Her laughter broke through his reverie, and he realized she’d gunned her engine and was speeding ahead.
Fuck.
He put the gas pedal to the floor, swerving around the other go-karts, until he was on her tail. Every time he tried to pass her, she veered into his path. She lifted one hand, flipping him off, and he laughed. His girl was definitely coming back, and nothing could make him happier.
When they climbed out of their go-karts, there was an announcement about the park closing soon. Billie strutted over and hooked her arm through his, hanging on him as they headed away from the ride. “Guess you’ve lost your touch after all these years, Whiskey.”
“Don’t kid yourself. I was just distracted.”
“Mm-hm. Distracted.” She giggled. “Can we grab a corn dog on the way out? I’m starved, and they have the best corn dogs.”
“I’ve got a corn dog you can eat.”
“Real smooth, Casanova.” She bumped him with her body, grinning like she couldn’t stop, and damn that looked good on her. “This has been the greatest day. Thanks for pushing me to have some fun.”
“Want to have some more?” He waggled his brows.
“You’re always pushing the envelope.”
“Darlin’, I push limits, not envelopes. I’ve got something to show you when we get back home.”
“Is it in your pants?”
He arched a brow. “Do you want it to be?”
“Shut up.” She tugged him toward a corn dog stand near the exit, giving him a playful look as she spoke to the vendor. “I’ll take the biggest one you’ve got, and he’ll take the littlest.”
What’re you up to, Mancini?
She pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of her back pocket.
“Put your money away, Mancini. You’re my date today.” He paid the vendor, and as they headed for the truck, she took a bite of the corn dog, moaning like it was the best thing she’d ever had. The sensual sound seared through him, and he ate half his corn dog in one bite. She did it again, and he stopped in his tracks, uttering a curse.
“What’s wrong?” She licked the top of the corn dog, making another appreciative sound.
He glowered at her. “If you don’t stop that shit, you’re going to get yourself in trouble.” He ate the rest of his corn dog in one bite and started walking again.
“Wha—” Her eyes widened like she hadn’t realized what she was doing to him, but that look of surprise quickly morphed into a challenge. “Who doesn’t love a thick, salty corn dog?” She ran her tongue along the length of what was left.
He gritted his teeth as they neared the truck.
Amusement rose in her eyes, and she held his gaze, lowering her mouth over it, moaning louder. Her eyes closed, and she ran her hand down her chest, her nipples pressing against her tight T-shirt as she moved the remaining corn dog in and out of her mouth.
Fuck this. He grabbed her by the arms, pinning her against his truck. Laughter fell from her lips as he ripped the corn dog from her hand. “Buckle up, baby girl, because Big Daddy Dare don’t play.”
“Big Daddy my butt, you weirdo.” She laughed.
“That’s not what you said that night you were all over me. I believe it was Oh, Dare, you’re so big.”
“I lied.” She smirked.
Nice try, darlin’, but your beautiful eyes betray you. Holding her gaze, he slid his tongue around the edge of her corn dog, then flicked the center fast and continuously as he ground his hips against her. She felt so fucking good, and he knew she loved it, too, because desire simmered in her eyes, and she swallowed hard. He pressed his chest to hers, growling in her ear, “You like teeth and tongue, Mancini? Because I know how much you like fingers.”
“I like it all,” she said haughtily. “But I prefer battery-operated boyfriends who don’t talk back.” She flashed a victorious grin.
He’d waited so long to see her happy and to feel the connection he craved like a drug, the combination was like an aphrodisiac. He felt her heart beating faster, almost as strong as the electricity zinging between them. Her lips were a breath away, her gorgeous eyes gazing hungrily, trustingly up at him. His entire being ached to kiss her. But he’d only just gotten her back, and he didn’t want to fuck this up, so he fought the urge, gritting out, “Lucky for you, I consider toys teammates, not competition.”
Her eyes flamed, and a nervous laugh bubbled out.
Ah, my girl likes that idea.
In the next breath, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t get your hopes up, Whiskey.”
“I don’t know, Mancini. Two hot singles and the night is young. Get your fine ass in my truck. We’ve got places to go.”
Chapter Six
THEY DIDN’T GET back to Hope Valley until almost nine thirty. Billie couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun, but she was glad it was dark out, because her nerves were rattled, and she didn’t want eagle-eyed Dare to notice. What the hell was she thinking, flirting with him? She’d stuck to her guns for six long years, maintaining distance to keep her guilt—and their ridiculously powerful connection—at bay, and in one afternoon she’d blown it. This was one of the reasons she’d shut him out of her life. She’d been an adrenaline junkie since she was a little girl, and Dare made her feel like she could do anything. He was her ever-enticing racetrack, and their explosive energy fueled every ounce of her—her brain, her desires, her heart. When they were together, her senses were sharper, her drive and determination stronger, and her happiness was off the charts, even when he was being a stubborn ass. She knew she could be just as annoying to him. They were made of the same grit.
Except Eddie’s death had proved they had their differences.
She’d tried to bury her adrenaline-seeking self, while Dare had found new limits to push. He’d immediately begun training for death-defying motorcycle stunts: jumping over buses and riding the Wall of Death. Dare had jumped over five buses, and from what Billie had heard, he was training to jump over more. The Wall of Death was just as treacherous—driving along the vertical, wooden-planked wall of a barrel-shaped cylinder at high speeds, parallel to the ground. In both stunts, the slightest error in judgment could end in serious injury or death, and Dare wanted to beat every existing record. Most people rode the Wall of Death at about forty miles per hour for carnival shows and entertainment. But that wasn’t limit-pushing enough for Dare. He’d wanted to beat the reigning champ, who reached speeds of seventy-eight miles per hour. Dare had gone to the UK to train with the best in the field, and three years ago he’d gone to the Sturgis Buffalo Chip and had beaten the world record. Billie had thought she’d shut down her feelings for Dare back then, but she’d felt like she hadn’t taken a single breath while he’d been training and had nearly lost her mind when he’d gone to Sturgis. The fact that her feelings for him were unshakable had made her even more determined to keep her distance.
And now here she was, sitting in his truck wearing the cowboy hat he’d left on his seat, thinking of him flicking that damned corn dog with his tongue as he turned off the main road and into Redemption Ranch.