asks incredulously.
I shake my head, waiting for him to continue.
“Well, he is. The guy is fast, and he’s difficult to beat,” he says, tilting his head from one side to the other in thought, “but if I had to put it down to two drivers?”
“Yeah?”
Deacon points somewhere out in front of us and I stare in that direction until my eyes land on a guy, smiling from ear to ear.
My heart stutters at how devastatingly handsome he is. His dark hair is just long enough to comb your fingers through. Even with his Aviators on, I just know he has the most brilliant eyes. There is no way you can look like that and not. It's against the rules. Even from here, I can see that he’s tall and broad-shouldered, his muscular torso tight under a white shirt.
“Who is that?” I breathe, and then clear my throat, hoping Deacon didn’t catch how enamored I sounded.
“Bodhi Kane,” he says, and I’m thankful he doesn’t call me out, but I can’t tear my eyes away.
“He’s good?” I duck my head to one side, trying to get a better look, but the crowd tightens up as the start of the race draws near.
“Uh, yeah,” Deacon chuckles.
“Why do you say it like that?” I turn to catch his amused expression.
“His family grew up in the racing industry. They founded Kane’s Racing, the company his dad owns and runs, and his older brother drives pro for. So yeah, he’s good.”
“Okay, but just because he grew up around racing doesn’t mean he’s automatically good at it,” I say. “My mom grew up in a predominantly Spanish-speaking household, and I don’t know more than a handful of phrases.”
"But if you wanted to, you would," he responds, shrugging. I guess he’s not wrong there.
“Okay, so he’s good,” I concede. “But better than Eli good, or just regular good?” I ask, watching as Bodhi talks to a guy around his age with long hair pulled back in a bun. Both are good looking, but there's something about Bodhi that makes my heart race.
Deacon laughs, nodding toward the line of cars pulling up to the starting line.
“See for yourself.”
I watch as Bodhi hops behind the wheel of a bright red car and joins the racers. The rev of engines echoes off the buildings around us and I can feel the vibrations through the souls of my shoes. I’m just able to see the car my brother is in when the race begins, and the group of cars takes off. Leaning forward, I watch until they are no longer visible.
“Wait, what do we do now? You can’t even see anyone,” I ask, turning back to Deacon.
“Wait. Place your bets. Hope your guy comes out on top,” he shrugs.
“I didn’t make a bet,” I say.
“You don’t have to.”
