Pedal to the Metal: Love's Drivin' but Fate's Got the Pole (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 3) by Eden Connor Page A

direction.
    “Shelby!” My classmate tossed glossy black hair over her shoulder, giving Caine the once-over as she approached. Joelle Fitzgerald swung her hips in a manner she hadn’t used when I’d climbed the cafeteria stairs behind her at lunchtime.
    I eyed her short skirt and long boots, feeling like a ragamuffin. My sweatshirt was a men’s medium, bought on sale at the college bookstore. It was three times bigger than me, but, at least I could get the sleeve over my cast.
    “Joelle.” I responded with a terse nod. Meanwhile, Caine bounded to the passenger side and leaned his arms on the top of the low-slung coupe.
    “Is this your car?” Joelle bated her lashes at Caine. I ground off a layer of tooth enamel. She stepped closer and peered through the sloping back window. “Two engines? Oh, my.”
    “My sister’s car.” Caine tipped his head in my direction. “She won it off Kolby Barnes.”
    “I heard that story.” Joelle flipped her hair. “Isn’t that the guy who wrecked his brother last weekend at Daytona?”
    My mouth fell open. I’d have bet the damn car that Joelle Fitzgerald didn’t know NASCAR from Nabisco. I’d foregone watching the race to study, so the wreck was news to me.
    “Idiot,” Caine spat. “Dumbass coulda finished second and his brother first, but he had to go and clip Kasey in the rear. Ended up a DNF with one fuckin’ lap to go.” He dropped his fists to the car roof, making me jerk.
    “Oh, I know.” I nearly choked when the trust fund baby made it sound like she lived to watch fucking NASCAR. “But, didn’t I read that Kasey kicked his brother’s ass for that?”
    Caine laughed. “Best part of a bad day. Cars flyin’ by on all sides, but Kasey laid a solid ass whoopin’ on Kolby.” His grin faded and he turned toward me. “Of course now, the idiot’s drivin’ this week with taped-up ribs. We’ll do good to come in in the top twenty-five in Atlanta, and we do not get paid to rank that low.”
    “So, you work for NASCAR?” Joelle raked her fingers through her hair and stuck out her boobs.
    Caine straightened, pulling his arms off the car. “Yep. C’mon, Shelby. We’re burnin’ daylight. Let me show you a few things before we go tearin’ out of here.” Caine plopped into the passenger seat and slammed his door.
    Joelle looked at me with raised brows. “How rude.”
    Oh, sweetie. I’ll show you rude. I tapped the end of her stuck up nose. “Caine’s rule is gas or ass if you wanna ride with him, Joelle. I guess he can tell you aren’t good for either.” With a huff, she whirled and stalked away. I jumped in the car, grinning.
    Once behind the wheel, I tried to take in the astonishing array of controls. “This is why they pay airline pilots the big bucks,” I exclaimed, praying Caine bought my ploy. There was no way I was ‘tearin’ out of here’. Not with Caine, not with anyone, any time soon. “Jesus, this is a lot to take in.”
    Caine whistled. “You ain’t kiddin’. I spent a week lookin’ at the owner’s manual. Actually, it comes with a DVD that’ll help you learn your way around.” He pointed between his feet. “That’s in the glove box, under the seat. Most of it’s stuff you’ll never use, but I ain’t gonna lie. There’s a world of difference between this and what you’re used to drivin’.”
    He chuckled. “Fuck, a world of difference between this and what I’m used to drivin’. All-wheel drive and the all-wheel brakin’ system means this baby grips the road tighter than a tick on a hound dog. You’ll have to work to make the rear end slide out, and it ain’t gonna burn rubber less’n you start off in second.”
    My heart kicked. This car was safer than the ‘Cuda? I gripped the steering wheel, squeezing the perforated leather. The whiff of Hugo Boss and Dial soap did little to soothe me. Goddammit, why’d he have to smell so good?
    “Colt put her on the test track up in Mooresville. He hit two-ten on the