Aiden isn’t wearing the helmet.
My stomach flips with worry.You should really put on the helmet, you could get a concussion.
Wait, what?
I don’t care if he gets a concussion! Then maybe he’ll be so angry he’ll finally leave town already!
The gun goes off and I startle, since I was staring so hard at his head of thick, black hair that I zoned out. The trucks take off in a blaze of sound and cheers and mud. Everywhere. Aiden seems shocked, frozen and…already sporting some mud on his face! Amazing.
He opens his truck door and climbs out, much to the disappointment of the crowd. He’s working his jaw, little bits of mud across his forehead and on his black shirt. And he…he’s stalking here. To me. I gulp and brace myself. He stops only when his thighs touch the front of my table. He looms, seeming about nine feet tall even though Google says he’s only six foot three.
“I get in that thing and try to drive it and you give me coffee,” he says, hands on his hips.
I…I don’t know what to say.
He inhales, exhales, then extends a hand, “I can’t win and I might actually injure myself but I’ll get in there and cross the field and you remove the ban.”
Slow and shaky, panting just as much as he is, I raise my hand to his. He clasps his fingers around mine and energy runs up my arm like a shock. My eyes go wide a bit, and his do too.
“Say you agree. Out loud,” He says, looking into my eyes with unnerving intensity.
It’s just coffee, man, geez.
“Yes,” I say, but I choke on the word.
He frowns, “Say you agree.”
“I agree!” I growl and pull my hand away.Bossy jerk.
But he closes his eyes for a beat, nods, and heads back to the lifted truck.
He gets in and yanks the helmet on. The motor is still running so he just has to put it in gear. He does, then tentatively tries to drive forward. He slides. The crowd goes wild. I can’t hear his voice but I can see his head shaking and bobbing like he’s yelling every curse word he knows.
Renaldo and Carl call out instructions from the sidelines. People start to chant Van-dy, Van-dy, thanks to Steven, I’m sure, and eventually, slowly, his truck moves. I kind of wish I could seehis face. I bet he’s so relieved to have moved forward about…one foot.
Carl is gesturing wildly and Aiden seems to nod at him before he starts to make progress. But the rig is open and progress means getting drenched. All those fancy clothes, once again covered in good ol’ New Jersey bog.
I smile.
He makes it across the field after an eternity. The townies, from here and Cedar Point and even Pine Bluff have laughed their faces off. I have too. He honked the horn. Threw his helmet off, at one point he went backwards.
You’re welcome for the entertainment, everyone.
“What’d you do to that man?” Tyrone startles me with his big booming voice suddenly in my booth. I frown up at him. He dips his chin and says, “Come on, Harper. Enough putting on. Dat man can fly in hot coffee from the city. Probably straight from Ethiopia if he wants! We both know this is not just about your coffee, eh?”
I stare out at the edge of the field where Aiden has climbed down, triumphant like he won the whole thing. He barely made it to the first race marker. Out of ten.
He waves at the crowd, not smiling. He looks even more angry than before when his black eyes scan down the side of the field then land on me. He fulfilled his end of the deal.
But if the deal isn’t actually about coffee, then what the heck is it about?!
CHAPTER 11
Aiden
All right, that was actually fun.
I’ll never admit it aloud to another living soul, of course, but it was.
