Fall With Me (Sugarland Creek, #3) (70)
“Hang on,” he warns, and I squeeze tighter.
He doesn't drive too fast, just enough to feel the wind against my face. We go through a part of the ranch I've never been to before and then ride along mountain trails in between large trees before it comes into view.
“This is so cool,” I say once he slows down. “Y'all just have a whole ass racing track back here?”
He chuckles, cruising slower to the flatter part of the dirt track. “Yep. My best friend, Tucker, and I would spend hours out here during high school. We'd race all the time and just fuck around.”
“Tucker? Do I know him?” I ask, not recognizing the name.
“No, he died several years ago.”
My heart plummets into my stomach. “Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry to hear that.”
He nods once and then revs up until we're at a steady speed, hurtling over the bumps and charging through the dirt. I keep a tight hold on him, enjoying the way it feels to experience this with him. My hair flies around my neck as we fly through the air, and I close my eyes until I feel the wheels hit the ground.
“Oh my God, that was so fun,” I shout-laugh over the roar of the engine when he slows down.
“I knew you'd like it…” He brings us to a stop. “Do you wanna try drivin'?”
“Really? You'd trust me?”
Landen climbs off and faces me. “Of course. I trust you with my heart. Why wouldn't I trust you with my life?” He winks then nudges me closer and slides in behind me.
The way he effortlessly says those words has my cheeks feeling windburned and not because of the actual wind.
“I dunno how to drive this!” I panic, tightening my fingers around the handles.
“I'll teach you, don't worry.”
He gives me a crash course but most of it goes over my head because of how nervous I am.
“Ready?”
No.
“I think so…”
With his hands on top of mine, he helps me start it and guides us along the trail until I'm comfortable driving myself.
After five minutes of going at a snail's pace, he tells me to speed it up. When I finally do, he tightens his hold around me and tells me to let it fly.
It doesn't take long to get the hang of it, especially since I know he's right here in case I need him. But there's something about tearing through an off-road dusty track that feeds my adrenaline like when I'm riding Ranger.
“Okay, one more lap. Make it a good one.” He squeezes my bare thighs, and I swallow back a moan.
This man teases me like it's his full-time job.
I rev the engine and fly over the last bump.
“Jesus Christ,” he laughs between his words when the front two wheels bounce against the ground. “You killed it.”
“I'm a champion barrel racer…are you that surprised?” I mock even though I was terrified as hell at first. He doesn't need to know that.
“Not at all. But I'm still impressed,” he says with a smile in his voice. “There's a lake half a mile from here that I wanna show you. Just drive down the trail and you'll see it.”
My heart continues beating rapidly as I drive us through another trail of trees. I still can't believe how large this place is.
“How much land do y'all own?”
“Hundreds of acres. Goes back here and then some.”
“Did y'all ever camp out here?”
“Not really. We have family who live in Willow Branch Mountain a couple hours north of here and they own a luxury camping resort. My parents took us out there pretty much every summer growin' up.”
“Why does that sound familiar?” I rack my brain for where I would've heard that name.
“It's a small town but it's a popular place for mostly couples. We have some marketing materials posted at The Lodge. Probably saw it in there.”
No, I don't think so…
“Hmm…
“What is it?” He leans in closer to hear me.
“I'm just gettin' frustrated having these moments of something soundin' like I know them but not remembering from where or how. Happened earlier too at the farmer's market when a journalist approached me and called me by my name as if we'd spoken before. I knew she looked familiar but couldn't place any memories of her.”
“Yeah, that's the brain fog associated with concussions. Wilder got sick with bacterial meningitis when he was like five or six and suffered from neurological side effects for two years. It halted his milestones because he had short-term memory issues. They wanted him to repeat kindergarten, but he and Waylon didn't want to be separated so my parents didn’t let them.”
“Oh wow…that sounds traumatic.”
“He did rehab therapy to help him catch up and improve his memory and attention so he could comprehend what he was learning. Then he had speech therapy for a year and now he never shuts up, so I guess it worked.”
I laugh because he's right. Wilder loves to hear his own voice.
“Okay, to the left now…you'll have to go off trail for a minute and then you'll see it.”
Thirty seconds later, a truck comes into view.
“Who is that?” I ask.
“It's Fisher's truck, he's lettin' me borrow it since his has a larger bed than mine. We can park here.” He reaches over and turns it off.