Winning It All

by Wendy Etherington

  He glanced around, as if only then realizing they were still in the open doorway of her apartment. “Not really, no.”

  After striding inside, he closed the door and maneuvered her back against it, kissing her again.

  She finally laid her hand on his chest and stepped back. “Hey, hotshot, we’ll be late meeting everybody.”

  “So?”

  And there it was—that barely banked desire mingled with frustration that had become the norm as of late. Though Darcy knew the solution was a confirmation of their chemistry and feelings, a further commitment to their relationship—sex, in other words—she feared giving in to the impulse of her body’s needs. Her mind was too busy supplying various scenarios where she fell into his bed and panicked, forever damaging all they had together.

  Yet how much longer could she expect his patience to hold?

  To diffuse the tension, she smoothed her hand down her fluttery, pale peach top and jeans. “I guess you like my new outfit.”

  He glanced down at her, clearly noticing what she wore for the first time. “Nice.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “Beautiful,” Bryan corrected quickly. “I brought you a rose.” He patted down his blue shirt and jeans. “Which I apparently left in the limo.”

  “Limo?”

  “I thought I’d have a beer or two and would rather not drive. Plus, it’s a party, right?”

  The Garrison siblings were all meeting up at a Lake Norman bar and restaurant. Parker, who generally served as the family social chairman, had encouraged everybody to get together and celebrate Cade’s success. He’d won two races so far this season and was tops in the championship points.

  Since the races for the next two weeks were at the track in nearby Concord, they were all getting together for a rare Thursday night in town.

  A teasing light replacing the frustration in his eyes, Bryan slid his arm around her waist. “I can also focus on you instead of driving. Good idea, yes?”

  Her heart stuttered. This dating business was pretty amazing.

  After a slightly rough start, Bryan quickly got the hang of the romance thing. He brought flowers when he came to pick her up. He brought gifts of T-shirts, hats, cups, even kitchen utensils—all decorated with the car number and logo of one of the GRI drivers. This was especially helpful, since she could now show her team spirit at the track—though, more often than not, she wound up wearing stuff from multiple drivers, so as to not offend anybody.

  He sent her sweet text messages in the middle of the day just to say he was thinking of her. He helped her cook, and he pushed through his workouts without a scowl, complaint or argument.

  His confidence had zoomed through the roof. In the twelve weeks they’d been working together, he’d dropped twenty pounds, lost multiple inches from his waist, gained lean muscle mass and dropped his percentage of body fat by ten percent. The women at the track had certainly noticed and spent as much time clamoring for his autograph and attention as they did Cade’s.

  That part, actually, wasn’t so pleasant for Darcy.

  One night, when she was at Isabel and Cade’s, teaching them to make chocolate-covered strawberries, Bryan dropped by unexpectedly, saying he wanted to help. They all had a great time, talking around the kitchen island, doing things regular couples did.

  Not that all their time together had been without problems. Family, work issues, the hectic racing schedule had all caused conflicts. Worse, her ability to hide her guilt and anxiety seemed to be cracking. She’d find Bryan staring at her oddly at times, and sometimes he’d ask her outright if she was okay, as if he sensed she was holding back not just physically, but emotionally, as well.

  So an air of uncertainty, guardedness and tension lingered between them. Neither of them seemed to believe that the peaceful, happy days would last.

  “Are we dressed for a limo?” she asked.

  He tugged her outside. “I doubt the fashion police will pull us over.” After locking her door with her keys, he led her down the stairs to the parking lot where a long, gleaming black car and uniformed driver waited with the back door open.

  Obviously, her middle-class upbringing would never get used to taking limos for casual outings or firing up the company jet instead of slugging through the commercial airport like everybody else.

  Still, the Garrisons were as grounded and easy to be around as anybody she’d ever known. Even Parker, whose luxury hotel chain was world-renowned and who could probably buy GRI several times over, had a special quality of being able to relate to people from valets and mechanics to CEOs and track owners.

  That was part of the appeal of NASCAR racing, too. People from every walk of life, profession, income bracket, age group, all came together for entertainment and thrills, all followed their drivers with the passion of a mother protecting her child.

  “Hey, you with me?” Bryan asked, squeezing her hand.

  She realized the luxury car was moving and strived to set aside her troubled thoughts. “I’m here.” Looking over at him, she wondered if he’d been watching her with the look on his face she’d seen a little too often lately. “How are things with Lars?”

  “Quiet.” His eyebrows drew together. “It makes me think he’s up to something.”

  Lars, even after his I-should-be-driving-the-car-full-time stunt backfired, had continued to be a problem. “Surely he’s learned his lesson about going to the media,” she said.

  “About negative things, sure. Now, he just brags.”

  Lars was winning. He’d won the last race—at Darlington, no less—and though Cade had finished second, jumping him to the top spot in the championship points, winning that particular race had raised Lars’s status tenfold among everybody in the garage.

  While the staff at GRI was thrilled with the success, they were leery of their young, rebel driver’s attitude. They worried his ego was spinning out of control.

  “You’ll manage him,” she said, patting his leg.

  “Oh, you have great confidence in my coddling skills, do you?”

  “Not exactly. But he’s scared of you, so that’ll work just as well.”

  Bryan shook his head. “That kid isn’t scared of anybody, or anything—that’s half the problem.”

  “Well, he’s scared of you.”

  A calculating look slid into his eyes. “That’s certainly interesting.”

  Personally, Darcy would hate to be the object of that heated speculation, but Lars had been such a distracting pain in the butt for GRI, she figured he had it coming.

  They arrived at the restaurant minutes later. The limo and Bryan got several speculative looks from other arriving diners. As they passed a group of two couples walking through the door, Darcy heard one of the guys whisper Bryan’s name.

  She didn’t think often about Bryan’s fame. By now, she was used to the reporters at the track, but having regular people recognize the man she was seeing was still a strange and rare occurrence. Feeling awkward about the stares, she held tightly to Bryan’s hand as he led them into the restaurant and to the reserved table in the far corner of the room.

  With its rough-hewn plank walls, clean-lined decor, long, wide bar and beautiful view of the lake beyond the back deck, Midtown was an easygoing neighborhood place patronized by lots of racing people and the Garrison clan’s sporadic hangout. With them being out of town four days out of seven, it was hard to be a regular anywhere.

  Thankfully, at the table, she found familiar faces. Parker and Rachel were already seated, with the waitresses and manager fluttering around them, probably wondering if Parker was buying the joint. Come to think of it, maybe he had.

  They both rose as she and Bryan approached.

  Parker kissed Darcy’s cheek. His alluring green eyes gleamed. “There’s an extremely likely chance that we’ll be forced to thrash the male population of Mooresville tonight, Bryan. Are you prepared to defend our wildly attractive women with your life?”

  Darcy giggled. Rachel rolled
her eyes. Bryan simply shook his head.

  Parker said things like that. In an era of knights and chivalry, defending the castle with a blade and a metal shield, he would have fit right in.

  “I doubt we’ll have to resort to fisticuffs,” Bryan said seriously, then grinned, no doubt proud of his own historical reference.

  As Rachel complimented Darcy’s hairstyle, Cade and Isabel arrived.

  There were friendly greetings all around, then Isabel planted her hands on her hips. “Where’s the beer?”

  “On its way,” Parker assured her, pulling out her chair as Cade signed a few autographs for fans several feet away in the main room. “I guess the meeting with Splash didn’t go so well.”

  The company who made Splash laundry detergent was the primary sponsor of the Kevin Reiner/Lars Heiman car for GRI. Needless to say, the Lars dramatics over the last several weeks had not made them happy. Still, with his recent win, the car was up front, on TV and being talked about constantly in the media. They couldn’t be totally unhappy.

  Isabel groaned and gratefully accepted the bottled beer offered by the waitress, who left an ice-filled bucket containing more bottles in the center of the table. She also brought Parker a glass of deep red wine and Rachel and Darcy glasses of white.

  Isabel sipped her beer, then smiled as Cade slid into the seat next to her, softening the look of annoyance on her face. “The Splash people are so used to Kevin—his down-to-earth personality, his professionalism, his connection and loyalty to his fans. I do think Lars will eventually get all that, but his media mistakes are piling up.”

  “How’d he get along with the PR consultant?” Rachel asked.

  “They hit it off well,” Isabel said. “This PR guy is really young and hip,” she explained, obviously for anyone who wasn’t up on his credentials, which Darcy wasn’t. “He consults with music labels all the time. Like getting pop stars out of their latest ‘wardrobe malfunction’ scandal or whatever.”

  “And Lars enjoyed the attention,” Parker said.

  Isabel rolled her eyes. “He loved it. He was practically glowing by the end of the meeting.”

  “The squeaky wheel gets the grease,” Rachel commented.

  Isabel nodded. “That seems to be his strategy.”

  Parker raised his wineglass in a toast. “How else are you going to outshine a legend like Kevin?”

  Whether Parker was acknowledging Lars’s intelligence or insolence, Darcy wasn’t sure.

  “What about that smarmy agent of his?” Cade asked. “Where’d he come from?”

  Isabel’s eyes narrowed. “I have no idea, but he needs to go. Fast.”

  “He’s renegotiating his contract early,” Parker said. His gaze moved to Bryan, who’d—typically—said nothing during the discussion so far. “You need to watch him.”

  Bryan simply nodded.

  Isabel took another sip of her beer. Her expression was fiercely annoyed. Darcy could see her “Scary Isabel” nickname had been well-earned. “Well, if he—Lars, I mean—gives me that conceited smirk one more time, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

  Cade linked his hand with his wife’s. “Damn, though. He can drive a race car.”

  There were reluctant murmurs of agreement about that evaluation. Though some said he didn’t have enough seasoning and car control.

  Throughout the debate on Lars and his talent, or lack thereof, Bryan still remained silent. From previous talks with the family, Darcy knew that at some point the others would look to their leader for his evaluation and expertise.

  He was a strong, respected and admired man. Just a few of the reasons Darcy was so attracted to him. So why couldn’t her mind overcome the memories of her heart? Why couldn’t she give in to the intense feelings she had for Bryan?

  “But can we afford to lose him?” Cade asked, thankfully drawing her from her personal worries.

  Bryan’s moment, apparently, had come.

  “I don’t care how talented he is,” Bryan said, his eyes bright with annoyance. “He keeps screwing up, he’s gone.”

  Testimony, assessment, judge, jury, verdict. Case closed.

  Oh, wait. There was no jury. Just the judge.

  That hard line was a place Darcy knew she and Bryan would never agree on. She always considered people worth saving or helping. Where he wanted to step back from those he didn’t agree with, she wanted to embrace their differences.

  Or at least find a way to prove her point in a gentler way.

  But no couple was alike in every way. If everybody was the same, life would no doubt be very dull.

  “I agree the situation isn’t ideal, Bryan.” Rachel, seemingly the only one brave enough to challenge her brother, leaned forward. “But sponsorships are expensive, and he’s winning. How can we—”

  “Isabel just said our sponsor isn’t happy,” Bryan said evenly. “I don’t care how many races he wins. If he can’t represent GRI the way everyone else on our teams is expected to, I’ll fire him.”

  The conversation swiftly moved away from Lars.

  “Did you hear Dad ordered flowers for Leanne?” Cade asked the group.

  Rachel shrugged. “What’s so weird about that?”

  “He ordered them from the florist Mom’s dating.”

  Rachel choked on her wine. Her gaze darted around the table. “Why do you think he did that?”

  Cade shrugged. “Don’t know. But I know he didn’t call up the shop and place an order. He went down there, asked for the owner and had the guy lead him around the place while he asked advice about picking out an arrangement for the woman he was seeing.”

  “Who told you this?” Isabel asked.

  “Dad did,” Cade said, looking amused. “Said he’d always led the family by example, and he wanted us kids to realize that divorce could be amicable, that he and Mom were happier apart. He wanted everybody to get along.”

  “Sounds like he was trying to convince himself more than you,” Darcy said.

  When every gaze at the table fell on her, she wished she could call back her words. She barely knew Mitch Garrison.

  “Why do you think that?” Isabel asked.

  “Well, he…” She glanced at Bryan, wondering with uncharacteristic timidity if the women he dated normally butted into family business. Since he simply looked as attentive as the others, she continued. “Taking time out of his day to pick out flowers for a woman he’s dating doesn’t seem completely out of character, but—”

  “Oh, yes, it does,” Rachel said. “He wouldn’t know a petunia from a carnation.”

  “As opposed to a piston from a carburetor,” Parker said.

  “You can hardly mistake a piston for a carburetor,” Isabel pointed out.

  “Let her finish.”

  At Bryan’s quiet, but firm words, her starving libido metaphorically thumped her on the back of her head. He’s hot and thoughtful. What more do you want?

  She cleared her throat. “It seems obvious he chose that specific florist for a reason. Obviously, to check out this guy. I mean, really, he didn’t go there just for flowers.” She paused, considering. “Though I’m sure Leanne appreciated the effort anyway. So then he makes a big deal of telling you all about how great his relationship is. If everything was so great, wouldn’t that be obvious? Why does he need all the public declarations about it? And to his own son, who probably thinks it’s weird to discuss his dad’s love life in the first place.”

  She nervously ran her finger along the stem of her wineglass, even though she was certain her assessment was correct. “He’s jealous.”

  “Dad’s jealous,” Rachel said slowly, probably wanting to clarify Darcy’s long explanation—she tended to ramble when she was uneasy. “He’s not happy Mom’s dating the florist.”

  “And things are apparently not all carnations and roses in his relationship with Leanne,” Parker added. “I do believe you’ve analyzed the situation quite nicely, Darcy.”

  Darcy sipped her wine and tried not to gu
lp in relief. Her own love life was a strange mix of desire, companionship, tenuous restraint and yoga poses. Who was she to talk?

  “Are you sure your only expertise is physical therapy?” Cade asked, angling his head.

  Darcy shrugged. “Therapy is therapy in a lot of ways. I tend to encourage push-ups rather than long discussions about feelings. Sometimes, it amounts to the same thing, though.”

  “And she’s good at finding motivation,” Bryan said, his gaze meeting hers. “She knows just the right button to press.”

  Since that button, for him, had been revenge against his ex-wife, Darcy wasn’t thrilled with the reminder. Their past relationships were too prevalent in their lives. And danged if she knew how to make them go away.

  Rachel lifted her glass. “That sounds like pretty great news to me.” When nobody else immediately joined her, she stared at all of them in disbelief. “We all want Mom and Dad to get back together. They belong together. Y’all are honestly telling me you’re not happy?”

  Cade glanced down at the table, then back at his sister. “Yeah, but we don’t want Dad to be miserable.”

  “Who said he was miserable?” Isabel asked, lifting her beer bottle to join Rachel’s wineglass. “You guys all hate that your parents broke up. Maybe this is the first step to them reconciling.”

  The men all frowned.

  “Jealousy is a miserable thing for a man to go through,” Cade said.

  “Since when have you—” Isabel stopped. Both she and Rachel lowered their toast. Isabel’s gaze moved between Parker and Bryan. “Okay, fine. Sorry I brought it up.”

  Darcy, of course, knew about Bryan’s resentment of Chance Baker. But she also knew why the subject was sensitive to Parker. As perfect a couple as he and Rachel were now, she’d spent most of last season dating a neurosurgeon from Atlanta.

  Since Darcy had gotten to know Parker well, she thought—but didn’t point out—that Rachel dating the wrong guy had motivated Parker to finally accept and declare his feelings for her. So, really, the jealousy thing had helped them get together. Maybe it would be the same for the senior Garrisons.

  But since the idea of Bryan and Nicole’s reconciliation put a boulder in her stomach, she managed to keep her mouth shut about that possibility.