Free Dirty Looks (Dirt Track Dogs: The Second Lap Book 1) by P. Jameson Page A

anymore.
    Maybe this was his redemption. Maybe this was the beginning of something great.
    Except…
    His solution for the vixens had holes, and he’d been mulling them over while he worked.
    Racing was the way to the dogs’ hearts. And those foxes wouldn’t get into their pack without getting into their hearts. End of story.
    The wolves weren’t motivated by money or greed like the Memphis clans. They weren’t influenced by the prospect of growing their numbers like the werecats were. Drake wasn’t a typical alpha on a power trip, so making the females submit to his authority wasn’t a bargaining chip either. And even if it was, Aaron wasn’t sure how submissive the vixens really were.
    So even though he had a direction to head in, there didn’t seem to be a road to take him there.
    “Gonna hafta hike that motherfucker,” he said under his breath as he tightened a gasket he’d just replaced.
    “You always did that when you were thinking hard.” The voice of his sister came from over his shoulder and he twisted around to find her smiling wide in the opening of the garage.
    “What’s that?” He chucked the wrench into the tool chest and wiped his grimy hands on a rag.
    “Talking to yourself,” she said, strolling over. In her hand was a large paper sack, and judging from the smell, it contained her homemade chili and biscuits. “You always did that. Like you needed to hear yourself think out loud in order to sort things out. So I guess the question is, what are you trying to sort out?”
    Aaron eyed her.
    Damn, he’d missed having her around. He’d been so lonely over the years and that’s how he’d preferred it. But now, that same feeling of loneliness choked him, and he wished he had ridden out the storm with his sister. Wished he could have mourned with her and been around to watch her find happiness. Whatever the future held, he never wanted to be that low again.
    No more running. Ever. If he had to repeat the motto over and over again so his dumbass brain would get it, that’s what he’d do.
    “How about you hand over that bag, and maybe I’ll tell ya,” he bargained. His stomach growled at the mere idea of tasting what was inside. He missed his sister’s cooking almost as much as he missed her smiles.
    She pushed the bag at him, and he took it outside to the small picnic table Rider and Waldo used for breaks. He straddled the bench and Annie planted herself across from him as he started unpacking the food she’d made.
    “Red Cap busy today?” he asked.
    “Lunch was easing off when I left. Punk has it under control. So… do I need to ask how last night went? Or can I just assume by the black eye and split lip, that you and Drake worked things out?”
    Aaron smirked. “Yeah. I think we’re good for now. I explained a few things, and so did he.” He gestured to his face for emphasis.
    Annie’s expression became troubled. “I have to ask,” she began. “I… I know you wouldn’t… but I have to ask. The shifters you hunted, were they like us? Peaceful?”
    Aaron dipped the edge of his biscuit in the dark broth of the chili and brought it to his mouth before answering.
    “They were about as different from your group as possible. Nothing like DTD. They were terrible people who took advantage of innocents.”
    He took a bite, and his eyes closed just in time to see the relief on her face. Fuck, that tasted good.
    “Damn, sis. I think your cooking has gotten better over the years.”
    “Lots of practice,” she quipped.
    “Mm,” he grunted in agreement, using the plastic spoon to shovel some chili into his mouth.
    “So… what about the rest of last night?”
    “What rest?”
    Annie rolled her eyes. “The cute little fox, dummy. What’d she want?”
    Aaron frowned. “How’d you know she was a fox?”
    “The quiet one, Ragan, told me.”
    “Oh.”
    “So?”
    Aaron took several more bites before answering. “First of all, don’t mistake her for cute even though, yes,