Supercross Me (Motocross Me #2) by Cheyanne Young

Author:Cheyanne Young [Young, Cheyanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01CV5EBPQ
Published: 2016-04-25T23:00:00+00:00

*

Even though Ash has only been home for a week and a half, it feels like months since I last hung out with Shelby. She’s made attempts to get me to come over, but I know Ash is there, and that is so not happening. I don’t want to see him all broken up. I don’t want to feel sorry for him or tell him I hope he gets better. That’s his new girlfriend’s job, not mine.

After that one day of epic bad decision making, I haven’t been back online at all. I haven’t checked Ash’s social media profiles or even my own. I just don’t care. I can’t risk seeing something I don’t want to see anymore. Maybe I’ll get online one day, but it won’t be anytime soon.

For now, I focus solely on my work, coming in early each day and staying as late as possible unless I’m hanging out with Lincoln, in which case I’ll rush home and shower. We’ve been on three more dates since the brunch date. He held my hand in his truck on the way home from dinner last night. I’m still wondering how I feel about that. I mean, I like him, but I still don’t have the butterflies.

I’m wondering if the butterflies come naturally for every guy or just for your first love? Am I doomed to never feel them again now that Ash and I are over? I draw in a deep breath and crank up the radio in the score tower. Dad and Marty are off working on the track, and I’m in here alone, copying sign in wavers and registration forms. I used to find this type of work boring, but now I’m glad for something to do. Staying busy is the key to forgetting things that hurt.

Two hands cover my eyes. I squeal, but I’m in the score tower, so there are only so many people that would be in here trying to sneak up on me. It’s probably not a murderer.

“Guess who?” a voice whispers in my ear. Chills tingle down my neck at the close proximity. Where those . . . butterflies? I reach up and grab his hands, pulling them down.

“I don’t know, probably some weirdo,” I say, turning around.

Lincoln frowns and pretends to be offended. “You’ve certainly been spending a lot of time with this weirdo.”

I shrug and grab the stack of warm papers from the copier. “I’m just doing my civic duty. Being kind to weirdos and all that. It’s like community service.”

“Is that so?” He says the words slowly, his hands grabbing the papers from mine. He sets them on a table and then—before I realize what’s happening—he grabs my waist and holds me in front of him. He’s so close and so tall, I have to look practically straight up to see him.

“Yeah,” I mumble, not really remembering the question he asked me.

His hands are warm on my sides, his gaze playful but full of desire. “You wanna hang out later?” he says, his toes inching a little closer to mine.

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