I shuffle some papers on my desk and find my iPhone buried underneath a stack of Ryan’s sponsorship agreements. I am scared to look at it. There is only the one voice mail from Brooke, which I am hesitant to listen to, but I hit play anyway. Brooke’s voice booms through the speaker.
“Whitney Elaine Parker!” I pull the phone away from my ear. Jeezus! “I know you declined my call and deliberately sent it to voice mail. How in the hell do you spring this on me over text? Colton Johnson. Oh my God! Who, what, when, where, and how! Come off the details!” I laugh out loud as her message ends.
I tap the call log and select Brooke’s cell phone. The phone dials, and in about half a ring, Brooke is on the line.
“Where the hell have you been?” Brooke exclaims.
I am still enraged, and I take it out on her. “Listen here, I have just been through World War Three in this office, with him, not to mention the fact that I just about got fired by his father. So, I would appreciate it if you would cut me some damn slack right now.”
Brooke gasps, shocked by my outburst. “OK…OK…But you can’t spring some news like bringing Colton Johnson with you for drinks tonight over text and then leave me hanging!”
I groan. “I will explain everything later.”
Brooke whines, “How? You won’t be able to talk in front of Colton.”
She is right. I stop a moment to think. “I will meet you at six and tell him to be there at seven. Is that good?”
“That works,” Brooke says. “See you soon.”
I hang up the phone with Brooke and look around to make sure no one is watching me or that Jerri is not lurking around. I don’t want her to catch me on my personal cell phone again. The coast is clear. I switch over to my message app.
I select Colton’s previous message. I type:
___________________________________________
We are meeting at the Rock Bottom Brewery down
town at 7. If you are still interested, that is...
____________________________________________
I wait for a response with my heart in my throat. Within a few moments, my phone buzzes in response.
________________________
Yes, very. See you there.
_________________________
My heart flutters.
____
Okay.
___
This has been one hell of a day, and it ain’t over yet.
Chapter 11
Iarrive at the brewery in downtown Charlotte promptly at six o’clock. Brooke is waiting for me in a booth in the back. She eyes me intently as I slide in.
“First of all, you look like hell!” she exclaims.
“I had a wonderful day. Thank you so much for asking!” I say sarcastically back to her.
Brooke smirks at me. “Go to the bathroom and get yourself together before he gets here. I will get a round of drinks coming.”
I sigh loudly, and my shoulders fall. I don’t know if I even have the energy after the day I have had. I rest my arm on the table and put my head in my hand.
“Whitney, here,” Brooke calls out to me and produces her makeup bag from her purse. “Go! It will make you feel better.”
She is right again. I nod my head and stand up to walk to the bathroom. I turn back sharply to Brooke. “No tequila. Not tonight. I have to keep my head on straight.”
Brooke gives me a wink. “Smart girl!”
After twenty minutes in the bathroom, I am able to make myself somewhat presentable by touching up my makeup and brushing through my brown hair. Even it looks tired. I sigh and head back to the table.
Brooke lights up when she sees me. “Much better!”
“Thanks, Mom!” I mumble sarcastically as I slide back into the booth. There is a glass of white wine waiting in front of me. I down almost half of it in one swallow.
Brooke eyes me intently. “Come on, spill it! You only have ten, maybe fifteen, minutes tops before he gets here! Go!”
I know what she is waiting for, so I dump all the gory details of the last twenty-four hours before Colton arrives. I hold up my hand. “First of all…don’t get all giddy about this. Nothing, I repeat nothing, can happen.”
Brooke frowns at me. I roll my eyes at her.
“Do you need a reminder that I have just gotten out of a long, agonizing relationship, which I am to blame for.” Brooke tries to interrupt me, but I don’t give her a moment to cut in. “Yes, my fault! Stupid, and I don’t even know what other adjectives, best describe my current situation. I am not going back there. I am no longer know that girl! So, I am not about to get involved with another man, especially one that I have to work with. I have let one man control me and run my life. It ain’t going to happen again!”
Brooke looks at me wild-eyed. “Are you sure that you didn’t hit the tequila before you left the office?”
I laugh out loud. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to whip out my soapbox!”
Brooke laughs in return. “Oh, that’s fine! Just put the soapbox up and tell me about the day’s events at Peyton Place!”
I finish off my first glass of wine as I begin to recap the day for Brooke.
Brooke whistles out at the conclusion of my story. “What a son of a bitch!”
“I told you!” I retort. “See? Good looks will not cover a multitude of sins.” I click my tongue at her. Before she can comment, an incoming message alert on my phone catches both of our attentions.
“Is it him?” Brooke asks warily.
I look down at my phone. It is him. It’s Colton.
____________
Are you here?
____________
It seems like the restaurant has gone completely silent. I look back up at Brooke and nod my head as I type my response.
______________________
Yes, booth in the back.
______________________
My phone rings out again, signaling his response.
__________
Walking in.
_________
I put my phone back down in my purse, take a deep breath, and look up at Brooke. “He is on his way.” Brooke has the power seat, of course, which looks out over the restaurant. I watch her as she looks for his arrival. “Tell me when you see him.” She simply nods.
I take another hasty sip of wine to finish off my second glass. As I swallow the clear substance, I hear Brooke mutter under her breath, “Here he comes.”
My heart skips a beat, and I am immediately anxious. I look up, and the gorgeous Colton Johnson is standing beside our table with his breathtaking megawatt smile.
Dressed like a businessman, his style catches me off guard, but it is flattering for him. He has on khaki dress slacks, a patterned button-down shirt, and a navy-blue blazer. He looks like he just punched out at the law firm, not the garage. But, oh, he is so very handsome.
I smile at Colton nervously and hurriedly make an awkward introduction to Brooke, who I can tell is as equally smitten as I am. Colton slides into the booth next to me, and I inch over to make room for him.
“Ladies, it looks like I am behind a round,” Colton says, eyeing our empty wineglasses.
His statement immediately puts me at ease. Brooke and I both laugh. Then, our evening with Colton Johnson begins.
After what seems like hours of talking about racing, Colton sighs and looks over to me. “I have thoroughly enjoyed my evening with you ladies.” Even though he includes Brooke in that statement, his eyes never leave mine.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. My oh my!
“I have an early day tomorrow. My flight leaves for Sonoma at six in the morning,” Colton confesses.
I nod knowingly. Most of the drivers are leaving in the morning to begin qualifying for Sunday’s race, including Ryan.
“Do you mind walking me out, Whitney?” Colton asks.
I flush scarlet and steal a glance at Brooke, who is wide-eyed. “Sure.”
I slide out of the booth behind Colton, nod to Brooke, and hold up one
finger, signaling that I will be right back, but I know she wouldn’t think of leaving just yet. I follow Colton across the restaurant to the entrance. As we reach the door, he grabs my hand and ushers me out into the street.
My breath catches in my throat. His touch is intense, and I can’t look at him. We walk briefly down the street. There is a chill in the night air, and briefly I feel uneasy, as if I am being watched. I chalk it up to nerves.
Colton approaches a sleek white Chevrolet Corvette and walks around to the passenger side. “Get in,” he says softly as he opens the car door. I look at him, confused, but before I can say anything, Colton says, “Just for a minute.” I nod as I slide down into the seat.
I cannot breathe. I am so nervous. What could he possibly want with me? I try in vain to act cool and break the tension as he slides into the driver’s side. “I love your car.”
Colton smiles. “Just one of the perks of driving a Chevrolet stock car.”
I am shocked. “GM gave you this car?”
“Yes, General Motors awarded it to me after I won Rookie of the Year a few years back.”
I nod, impressed but clueless. I will have to Google that one. Colton twists his body to face mine, then reaches out and grabs my right hand, which forces my body to face his. I look at him suddenly very shy.
“Whitney…” Colton says as he slowly threads his fingers through mine, “I don’t think this is a secret, but I really like you.”
I gasp. What?
My emotions must show on my face because Colton laughs softly. “I do. And I want to know more about you.”
I feel a huge lump rising in my throat. I stutter, shaking my head, “Wh-Why?”
Colton shrugs his shoulders, but his eyes never leave mine. “Isn’t it obvious?”
I shift in the seat and feel myself starting to sweat. “Wouldn’t that be a conflict since we work together?”
Colton raises his eyebrows at me and only nods his head.
“I see,” I say and turn to look at the window. I don’t know what to say to him. Yes, his offer is tempting, but I can’t jeopardize a job that I have just gotten, because that would mean a direct failure, which leads me straight back to Georgia. Do not pass go; do not collect $200.
I turn back to look at the gorgeous Colton Johnson. The look on his face is one of concern. “What are you thinking?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Colton, I…I…don’t know what to say or what to think.” A look of disappointment now washes over his face. I continue to explain, “Look, I really like you, too, but I have just moved here, this is my first job, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. Garrett gave me the PR position today, and I don’t want to give him any reason to take it away.”
“Really?” Colton asks. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? Congratulations!”
I laugh. “I am not sure congratulations should be in order yet! It has been a day!” Colton laughs too. I shift my weight again in the seat. “Could you just give me some time? I know that sounds so cliché. But I want…I need to do my job and to get a grasp of this sport so that I can be successful. Moving back to Georgia is not an option for me.”
Colton smiles warmly at me and immediately puts me at ease. “I am not sure why you are so hesitant to return to Georgia, but you seem to be a very determined and headstrong girl, Whitney. Take all the time you need.”
And with that statement, Colton leans across the center console of the car and lightly presses his lips to mine. My body tingles. His lips are soft and taste divine. I want to lean into his kiss and place my hands on his face, but he pulls back, leaving me bereft.
Colton looks at me with a sly smile and whispers, “Good night.”
Chapter 12
This tumultuous week has dragged on and on. Between the showdown with Ryan in the boardroom on Monday morning, dinner with Colton on Monday night, and preparing for Sonoma, I am worn out, and it is only Wednesday. My flight leaves Saturday morning for the land of wine and spas. I shake my head. This would be any girl’s dream destination, but nope. I am headed to the desert for a NASCAR race. I am one lucky girl, I think sarcastically.
I stare blankly at my computer screen. I have read the last clause of Ryan’s sponsorship with Coca-Cola about three times now, and still I have no clue what it says. I prop my elbows up on my desk to support my head in my hands. Focus, Whitney, focus. This is my mantra. I have to be better prepared for Sunday’s race in California. I will be damned if I’m going to let him embarrass me again this weekend. Embarrass! Oh hell no! It was complete and utter humiliation. I shudder as I remember Ryan reprimanding me like a child in front of God and everybody. The thought of it still makes me nauseous. Bastard!
The office is deathly quiet. All afternoon, I have been poring over the upcoming race schedule, sponsorship commitments, and my own reliable copy of NASCAR for Dummies that is safely stored on my iPad. I know it’s late, but I have no idea what time it is. I steal a glance at the clock on my computer monitor, 9:45p.m. Damn! I cover my face with my hands and groan loudly.
“Is it that bad?” a familiar voice questions me from the doorway. Gasp!
I spin my desk chair around so fast that I almost fall out of it. I manage to jump to my feet so I don’t go headfirst into the floor. My heart is racing. I feel like I have just plummeted off the Matterhorn Bobsleds at Disneyland. It’s Ryan. Holy freaking shit! What in the hell is he doing in here?
Ryan is leaning on the entrance to my office, all smoldering with that arrogant-ass smirk on his face. He is dressed very casually in jeans and a GCR Racing polo shirt. It is cobalt blue, my favorite color. I can tell he is very amused by my reaction.
“You scared the shit out of me!” I snap at him. “Don’t ever do that to me again!”
“Good! I should have. You shouldn’t be up here this late, alone,” he says, emphasizing the last word with his sculptured smartass mouth.
I shake my head at my own thoughts. Catching my breath, I raise an eyebrow at him and ask internally, Why would you care?
“What the hell are you doing up here so late anyway? Security leaves at eight o’clock,” Ryan questions me as he casually takes a seat in the leather chair in front of my desk.
“I…” I stammer. I open my mouth to speak, then close it again because I can’t come up with a lie quick enough. My brain won’t function, but I don’t want him to know what I’m doing. I don’t want him to know that he got the upper hand on me Sunday. “Ummm…” I fumble again, but manage to say, “Jerri had a couple things that she needed finished before the morning.”
Ryan rolls his eyes at me. “Sure she did! Come on, let’s go!”
“Go?” I snap. “I’m not done with what I am working on.”
Ryan is beginning to show aggravation as he stands back up, pleading for me to leave. “Whitney! You are not working on the A-bomb!” He leans over my desk, peering at me as he rests his hands on my desk. “It’s late! Let’s go!” he demands.
Let’s? Since when is there an us?
Ryan gives me a stern look. “I want to make sure you get to your car safely.”
Seriously, stop! What’s with the chivalry?
I deliberately roll my eyes at him and groan loudly, mainly because I know he is right. I sit back down at my desk to try to get myself together. I am mentally and physically exhausted. I log off of my computer, grab my bag and iPhone, and bend over to slide my black high heels back onto my bare feet.
I can feel his eyes on me even though my back is to him. I turn back to face him. Ryan is watching me with intent amusement, and I flush when our eyes meet. He is making me nervous.
“What!” I quip sharply to throw him off my discomposure.
He shakes his head at me. “Just waiting on you, Miss Parker.” And then he follows that statement with that smug grin of his.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I snap at Ryan. “Shouldn’t you be halfway to California by now?”
Ryan laughs. “Road courses are no
t my thing, so I am in no rush to get out there.”
I snort, “Typical!”
I stand up, roll my eyes again, and stride past him in a huff. He laughs at me as he follows me to the elevators. I reach the elevator doors before him and quickly touch the down button, desperate to get away from him, because, frankly, I am uncomfortable. Plus, I am not his biggest fan these days.
Ryan hesitates as he falls in line behind me. A wave of concern washes across his face and he quickly changes pace. “Come on…let’s go this way.” He grabs my arm, redirecting me toward another door, aptly marked “stairs.” There must be an after-hours exit.
When Ryan removes the lead on my arm, I notice a burning sensation that has lit up my whole body. What the hell is that? It must be nerves because I am not sure what his intentions are. His current behavior is something I have yet to witness. He must be bipolar.
I follow Ryan slowly down several flights of stairs, when he calls back to me, “Have you eaten?”
Why? I think.
“Uhh, no,” I mutter and realize suddenly that I am, in fact, starving. My lunch is long gone.
We reach the bottom floor. He opens the back door of the building and leads me outside. Only we aren’t in the parking lot. We are behind the building, facing a small path through a wooded area. My heart skips a beat. Oh shit! This is it. He is gonna kill me! He is gonna kill me and hide my body in the woods.
I take a few steps back cautiously. Ryan must notice the concerned look on my face because he says, “Relax, Whitney, damn! I’m not a rapist.” I raise my eyebrows at him as he rolls his eyes and gestures toward a small clearing in the woods. “This path leads to my house. My mom brought over dinner tonight, and there is more than I can eat.”
I notice that what he says is not an invitation, it’s more like a command. He starts down the path, and I put my hand up, signaling him to stop. “Wait just a damn minute. It’s dark, I can’t see, and I have on high heels,” I whine. “I do not walk through the woods in the daylight, much less in the dark.”
He groans, and I can tell he is losing his patience with me. In frustration, Ryan bends down and sweeps me off my feet, cradling my body in his arms.
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