I look at Griffin, wondering how he could know it was settled. We never talked about it when he came to my room in San Jose and then shit hit the fan the next morning, so there was no way to have that conversation. Realization dawns on me. “What did you do?”
“I took care of it. End of story.” Griffin runs his hands through his hair in agitation, unable to meet my eyes.
Shock has my mouth falling open. “Y-you paid his debt?” I whisper. “Twenty grand?”
“You said you needed me. You said Wyatt was in trouble. I figured shit out so there wouldn’t be any more trouble.”
“But, how...why? I didn’t expect you to pay it yourself. I guess I just needed help figuring out what to do.” I feel so lame. I asked him to help, so he’s out that small fortune because of me. I drop my head into my hands.
“Why does it matter how? It’s done and over with now. If Wyatt is getting himself into more trouble, that’s on him. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll go check on him. You stay here.” He raises my chin with his finger and nods at me when we make eye contact.
Watching Griffin slip away, I am reminded about the side of him he rarely shows. He’s not just a cocky asshole, he’s sensitive. He’s not just an unfiltered idiot, he’s caring. He isn’t just standoffish, he’s a provider. He doesn’t just have my body, he has my whole heart.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Griffin climbs into the truck beside me and rides back to the hotel in silence. It surprises me to realize that we have never ridden together like this, so I soak up his quiet closeness. He allows me to lean against him without pulling away and even brushes his knuckles across my leg a few times. I didn’t realize I craved a simple normalcy like this with him, but as I watch the streetlights speed past outside the windows and feel the comforting heat of him pressed against my side, I make a wish that this will become normal for us. If there is such a thing.
It reminds me that I refused this sort of an in the open relationship with him before because I was scared of what people would think. How shitty that must have made him feel to think I was pronouncing him not good enough. Maybe I’m not worthy of him.
Once we get the trucks parked and secured for the night, we say goodnight to the team and he walks me through the halls to get me settled in my room.
“What did you find out with Wyatt?”
Griffin runs his hand through his hair, pushing it up into messy spikes that I always want to smooth. “Nothing he wants to talk about. Mike Alves was here giving him a hard time even though his debt was paid. I guess he wanted to shake him down for more or get him to make another losing bet of some sort.” He stops and considers his words before turning those stormy blue eyes my way. “Shelby, Wyatt has a problem and he needs help. As soon as this circuit is over, I’m making sure Paul knows what’s been going on. He can’t fix this on his own, so he needs all of our help.”
“I agree. And thank you for waiting until the season is over. I wouldn’t want Wyatt kicked off the team or feel like he’s under even more pressure with one race left in this series.”
He’s quiet as he sits on the bed next to me, not quite ready to leave, I think.
I yawn and stretch, wincing as my leg throbs and my body alerts me to tender spots I didn’t realize I had. I rub my hip and side gently.
“Are you okay?” Griffin asks, looking at his hands as they dangle between his knees.
“Define okay?” I joke, hoping to lighten his mood. When he just glares at me, I sigh. Somebody doesn’t want to joke. “I’m fine, I swear. I’m just a little sore and it’s not even that bad of a cut. It will heal up and become just a distant reminder of Laguna Seca in a few weeks.” I raise my leg up and study the flesh colored bandage in thought. “I might have to come up with a better story for how I got the scar, though. I’m thinking shark attack will be my go-to.”
“A metal stairway collapsing while you were on it at a drift event is not a good enough story?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
“It will get boring explaining that I was on a collapsed stairway and all I got was this little scar. I should have a better story like I broke half the bones in my body and managed to heal up and go on to greatness or something. Those are the stories that stick with people.”
“You’re crazy, you know that?” He laughs and shakes his head. A smile and laughter from Griffin? Success!
“Just about you.” I capture his hand, lacing our fingers together as his smile fades and he becomes serious again. “Good job tonight. I’m sorry that your moment of glory was sort of stripped away by the accident. You deserved to celebrate your win. It sucks the way things went down after.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He looks down at our hands. I run my thumb along his knuckles, hoping he’ll continue. “I achieved what I set out to do, and it was witnessed by anyone who cared. That’s all that matters.”
“You didn’t get a chance to get up on the podium, though. That sucks. It’s nice to get a little recognition for the badass driving you did to get there.”
“I don’t need a podium presentation or a chance to do obnoxious amounts of donuts for screaming fans to give me the satisfaction that beating the TW Motorsports team did. Mason’s a good enough dude and a great driver, but his team can suck it.”
It takes me a moment to layer this newfound maturity over the hotheaded Griffin I know intimately. His character is rounding out in more ways than I could imagine. It’s unnerving that when I think I know what he is all about, he surprises me. I’d like to have him pegged a little better than this, so at least I would have some semblance of control in the relationship. But I’m ready to accept him in any form he comes to me in.
“I’m really proud of you, for what it’s worth. You showed an incredible amount of maturity and good sportsmanship after your race. You’re doing your sponsors justice.” I run my hand along his arm and grip his bicep. I don’t want to let the solid warmth go, so I just leave my hand there and hope he doesn’t mind. “But what’s with the personal vendetta against TW Motorsports? I thought it was reserved for Charlie Sweeten for wrecking your car. When did this happen?”
“Charlie will always be a motherfucker for putting me into a wall, but that’s racing. We can have our friendly rivalry and keep it on the track. Unless he decides to take it up in our downtime. TW Motorsports made things personal.”
“You mean Terrance did by offering me a spot on their team?” I don’t really want him dwelling on this, since it’s what tore us apart last week, but it’s probably better to get it out. I just hope we can quickly put my hasty decision to leave S&M behind us. I’ll take any opportunity to apologize, though. “I was stupid to think they could offer me something special as a driver. I absolutely regret even considering it. If I could go back—”
Griffin places his finger on my lips, silencing me. “You can choose another team if you want. It’s not my place to tell you what’s best for you. If you want to drive and you think being on another team will get you where you need to go, then that’s your choice. Terrance fucked up when he came after you today, calling you a marginally talented bitch, mediocre tits and ass, and saying we’re a team of losers. I wanted him to feel the sting of coming in second to losers. Again.”
I cringe at his blunt and spot-on reminder of Terrance’s delightful words from earlier. He must have committed them to a memory that he held onto all day.
“You made your actions speak louder than his words ever could. Thank you.” I lean forward and press my lips to his. He doesn’t pull away. I smile against his mouth before I kiss along his jaw to his ear. “Stay with me tonight.”
“That’s not a good idea.” The flat tone of his voice is what registers first, then his words.
My eyelids flutter open and I pull my mouth away from his face, confused. “But, I thought...tonight...”
Flustered, I draw my hand out of his and sit back. I don’t know how to finish my train of thought. I figured with his change of attitude toward me and how
attentive he’s been that we could make this work, like right now. I thought he would want to stay the night with me. The crushing weight of mortification from being turned down settles on my shoulders.
“Oh, okay, then.” I rise from the bed and head to my suitcase. I rifle through it blindly, needing something to do. Grabbing what I hope is shorts and a tank top, I straighten up and look into the bathroom. “I’m just gonna shower and head to bed. Thanks for helping me tonight, I really appreciate it.” I waft my cloud of rejection in the direction of the bathroom and hope I can make it into solitude without my face erupting into hot flames of embarrassment.
Griffin groans from his spot on the bed. I keep my back to him as I refold my clothing and wait for him to leave. I hear him rise from the bed and approach, so I take a few steps into the bathroom. He follows me, pressing up against my back as I stare at the toilet, my face still burning hot.
“It’s not a good idea because you’re hurt, and I wouldn’t be gentle with you.”
His hands slowly circle my hips and pull me back against him. I arch into his body, feeling his ridges and the bulge of his desire. Yes! This is what I’ve been wanting from him all week. One hand moves up my torso, massaging my breast, while the other moves between my legs, cupping me. My eyes flutter closed as my embarrassment is slowly replaced by lust. He releases me gently, bends down, and turns on the water in the shower.
“And it’s not a good idea because I’m not sure what to do with you, just yet. Now take your shower and get some sleep.”
He kisses the back of my head, inhaling while his face is pressed into my hair. Stepping away, he allows me to turn toward him. I implore him for answers with my eyes, but he just looks me up and down, nods, and backs out of the bathroom before he leaves the room.
“What the actual fuck?” I groan out loud and undress, thinking about Griffin’s hot and cold act as I shower.
Crawling into bed alone is a frustrating experience. I miss Griffin. I really wanted him to stay with me, to hold me, to reconnect physically. I miss the way he worshiped my body, how he could be hard or gentle, but always knew how to find my pleasure. I miss his filthy mouth. I miss the unguarded vulnerability he finally let me see last weekend. God, has it only been one week since we spent an entire night together, and he opened up to me? It feels like a lifetime only made worse by everything falling apart the very next morning.
I don’t care how long it takes; I’m going to show him he can trust me. I can wait as long as he needs to be sure of my intentions, to feel comfortable making himself vulnerable to me and know I won’t hurt him. I won’t walk away this time.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Let’s make a video for the fans. We should stand with the ADL and express our gratitude that they were able to get everyone help last night after the stairway accident. You can give a quick statement about your win and thank your sponsors.” I am already pulling my GoPro out of my bag when we finish unloading the trailers at the Smoke and Mirrors shop. It was a long trip and everyone is tired, but I think this is important enough to spend a few minutes on.
“Good idea, Shelby, we need to keep everyone happy,” Paul says as he sets down the last box. “Griff, you good?” He looks outside the garage doors and catches Wyatt heading toward his car. “Hey, Wyatt! Get your ass back here. You can help, too.” He chuckles as Wyatt stops mid-step and his shoulders slump.
“You fucking slave driver. I’m beat to hell and just want to crash,” he grumbles with a half smile as he turns and makes his way back to the shop.
I get the camera turned on and face the guys standing in the doorway of the shop. All three of our cars are framed in the shot, full wraps on each. A sense of pride explodes through my heart that I am a part of this team. I may not be driving, but I can support the guys who are, and be a part of this whole experience in a way that still makes a difference.
“Say cheese.” I laugh as I hit record. “Wyatt, you came in fourth at the Laguna Seca competition yesterday. How do you feel your runs went?”
“I did my best and was pretty pleased with my performance. It sucks to get knocked out of the bracket, but that’s racing. Coming up against a teammate is never fun, but I feel I lost to a worthy opponent who just happened to drive better than I did in those heats. My car has been amazing, Smoke and Mirrors keeps it running tight, and I can’t wait for Irwindale next week.” He smiles, his dimples appearing as he crosses his arms across his Slay All Tires T-shirt and shifts from foot to foot. I nod at him and turn my attention to Griffin.
God, he’s beautiful. I love looking at him. Any of my lingering embarrassment from his late night rejection is muted enough today to allow me to talk to him without feeling too stupid. He rode in the same truck with me again, but he sat up front while I was in the back, my leg propped up on the bench seat. I spent a lot of time staring at his dark hair and remembering the feel of our bodies together. It was an uncomfortable ride, at least for me, and not just because my shin was killing me. I shake myself out of my reverie.
“Can you give us your thoughts on the competition?”
“I feel like my performance speaks for itself.” I bite my lip, hoping this answer won’t devolve into a typical, Griffin cocky-as-all-hell, response. “All of the drivers did a great job. In this sport, anyone can take it on any given day. I had the right car and the right team behind me to make it my night. I feel lucky that both my teammate and I made it to the final four. We’ve got great sponsors supporting us, making sure our cars are outfitted with top of the line equipment and support when we need it. This has been a rough season for all of us. Between mechanical issues and crashes, there were many instances we didn’t think we would make it through the entire season. In these last few weeks, we seem to have finally found our stride, pushing toward the final showdown in Irwindale with a good history on the track, and despite the setbacks, we have hit the podium more often than not. It just goes to show that having the right team can make all the difference.”
Holy shit, I couldn’t have planned a better sound bite had I written it myself and given it to Griffin to deliver. He didn’t even swear! I’m so shocked I’m not sure what to prompt them with next. Wyatt saves me the trouble.
“We also want to send our love and healing thoughts to everyone who was affected by the accident in the stands last night. We appreciate the American Drift League for responding quickly and rushing to the aid of those stuck in the collapse and making sure everyone was taken care of. Freak accidents like that happen every once in a while and take us by surprise. Quick responses from the ADL and emergency services made sure nothing worse happened. We hope to see the fans out in force next weekend in Irwindale.” He gives a half wave and I end the recording, knowing we won’t have to try for a second take.
“Nice work, guys. That was perfect. I’ll just get it uploaded and send it out on our social pages.” I’m already walking back to the office to grab my bag so I can head home.
“Hey, Shelby,” Paul calls from the garage. I turn toward him expectantly. “Come over for dinner tonight. We’ll get the whole team together and do a little celebrating since we missed out yesterday.”
“That sounds really nice. I should be able to get this onto a computer and uploaded within an hour. That work for you guys?”
“Yeah, Marny has something started already, I’ll let the guys know, too.”
***
Dinner was a reminder of home and family. Marny made food that I couldn’t stop eating and the conversation was flowing. The good-natured hassling the guys gave each other, and me, for one reason or another was a relief. It made me realize that, despite the shit that has gone down lately, we are all still cool. I’m glad no one has harbored any hard feelings toward me for fucking up and thinking I needed to bail to get where I want to go.
I half expected Griffin to follow me to my car, or meet me by my door, and can’t help feeling disappointed when he does neither. I do want to give him time, but I don’t have to like it. I kn
ow I about broke his heart last week. Me changing my mind and sticking around isn’t enough to rebuild that trust. Even my over-the-top flirting and blatant desire to be with him won’t put a dent in his armor. I have to let time close those rifts. Meaning what I say and saying what I mean will help. I will let my actions speak louder than my words. I’m just not sure how or when I can really put all of that into play. I do know that when he is ready, I will be here waiting with open arms. Now if I could just get my patience to cooperate.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The week between Laguna Seca and Irwindale is busy as hell. All of the guys are working tirelessly to get the Supra into fighting shape for one final round of drifting. The Nissan and the Black Sheep are given full work-ups and parts are replaced that could pose a threat of failure on race day. By Wednesday, the Supra is ready to be tested, so Griffin, Ryan, and Paul head out for some track time. Staying behind with Wyatt, Cole, and Ezra, I help clean up the mess of parts and then prioritize the work that needs to be done on client cars.
It’s really cool to see our parking lot full of customer cars waiting patiently to be modded and tuned by Smoke and Mirrors. I have taken over scheduling shop time for customers and managing invoices and part orders. I think Paul appreciates me picking up some of the influx of work that has come into the shop, and I am more than happy to do it. Ezra has Cole helping him on a supercharger install, so I invite Wyatt into the office to hang out with me.
I throw the cap from my water bottle at his head and pat the seat next to me. “You’re a betting man, how do you think the final challenge will go?” I ask him when he plops down on the plaid couch and gently settles my legs over his lap so I can stretch out.
He eyes me warily. “I may be a betting man, but I am done with that scene.”
Drift Heat Page 27