Throttled: Dirty Air (Book 1)(32)

“Hey, want to come and meet my parents? They’ve asked about you a few times, wanting to know who Santi has to compete against every week.” She focuses on her feet, absentmindedly pushing around invisible dirt with her sneaker.

If it puts a smile on your face…sure, why not.

I get up and introduce myself. Her mother pulls me in for a surprise hug, showing me how touchy Spanish people are.

“Maya shares such nice things about you. It was kind of you to help her with her videos.”

Not what I expected to come out of her mouth. Maya says good things? I look over at the girl I can’t get out of my head lately. Her face turns red as she stares at her sneakers again, making my small smile break out into a full-blown grin.

"It’s no problem. I had fun helping her out.”

“She’s lucky to have you around. Especially since she’s all alone when Santi is busy. We tell him he works too hard.”

I doubt her mother would have the same opinions about me if she knew half the thoughts I have about her daughter.

Her dad glares at me like he wants to assess me from the inside out. He acts like he can read the expression on my face, his scrutiny and deep brown eyes making me shift uncomfortably.

“Take care of my little girl.” Hidden meaning fills his statement. I don’t try to get into his daughter’s pants, I just think about it a lot. But I’ve been respectful compared to the way I act with girls I want to fuck. He should be grateful.

Call me an entitled prick. Fuck if I care.

“Santi’s not the one who needs help because he always was our good kid. Maya, on the other hand—” her mother brushes a stray lock of hair out of Maya’s face—“trouble. But the good kind with such a big heart. She’s a little rebellious like her dad.” Maya’s mom smiles up at her husband with love and affection.

I chuckle. “What is the good kind of trouble? I’m curious how I can sell that one to my PR team when I mess up again.”

“She always has good intentions, but they sometimes miss their mark. Overall she’s the best daughter anyone could ask for.” Maya’s mom gazes at me with the warmth only a mother can have.

“Mom,” Maya groans. “Stop talking like I’m not right here.” Her honey-brown eyes look at me for the first time in a while. “Ignore her. She loves telling ridiculous stories.”

“Do you know she used to steal Santi’s kart and ride it around the neighborhood? She was only five years old. Santi exploded when she put a couple of unicorn stickers on the steering wheel.”

I barely contain a laugh as Maya rubs her face, hiding behind small hands.

“Ugh, not a good moment. Santi was mad at me for weeks.” Maya’s lips turn down.

“You liked karting?” I pull on her ponytail to get her attention.

Santi’s eyes narrow in on my hand while her dad scowls at me. Message received.

“I did it a few times on the side, but it was more Santi’s thing. I liked to do whatever he did, including beating boys his age.” She smiles up at me. Damn my chest tightens at her smile, proof of how much of a sucker I am for them lately.

“How about the time she tried to forge her middle-school report card?” Santi fails to control his amusement.

Maya’s cheeks turn into two bright red blobs.

“Maya Alatorre, did you live a life hardened by crime?” I scoff.

“Oh, I remember this one since her mother made me punish her after. Always got stuck disciplining. She actually took her report card out of the mailbox and tried to white-out her bad conduct grade. She sealed the envelope with a steamer before putting it back. If we hadn’t been so angry, we would have been impressed. She cried when I took away her cell phone for a week.” Her dad joins in on the fun.

Maya looks everywhere but at me.

“You guys are literally the worst. Santi, if you keep it up, I’ll tell Mom and Dad about the time you drove their car at fourteen because you wanted to go do donuts outside.”

Oh, shit. The looks on her parents’ faces tell me they don’t know about this story. Maya’s statement shuts up Santiago quicker than I ever could.

He puts his hands up in a mock surrender.

“Truce. No need to fight so dirty.”

The idea of Maya fighting dirty entices me.

Fuck.

I banish those thoughts, choosing to focus on having a normal conversation with my teammate’s parents. We all end up having a good time together until my dad shows up on the deck, sneaky like a snake with enough venom to match. I am surprised he showed up earlier than race day, a rarity that makes me regret skillfully avoiding his phone calls for two days.

The time we spend apart never seems long enough. Cold eyes land on me, two blue orbs as inviting as skinny-dipping in the Arctic Ocean. He keeps his dark hair slicked back and his suit perfectly pressed with not a wrinkle in sight. To others he comes off as welcoming, but his deceptiveness covers up all the darkness simmering beneath his skin.

Maya eyes him curiously. My dad ignores her family, passing by them without a glance. He comes to greet me, giving me a pat on the back, acting happy to see me. Nicholas Slade couldn’t give less of a shit if he tried. But since he cares about a show and his image, my life acts as a side project to keep him busy from decaying during retirement.

He watches Maya’s family suspiciously, paying attention to them for the first time by assessing each of them. Competitors getting along is his worst nightmare. And for a moment I forgot Santiago and I are just that, talking with his family like we don’t have a rivalry.