#Rev (GearShark #2)

by Cambria Hebert

  Someday soon, like very soon, I would know the answer.

  It would be a defining time in my life. In Drew’s life. We would find out who our true friends were.

  We checked into the same hotel we stayed at when Drew met with Ron Gamble the first time. We didn’t even bother driving up to the valet; there was no point. Drew would never let anyone drive his car (besides me of course), and I didn’t need dropped off at the door.

  Once the Mustang was parked in a relatively safe spot, we grabbed our bags and walked to the entrance. I recognized the valet right away; it was the same one from before. I didn’t expect him to remember us, but he did.

  “The Fastback right?” he asked, looking at me, not Drew.

  I grinned. “Hey, man. How ya doing?”

  “Another day, another dollar,” he quipped.

  Drew looked between us, confused.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out some cash. “You remember the deal from last time?” I asked, holding up the green.

  The valet inclined his dark head. “Of course. Your car will be safe.”

  “Thanks, man.” I slapped the cash into his hand and pointed to the spot where it was parked. He nodded and pocketed the money.

  When we were out of earshot, Drew looked at me. “What the hell was that?”

  “Insurance. Making sure the car doesn’t get jacked while we’re here.”

  “You paid the valet to watch my car last time we were here?”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged and pulled open the door leading into the muted gold tones of the hotel lobby.

  “Always looking out, aren’t you?” he asked, warmth lighting his eyes.

  “Always.” I agreed.

  His fist appeared between us, so I bumped it out.

  After we checked in, on the way past the large fountain with the couple beneath the umbrella, Drew’s phone went off.

  He ignored it.

  In the elevator, I gestured to his pocket. “You gonna check that?”

  “Nope.”

  My phone went off. I pulled up the text message. It was from Joey.

  You in town? Why isn’t Drew answering his phone?

  @Hotel now, I texted back. He’s checking in.

  Yep. I lied. My loyalty would always be with Drew. I had a good idea why he was ignoring his phone, even though the only thing he was actually doing was making the fixation on the fucking thing worse.

  Telling Joey what was going on inside my person’s head was not on my to-do list. If he wasn’t ready to talk about it, then he wasn’t ready.

  We have dinner plans. I’m coming to pick you up.

  Wait. What? First I’d heard of this. “We have dinner tonight with Joey?” I asked as the elevator slid to a stop.

  Drew gave me a WTF look.

  What dinner plans? I texted. At the same time, I said, “Maybe if you picked up your phone one of the hundred times it’s gone off, we might know what the hell’s going on.”

  I’ll be there in twenty. Send me your room number.

  I shot off a quick reply with our room number as we walked down the empty, swanky hall and stopped in front of our pristine white door.

  The puzzling fact we had some surprise dinner plans fell off my map for a moment. Instead, as I watched Drew unlock the door, a giddy kind of feeling washed over me. I was nervous. A whole night alone in a hotel room with him.

  No worrying about anyone on the other side of the walls. No frat brothers to sneak past, no family members to wake. Showering together and leaving the bathroom door open.

  The same bed.

  Him beside me.

  Breakfast in our boxers.

  Little things that were the big things. Moments I’d been waiting for.

  The last time we were in this hotel, I’d been wound so tight I’d barely slept. Knowing he was so close, knowing I couldn’t touch him how I wanted. It wasn’t like that anymore. Our relationship grew into something I honestly only thought I would imagine and never get to live.

  This time, when I sank into the cloudlike king-size bed, he would, too.

  I felt like I did the morning of my first college football game. Scared and excited at the same time. I felt like a kid on at date at the movies, thinking of a sly way to pull off the “movie move.”

  So many firsts. So many feelings and experiences that were new. With Drew, it was sort of like I was learning to live all over again, so even the simplest of things felt firsthand.

  “What’d she say?” Drew asked, holding open the door from inside the room and patiently waiting for me to enter.

  Slipping the phone into my pocket, I stepped in, and the definitive click of the door latching behind us made the hand curled around the handle of my duffle spasm just a little.

  “Said she’d be here in twenty.”

  “I didn’t make dinner plans with her,” he muttered.

  “I don’t think she cares,” I cracked and headed through the main room toward the bedroom.

  The room itself looked almost identical to the one we stayed in before.

  Like we were getting a do-over.

  The door opened into a square sitting area with a large dark-gray couch (that pulled out), a coffee table, rug, and lamp. Against the far wall was a small brown table that could seat four, and there was a huge flat-screen on the wall.

  Near the door that led to the bedroom was a wet bar with a granite-topped counter and sink. There was a mini fridge, coffee maker, and all the other usual stuff hotels laid out for guests. I bypassed it and stepped into the ample square bedroom.

  The bed was in the center, made up all in white. Still looked as fluffy and comfortable as the first time. There was a flat-screen, some other furniture I barely even looked at, and a door that led into the bathroom.

  Everything in the suite was done in muted shades of gray and white. It was a clean design, and I was glad there wasn’t a bunch of granny decorations. You know, mauve flowers and shit.

  My duffle hit the floor near my feet.

  “You gonna share that big-ass bed this time?” Drew asked, watching me from the doorway.

  I turned and matched his sly smile with one of my own. “I’d have shared it last time, too.”

  His duffle joined mine, and he dove on the bed. He was wearing a pair of jeans—for once they weren’t nearly black. These were faded and soft-looking; around the hem, they were starting to fray just slightly.

  When he rolled and stretched his arms beneath his head, the long-sleeved blue T-shirt he was wearing rode up and exposed a sliver of skin at his waist.

  I couldn’t stop staring at that peak of skin. I daydreamed about leaning over him and tracing the area with my tongue…

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “Huh?” I said, snapping out of the fantasy.

  His smile was slow and knowing. “I was planning on room service, some TV, and clothing optional.”

  “Shower with the door open?” I added.

  “I like the way you think, frat boy.” His dimple flashed, and he patted the mattress beside him.

  Instead of lying down, I dove on the bed. Right on top of Drew.

  “Ugghhh,” he groaned when I landed. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  Ignoring the protest in my ribs, I pushed up onto my elbows and hovered over his face. “You need mouth to mouth?”

  I didn’t bother waiting for an answer. I didn’t really care. I was the one who wanted mouth to mouth.

  The deeper I kissed, the farther I sank into him. We molded into the bed as a single indent, one of his legs pushed through mine, and I kissed just a little deeper. As we fused together, I rubbed my chin against his stubble, letting the rough sensation send goose bumps down my spine.

  I liked him beneath me. It made me hungry… It made me want a lot more than mouth to mouth.

  In what was slowly becoming a signature move, I ripped my mouth free, grasped his chin, and pushed his head back so I could kiss across his jawline and suck down his neck.

&n
bsp; Drew’s fingers delved beneath the waistband of my jeans and kneaded into my flesh. I came back to his mouth, licking past his teeth and rubbing both my lips fully against his.

  “Cancel dinner,” he quickly said before letting me take his lips again. “Let’s stay in.”

  I groaned and, without lifting my mouth, I fished a hand into my pocket to try and find my phone.

  He ended up trying to help me, except I don’t think he was helping me at all. He kept finding something that was not my phone. Damn, his hand felt good. I loved the way my skin seemed to ripple every time he brushed against my dick.

  It was like throwing a pebble into the center of a lake. The waves it created stretched far and wide across the surface.

  Thought left my brain. I forgot about my phone. Need hammered throughout my body and made me drunk. My hips thrust into him and would have kept the rhythm, but his palms settled on my hips and he pulled his mouth from beneath mine.

  “Frat boy,” he groaned.

  “Forrester,” I replied.

  “Someone’s at the door.”

  I stilled and looked down. “What?”

  Drew smiled and tugged my lower lip with his fingers. “Someone is at the door, big guy.”

  “Big guy?” I laughed.

  “Would you rather I say little guy?”

  I was alert and amused enough now to hear the insistent knocking on the door in the other room. Damn. Had it already been twenty minutes?

  I shoved off Drew and stood. My cock was practically bursting out of my jeans. “Little clearly doesn’t apply here.” I gestured to my fly.

  “Maybe I should text Braeden, tell him size matters.”

  I laughed out loud. “He’d probably ask for pics.”

  On my way to the door, I adjusted myself, trying to conceal the fact I was sporting some serious wood. Thankfully, I was wearing my Wolves T-shirt and it was a little big, so it hung low enough to cover what needed covered.

  Joey’s wild, curly hair was the first thing I saw when I pulled open the door. “Took you long enough,” she said and stepped around me into the room.

  “Come on in, Joey,” I said dryly.

  “Where’s Drew?” she asked, swinging around to look at me. Her eyes widened. “What the hell happened to your face?”

  “How many laws did you break on your way over here?” Drew drawled, stepping into the room. I noted his hard-on was also effectively concealed.

  Before Joey could turn to steal his attention, our eyes met, and they held a lot of promise for later.

  “You’ve been ignoring my texts!” she exclaimed. But regardless of how “mad” she was, she went straight in for a hug.

  “What’s this about dinner?” Drew asked, avoiding her words and wrapping her in a bear hug.

  Joey was dressed casually in a pair of black leggings and some kind of tight, hot-pink tank with a black cropped T-shirt over it. Curves, that’s what Joey was… all curves. Her dark, wild curls practically attacked Drew.

  When she pulled back, her eyes bounced between us. “Change of plans,” she announced. “Instead of meeting with my father in the morning, we’re meeting him for dinner tonight.”

  “What?” Drew’s eyes widened, and I watched him try to bank his shock.

  “We’re meeting him?” I questioned Joey but still kept an eye on Drew.

  “You asked for this meeting so you could tell him, didn’t you?” She waved her finger between me and Drew. “About you two.”

  “Yeah, that’s why we’re here.”

  Joey nodded once at his reply, like it proved what she already knew. “Well, I want to be there. And talking about it outside of his office is better. Too many gossip hounds.”

  “So you want to have dinner at a public restaurant…?” I drawled. Correct me if I’m wrong, but that didn’t seem like the brightest idea.

  “Nope,” she said. “Let’s go. I’m driving.”

  “Where are we going?” Drew asked.

  Joey gave us both a dazzling smile. “Home.”

  And here we were, at another first.

  Not only were we going to his home, but we were going to be openly admitting we were in a relationship to the man who had every ounce of ability to make or break Drew’s racing career.

  Drew

  Gamble’s house wasn’t a house. Joey’s “home” wasn’t really.

  It was a freaking estate.

  With gates. And security.

  Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were snipers hiding in the well-manicured bushes.

  The second the yellow Skyline pulled up to the large wrought-iron gate, a security guard stepped out of a small white hut and up to the car. Joey rolled down her window and called a greeting.

  The guard smiled and opened the entrance so she could drive onto the grounds.

  The place was of course hella nice, but honestly? I expected it to be more austere, almost untouchable. Of course, the entire residence bespoke of wealth, but it wasn’t as arrogant as one might assume.

  “It’s a Colonial Revival style house,” Joey said, taking the liberty to give a brief “tour” as we pulled up. I’m sure the way Trent and I stared out the windows was all the interest she needed. “This one my father had built to resemble a nineteen-thirties Bel-Air estate.”

  The entire house was white and sprawled out before us. The middle of the home was one large square building with a two-story portico at the front and huge white columns that stretched up to a balustrade roof. There was an imposing front door with an impressively large chandelier hanging above it.

  Coming out on either side of the main building was another wing, also white with lots of windows lining the front framed by black shutters. The roofline was traditional and dark but was accented with small dormers rising out of the top in a row across the entire home. Each dormer had a darkened window in the center.

  The driveway stretched right up to the wide, white front steps. On either side was immaculate landscaping and small trees, which gave the home the feeling it had been there a while.

  Joey parked right near the stairs and cut the engine.

  “He knows we’re coming?” Trent asked.

  “Definitely,” she replied. “I told him I wanted to be at the meeting and asked if maybe the housekeeper could make my favorite dinner.”

  “Joey,” I teased, “are you a daddy’s girl?”

  “Let’s just say he doesn’t often refuse me,” she replied and got out.

  I was nervous. How could I not be? I thought I had all night to kind of get used to the idea that I was coming out to Gamble.

  Just because I was determined to not hide how I felt about Trent didn’t mean I sometimes didn’t want to. Opening yourself up to harsh judgment is never easy. No one wants to be scrutinized and stereotyped based on the way they feel or the life they lead.

  And let’s face it; my career was on the line.

  Just because Joey accepted T and me didn’t mean her father would. He was older, “old school.” In my mind, trying to gain acceptance from someone who was older, more set in their ways and beliefs, and had grown up in a less open-minded time in America was sort of like trying to milk a cat.

  What if he rejected me? What if the disgust on his face was so transparent it was impossible to deny? What would it do to me?

  To Trent?

  I told myself to suck it up. I was doing this.

  As we walked up the wide steps, I felt Trent’s stare. I glanced at him.

  Behind Joey’s back he mouthed. “You okay?”

  I nodded.

  There was no butler or maid that answered the door. We didn’t ring some gonging doorbell and stand there forever to wait to be granted entrance.

  Instead, Joey flung open the door and walked right in. “Dad!” she yelled through the broad, fancy entryway. The floors were black-and-white marble, there were classic white statues lining the walls, and a black chandelier lit the space.

  It was quiet in here, but really, I didn’t expect
it to be loud. As far as I knew, it was only Gamble who lived here and possibly Joey.

  “You live here or over at the apartments by the track?” Trent asked, looking around.

  “Here,” she said. “There’s really no point in having an apartment. This house is so big, and my room is on the opposite side from my dad’s.”

  She motioned for us to follow her out of the entry, passed a sitting room, and continued down a wide hall to an open wooden door. “He’s probably in here,” she said as she went.

  I just concentrated on making sure my shoes didn’t make a squeaking sound against the really clean floors. That would be embarrassing.

  “There you are,” Gamble’s deep voice came from inside the room.

  Right before I could follow Joey over the threshold, Trent’s hand snagged mine. “You ready for this?” he whispered.

  “Are you?”

  He gave my fingers a light squeeze before releasing me. “Yeah.”

  “Drew!” Gamble said when I stepped in. The room was what I would call a gentleman’s study. All polished wood paneling, heavy furniture, and a large fireplace. There was a desk on one side, but it wasn’t the focal point. I actually really appreciated that because it spoke volumes about the man standing in front of me.

  Yes, his work and business was a large part of his life. But there was more to him than that. His job wasn’t everything. If it was, his desk would be huge, it would be front and center, and the atmosphere in here would be stuffy instead of comfortable.

  I think it would be hard for a man like Ron Gamble to do anything but intimidate people. That seemed like a heavy cross to bear.

  Sort of like falling in love with your best friend.

  There was so much room for misinterpretation. For assumptions.

  “Scotch or whiskey?” I asked, gesturing to the glass in his hand.

  “I’ll get you some whiskey, son, but you’re gonna have to drink it out of a baby bottle.”

  Trent laughed.

  Joey rolled her eyes and finished crossing the room to give her father a kiss on the cheek. He smiled at her warmly, and it was just another flash of the man behind the image.

  Joey glanced at me before going over to pour herself some scotch. Clearly, in this house, whiskey was for pansies.