Page 121 of On The Edge

“So, I hear you’re into racing.”

I glance over to the woman speaking to me. Her hair is dark and teased, her lipstick is dark pink, and her head is tilted to the side as she assesses me.

“Something like that,” I say and hold my hand out. “Cruz.”

She shakes it. “Aunt Becky.” Her smile widens, and she glances around before looking back at me. “So I’m thinking you should just say yes now and save me all the explaining.”

I laugh. “That’s a trap if ever I’ve heard one.”

“Damn. Did Sandy already get to you?”

I’m lost. “No. She didn’t.” I glance around. “Who’s Sandy?”

She claps her hands and all but bounces on her toes. “Perfect. Then you’ll be on Team Becky.”

“Is Team Becky a winning team?” I ask.

“It is now, sugar.” She hooks her arm through mine. “Let’s go. The races are going to start soon.”

I’ve raced a lot of things in my life. RC Cars. Bicycles. Karts. The gamut of Formula cars. But never, never, have I raced ride-on lawnmowers.

Yet here I am, a John Deere beneath me, my foot on the accelerator, and the whole mess of Harts screaming from the sidelines as I pull ahead of the other three lawnmowers on either side of me.

This is most definitely not the type of horsepower I’m used to. Not even close. But hell if it’s not the same adrenaline rush as I cross the makeshift finish line first and throw my hands in the air in victory.

Maddix rushes over to me, wraps her arms around my neck, and plants a huge kiss on my lips. One I’m desperate to take deeper with her body against mine and my hands on the thin cotton of her dress, but know I can’t.

No doubt Big Gavin is glaring at me from somewhere in this yard right now.

“You did it,” she says as she leans back and looks at me, her grin goofy and eyes alive. She takes one of my hands and thrusts it in the air before she shouts, “Hart Games Champion!”

All I can do is laugh at the ridiculousness of this before pulling her backwards on my lap on the lawnmower and wrapping my arms around her waist. “This is insane. You’re crazy,” I say.

“Yep.” She turns and plants a kiss on my cheek. “And that’s why you love me.”

She bounces up to go and hug a cousin or an aunt—or I don’t know the fuck who—but I’m left staring after her, responding to her comment.

“It is why,” I whisper. “One hundred percent why.”

The feeling stays with me long after the victory celebration has worn off—a paper crown and checkered flag-draped teddy bear as the trophy—until I walk into the garage attached to the house to take a bag of garbage out.

I startle when I’m halfway across the space and see Gavin standing there, his hands braced on the front of an old Ford pickup, his head dipped down. He looks over to me and nods.

“Sir.” It’s all I say because I may have been intermingled with his family all day, but he sure as hell kept his distance from me.

He stares at me, lips pursed, eyes still judging. “God, I love my family but there is only so much crazy a man can take in a day.”

I chuckle but don’t respond.

“It’s okay to agree. I won’t hold it against you. They’re all mine, and I find it overwhelming, so you must have your eyes crossed trying to remember who Aunt Becky is from Aunt Frankie.”

I smile. “It is a lot. But it’s not a bad thing. The love here . . . Christ, it’s a love fest.”

His smile widens as he looks back at the engine before nodding. “It is.”

I put the garbage in the bin and then walk a few steps toward him, a sense that this conversation isn’t over yet. Nor do I want it to be. “Sir?”

“She’s my little girl,” he says, and my feet quiet at the raw honesty in his voice. “She’s . . .”