I bark out a laugh. “You haven’t noticed she never has any guys around? And I also don’t date,” I clarify.
“Right. Grid girls only.”
I nod. I don’t have the time to put in the effort to keep a girlfriend, nor do I have the desire. The racing schedule on its own is brutal. Because I race for a small team, I need to contribute financially. On top of that, since being on my own, I’ve had to work another job to be sure I can put back into the team and provide for my own necessities.
It’s a lot at times, but I know when I get this spot in Cup, it’ll all be worth it, and I’ll be able to quit my second job.
“I can hook you up with someone, man,” I say. “Brady isn’t going to fold to you.”
“You sound so confident about that.”
There’s something in his tone that gives me an eerie feeling. Like he’s planning something that could end badly, though I’m not sure for whom.
“Thanks for letting me use your AirTag to find her. I couldn’t resist the urge to show up and annoy her,” I say. I overheard her asking Leslie to go to the beach and I cooked up this plan, and Hicks is known for losing his wallet, keys,or anything not directly attached to his person; he has them on basically everything. That’s the only reason he’s here, because he and I don’t really hang out unless we’re in a group setting.
He mainly inserts himself into the group. And with his parents being Richie Rich, he sometimes pays for dinners out or other things, which the guys don’t mind. And neither do I. This is another one of those instances.
“Not a problem. Though stalking is frowned upon.”
“It wasn’t stalking. Just following,” I explain.
Ian ignores me, going back to his beer. I look out at the ocean, taking in the view, listening to the sound the waves make as they crash on the shore. I close my eyes and breathe in the salty air. This is the most relaxed that I’ll be all weekend, so I plan to enjoy it while I can.
Tomorrow is race day, and I need to be sure that I’m fully focused on winning. One step closer to beating Regan Brady for the ultimate prize…the Cup series.
SEVEN
REGAN
Usually on race day,I’m excited and full of adrenaline. Today, nerves course through me like a current of electricity. These superspeedways get into my head, and I slowly start to spiral thinking of the worst possible outcome. As long as I stay out of trouble, I can make it through to the finish.
I glance over to Dixon, who’s standing next to yet another grid girl. This one I recognize—not because he’s brought her before, but because she is a big time bikini model, Mia Beckett. She’s tall with dark hair that seems to float around her like she’s underwater, and I can’t keep from staring at Dixon’s arm around her waist.
I feel an ache in my chest at the sight. He’s been doing this for two years, so why is this bothering me now? As if he can feel me staring at him, he turns and gives me a wink.
A fuckingwink.
The nerve of this asshole. I roll my eyes and line up with the crew for opening ceremonies. After I get strapped in, I take some deep breaths to slow my racing heartbeat. As soon as the engine fires up, the familiar purr soothes me. I close my eyes for a brief moment to let the sounds and the vibrations ofthe car calm me down. I roll onto the track and line up for the start.
The green flag waves, and we’re all off down into the first two turns to start this race. There’s already so much shuffling and rubbing between the cars, and we haven’t even finished the first lap yet.
Everyone seems to want this win. Who doesn’t want to win at Daytona? This is a recipe to cause big wrecks, ones that can take out half the field if someone makes a mistake.
We get to the halfway point, and I’ve luckily stayed out of trouble thus far. I missed a car blowing a tire right in front of me and a spinning car toward the rear of the field. Hopefully, nothing else will happen.
Famous last words.
Finally, I’m in the top five, and I’m content to ride this position out until the end. I don’t think we have a car to win, but a top five finish isn’t bad, considering where we started from and the close calls we have had with others wrecking around me.
Per expectations, Dixon has been running in the top position all day.
Dad comes over the radio to check in. “Good job getting into the top five. How’s the car handling?”
“It’s better, but still tight going into the corners,” I say, trying to give as much information as possible to help.
“Hold as long as possible to make it to the next pit window. Keep your fingers crossed for a caution so we can make a longer stop if needed.”
A few laps later, my spotter comes over the radio. Two cars are spinning behind me, pulling another caution. Thank god for that. I don’t think I could’ve held on for much longer.
