I shrugged. “I’ve never been caught speeding.”
“What were you caught doing?”
What the hell? Was she flirting with me? Or was I just looking for possibilities? “I promise, officer. I’m innocent.”
She huffed a breath.
Kiss hollered from the serving window. “McKelle, your food is ready. So is yours, Ryatt.”
“I’ll get yours,” I said as I stood. “Do you want hot sauce?”
She nodded. “The hottest they have.”
I joined Kiss at the window. “Which one is McKelle’s?”
Kiss set an open cardboard box filled with food in my hands.
“All this is for her?” I glanced over my shoulder. McKelle was fit with a nice ass. No way could she eat all this. The box contained more food than I’d eat in an entire day. Not that I was starving anymore. I was just broke ass this week because I’d had to make my bike payment.
“Here’s yours.” She set a small white bag on top of the box.
“She wants hot sauce.”
Kiss dropped a few packets in with the food, then I carried the food back to the table, set the box in front of McKelle, and grabbed my bag from the top.
She dug into her wrappers. “This smells fabulous.” She unfolded the first yellow wrapper and drowned the taco in hot sauce. She noticed my small bag. “Is that all you got?”
“I’m not that hungry. I ate before the meeting.”
Brad went to the window for his and Georgia’s food, and Kiss returned with her box.
McKelle smiled at me with the taco halfway to her mouth. “So how fast?”
I grabbed a taco from my bag. “One-forty-ish for about ten seconds. I would love to see how fast I can take her, but I can’t risk the ticket.” Nor could I afford to fuck up my only way of making money.
She hummed a positive sound as she scarfed down more of her taco. Cheese, meat, and tomato fell from the soft tortilla. “You could bring her to the track.”
I rested my forearms against the edge of the picnic table. A shot of adrenaline, as if I’d mainlined it surged through my system. “Seriously?”
She nodded and started drowning taco number two. Hot sauce trickled along her pinky. She lifted her hand to her mouth, and her pink tongue—oh fuck, and it was pierced—slipped out from between her lips, licking the drip, then sucking her finger clean. “These are messy but so good.”
When my gaze refocused on her eyes, she smiled, knowing I’d stared. Good thing she couldn’t see inside my head because she’d see herself on her knees, my dick burning in hot sauce just to have her studded tongue run along my cock before she sucked it the way she’d sucked her finger.
“Totally serious,” she said about the track.
“When? Where? What do I need?”
She wiped her mouth on a napkin. “Next week. My dad is an organizer for Nitro Racing.”
“No shit?”
“No shit,” she repeated back to me with a smile. “They have track days at least twice a month. It runs about a hundred and fifty for the day. You’ll need gear, but my dad always has extra gear at the track.”
A hundred and fifty bucks? That wasn’t happening. “Sounds great. I’ll let you know if I can make it work.”
“Good. You’ll love it.” She wiped her fingers on a napkin, unlocked her phone, and handed it over. “Give me your contact information. We usually start about ten. I won’t be racing with you. I volunteer for track time at the end of the day.”
I jerked my gaze up to hers. “Oh, yeah?” I finished entering my number then handed her phone back.
