by M. L. Broome
I have a choice. I can make up some excuse she’ll no doubt believe and then change the subject. But I never want to lie to Greer. Her father and that piece of shit Richard spent years lying, wrecking her emotional stability in the process.
So, I opt for the truth, praying she understands my logic. “I’m not wearing it.” When her face falls, I realize I have seconds to prevent this chat from careening into the wall. “It’s not that I don’t love it. I do, but we haven’t announced anything yet.”
“Right,” she mumbles, her gaze intent on her hand. “Should I take mine off?”
“The press doesn’t know who you are yet. I plan on announcing our marriage after the first race. I want to keep the media’s focus on my training until that point.”
Please understand, beautiful. Please.
A sad smile colors her face, but she nods in agreement. “Whatever you need to do, Ryder. A few people asked me about the ring, but I never told them who I married. Your secret is safe.”
Hell, that’s not how I meant it. “I’m telling the world about us as soon as the race is finished. But I want you by my side when I make the announcement.” Wincing at my unintentional faux pas, I shoot her a rueful smile. “I should have spoken to you about everything first, ensured you were okay with my decision. I’ll put the ring on right now.”
Yep, I’m scrambling. I’m terrified she’ll slide on her trusty emotional armor again. It was no easy feat getting her to lay it aside the first time.
“It’s fine. Honestly. No big deal.” But the flat tone of her voice belies her innocent words. I’ve hurt her, which is the last thing I want to do.
“Gigi, it’s not like that.”
“How’s Greg settling in?” With that question, her armor snaps into place as she switches to a different topic.
“The man is a genius with automobiles.” Clearing my throat, I run my hand over my beard, uncertain how to proceed. “Can I ask something without you getting angry?”
Greer releases a short bark of laughter, averting her gaze. “That’s always the setup for a terrible question. Fire away.”
Yep, I have some serious damage control to handle after the ring fiasco. I see it in the set of her jaw, along with the fact that she’s barely meeting my gaze. Now, I’ve shot out another cryptic question and judging by the apprehension lining her face, she has no clue what I’ll hit her with next.
As I said, I have way more finesse on the track than with romance, but I’m trying. For Greer, I’ll never stop trying.
“Hopefully, it’s not a terrible topic. I pray it’s something benign and I’m overreacting.” It’s meant to soothe her nerves, but as soon as her dark gaze flies up to meet mine, I realize I’m only making the situation worse with every second wasted.
“Benign? Are you okay?”
“Bad choice of words. It’s about Greg and his drinking.”
“Don’t scare me like that.” Greer rubs her hand over her brow, a small sigh escaping her mouth. “I hoped he would rein in his drinking after the hubbub of the wedding and starting this new job. He’s not a mean drunk—”
“I know that, but he’s always got a drink in his hand. Except at the track, of course. But the minute we’re done, he’s in the cooler, popping open a beer. Should I be worried? You know him better than anyone, Gigi.”
“Mom and I have worried about his drinking for years. My father had a drinking problem, and we all know there’s a hereditary link. I’ve never known Greg to mix business and pleasure, although their borders lie really close together. Do you want me to talk to him?”
“No, I’ll do it. You have enough on your plate.” Drumming the table, I stare at her image, the apprehension wafting off her in waves. Time to get to the bottom of whatever is eating at her emotions. “Hey beautiful, what did you think I was going to ask?”
“Nothing.” Once again, Greer won’t meet my gaze. A sure sign she’s lying.
“Don’t nothing me. What did you think I was going to say?”
“That you wanted an annulment.”
Her off-the-cuff reply knocks me sideways. “Where did that come from?”
She shrugs, her gaze fixed on the floor.
“Gigi, we are never getting divorced. Not happening.”
But instead of a smile lighting up her face, she only offers a slight nod. “It just seemed odd that you weren’t wearing you ring, so I thought…who knows what I thought? I’m beat from work and I have an early conference call in the morning. Can we talk tomorrow?”
No way will I end this call with her on that note. She needs to understand how much I adore her.
“I love you, Greer Gray. Do you hear me? I’m a total shit for not wearing my ring and I’ll tell the world tomorrow, I promise.” I send her a smile, trying to coax one in return. “I just wanted you by my side so I could make every man jealous that I had you and no one else ever would. Actually, I’m desperate for you to be here. I’ve spent so many days without you, and I’m not sure how many more I can stand. When you boarded that plane, you took the color out of my life.”
Greer releases an exasperated sigh, those wide eyes finally meeting my gaze. “Damn you. That was good. How am I supposed to stay mad after such a romantic sentiment?”
I chuckle, letting my fingers trace the lines of her face on the screen. “An annulment? You are way off. In fact, I want to know when we can start prepping for our next phase.”
“Phase?”
“You. Me. A ton of sex. Nine months later, you get the picture.”
“A secret marriage and I lose my bikini body? I don’t know. That might be too much to ask.”
“You know I’m knocking you up, right? You’ll rock a bikini, even at nine months pregnant.”
“I highly doubt that fact.” She’s trying to maintain a serious expression, but I see the mischievous glint in her eye. “My bed is calling.”
“Damn thing never calls me.” Even though we’re now jovial, I need to drive home how serious I am about our marriage. Our future. The last thing I need is for Greer to distance herself. The woman is a master at shielding her emotions, even if she’s never been good at hiding them from me.
Somehow, we always got each other.
“I’ll issue a press release in the morning. Just be prepared. The media are going to have a field day with the news.”
“It will keep, Ryder. Your only focus should be ensuring that sexy ass is safe during the race. But once I’m back, and the race is over, that ring goes on your finger. Deal?”
“Forever and always.” I pull open my shirt, showing the medallion. “I’m ready to retire this guy. I want you as my good luck charm.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
“Not soon enough.”
We end the call, but I continue to weigh my options regarding our marriage. Maybe I should announce our betrothal and fuck anyone who doesn’t understand.
My doorbell peals, jolting me from my thoughts. Who the hell is stopping by now? My money is on Greg; he’s already managed to lock himself out of the pool house once today.
But it isn’t Greg standing on my vestibule. It’s Mandi.
Isn’t this a wonderful way to end an evening?
“What are you doing here?”
Shifting her weight, she sucks in a breath. “Can we talk?”
“About?” Yes, I’m curt, but I have no desire to rehash our sham of a relationship. Mandi has already chewed my ear several times over the last couple of weeks, volleying for a second chance.
She fails to realize she’s out of chances. The moment the love of my life walked back into my life, everyone else failed to exist. At least as far as I’m concerned.
What I felt for Mandi, even in the beginning, pales compared to the adoration I feel for Greer. It’s not even close. Hell, it’s not even the same ballpark. And no matter what Mandi claims, she cheated on me. Twice.
Leaning against the doorframe, I block her forward movement into the house. “I don’t think we have anythi
ng to say to one another.”
“I have a few things to say to you if you can spare the time.”
Calling on all my patience, I hold back from rolling my eyes as I wave her into the house. The woman is a born drama queen. She won’t go away quietly. Best to let her speak her mind and then show her ass to the door.
Again.
I stop by the bar, pouring myself a glass of wine. Hey, I’m pretty damn positive I’ll need a drink for this conversation. “You want one?”
Mandi accepts my offering and we walk out to the patio. I consider it neutral territory, the proverbial no-man's-land for her forthcoming painful diatribe.
Crossing her long legs, she glances around at the place she used to call home. It’s crazy how much can change in thirty days. “How have you been?”
I sputter my drink, glaring in her direction. “Save the pleasantries. Say what you have to say.”
“You claim we aren’t good together, but I disagree. We had several wonderful months and there was love there, even if we lost our way in the end.”
“Why are you involving me in that statement? You cheated, remember? That’s what ended this relationship.”
“And the first thing you do is fly to Vegas and hook up with another woman. Who is she, anyway? Some high-dollar stripper?”
“How is that your business?” I refuse to divulge any information about my wife to Mandi, especially before the press release. All Greer needs is to be harangued by my ex-girlfriend about how she stole her man, or whatever inane story she creates in her mind. That will definitely send her scrambling for the hills.
“Is she here? I’d like to meet the woman who’s taken my place. Have you moved her in yet?”
“Was this your plan? Barrage me with questions about the woman in Vegas?”
“Does she mean anything, or was she just a fling?”
“Again, none of your business.” I sit forward, my foot tapping ceaselessly on the ground. “You should go.”
“Do you know why I cheated?”
This time the eye roll wins out. I don’t give a damn why she cheated. It’s over and done with, and now I need her gone.
Unlucky for me, Mandi is far from finished.
“You were emotionally unavailable, Ryder. All you care about is your stupid car and your stupid races.”
A harsh bark of laughter shoots from my lips. “First, that isn’t true. Second, that stupid car afforded your lifestyle here. But instead of appreciating it, you threw it in my face. Fucked someone else.”
“So did you. Don’t forget you stepped out on me, too.”
It’s a low blow, but I should have known it would come around to my indiscretion. Was I unfaithful to Mandi? Depends on how you look at it. After she cheated the first time, I dumped her ass, went to the club, and screwed a woman whose name I don’t recall.
It was a real low point, but I own my past—the good and bad parts.
“We also said after our reconciliation that we would focus on making this relationship work. Do you recall that discussion? Apparently not, since you screwed a man in my house while I was away.” Another bark of laughter cuts through the night air. “Well, you thought I was away. We both got one hell of a surprise that day.”
Mandi grasps my hands, an unexpected and wholly unwelcome move. “I know I messed up, but I’d like you to consider giving us another chance. A real chance.”
I open my mouth to object, but she waves her hand, silencing my argument.
“Give it some thought. That’s all I ask.”
She stands suddenly, pressing a kiss to my mouth before turning toward the door.
If I don’t set the record straight now, Mandi will never cease and desist. Chasing her into the house, I grasp her shoulders, spinning her around. “While I appreciate your pseudo apology, I’m not interested in reconciliation. I’ve moved on. I suggest you do the same.”
“I’ll give you a few days to think it over.”
How dense is this woman? Holding open the door, I force a smile. “My answer isn’t going to change. Good luck to you, Mandi.”
I sag against the wall the moment she leaves, releasing an aggravated sigh.
I assumed after our last call, where I reiterated—again—how I was done with our relationship, that she would take the hint.
I thought wrong. Apparently, Mandi doesn’t enjoy being told no.
Too bad for her, because I’m not changing my mind.
“You did what?” Mr. Givens, my lawyer, is less than thrilled with me. To be honest, I worry he might have a coronary at my breakfast bar. “What is wrong with you? You married this woman without a prenup?”
“I did.” I’m not sure why he’s so bent out of shape. It’s my money.
“You realize she could take you for half.”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“Right. Because I’ve never heard that line before.”
“You don’t know Greer.”
“Forgive me, Ryder, but neither do you. I notice she’s not here. Where is she?”
I bristle at Mr. Givens’ tone regarding my wife. “She had to finish up her work on Long Island.”
He buries his head in his hands. “I’m going to call her and see if I can’t get some agreement drawn up. Likely won’t stand in court, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Don’t you dare,” I warn.
“I know you think you’re in love, but you’ve worked so hard for all of this. Don’t throw it away on a decision made in the heat of the moment.”
I understand his point. It’s valid. To the outside world, my decision would appear impetuous and rash. But what the outside world doesn’t know is my long-standing desire to be with Greer.
They also don’t know her.
Although they will now.
Mr. Givens appeared on my doorstep, a stack of tabloids in his hands, demanding to know if there was any truth behind the rumors flooding the gossip mags. Those rumors being my surprise nuptials. Although they haven’t clinched any definitive proof, it’s only a matter of time. After all, marriages are a public record.
I wonder who leaked the news, although my money is on the maid who cleaned our villa. She was highly attentive to our needs, even claiming to be a huge fan of racing. Now I realize she was really a huge fan of dollar signs.
Mr. Givens expected me to be furious, but I simply shrugged and chuckled before letting him in on the events of the past few weeks. Granted, it’s not the way I planned for the news to hit the airwaves, but my hope is the race this weekend will overshadow any gossip, just long enough for my wife to get her sexy ass down here.
Then, I’ll let the truth hang out.
“What am I supposed to do here, Ryder? You hired me to protect your investments, then you throw them away on a spur-of-the-moment wedding to some woman I’ve never heard of. Please tell me she’s not a Vegas showgirl. Showgirls are notorious for this type of garbage.”
“She’s got the body of a showgirl,” I reply, smirking at Mr. Given’s horrified expression. “I’ve known her since I was ten and I’ve loved her that long.”
“Then why haven’t I heard about her?”
“I thought she was married. Turns out, she wasn’t. But I fixed that problem. Next on the agenda is a baby, in case you want to throw another apoplectic fit.”
“I’m so glad you find this amusing.”
“I got married. I didn’t murder anyone. Relax. Have a cocktail. I need to call Gigi because it’s only a matter of time before the press gets hold of her name.”
Strolling out of the kitchen, I glance over my shoulder, laughing when I see my lawyer grab the bottle of gin. Hey, it’s five o’clock somewhere.
Greer picks up on the first ring, her voice hushed. “I swear I didn’t say anything. Are you okay? Are you freaking out?”
“I’m fine.” Actually, I’m thrilled the truth is out. The look of disappointment on Greer’s face when she discovered I wasn’t wearing my ring haunted me the entire ni
ght.
“Are you lying?” I hate the hesitation in her voice, the uncertainty.
“No. My only concern is your safety and the media bothering you. Has anyone said anything?”
“Not at all, except for one of my coworkers, who claims to be insanely jealous of whoever your wife is because you are, as she puts it, the hottest man in the world of racing.”
I chuckle into the phone. “She’s not lying.”
“Your ego is intact, thank God. Had me worried for a minute. How long until they figure out my name?”
“Depends, but not long. A couple of days at the most.”
“What should I tell the media, if someone corners me?”
“Tell them you’re married to the hottest man in the world of racing.”
“How about no comment?”
“I like the first option better.”
“You would,” Greer chuckles. “Let me run. I have some paperwork to finish before I squirrel myself away in my apartment.”
“I love you, Mrs. Gray. I can’t wait for you to be back here. Hey, before you go, what day are you flying in? I’ll book your flight. The race is Sunday, but I’d love for you to be here Saturday.”
Silence. Never a good thing.
“Gigi? When are you coming home?”
“I don’t know if I’ll make the race, Ryder.” She shushes me when I groan into the phone. “Trust me, I’m trying but I’m overloaded with work.”
“You quit. As of Friday you’re done.”
“I feel bad for the patients. They’re having a hard time with my resignation.”
With an aggravated grunt, I stroll onto the patio, coffee in hand. “Well, I’m having a hard time with your absence, and I’m your husband. I win.”
“I promise this is the last race I’ll miss.”
“I want you at this race.” Am I being difficult? Yes, but I’m desperate for her to be in my arms again. Besides, the media will no doubt be looking for her at the race, wondering why my new wife is noticeably absent.
“How about I make it up to you with daily blowjobs for the rest of the circuit?”
Holy fuck, that got my attention. “I’m listening.”