After a few minutes, she touched his elbow. He gazed down at her, smiling, the happiness apparent on his face.
He loved being here. With these people. This was his world. She felt out of place in it, but he was a natural. Her heart throbbed.
“I’m going to freshen up,” she said quietly.
He bent and kissed her on the cheek in front of everyone. She tucked a lock of hair that had escaped her hair clip behind her ear, knowing she was blushing but unable to stop it. “Do you know where it is?” he asked softly, for her ears only.
“Yes. Have fun, Ross. I’ll be back.”
“Okay, honey.”
Holly turned and headed for the lounge she’d seen. She pushed into the ladies’ room, intending to use the facilities and freshen her makeup. She was underdressed and under-made up when compared to many of the women in the suite. There was a lounge with chairs and fluffy sofas, mirrors and soft lighting before she reached a louvered door that led to the restroom itself.
Holly took care of business, then washed her hands and pulled her lipstick out of her purse. She was applying the lipstick when she heard voices from the lounge. They did not enter the restroom but seemed to be staying in the seating area.
“Did you see that girl with Ross Blackthorne?” one of them said.
Another voice, higher pitched, trilled, “Where did he find her? A farm?”
“That outfit. It’s so sweet, right? Her hair piled on top of her head with a clip. So tacky. And those heels. He cannot seriously be interested in that woman. She’s so plain next to him.”
“Well,” the higher-pitched voice said, “she’s definitely not right for him.”
“Definitely not.”
“She won’t last. They never do.”
The other woman laughed. “Once he’s back on the circuit, Miss Kentucky Farm Girl will be history.”
“She’ll probably throw herself down a well or something. Poor thing.”
They laughed together like a pair of cackling witches. Holly seethed. She didn’t know who they were. They could be any of the ladies who’d been circling around out there.
How would she go back into the suite now? Heck, how could she escape the restroom if they stayed in the lounge? Ross could be wondering where she was, and she was trapped by a pair of bitches baying at the base of the tree.
Holly suppressed a laugh at that image. Yeah, she was pissed all right. And hurt, because it never felt good to overhear people making fun of you. But one thing she wasn’t was a victim.
Screw them.
Holly drew herself up. Sucked in a couple of breaths. Turned to the mirror and unclipped her hair from the top of her head. She’d put it up because of the heat, but she knew it was gorgeous when she let it down. She shook it out, finger-combed it into fluffy waves.
Then she pushed the door to the lounge and walked boldly into it, kitten heels, sundress and all. “Ladies,” she said as she sailed by. She stopped at the door and turned to look at them. The woman with the higher voice had the grace to look uncomfortable. The other was staring with dislike.
They were wearing skintight dresses that showed their perfect figures, with heels that were at least five inches high, and their hair was artfully curled and fluffed around their faces. Their makeup was perfection. They were both lovely—except for where it counted.
“I’m afraid we have city water on the farm now,” Holly said. “No wells to throw myself down. Y’all have a blessed day.”
Holly was perspiring as she left the ladies’ lounge. Yes, it was satisfactory to tell those bitches off. But it only hammered home the true point of the day.
She did not belong in this world. Not at all.
ERIC VICKER PULLED off a stunning upset, passing the lead car and taking the checkered flag. Ross jumped out of his seat, shouting. The suite was boiling with tension that erupted when the Blackthorne car crossed the finish in first place.
Hell, some of them wouldn’t be happy about that. But some of them would. And Ross was happiest of all. The win was just icing on the cake of everything else that had happened today.
It was a good damned day.
He turned to his favorite person in the whole room. She was beside him, cheering with him. He grabbed her in his arms and kissed her. He didn’t care who saw.
“Oh Ross,” she said when he let her up for air. “I know you wanted to be the one driving, but I’m so happy your team won.”
“I am too, Holly.”
She searched his gaze. “Are you really?”
“Yes.” He squeezed her softly. “I’m here with you, not out there in a hot car on a hot track with all the noise and vibration. I kinda like it from this viewpoint.”
He’d thought he’d feel on edge being at the track today. Thought he’d ache to be behind the wheel. But the truth was he’d enjoyed watching Eric drive. He could have sat in the pit stand where the nerve center of the team was, but Holly wouldn’t have been comfortable there. It didn’t matter anyway because he was in constant communication with his crew while sitting here like a sponsor and watching the race unfold.
“Let’s go congratulate them.”
She smiled. “That sounds like a plan. But no spraying me with champagne, okay?”
He laughed. “Nobody’s spraying you with champagne. Except maybe me. At home. When you’re naked.”
She blushed. “Ross.”
“I’ll let you spray me too.”
Her lashed dipped. “We’ll see.”
They headed for victory lane where his team was starting to celebrate like crazy. Eric had done the requisite donuts in the infield and now the car was parked in front of the stand.
Ross got lots of congratulations on the way there, and some commiserations that he hadn’t been the one driving. Ross accepted it all, waved off the gloaters—because there were always some—and kept on going.
Martin Temple was grinning ear to ear. “Ross, geez, did you see that?”
“Sure did. The car performed beautifully. You’ve made an amazing machine, Martin.”
“No blown engines today.”
“Thank God,” Ross said.
Martin laughed. “Oh, it’ll happen again. You know it will.”
“Yep. Always does.”
Eric was busy pumping his fists in victory. When he saw Ross, he came running over and threw his arms around Ross’s shoulders, clapping him on the back.
“Congrats, buddy,” Ross said. “Awesome driving today.”
“Thank you, Ross. Thanks so much for giving me the opportunity.”
“You earned it, man. Celebrate.”
“Yes, sir!” Eric headed for the car and jumped up on the hood as the crowd roared.
Reporters were everywhere and several of them headed for Ross when they realized he was there. Within seconds, he had microphones shoved in his face. He held Holly’s hand tightly so she wouldn’t get separated from him.
She stuck by his side, and he was grateful for it. He didn’t want to do this without her.
“Ross, how did it feel to watch the Blackthorne car out there without you today?”
“Ross, why aren’t you driving?”
“Ross, when are you returning to the track?”
“Ross, is it true you’re leaving Blackthorne Racing?”
That last question caught his attention for sure. There was always speculation in stock racing’s circles, but this was so specific that he knew someone had been talking somewhere.
He pushed his way to that microphone. The other reporters seemed to shrink a little bit in order to give space for the one who’d asked the question.
“Well, Dirk,” he drawled. “I haven’t actually discussed this with my team yet, so you’re getting an exclusive here. I’m not leaving the team—for now.”
“For now? What’s that mean?”
He could feel the tension in Holly’s body. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “It means I’ve been on the phone with corporate and I’ve agreed to stick aroun
d for as long as they need me to represent the brand.”
Holly’s chest rose and fell a little faster beside him. He could see it out of the corner of his eye. Her hand tightened on his. He didn’t know if she knew it or not.
“But I will not be driving. I’m retiring from the circuit, effective immediately.”
The news rippled through the reporters like a flash fire. Holly had gone still. He looked down at her. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him. He didn’t know what was going on behind those eyes. How she was feeling, what she was thinking.
Her jaw fell open.
“Say something,” he said softly.
Holly burst into tears.
Chapter Eighteen
OH GOD, she was a total idiot. She’d just proven herself to be the unsophisticated farm girl those women said she was. She’d burst into tears during Ross’s interview.
And she couldn’t seem to stop.
He shouldered the reporters aside, his arm protectively around her as he steered her away from the crowd. She didn’t know where they were going, but somehow he found a place out of the way. It was still noisy with celebration, and people still walked by, but they were about as alone as they could be. Which wasn’t a whole lot.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “That was stupid of me.”
His hands were on her shoulders. “Look at me, Holly.”
She managed it, her chin quivering, her eyes blurrier then she’d like. “Sorry.”
He wiped away her tears with his shirtsleeve. “It’s okay. Maybe I should say I’m sorry.”
She sniffled. “Why?”
“For not warning you. I know you don’t necessarily want me at the distillery, but I thought maybe I could be a veep at large or something.”
Holly was having trouble processing everything he’d just said. “It’s not about you being at the distillery.”
“It’s not?”
Stupid man.
“No.” Her throat was tight. “If you race, then you travel. There’d be no time for… this. Us.”
Her heart thrummed to say that word. Us. What if he didn’t think there was an us? He might have retired from racing for any number of reasons that had nothing to do with her.
He smiled, his grin broad and maybe even a little smug. “You want me to stay?”
“I’m getting used to having you around. You might even be a good distiller someday.”
He laughed. “That’s high praise coming from you.”
“Damn right.” She sniffled. “I can’t believe I cried in front of all those people. And now those women are going to think they were right about me.”
He frowned. “What women?”
“The ones who said I was a farm girl and you could do better.”
His nostrils flared, his mouth flattening. “Tell me who they are.”
“No. It’s not important. I took care of it.”
His eyebrows rose. Then he laughed. “I bet you did.”
She told him what she’d said and he laughed harder. “Okay, you win. Nobody puts my Holly down and gets away with it.”
His Holly. She liked that. But she still didn’t know what any of this meant. If it had a thing to do with her or if it was just a decision handed down from his father.
“Did you really retire from racing?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Of your own free will?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He put his hands on her hips, dragged her toward him. “For this. Us. You.”
Holly gulped. “But why?”
“Because I’m in love with you.”
All the oxygen seemed to be sucked from the air around her. Holly stared up at him, gaping like a fish. Hope flooded her. But of course doubt was there, because she was who she was and things never seemed to turn out the way she wanted them to.
“But how do you know? We just met.”
“Trust me when I tell you I know. This has never happened to me before. Never. I know what I’m feeling. It’s love. For you. Because I want you to be happy. You’re my first thought in the morning and my last at night. You’re the person I want to be with, the one whose smile lights up the sky. You’re it for me, Holly Brooks. I saw you walking toward me that first day at the distillery, with your clipboard and your scowl, and I haven’t thought of anyone else since.”
She was shaking. Literally shaking. “You’re a glutton for punishment then.”
He laughed. “No, I’m crazy in love with you. And I want to stay in Kentucky. Where you are.”
She was going to cry again.
Still.
Whatever.
“I don’t want you giving up your dreams for me.”
“I’m not. In fact, you’re the reason I’m going for my dreams. I talked to my father yesterday and told him I’m going out on my own. Opening Ross Blackthorne Motorsports. I’ll use my own money, and I’ve already lined up sponsors. I don’t need to win the Cup for that. And I’m building those garages, too. Billy’s car will be first—but for him I’m doing a complete overhaul. That sucker is going to shine—but reasonably because I don’t want anyone trying to steal it from him.”
She loved this man. So much. “And Blackthorne Racing?”
“I’m staying on as executive director. I told my dad I was leaving, but he asked me to stay in an advisory role. I can do that. I expect he’ll shift the racing division to my company when it’s time anyway. That’ll be a few years, probably. But it doesn’t matter if he does or not. RB Motorsports will be mine, and nobody gets to tell me who to hire or what to do anymore.”
“Does this mean you’re leaving the distillery?”
“Do you want me to?”
She traced a heart on his shirt. Over and over again. “No, I don’t. Unless you don’t want to be there. That’s different.”
“I thought I’d work there part time, learn the business from top to bottom, if that’s okay with you. The rest of the time I’ll run my motorsport company and the garages. I’m going to build as close to the distillery as I can.”
“You know what, Ross?”
“What?”
“All I want is for you to be happy. Because you’re it for me too. I love you. You’re the best man I know, and I’m so lucky that you’re mine.”
He picked her up and she squealed as he twirled her around. Then he slid her down his body and kissed her so thoroughly she forgot where they were or the fact they were far from alone. It took distant cheering to realize they weren’t. They broke apart, but the cheering continued. It was for Eric and the Blackthorne crew, not for them.
Ross grinned. Holly grinned too. “Should we go back out there?” he asked. “Tell the world you’re my girl and we’re moving in together?”
She blinked. And then she laughed. “I guess we are, aren’t we? But where?”
“We’ll shop for a house together. Something that feels like a home.”
“With a fifty-car garage.”
He snorted. “Maybe not that many.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re like some of these women with their shoe closets, I swear.”
He laughed as he took her hand and they strolled back out to victory lane. Confetti and champagne flowed freely and the Blackthorne crew looked tired and happy. Eric Vicker was hoisting his trophy and grinning ear to ear. A crew of gorgeous models flanked him.
“Will you miss that?” Holly asked Ross as they watched.
“Not in the least. I’d miss this a lot more.” He leaned down and kissed her, and Holly knew without a doubt he meant it.
There was love in that kiss. Promise. A future.
ROSS WALKED into the Blackthorne Distillery on Monday and encountered a frowning Evan Brooks.
“Ross. Can you kindly tell me what your intentions are toward my niece?”
The footage from the race had been played everywhere, apparently. The moment he’d announced his retirement, Holly bursting into tears—and them off in a space
between trailers talking, getting closer, and then kissing. It was an invasion of their privacy, but there was nothing to be done for it now.
“Yes, sir. I intend to marry her, though we’re planning to move in together first.”
He knew that didn’t sound very good, but he knew Holly well enough to know that she’d want some time together before they walked down the aisle. But they would walk down the aisle. He was certain of that.
“Do you love her?”
“I do.”
“How can you be certain?”
Was it a family trait or what? “Because her smile lights the sky and I can’t live without her.”
Evan frowned a bit harder. Then he laughed and held out a hand. “Welcome to the family, Ross.”
“It’s an honor, Mr. Brooks.”
“Holly’s going to be the master distiller here when I retire. You realize that, right?”
“Of course I do.”
Evan nodded. “Good man. Holly’s a good kid. She deserves the best you can give her. One hundred percent.”
“It’s my intention to give it to her. Every day.”
Holly emerged from a hallway and stopped when she saw them. She smiled at Ross, that smile that made his world bright. “Is everything okay?” she asked.
“It is,” Evan said. “Just having a talk with Ross.”
Holly came over and stood beside him. “Now Uncle Evan—”
“Calm down, girl. It’s all good.” He walked away, grumbling, and Holly turned to Ross.
“Is it?”
“Yes. Your uncle loves you. He wants to make sure I do too.”
She kissed him, a quick peck on the lips. They definitely weren’t hiding anything anymore, but they weren’t going to engage in a lot of PDA either. “I know you do.”
They started to walk toward their offices. “I just got the oddest call,” she said.
“Oh yeah?”
“I mean it was a good call, but still.”
“What was it?”
“Emily’s doctor. He said she’s been put in for an experimental therapy program—and there are no out-of-pocket expenses whatsoever.”
Ross tried to keep a straight face when she turned to look at him. He failed. Her eyes narrowed as she stared. They’d stopped outside her office door.
Ross: 7 Brides for 7 Blackthornes (Book 3) Page 16