Pure Pleasure by Ava McKnight

pass in my bag and slung the strap over my shoulder.
    We said goodbye to the girls and left the building. In typical Ky fashion, however, what awaited us at the curb wasn’t a taxi. It was a stretch Hummer limo.
    With a laugh, I said, “You can’t do anything normal, can you?”
    “But you love me anyway, right?”
    The sparkle in his eyes aside, I knew he was baiting me. It occurred to me that everything he’d done was the equivalent of putting his own pride on the line to chase after a girl who’d thought she wasn’t good enough for him. How ironic.
    So after we climbed into the backseat and the driver shut the door, I said, “Yes, I do love you. And I really like the feeling.”
    He nodded as he poured a glass of champagne for each of us. “Yeah, I’m enjoying it too.”
    We touched the rims of our glasses and sipped. But another thought struck me and I said, “This is all very sweet, what you’re doing for me and for my mother. But what about yours?”
    He eyed me quizzically. “What do you mean?”
    “Are you just going to let her put an ocean between the two of you? I mean, I understand how it feels to lose someone you love. Especially a romantic love—your spouse, even. My mother was devastated and as I said, she hasn’t dated and would never consider marrying again. I feel bad about that, but at least she and I have a relationship.”
    Ky was quiet for a few minutes. Finally, he said, “My mom won’t date either. She was crushed when she lost my dad. Worse, I think she felt it in her bones that his truck would be the death of him. But it was what he loved, so she never put her foot down. I think she feels guilty about that. I think she wishes she’d insisted he not race.”
    I had to consider this myself—its impact on me and our budding relationship—and posed a very important question. “You’re confident in your new roll cage?”
    He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s been tested, sweetheart. I’m not going to get hurt in that truck. At least, not in a rollover.”
    A cautionary tale. I got it. There were other dangers involved.
    He followed this up by saying, “You know the adage—I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. At least if something happens to me in my truck… Well I know that’s how my dad would have wanted to go and I feel the same way.”
    “Which is why you didn’t stop racing after he died tragically.”
    “I told you I wished I’d had the cage done before that day. But the truth is, when racing is in your blood—and it has been for me for four generations—you’d rather die from accidentally taking a wrong turn off a cliff than of, say…pneumonia.”
    I had to weigh that logic as we drove to my apartment. What I discovered as I ruminated over the possibility of losing someone I loved in a racing accident was enlightening to me, because it was based off something Ky had said about his mother.
    “She didn’t put her foot down and say your dad couldn’t race. Would he have given it up for her?”
    He stared at me a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. But she knew he wouldn’t be the same person. That exciting, run-on-the-ragged-edge type of man who attracted her in the first place.”
    I could understand this. But I needed just a bit more. “I think you should invite her to your next race. I’d like to meet her and I think she should see you drive, Ky. My guess is, a part of your dad lives on because you race, and your mother just might embrace that, given your new roll cage. The safety precautions you’re taking should help to put her at ease.”
    “It’d be nice for her to see, firsthand, what I’ve done. She’d feel much more comfortable about me racing.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “You should as well.”
    “I trust you.” Besides, everything he’d said was true. He’d done his best to control and safeguard his racing environment. But no one really had absolute control over their destiny. The Hummer we were currently riding in