t's a five-minute ride from the track to Mojack's. Tyler apparently has money to burn, because he swaps his Motocross bike for a Harley he keeps in the parking lot.

I follow his lead, zipping after him down winding country lanes. It's the first time I've really had the chance to explore, and I find myself enjoying our ride.

The sun has already set, so the sky is now the color of liquid blue ink. It wasn't often I'd stare at the stars back in Arizona, but then the sky was never as clear as this. I can see every twinkling light, glaring at me from millions of miles away. It's strange to think most of them have already died out, that what I am looking at is a snapshot in time; a memory.

We park up outside a typical looking biker bar. The outside isn't much to look at, but the inside is a little more lively, with dark wooden walls, red sconce lamps, and several pool tables inserted between the tables. Tyler leads me over to a booth, where he slips into the seat opposite. The table between us is tiny, so when he leans forward and rests his arms on the top, he's practically touching me.

"Don't they ask for ID here?" I ask.

The corner of his mouth lifts. "No, but we're not drinking tonight, anyway."

He hands me the leather menu, which is slightly sticky, and I open it up. The food is what I'd expected, a thousand different ways to cook meat: burgers, ribs, steaks–the list is endless.

A pretty waitress comes over and smiles at Tyler as though she knows him. "Hey, Ty. Been a while."

He nods and says, "Hey, Whitney."

"You ready to order?" She says it to him, but Tyler nods his head at me.

Reluctantly, the waitress turns. I end up ordering a coke, cheeseburger, and fries while Tyler orders the same. With one last smile, she heads into the back to grab our drinks.

Finally, curiosity gets the better of me. "What are we doing here?"

Tyler cocks an eyebrow and gestures to the menu. "Eating."

"You could have bet on anything. This place isn't exactly expensive, so you're not looking for a free meal. Why the dinner?"

He smirks and says, "Maybe I find you interesting."

I raise an eyebrow. He's obviously used to charming women; it's clear he's had the practice. "You don't even know me."

He leans back in his chair, his eyes still on mine. "Maybe that's why, then."

I suppress a smile and study him. He looks good under the dimly lit sconce lamps. His tanned skin looks browner, and his dark eyes are more of a honey color in the light. If he wasn't forbidding me from racing in the evenings, I might actually consider him attractive.

"You still thinking about competing?" he asks.

"Why wouldn't I be? You think one race would scare me off?"

His eyebrow arches. "Did it?"

I'm saved from having to answer when the waitress comes back with our drinks. The second she leaves, I say, "I'm still competing. Alex is helping me train."

I've caught his attention. He leans forward over the table, and I notice his eyes are now black. "Why?"

I shrug. "She thinks I have what it takes to compete in the tournament. She wants to help me."

He smirks and shakes his head. "That girl is a Judas if I ever saw one."

The bite to his tone is unmistakable. I lean in closer and say, "What's with you two? She an ex, or something?"

"An ex I'd be able to get rid of," he says, looking at his knuckles. I notice they are bumpy and littered with scars. "Her I'm stuck with. She's my sister."

I can't keep the surprise off my face. I should have known, really; the family resemblance is clear. "I take it you don't get along."

He ignores my question and asks, "You got any siblings?"

"I'm an only child."

He smiles and looks up. "That explains it, then."

"Explains what?"

"Nothing, sirenita."

I frown. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

He looks at me like I should already know the answer. "It means little mermaid."

Now I'm offended. "Have you even seen The Little Mermaid? She's pasty with red hair."

He laughs, and it's a deep, warm laugh that flutters in my stomach. "Not that one, the other one."

"What other one?"

"The dark-haired mermaid that Ursula turns into."

"Vanessa?"

His grin lengthens, revealing those perfect white teeth. "I don't know her name, but sure."

It's so ridiculous that I can't help but smile. "If you say so. How long have you been racing, anyway?"

"Since I could walk, more or less."

"Ever hurt yourself?"

He peels off his jacket and rests his arm on the table. It's brown and muscled, covered in a sleeve of black tattoos. He points to a scar that starts at his wrist and goes all the way up to his forearm. "First scar I ever got from falling off my bike."

It's impressive. I pull my hair to one side and expose my neck, revealing the scar just behind my ear. "Bled so much, my mom thought I'd cracked my head open."

"Stitches?"

"Three. you?"

"Twelve."

Something electric passes between us. The waitress comes over, placing our burgers on the table before asking if we'd like anything else. Tyler asks for some hot sauce, and she gives him a flirtatious smile.

"Anything for you," she says, hurrying into the back. She comes back several seconds later with different tubs of sauces before placing them in front of him.

He smiles and says, "Thanks," and she moves onto another table.

I shake my head. "You've really got this town on lock, haven't you?"

He grins and grabs one of his fries. "My family have this town on lock. I'm just along for the ride."

"And what do your family do, exactly?"

His eyes darken briefly. "What do you think?"

"Race."

He nods and drops his voice an octave. "Some towns have football or baseball. This town has racing. It's in our blood."

"So, you're treated like a king for being able to race?" I say. "If I'd known we got special treatment, maybe I'd have moved here a long time ago."

He takes another fry from his plate. "Not just any racer. Evening members of Parkwood's race track–the best in town."

"That why you're afraid to let me race in the evenings?" I ask. "You don't want me to be a part of your club? Or are you worried I might end up being better than you?"

He laughs and runs a hand over his jaw. "I thought I had a big ego, but you're something else." He must notice the determined look on my face, because he adds, "Look, it's better if you don't race."

"Better for who?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Everyone."

I put down my fries and look at him properly. Now is my chance to rectify the mistake that was this bet. If I can convince him to let me race in the evenings, I still have a chance at winning this thing. "Forget about the rules and the bet. Let me race."

He traps my legs between his own, and I can't tell if it's an accident. "You going back on our bet?"

"No," I say. "I'm trying to get you to see the lack of logic in it."

The muscles in his jaw contract. He looks away briefly before looking back. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Probably not."

He nods like he'd predicted this answer, then leans forward. "I have a better idea. A loophole." He must realize he's caught my attention because he smirks. "What if I train you? You still get to compete with the best, just not in the evening circuit."

I study him for a moment too long. "Why would you help me?"

His eyes don't leave my face. They are dark, intense, and utterly unreadable. "I have my reasons. Do you want my help or not?"

Something about the look in his eyes tells me this is a bad idea, that he's not doing this out of the goodness of his heart, but for some ulterior motive. Despite this, the idea of being trained by Tyler himself is far too tempting. Racing in the evenings wouldn't matter, because I'll already be racing with the best. It's my one shot at being ready in time; am I willing to give that up?

"How do I know this isn't your way of sabotaging me?" I ask.

He shrugs and leans back in his booth. "Guess you'll just have to trust me."

I let a moment of silence pass. "I'll train with you," I say, eating another fry. "That doesn't mean I'll trust you."

The corner of his mouth lifts. "Fine with me."

I nod and we get back to finishing our meal, but it's hard with this knot in my stomach. Something feels off, like I've just sold my soul to Parkwood's own devil, but it's too late to back out now.

❤️