“That’s okay,” he responds with a smile. “I figured as much.”
“Yeah.”
“You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”
“No more than the next girl.” I shrug. Something tells me not to tell him all of my deepest fears and secrets. But that can’t be right. Bobby is my oldest friend. We practically grew up together. Even though we’ve been pitted against one another, I hope we’ll be able to move past it after one of us wins the control of DHR. But there’s also a little voice in the back of my mind that whispers that maybe we won’t.
“Let me take you out tonight,” he says, surprising me again.
“What?”
“Go out with me tonight,” he repeats, and I look at him, really look at him. Bobby is a handsome guy. Any woman would be lucky to go out with him. He’s always been nice to me. Maybe this is the answer to my prayers. I’ve never thought of Bobby that way before, but we are very similar. We have the same career, and we both grew up in awe of both my father and grandfather.
Not to mention if I started dating Bobby, I would have a legitimate excuse to end things with King. I know that’s not fair to Bobby or to me, but the opportunity is there, and I want to grab it with both hands. And if we end up together, we could run DHR as a couple. Maybe this is what my dad wanted all along. For Bobby and me to find our way together and rule the racing world side by side as the ultimate power couple.
“I’d love to.”
“Great,” he says, smiling that bright white, winning smile. “I’ll pick you up at six. Dress nice.”
And then he turns and leaves the room.
I quickly pick up my things and make my way to the locker room to pack up my belongings in my locker. When I turn to walk out, King is there, staring at me, but he doesn’t say a word. He just leads me out to his SUV and drives me home. We don’t speak as he checks the house nor after.
I decide to change and get a quick workout in before I dress for dinner. I step onto the treadmill in my home gym. I’m sure that a hard run will wear out a lot of my nerves. I press the Start button, and the tread begins to move, when I see movement at the door. King is there, watching me, and I stumble over my own feet.
“Wh-What are you doing here?” I stammer. I figured my making a date with another man and then coming down here to be alone made it clear that I didn’t want to be around him. I guess I was wrong.
“Don’t wear yourself out,” King says cryptically from his place by the door.
“What?”
“When you get back from him,” he says, the warning in his low voice clear for all to hear, “you come to me.”
“King—”
“If he touches what’s mine, I’ll be pissed,” he adds and then turns on his heel and walks away.
And isn’t that just the rub anyways, because I was never his to begin with and I was never going to be.
And I can’t remember wanting anything more in all of my life.
• • •
My heart feels like it’s about to beat its way out of my chest.
What the hell am I doing? I have no idea. I played with fire and got burned. I wanted to dive into a pool of asbestos and put out the flame, but instead, I jumped from the frying pan to the fire.
After my workout, which did absolutely nothing to ease my anxiety, I crawled upstairs and took a long, hot shower. I dried and curled my hair softly so it hung delicately over my shoulders and down my back. I applied my makeup like a professional in a smoky eye of shimmery shades of gray and swiped a soft pink on my lips. I slipped a pair of diamond studs into my ears and a matching tennis bracelet on my wrist. And then I went and lost my freaking mind by pulling a stretchy dress over my head that was so slinky and so tight I couldn’t wear any panties or bra underneath it. I slipped my feet into black heels with a rounded toe and looked at myself in the mirror.
I look good. I know that, but King’s warning is sounding like a fire alarm in my ears.
“What in the hell am I doing?” I ask my reflection. But there’s no answer to be found, because my reflection and I both know I’m still being monumentally stupid.
I wonder if I have time to break into my emergency stash of sour candy in the kitchen and stuff an entire package of watermelon ribbons into my mouth before Bobby gets here.
Then the doorbell rings.
“Shit!”
