Madoc was looking at me, and I knew Jax was waiting for a reaction, but this was none of their business. I wanted Tate forever, but first I needed to get her back. Why the hell would she say yes now?
Jax cleared his throat. “You two have loved each other the longest,” he said softly. “Doesn’t seem right that you’ll be the last to get married.”
My eyes shot up, locking with his in the mirror. “What?” I blurted out.
“You little shit.” Madoc twisted his head, regarding Jax with shock.
The last to get married? Meaning . . .
Jax’s eyes dropped to his lap, and I’d never seen him so vulnerable. “I can’t sleep without her next to me,” he almost whispered about Juliet. “I love coming home and smelling her cooking. Seeing how warm she makes the house.” He still wasn’t looking at either of us, and my chest felt tight.
“She gives me everything,” he continued, looking up at both of us. “I want to give her my name. I’m going to ask her.”
“When?” Madoc asked, and I was surprised he could talk, because I was still trying to wrap my head around it.
Jax was going to ask Juliet to marry him.
“After Zack’s bachelor party on Friday,” he answered. “I’m guessing that after she becomes my fiancée, going to strip clubs will probably be on my list of don’ts.”
Shit. The bachelor party. The one I wasn’t planning on attending, since I didn’t think I’d be in town.
I’d forgotten about that.
Zack, Jax’s partner at the Loop, who helped run races, had been engaged for as long as I’d known him. Finally ready to take the leap, he’d sent out a mass e-mail, inviting every guy in town over the age of twenty-one to Wicked, a high-end club about a half hour away.
I was surprised Fallon and Juliet were letting them go at all. Well, not Fallon, actually. She never struck me as the jealous type.
I gave a casual glance behind me, trying to hide the doubt I was feeling. Not that my brother wouldn’t make a good husband or Juliet a good wife, but he was still only twenty-one.
“Jax,” I started. “Are you sure—”
“Hey,” Madoc cut in. “What the hell?” He peered out through my open driver’s side window.
I followed his gaze, my eyebrows instantly pinching together.
What the . . . ?
Tate pulled up on my side in her G8, with Fallon riding shotgun, and Juliet and Pasha in the back.
She sat in her seat, looking comfortable and casual, and I shook my head at her, because she was in the oncoming lane.
“You’re in the wrong lane!” I shouted to Fallon’s closed window.
She stuck her hand behind her ear, mouthing, What? and then turned to Tate, both of them smiling.
“What the hell are they doing?” Jax sat up, resting his arms over the front seat.
I glanced ahead, noticing the stop sign, and shot out my foot, coming to a screeching halt.
Shit.
Tate stopped, too, and she and Fallon bounced forward with the sudden movement.
I darted my head out. “Roll down your window!” I shouted, shifting my gaze past the stop sign to watch for oncoming cars.
Was she trying to get them all hurt?
Tate’s mouth curled in amusement, but Fallon was full-on smiling as she rolled down the window.
“Where are you guys going?” Madoc shouted before I had a chance.
“Doesn’t matter.” Fallon shrugged. “We’ll be going too fast for you to follow.”
My eyes widened, while Madoc and Jax laughed, feigning insult. “Ohhhh.”
Madoc nudged my arm. “They’re talking shit, Jared,” he egged me on, and I bit back the smile as I felt the rush in my muscles.
Stepping out of the car—since the street was dead anyway—I walked to Tate’s car and leaned down to Fallon’s window.
“Is that a challenge?” I asked Tate.
She shook her head, trying to brush me off. “I wouldn’t waste my time,” she taunted. “I’ve already beaten you once.”
I smiled, arching an eyebrow. “Have you?” I jabbed back, insinuating that I’d let her win our one and only race four years ago.
Her face fell, turning stern with pursed lips, as she focused back on the road, revving the engine.
I walked back to my car, laughing under my breath. “Put on your seat belts,” I ordered Madoc and Jax as I climbed in and buckled up myself.
Madoc quickly grabbed for his seat belt, his breath shaky with amusement. I revved the engine, seeing Tate eye me as she did the same. I loved the look of mischief on her face.
“Guys,” Jax inched out. “The cops look the other way for like five minutes on Saturday nights when my crew does this, but—”
“You have your seat belt on?” Madoc interrupted, yelling through my window to Fallon. “Get it on!” he ordered his wife.
“You, too.” I heard Jax shout and turned to see Juliet saluting him. “Shit,” he cursed behind me, and I knew he hated what was about to happen.
Madoc tuned the iPod to M?tley Crüe’s “Girls, Girls, Girls,” and I looked at him.
He shrugged, looking innocent. “Don’t look at me. It’s on your iPod, man.”
I rolled my eyes, not willing to explain that I wasn’t the one loading music onto it. Pasha liked to mess with me. Every once in a while, a Britney Spears or Lady Gaga song wound up tucked between a Slipknot and a Korn song.
Regardless, I jacked up the volume and turned down the air-conditioning. The heat outside kept me irritable and alert. A lesson I’d learned over the past two years.
I heard “Blow Me Away” by Breaking Benjamin spilling out of Tate’s speakers, and I looked over, shaking my head and unable to hide the smile.
“You ready?” I shouted.
“You sure?” she shot back.
Little . . . Did she forget that I did this for a living?
“Right on Main, go through two stop lights,” I dared her, “and the first one back to the houses wins,” I told her.
Without hesitation, she nodded.
“Ready!” Madoc shouted, and Tate and I both revved our engines again and again, looking at each other, my foot getting heavier by the second.
“Set!” Madoc called again, and Fallon’s excitement overcame her as her arm smacked the outside of her door over and over again.