In this new scene, you’ll get the answers.

She switched it. When the hell did she do that?

I pick up the picture from my bookshelf, the one that sits in exactly the same place the one of Tawny and me used to. Frame’s the same, picture’s not.

The new one is of Ry and me at my comeback race. I don’t fight the smirk when I think that wasn’t the only victory lane I claimed that night with her arms wrapped around my waist.

And something else around my cock.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Her head is angled back, grin on her face, but her eyes are on me. And that look in them—that frozen moment of time—reflects clear as fucking day her feelings for me. Not a single doubt.

I’m one lucky son of a bitch.

Well shit. When I look at my image, there’s no denying I feel the same way about her. The look on my ugly mug tells anyone who sees the picture that she’s snagged me hook, line, and double-sinker.

Funny thing is I see a man completely voodooed and I’m not even spooked by it.

I’m still getting used to the thought of it, the taste of it. And hell if I’m quite liking the foreign feeling, especially because it means I get to slide between those sexy as fuck curves of hers and claim the finish line every chance I get.

I know the game has caught up with this player because as much as that thought’s a turn on, I like the idea even more that when I wake up I can reach over to find her in my bed next to me, that sleepy smile on her lips and that rasp to her morning voice.

God, I sound like a fucking pussy. All sappy and shit.

The woman has topped me from the bottom when I never thought it was a possibility. But fuck me, being beneath her means I get a damn good view of those tits of hers while I’m looking up.

My balls tighten at the thought alone.

Yep. I’m a damn voodooed man. Who would’ve known it’d feel so good to be under a woman’s spell.

I’m starting to feel cracks in the ground beneath me because Hell sure as fuck is starting to freeze over.

I set the picture down, glancing one more time at it with a shake of my head. Nice, Ry. A sly removal of Tawny and subtle claiming of me.

And fuck if I don’t like that claim. Who would’ve thought? Huh. Stranger fucking things have happened over the past few months I shouldn’t be so shocked by feeling so okay with this.

Those baby steps of mine have turned into full on leaps. I guess I should start practicing for the long jump if this shit keeps up.

I wander out of the office forgetting the article from Race Weekly, so completely lost in thought. And then I see the woman who holds them captive. She’s out on the patio in deep discussion with my mom and Quinlan over something.

And it’s fucking weird how perfectly she fits here, there, everywhere in my life.

Jesus, I sound like a fucking Dr. Seuss poem.

“How come you’re not at the track?”

My dad’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I immediately realize I forgot to grab the article for him, distracted by Ry’s bait and switch. And then I wonder how long he’s been standing there watching me watch Rylee.

“What? Why would I be at the track?” He’s lost me. It’s Sunday, a non-race day and no testing scheduled, so why the fuck would I be at the track?

He looks me in the eyes like he always has to judge how I’m doing from what he sees there since talking’s not really my forte. And for the first time in forever, he gets this ghost of a smirk and just nods his head like he knows something I don’t. He stares at me a moment longer and then hands me the bottle of beer in his hand before sitting down in one of two leather chairs facing the fine-ass view in front of us.

Of the ocean and the women.

“Sit down, son.”

Famous fucking last words. I suddenly feel like I’m thirteen again and about to get read the riot act for something or other that I most likely deserve to get punished for. I take a pull on the beer, enjoying my last meal before the sentence is handed down.

I sigh and plop down next to him and repeat my question. “Why would I be at the track?”

“Because that’s where you go when you need to think things through.”

I look over at him like he’s lost it because he sure as fuck is losing me. “Is there something you know that I don’t? Like what exactly I’m supposed to be thinking through?”

“You know life is one big scavenger hunt,” he says before falling silent. I stare at him as he looks out the window and try to follow the bread crumbs he seems to be dropping here. “Fate hands you a list of things to experience. Ones you never expected, ones that break you, ones that heal you. So many of them you swear you’ll never even attempt or want to cross off your list. You get caught up in the day to day, moment to moment, and then one day you look at your list and realize you’ve unexpectedly completed some of the tasks. It’s only then you realize that the brutal truths the scavenger hunt has made you face has not only made you a better person, but has also given you an unforeseen prize when all is finally said and done.”