Gasket – A thin material made of paper, metal, silicone, or other synthetic materials, that is used as a seal between two similar machined metal surfaces such as cylinder heads and the engine block.

 

“Jameson, this is a bad idea.”

“No... it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No.” He shook his head, kissing down the curve of my neck. My dress came up in the next motion. “It’s a good idea, a very good, dirty idea. We like dirty, remember?” Jameson groaned against my neck, pushing his hips into mine. “Dirty is good.”

There Jameson and I were, up against the billboards on the other side of the track with the World of Outlaws on the track, racing the C-Feature event. Jameson would be racing in the A-Feature because miraculously, Justin brought a sprint car for him. All part of their plan, I thought.

I got sidetracked… back to what was important.

There was nobody out here but us, but on the other side of this billboard, five thousand screaming fans were watching a race at a track Jameson and I ran. But here we were, going at it against the billboards.

It was no wonder I got knocked up.

“Jameson...” I breathed when his mouth went to my collarbone. “We should probably get back.”

He shook his head and growled. Fucking growled. “No.” Both hands cupped my face. “I want you.” His wet, cool mouth moved from my lips to my jaw, down my neck and then bit down on my shoulder.

“You had me not more than two hours ago.”

“I don’t care,” he said, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have worn this dress.” Jameson’s hands reached up as though he was going to pull my panties off and then chuckled against my lips. “Oh, yeah, I have those.” Another chuckle escaped him before he deepened the kiss.

Wrapping my legs around his waist, I dug my heels into his ass. He groaned, fumbling with the button of his jeans. Struggling with this, he shifted my weight to one hand, pushing his leg under my ass to support me. The other one slammed against the billboard in frustration.

“Damn it.”

“Hey, calm down.” I reached between us. “Look, here... let me help.”

“Sorry... I want you, right now,” he growled, attacking my neck with kisses. “I can’t wait.”

“Here... see, not that hard.”

“I am hard!” Jameson responded defensively.

“Jesus Christ, Jameson! I was talking about getting your pants off, not your camshaft.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, positioning for boring. But he didn’t slip it in right away. Instead, he lubricated it, sliding back and forth against my oil slickened crankcase, teasing with reciprocating motions.

“Jameson,” I warned. He knew I didn’t care for assembly prep. I wanted to get to the good stuff. Assembly was for virgins, in my mind.

He chuckled and pressed me hard into the Coors Light billboard we were press forging against.

The noises that came from us surely would have drowned out a crowd, had they been able to hear us.

His hands never stayed in one place long, rather they lingered over my entire body, seemingly touching everywhere at once. He held me, caressed me, felt me, embraced me... it was as though his hands were trying to memorize the feeling, knowing our time was limited.

I moaned indecipherably, arching my back against the billboard with a new intensity, breaking our rhythm.

He twitched at the change in pace and knew that he, too, was close, and then he said it. “So close...”

The rumbling of the engines on the other side of the billboard, vibrating my entire body, only heightened the sensations.

“FUCK!” I moaned, though it sounded more like a shout or some sound a dying cat would make. Without realizing it, I pulled him impossibly closer to me, my arms around his shoulders, our chests colliding.

Removing my lips from his, I bit down on his neck and sucking, hoping to leave a mark.

My orgasm coursed through me, strong and unyielding. At some point, I realized that Jameson must have, too, as I could feel his heartbeat slowing, his muscles relaxing. He looked up at me from there, flushed skin under the moonlight, swollen lips, and deep purple love bite—my mark on him.

My shaking fingers traced along it. “Sway three. Jameson two.”

His eyebrows arched, setting me down, eyeing my hair. “Nice sex hair.”

Damn it.

His hand brushed over my cheek, his thumb swept softly across my lower lip. A grin formed. “We’re tied again, honey.”

 

We made it back around to the pits after our abrupt disappearance to find Spencer smiling at us.

“What?” Jameson snapped, walking toward his sprint car to get ready for the race. “Why are you so smiley?”

“Charlie fired the flagger. Someone needs to go flag the next race, and well, Emma is up there so ...” His smile grew. “I don’t think I need to say the rest.”

Shit!

Jameson turned to me. “Can you go take care of that?”

“Why me? You’re the owner.”

He nodded. “Yes... but you’re the general manager and, well, I have to race so you get this one.” His smile matched his brother’s.

“That’s hardly fair.” Tommy walked by and smacked the back of my head.

“I think it’s fair.” Jameson kicked his leg out, tripping Tommy. He fell forward into a set of rear tires.

“Jerks,” I grumbled, referring to him and Tommy.

“I love you!” he shouted before climbing inside his sprint car.

I found Emma where Spencer said she was, enthusiastically waving the flag for the B-Feature event. The rumbling in the distance of the cars lining up for the A-Feature caught my attention for a moment. When I turned around, I noticed Emma wasn’t doing a bad job. More importantly, she appeared as though she was having a good time.

Charlie walked past, his cell phone in hand.

“Who are you talking to?” I asked. He never talked on his cell phone unless I call it.

“How the fuck should I know,” he grumbled, throwing his free hand up in the air. “I don’t know how these people get my number.”

“Who?”

“The person on the other line.”

“Oh.” I shook my head, trying to make sense of all this. “Why did you fire Hank?”

“Sway, life isn’t always shits and giggles.” His eyes narrowed, making me feel like a child. “Sometimes you have to be the bad guy... or the shit.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” The person on the other line must have said something because Charlie was now glaring at his phone. “Who the fuck is this?” He paused and then said, “Oh... well, yes, I know a Logan and no, you can’t talk to him... Why?... Because he’s six fucking years old, asshole, that’s why!”

Seeming annoyed, he hung up.

“Where’s the little bastard Logan?” Charlie shouted.

“Try under the grandstands!” I yelled, watching him disappear into the crowd.

And to think, we still had to get through the feature event and the concert afterward.

Emma continued to flag the rest of the race and actually did a good job. I ran around after Charlie, making sure no one else was fired, called Hank and gave him his job back, and warned Logan to stop stealing people’s phones, especially Charlie’s, if he wanted to see seven.

By the A-Feature event, I was exhausted.

I forgot all about the exhaustion when a familiar sight, something I hadn’t seen in years, appeared. Jameson Riley, in a fire breathing winged sprint car, made his way onto his home track with the sounds of “Welcome to the Jungle” blaring over the speakers.

I listened carefully as they announced the starting line-up, knowing the way my heartbeat would quicken with the mention of his name.

“Ladies and Gentlemen... your starting line-up for the World of Outlaws... inside on the pole for the tenth time this season we have the Edan Manufacturing double zero of Jimi Riley! On the outside we have none other than his son, NASCAR Winston Cup driver, and the owner of this fine facility, driving the JAR Racing Simplex number nine... Jameson Riley!”

The crowd roared to life, screaming in contrast to the thunderous rumbles of the track. My heart pounded, watching the cars come by for the four-wide salute, a tradition created by the World of Outlaws where the cars line up four-wide and make a lap prior to throwing the green flag. All the drivers then stick their hands out the side and wave to the crowd.

 “This is so exciting!” Emma yelled over the thunder of the engines.

It was exciting. In all the years my dad owned this track, I’d never been up here when the World of Outlaws were on the track.

The standard protocol for the A-Feature event was the introductions, the four-wide salute, fireworks, and, finally, the cars did their warm up laps.

Every time Jameson passed by the flag stand, he’d throw the car sideways, spraying dirt up for the fans.

Fans were screaming, engines were revving, vibrating my entire body. Now, I’ve never been pregnant before. And I was only fifteen weeks, but in that moment, as Jameson passed by the flag stand once more and revved his engine... I felt our child inside me move. It was just a flutter, as though someone flicked my stomach, but I knew it was our baby, kicking to the sound of Daddy revving his engine.

I cried. My hand clutched my stomach, and Emma put her hand on my stomach, too, hoping to feel it, but it was so soft I could only feel it. I wanted so badly to share that moment with Jameson, but I also knew having a race car driver as the daddy, there would unfortunately be many things he would miss in our child’s life.

The race was entertaining. Jameson, Tyler Sprague, and Justin West, battled with Jimi all race but, of course, Jameson pulled back and let the guys who actually ran the series weekly battle it out for the lead.

I think he stayed up there for the first twenty laps to prove to them he could race in the Cup Series and still come out to compete with the good ol’ boys on the dirt. More importantly, prove he could still race with the boys at his hometown track.

As the evening’s events wound down, it was time for the concert.

 

By the time I made it up from the pits to party with my family, I was one, already drunk, two, planning my prank on Emma, and three, horny again. That damn dress was haunting me tonight. I couldn’t find Sway, but Van assured me she was with Emma by the stage, making sure the band members had everything they needed. And the best part, she was safe with him nearby.

When I walked toward the infield for the concert, I found my target and my accomplice. For my prank, that is.

“So here’s the plan. You distract Emma by telling her something trivial—”

Lane raised his hand. “What tribal?”

“Tell her about your day.”

“That’s tribal?”

“No, Lane...it’s trivial, it’s spelled with a V not a B.”

“That’s what I said.”

I rolled my eyes and continued, “Just tell her something so she is looking at you, not me. I will then stand back with the monkey and shoot him through the air at her.”

“Uh...” He looked at me with a wary expression. “Wait... you repeat my part again?”

“Did you listen to anything I said?”

“I’m three.” He looked up at me again with his big blue eyes and blinked in disbelief. “I not pay attention to anything.”

“Right. Tell me again why I chose you to help?”

“Because I awesome!” Lane jumped, his hands over his head, pumping his fists in the air.

Eventually, after explaining Lane’s part again, I got him to walk toward Emma and sit on the table she was sitting at with Sway.

After positioning myself a good fifteen feet away in the shadows of the stage, I took the monkey out of the bag just as Spencer walked up.

“Hey, dude, Lane said he’s helping you do something tribal. I came to make sure no guns or arrows were involved.” He laughed when he saw the monkey. “She’s going to kill you.”

When Emma was about six years old, we went to the San Diego Zoo one summer. Spencer and I convinced Emma that the monkeys liked to be laughed at. So she pointed and laughed at them. Because of this, the monkey flung its shit at her. We laughed. Emma cried.

Ever since then, she’s been deathly afraid of monkeys. I don’t know how flinging shit at her resulted in her fearing them but, at any rate, Spencer and I had fun with it over the years.

“That thing looks real.”

I nodded with a grin. “I know... but what’s even better is the sound it makes.

“What does it do?”

“You turn it on, and when it flies, it screams.”

“This I have to see,” he said with a chuckle.

We positioned ourselves out of the way again, Lane gave the wink, and I threw the monkey through the air. Lane pointed to the flying monkey. Emma turned to see what he pointed at and screamed at the top of her lungs. It took all of five seconds, and she was running away from it.

Mission accomplished.

Spencer and I exchanged a nod along with a fist punch. Lane came bounding back with a huge grin. “I do good?”

“You did awesome, little man,” I replied, giving him his own fist punch.

“Told you I awesome!” And then he was back to jumping and pumping his fists in the air.

 

The evening passed in a blur. Before I knew it, Spencer, Justin, Tommy, Aiden, and I were on stage helping the Eagles cover band and singing “Heartache Tonight.” Aiden tried to convince me to propose on stage in front of the entire town. I almost did... but when a drunken Aiden tied a lasso around Sway and pulled her to the stage, I chickened out. I didn’t particularly want Sway to look back and think of me as drunk with a lasso wrapped around her when she remember how I proposed. Not romantic.

So I didn’t propose. Instead, I broke out into a solo and got down on my knees in front of her. Sway laughed, so I leaned forward placing a soft kiss against her stomach and then returned to my seat.

Someday the timing would be right, but until then, the ring remained in my pocket. I caught a lot of shit from the boys for not doing it.

Spencer and Aiden hassled me about not doing it on stage.

“I just...” My fear broke through. “I don’t even know what to say to her.”

Spencer waved his hand around, spilling beer all over the place. “It’s simple. Here.” He grabbed a napkin off a nearby picnic table. “You say... I love fucking you. I want you to be the only one I fuck for the rest of my life... marry me!”

“Really? That’s what you say?” I smacked his forehead. “Funny... I thought it was supposed to be romantic, and I’m pretty sure the words “fucking you” should not be said.”

“I’m disgusting,” Spencer replied with a shrug. “Sue me.”

Aiden nodded in approval. Spencer ignored us.

Cramming the note in my pocket, I went toward the mechanical bull.

 

“Watch him.”

I never liked those words. Over the years, they always ended badly for me.

“Why do I have to be the one to watch him?”

“Because... I have to take my son and get him into bed before midnight,” Alley explained, shifting a sleeping Lane to the other arm. “You gave them the bottle of Jack Daniels, you watch them.”

“This hardly seems fair.” I mean, yeah, I handed over the bottle, but it was either that or Tequila; I chose the better one.

“Wait until the kid pops out... nothing is fair… ever again.”

“Shouldn’t we tell Jameson that the mascot’s Dana?” I asked Alley, hesitantly, before she left. Dana Sloan was stalking Jameson, disguised as a bear. Dana was nice enough, but really strange and had this unhealthy obsession with Jameson.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

“He’s going to kill us.”

“Like I care.” Lane’s head flopped to the side. “Remember, don’t lose Spencer, and for Christ’s sake, make sure he keeps his goddamn clothes on.”

Alley left after that, and I played babysitter. Keeping one eye on Spencer, I felt someone touch my shoulder.

 “Oh, hey Sway, how are you holding up with Charlie?” Langley O’Neil, one of the drivers on the World of Outlaw series asked.

“I’m good,” I replied. My eyes then focused on Jameson on the mechanical bull. Just coming off an injury like he did, that seemed like a stupid thing to be doing.

With a smile, Langley walked away, leaving me to my bottle of water.

Do you ever wonder why people go crazy?

I wonder why they don’t. With everything we have to lose in an instant, I wondered what kept us all from going insane.

People were constantly asking me how I was doing since they found out about Charlie. How in the hell was I supposed to know? Was there a mood ring built inside of me that I could look at and say, well, you know, it’s purple, so I guess I’m okay right now.

After the tenth person came by and asked me how I was holding up, I got to the point where I was acting like Jameson and ignoring questions I didn’t want to answer. If he could do it with the media, I saw no reason why I couldn’t do it.

I’d blame it all on the pregnancy hormones, but really, I was annoyed. There was my boyfriend, who was falling down drunk. Spencer was riding a mechanical bull. Emma was pretending to read people’s palms and Aiden, well, he was playing a practical joke on Jameson, and I really didn’t care to know the specifics. There I was, sipping water, trying to keep an eye on four crazy drunks all at once. I had enough on my mind; I couldn’t concentrate on how I was doing.

 “Sway?” Tommy called out, his orange hair matted with what appeared to sweat. “Hey, uh, isn’t Jameson like allergic to crab?”

“Yes—why?”

“Because,” he pointed toward the vendor food booths, where Jameson was now competing in an ‘all you can eat’ crab feed with Spencer and Justin.

“Tommy—what the fuck?” I yelled. “That could kill him!”

“I’ve been watching for like twenty minutes... this is a hoot.”

“You fucking idiot.” I punched his shoulder. “If you were watching and you knew he was allergic to crab, why didn’t you say something?”

“I wasn’t sure if he was allergic to crab, and clearly, that shit is entertaining!” He pointed at Spencer who started barfing on the side of the stage.

 “Jameson!” I screamed over the crowd when he walked off the stage. “Jameson!”

His eyes searched for me, and when those swollen eyes found me, I could tell he was already having a reaction. His lips were puffy, his eyes were bloodshot, swollen, and his words were slurred.

“Swwwwayyyy... whrrr... carrrr yoooouuu?”

I managed to get Jameson over to our track care center and amazingly, they had some Benadryl. I handed him the small cup full of Benadryl and told him to drink it while I peed for the hundredth time tonight.

When I returned, Spencer was with him, the bottle of Benadryl was completely gone and Spencer was now handing him a bottle of Jack Daniels, with a straw.

I will never make it through the entire night like this, I thought to myself when the bottle was gone.

Around four that morning, wishing I was sleeping, I was searching the house for Spencer.

“Where’s Spencer?” I asked Jameson, kicking his legs as he sprawled out on my bedroom floor.

“I don’t know.” His arms flung over his head when I turned the light on.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Jameson threw himself back against the floor after kicking his boots off. “I lost him in the crowd.”

“How did you lose him? He’s like six-foot-two and the size of a goddamn bear.”

“This is hardly my fault. He was your responsibility to watch.”

It’s sad that Spencer needed babysitting but completely justifiable.

“Fuck, Jameson! How the hell did this happen?” I started to panic. “I was only gone for thirty minutes. You guys were supposed to come right back here!”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know anything?” I knew this would get me nowhere, but I had to try.

“I don’t know.”

“Jesus Christ, Jameson!” I threw my arms up in the air, pacing my dimly lit room.

“It’ll be okay...” he mumbled, covering his face with his hands to block out the light coming into my room from the sun rising. “We’ve lost Spencer before.”

“Nothing about this is okay!”

This was bad, really bad. Alley would kill me if we found him naked again. She had a strict rule when she left last night—no letting him get naked and dance around. Her number one rule, though—don’t lose him. And what did we do? We lost him.

Jameson groaned. “I think I was drugged.”

I slapped him across the face.

“You were not. You are allergic to crab. You ate crab last night. I gave you some Benadryl. But what did you do? You took it upon yourself to drink the entire fucking bottle when I went to the bathroom and then chased it with an entire bottle of Jack Daniels.”

I had to emphasize this was his fault, not mine.

“I can’t believe I ate crab.” He looked confused. “I’m allergic to it.”

“No shit,” was my only response for him.

I continued to rant, picking up Jameson’s jeans to search his pocket for his cell phone. Maybe Spencer called.

When I did this, Jameson screamed, “No!” and lunged for me.

What the fuck would be so important in the pocket of his jeans?

“What?” I asked, throwing the jeans as we landed on my bed when he tackled me. The jeans landed on the floor with a thud. Obviously something was in his pocket. “What’s so important in your pants? Is Spencer in there?”

“No... I just... nothing.” His eyes seemed to be begging me not to pry. “It’s nothing.”

“It is something or else you wouldn’t have gone all apeshit on me for snooping through your pockets.”

“I said it was nothing. Leave it alone.”

“You’re such an asshole.” I pushed against his chest.

He rolled away with a frustrated groan. “Yeah,” his tone was laced with sarcasm. “I’m an asshole.”

He pushed himself from the bed to pick up his jeans and then walked into my bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

“What a jerk,” I mumbled mostly to myself.

I was about to go after Jameson and yell at him for being a jerk when my cell phone rang. It was Alley.

Shit. Do I pick it up? Yes, I should. If I ignored her, it would only make things worse.

“Hey, Alley,” I answered softly, on the verge of tears, but kept some enthusiasm in my tone.

“Sway,” she wasn’t pleased, “where the fuck is Spencer?”

“Uh... what do you mean? Isn’t he with you?” I hindered.

“No! He’s not with me,” Alley paused and then added, “but what’s even more confusing is why the Grays Harbor County Sheriff called me to tell me they have my husband detained for indecent exposure!”

At least they found him.

“I well... um—”

“Goddamn it, Sway! I asked you to watch him last night, and you couldn’t even do that. What in the hell were you doing? Let me guess, you were fucking Jameson up against the wall again.”

“I wasn’t, I—”

“Save it, Sway, I have to go pick up my husband now.” Then she hung up.

That sent me over the edge... I started crying. Nothing was going my way, and Jameson was hiding something from me. Alley hated me. Charlie was crazy. What next?

I stood there, staring out my bedroom window when I noticed bodies lying in the backyard. I got excited to think it might be Spencer, and this might have been a big misunderstanding with the Sheriff, but no, it was not. At closer look, I realized it was Emma and Aiden.

Aiden had boxer shorts on, nothing else. Emma had her bra and underwear on, but nothing else, except for Aiden’s lasso from last night wrapped around her waist, and they were spooning.

I was being mean, I guess, but I was upset. So I grabbed a bucket of water and dumped it off my second story balcony onto them. They were absolutely no help last night in keeping track of Spencer and that bucket of cold water made me feel slightly better about it.

Alley went down to the station to get Spencer. He had, in fact, been arrested for indecent exposure. The Sheriff found him skinny-dipping with the mascot in the town fountain, in front of the Sheriff’s station because guess who bet him he wouldn’t do it?

Jameson.

Apparently, Jameson found out who the mascot was and bet Spencer he wouldn’t get naked with a mascot bear and go skinny-dipping. Jameson never played fair. Ever. Not that anything happened with Spencer and Dana—she was completely dressed, but Spencer was not.

Alley was pissed.

When Alley came by the house before they flew out that morning, I could hear Spencer yelling at Jameson while I puked again.

“What the fuck, dude? You could have told me who the mascot was! I thought it was Justin so when Justin giggled... I realized it wasn’t him and ran from her, right into the Sheriff.”

“Slipped my mind, I guess,” Jameson mumbled. His voice sounded off. Maybe he was still upset.

Spencer didn’t seem too pleased either when Jameson said, “Like I give a shit.”

Later that night, Jameson came into my room. I’d holed myself up in here away from Alley and Spencer and my crazy dad. He was explaining to the Lucifer twins the difference between a fork and a spork. Apparently, there was a difference.

“I was a jerk,” Jameson confessed, drawing me near him. “Sometimes I’m an asshole, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” He pulled back to look at me, his eyebrow arched. “You get that I’m saying I’m sorry, right?” he asked, taking my face in his hands. He leaned in, lying us down on my mattress, as his hands roamed over my body.

“You yelled at me for no reason. Now you come in here wanting sex before you leave. That seems backward.”

“Of course I came back. I’m always going to come back. That’s what boyfriends do—besides being assholes. We come back and beg for forgiveness that we don’t deserve. And then we want to relieve pressure and do some dyno testing to ensure our engines are strong.” He waggled his eyebrows.

And, oh my God, did we dyno test. If you’re not familiar with a dyno test, it’s a powerful engine simulator program that will test your engine’s horsepower, torque, and a number of other factors as well. It’s constant force and constant speed designed to test the engine’s power.

I was sweating, panting, and trying like hell to keep my eyes open during the testing, but it wasn’t easy. I was embarrassed for myself on how short of breath I was. Just when I thought the dyno testing couldn’t get much more conclusive, he wrapped his arm low and tight around my hips and flipped us over, without slipping out. He had talent with this particular test.

It was all a fucking blur and not much of it I remember aside from the fact that I was panting, so was he, and it was pretty destructive, too.

Wrapping his arms around me, his chest slid slickly over mine. He was lying next to me, lazily grinning as he stroked his finger back and forth over my upper abdomen.

“That was...” my voice faded with my heavy breaths.

“Good?” he asked with a smug smirk. “Jameson four. Sway three?”

I exhaled, dropping my head back and ignoring his stupid tally. “I don’t think good does that justice?”

“You’re welcome,” he chuckled with a hint of arrogance.

“What about the dirty heathen?”

“It definitely was,” he assured me, breathing heavy. “And maybe the most destructive sex I’ve ever had. Including that time in my closet.”

Destructive?

When I looked around, my room was a disaster. Pillows were thrown, curtains down, pictures hanging crooked, blankets all sorts of crazy. Hell, even my night stand had been tipped over.

“Wow …” I said in disbelief that I did all this to my own room.

Jameson laughed, shaking his head.

I groaned, sitting up only to have him laugh again.

“Yep … I’m feeling rather proud at the moment,” he said, stretching out on his back.

I couldn’t help myself when I looked back at him and rolled on top of him with a laugh, wrapping his arms around me.

“Ready for round two?” he asked with a huge smirk.

Before we could start round two, there was a loud knock on the door.

“Jesus!” Logan shouted. “Stop already! Some of us, as in me and my brother, are trying to sleep!”

 

When I was thirteen, what stressed me out the most was if I would get to race the next weekend. Somewhere along the lines that changed, and suddenly I was an adult and I could decide for myself when I would race and didn’t have to worry if I got in trouble during the week. I knew I could still race even though I smacked my brother in the head with a tail pipe.

When I was thirteen that wasn’t always the case.

The problem now—ten years later—was that it was my job so really, it still wasn’t my decision.

It was my way of life.

I believe, and I wouldn’t put much weight into that, being an adult was completely overrated.

Adulthood was fucking stressful.

I had appearances, a sprint car team, managed a track, and was a full time Winston Cup driver. Talk about responsibility. To me, the scariest part about all this responsibility was when I screwed up and let an opportunity slip away.

What would happen if I never got the opportunity again?

My problem, I had no idea when or how I was going to propose to Sway, but I had to make it special, I knew that much. It couldn’t be something where Aiden tied her down with a lasso, or Spencer wrote a “fuck me” speech, or her accidentally finding the “fuck me” note and the ring in my pocket.

It needed to be her and me, not an accident. It needed to be right for us and not for anyone else. But when was the right time? Would it be some place special? Would I know what to say? Would she even say yes?

With all those thoughts running through my mind, I was amazed I even got any sleep last night. Or maybe it was the sex?

“Morning,” I whispered, kissing Sway’s forehead when the alarm blared.

“Are you watching me sleep?” she asked with a grin, rubbing her hands over her face.

“Maybe?”

“Weirdo.” She tried to cover her face.

“I know.” I kissed her once more, moving her hands aside.

“Are you coming with me this weekend?”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course I will be there.”

“Mmmm...” I leaned in and kissed her one passionate kiss and then pulled away. “Thank you.”

Sway’s eyes squinted, her cute little nose scrunched. “Before you thank me...” She gave me an apprehensive I’m sorry look. “I kind of told the Lucifer twins they could come with us.”

My eyes narrowed at her. “You have to be fucking kidding me!”

“No... I wish I were, but no... I’m not.”

“Are Charlie and Andrea at least coming to keep track of the little monsters?”

She only nodded, knowing I was too upset now.

Awesome, the Lucifer twins, a crazy Charlie and Andrea. At least Andrea was normal. Having them come along was not my idea of the perfect weekend to propose to Sway.

If anything, they would fuck it up for me worse than Spencer and Aiden could.