Dirty Friends (Beautiful Friends #1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Ridin' Dirty

  Cooper

  About the Author

  A special Thanks to:

  Copyright © Paige Steele

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Paige Steele, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  1st Edition Published: March 2015

  Cover Designand formatting by: Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs

  Cover Model: Steven Brewis and Kattie McKane

  Photographer: Adam Bouska and Carl Stone

  Editing by: K. Hrdlicka, Corset Book Services & Kellie Montgomery

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offense to the content, as it is FICTION.

  Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders, The authors acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Edition License Note

  Thank you for downloading/purchasing this ebook. This ebook and its contents are the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download/purchase their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. Involves strong language and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are adults over the age of 18.

  All characters are fictional. Any similarities are purely coincidental.

  Published by Paige Steele

  Dedicated to:

  All my dirty, flirty friends.

  Cooper

  JUST ANOTHER DAY IN the Brewis household; Dad is usually in his office for the day, while Mom is out doing her charity work. My dad, Christopher Brewis, a dark haired, tall, well-built, forty-seven year old man, runs a multi-million dollar software corporation, where he’s both the owner and CEO. His main headquarters are housed right here in Tallahassee, Florida. Although he’s busy twenty four hours a day, he has only missed a few holidays and birthdays over the years; he always tries to be around for those, but there are no guarantees. Due to how busy he is, my mom, Dana, forty-four, keeps herself busy by donating her time to the local charities, as well as sitting on the hospital board. She’s a beautiful woman, always put together with her blonde, shoulder length hair and designer clothes. It is just them and me, Cooper. I look a lot like my dad with the dark hair and blue and green flecked eyes, but my hair is cut shorter and always a mess, which seems to drive my mom absolutely crazy. Along with hair and eyes, I also share the same six foot stature and charm with my father, which makes it easy to keep a lady at my side. Aside from that, I am like my mother. We have the same heart, meaning we both feel that you should believe in what you do and remain true to who you are. I am an eighteen year old college freshman, studying graphic and web design as part of an agreement I made with my father to get a college degree. In turn he promised to support my decision to follow my dream of becoming a Pro Motocross racer. It is tough knowing they have so little faith in my desired career path, as I have always sought out their approval in everything I do. Yet, all my dad has ever said to me is, “No son of mine is going to play in the dirt all day and not make something of his life.” I am not sure why he cares so much what I do and I am really tired of hearing about how you “can’t make any real money riding around a track all day.”

  You see; we didn’t always live the lifestyle we have now. So, let me start by telling you how I grew up and when I first fell in love with dirt bikes…

  While my father was climbing the steps of the corporate ladder, we lived in a three-bedroom ranch style house. My mother was a stay at home mom, raising me. Our house was on the outskirts of town, in a cul-de-sac, with an open field behind the house. I used to watch a lot of TV on the weekends, keeping myself busy and out of her hair. While flipping through channels, my eye caught a Motocross race on FOX Sports. I was only five, yet it fascinated me. I remember how fast those riders went around the track, thinking, Wow, I want to do that. I don’t think I even blinked during the entire Glenn Helen race that was broadcast live from California. It was so cool. From that moment on, I started to watch the races on TV every Sunday.

  Two years passed, and I fell even more in love with every race I was able to catch. On my seventh birthday, I begged to get a dirt bike. Much to my surprise, they bought one for me, a bright yellow Suzuki. I’d ride for hours at a time out back, around and around, trying to beat my own lap time. My mother practically had to drag me in to take a bath and get ready for dinner every night. Mom told me all the time; she was getting gray just watching me ride that thing. God, I loved that bike.

  Ryan Evans lived two doors down the street from me. We’ve known each other since we were in kindergarten. Our mothers worked on the same school fundraisers, which meant we spent a lot of time together outside of school. He stood a bit taller than me and had short brown hair. Shortly after I turned seven, we started meeting on Sundays in the backyard to ride together; my Suzuki could beat his Yamaha. We practiced hard but raced each other harder. He was my best friend. For his tenth birthday, Ryan decided to ask his dad if he would take us both to a track on a Sunday afternoon. Ryan told him it was all he wanted for his birthday, so his father agreed. After that, we were obsessed. It was fun riding in the actual dirt instead of part grass, part dirt out back. Then every other Sunday, we started going to different tracks. His dad used to ride when he was a teenager, so he encouraged us and taught us a lot.

  Then, when we were about twelve, Ansley Young moved in between our houses. With her petite frame and long platinum blonde hair, she stuck out at school. She wore her hair in a ponytail most of the time, which made her green eyes and long lashes stand out. She didn’t fit the tomboy type but that’s exactly who she was. She started coming out to watch us ride out back. By then, both Ryan and I were on bigger bikes and getting into trouble all the time with our neighbors in the area for making too much noise every night. Needless to say, we stopped riding at home and only rode on the local tracks. The three of us became inseparable. We talked every day at school and at home. When she could, Ansley would go to the track with us on Sundays. She would often be found at my house, hanging out with me. The two of us were closer only because Ryan would have to have family days where no friends were allowed over. This was something I never experienced growing up, nor did Ansley. She only lived with her mother and she worked a lot. Ansley’s dad wasn’t around; he left when her mom was p
regnant. She’d never met him and had no desire to find him. Her mom said when she was ready that she will give her an envelope with all the information she had on him. But Ansley always said she would never ask for that envelope.

  Cooper

  IT’S SUNDAY AND YOU KNOW what that means…track day. Our junior year of high school just ended a couple of weeks before, and now we’re entering our first official race, ever. Packing Ryan’s father’s truck and trailer the night before made this morning a bit easier. I slept over at his house, and I don’t think either of us got much sleep. We got here bright and early this morning; signups begin at eight a.m., which meant we were up and on the road by six. The track in Cairo, Georgia is just about an hour from our hometown. Arriving about seven means we have enough time to set the tent up, get our bikes out of the trailer, and sign-up.

  My father just handed me money the night before and said to behave. There was no good luck or have fun. He thinks riding, or better yet, paying to ride is stupid. So, I’m grateful to have Ryan’s dad on my side. He helps us fill out the sign-up forms, and also signs to be my guardian for the day. Since I’m just shy of my seventeenth birthday and under the age of eighteen, it’s necessary.

  “You ready for this Ryan? You know I’m going to kick your ass.”

  “Me? Umm, you better be ready to eat my dirt…literally.” He’s laughing hard at his own statement.

  “Oh, yeah…we’ll see, tough guy.”

  “Boys, we need to get the rest of the stuff out of the truck and be ready to go to the riders’ meeting at eight thirty, under the announcer’s tower.” Mr. Evans has been through all of this before, so he knows exactly what will be taking place and in what order we need to do things.

  “After we’re ready, can we do a track walk? I overheard other riders talking about it while we were standing in the sign-up line.”

  “Yeah, Dad, I want to do that, too.”

  “Ok, boys, get moving then.”

  We start setting up faster at this point. We get our gear and boots on while setting out helmets, gloves, and goggles on the tailgate of the truck. The chairs and coolers are under the tent and our bikes are on their stands, with our chest protectors hanging on the handlebars. As soon as the toolbox is set next to the power sprayer and water tank, I shout, “Let’s go!” We have fifteen minutes to spare before the riders’ meeting, and I’m anxious to see the track.

  “Alright, boys, let’s walk it.”

  We head over to the start line first, quickly looking it over before heading out to see the rest of the track. After l take note of every jump, line, and corner…I’m ready. Listening to the official talk about riding a fair and respectable race, I can’t wait to get on my bike. Right after the national anthem is played, it will all start. Let the races begin.

  “Boys, ride smart, ride safe and keep it on two wheels.” His dad gave us a concerned, fatherly look.

  “Yes, sir. We got this, right, Ryan?” I say.

  He nods to his dad and gives me a chuckle, “Cooper, of course we do. Just don’t get pissed when I blow by and roost your ass.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry, pretty boy, I’m ready and not worried at all. Bring it.”

  There are a total of nine race classes, which means there are eighteen motos. Ours will be race two and then race eleven. It will give us a chance to sit and relax a bit in between each race. We need to get to the staging area since the first race is underway already. With a full gate, which means forty riders are in our race, they will be calling out race numbers at random, directing us to pick which gate we want to line up at on the start line. I have race number three thirty-four and Ryan’s is four fifty-two. He’s called first, then I go two riders later. We are about ten gates apart.

  Right before the thirty second board turns to show just ten seconds remain before the gates will drop, I look over at Ryan and he does the same to me. We both give a thumbs up and a nod of our heads. With my right hand on the throttle and left on the clutch, I’m ready. The gate drops letting the bikes fly off the line. I know I don’t get a bad start but know there were still several bikes ahead of me. I end up finishing that first moto in fifth, and Ryan is right behind me in seventh. Not bad for our first time racing.

  Heading back to the truck, we set our bikes up on our stands again, then immediately pull off our helmets, gloves, chest protectors, and throw off our jerseys. We’re sweating our asses off. Working out every day after school keeps us in great shape, though the race still took a lot out of us. Putting in the extra time to train is crucial for us to be able to maintain our speed during the whole race. It’s time to get something in us to stay hydrated, find a chair, and then food. Burning off that much energy makes you hungry. It’s important that we get to relax a bit before heading out for our second motos.

  “Great race boys. I’m proud of both of you.”

  “It was a tough one. Some of those boys are really fast. Holy crap.” Ryan tries to still catch his breath, as he drinks and talks at the same time.

  “No kidding. I tried catching number thirty-two in front of me the whole time. I couldn’t do it,” I say, panting myself.

  Just as we sit down and start talking, a bunch of girls walk by, staring in our direction. You can totally tell they are enjoying the view. Of course, both Ryan and I look at each other then back to the girls. They all have on their Daisy Dukes and tight little tank tops. It’s a hot day, which means thankfully, little clothing is needed.

  “Hello, ladies.” I nod.

  “Hey, you could come join us.” Ryan can’t help flashing those pearly whites with a big ass smile.

  As the four ladies walk over, I sit there watching each one strut their way under the tent. Ryan immediately starts shooting off the compliments and has the girls eating out of his hands. He just has a way with ladies. He’s dated several girls in school, but none have kept his attention long enough to make it past a month, before he’s moving on and seeing the next. We are a lot alike in that sense. It’s a running joke with us to see who will stay with who longer.

  “So, did you guys come here to watch someone in particular or did you just bring your hot little selves here to find us?” He smirks.

  The pretty brunette speaks while the others just stand next to her, giggling. “Well, we came to see my brother and his friends ride.”

  “Well, ladies, you are more than welcome to stay here and hang. I’m Cooper and this is Ryan,” I say, pointing in his direction.

  I look over at Ryan and he is already engaged in a conversation with two of the girls. We both stand up and offer them a chair. Pushing our helmets and gloves deeper in the back of the truck, we both hop up on the tailgate. We only talk for a minute or two before the same brunette speaks again, “We really can’t, sorry, we have to get back to help out with lunch before the next set of races start. But it was nice meeting you both.”

  Ryan jumps up right away, and I know exactly what he’s going to be doing… getting digits. He is never one to pass up an opportunity. “How about you give us your numbers so we can get in touch with you beautiful ladies, sometime?”

  Numbers are exchanged after realizing we don’t live that far from each other. It’s only about a thirty to forty minute drive to their town. “Damn, Ryan, I think I’m going to like these races and not just for the ride, but for the ride,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows. We both bust up laughing and fist bump each other as we enjoy the view when they all walk away.

  Mr. Evans comes back over and we start making sandwiches. We have about two hours before we have to get ready to head down to the staging area again. It’s time to relax, put the Beats on, and listen to some music to get us back in race mode. I immediately hit my race play list. Life Off My Life by Lee Brice comes on first and that’s it, I sink low in the chair, tip my head back, and close my eyes. I can tune everything else out when I have a song on that I can totally relate to, and this is one of those times.

  Before I know it, Ryan’s slapping my leg, telling me it’s time
to get our shit on and get down to the line. This moto is different; we are able to pick our gate choice by the way we finished. I enter fifth, and again, I pick just where I lined up before. It worked well for me the first time, and I learned a long time ago…you don’t rock the boat. This time Ryan picks one a few spots closer to me. I look over at him and we do just what we did before. Silently telling each other good luck and to kick ass. His dad walks over to both of us, pats us on our backs, and shouts over the noise, “Ride smart, ride safe and keep it on two wheels.” Just like he had done before.

  As we both ride off the track, we are side by side going back to the tent. I got fourth, and Ryan was on my ass the whole race to get fifth. After handing off our bikes, one at a time, to Ryan’s dad, we drop in chairs, removing our helmets.

  “Holy shit, you were on my ass.”

  “Ha, well you needed to get moving. I almost had you in turn two, but you gassed it and roosted me hard core, asshole.”

  “I guess you’ll find a different line next time, won’t you?”

  “No, next time you’ll be behind me.”

  “Umm, never.”

  “Boys, get something to drink, wipe all that dirt off your faces, and then let’s get loading everything up. We have an hour drive and I want to stop for dinner, too,” he says, as he throws us both a drink and towel.

  “I also want to check the race results before we leave. It’ll let us know where we placed overall,” I wipe off my face at the same time as I speak.

  “Agreed,” Ryan says.

  We get out of our dirty gear and throw on some shorts. Packing up and heading out only takes about a half hour. We decide we will wash the bikes when we get home. Stopping quickly at the sign-up tower we see the results, I see that I finished fourth overall and Ryan ended up in sixth. We are more than happy with the way the day went. It’s time to head out, get something to eat, followed by a shower and a place to relax. It was a long day and I am exhausted.