Maddie, she changes all of that. At work, I get excited about running into her. Seeing how excited she gets over something as simple as numbers, it makes me want to work harder for her. I now have fun at the gym; forgetting all about the shitty parts of work, I can just be with her. And at night—well, last night anyway—I have her. And there’s no way I’m letting her walk away easily. Even if she comes to me and says, “I want more.” I’ll bend over backward to give her everything she asks for. I realize how out of character this is for me, and on the surface, that scares me. But deep down, something keeps telling me it’s right—that I shouldn’t worry because everything is as it should be.
It’s not long before we’re pulling into the track. The owner, an old friend, Dave, steps out of a storage building when he sees us pull in. He comes walking over just as we’re climbing out.
“How’s it been, Bennet?” he asks, holding out his hand to shake.
I smile and shake his hand. “Good, and yourself?” I ask.
He nods. “As good as ever, I guess. Who’s this beauty?” He motions toward Maddie.
I pull her to my side. “This is Maddie,” I answer, letting it drop there because I’m not quite sure what to call her. Earlier I called her my friend from work, and while she didn’t say anything, I saw a flash of something on her face.
“You bring her out here to see how fast you can drive?” he jokes.
I laugh. “I did. You mind if I get the car out?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ll even run the board for ya.” He pulls his red hat out of his back pocket and slaps it on his head, covering his gray hair. “Come with me, little lady. I’ll give you the best seat in the house,” he tells her.
“I beg to differ. The best seat in the house is right next to me.” I laugh as he takes her arm and leads her away.
I walk into the garage and down the rows of cars until I find mine. I unlock the container it’s held in. Racing is a big game. You don’t want to leave your car sitting around for anyone to fuck with. So, many of us leave them here at the track. We pay a pretty penny to do so, but it’s a lot easier than loading them up on a flatbed every time we want to race.
I walk into the small garage it’s been locked up in and slide behind the wheel. I twist the key that’s already in the ignition and the car roars to life. I rev the engine a few times to get her warmed up before shifting into gear and hitting the gas. I drive around the track and to the starting line. Again, I rev the engine to let Dave know I’m ready. The lights change: 3…2…1. And I shift into first gear and hit the gas. My car goes soaring forward, barreling down the track. My heart is pounding with excitement and adrenaline. All I can think about is crossing that finish line, and hoping I have a good time to impress Maddie. I know she says she’s not impressed by material things, but this isn’t something you can buy. This is pure talent, dedication, and years of hard work.
When I circle back around, she comes running out of the stands. Her face shows pure happiness and excitement. I shut off the car and get out, catching her as she runs into my arms.
“That was amazing!” she cheers me on.
I laugh.
Dave steps out too. “That wasn’t shit. Seven-point-eight seconds?” He laughs.
“Hey, it was my first run. Let the car get warmed up some,” I tell him, placing Maddie on her feet.
“Don’t listen to him, babe. You were awesome.”
Hearing her call me babe makes me freeze, but I shake it off quickly, hopeful she didn’t notice.
“You think that’s amazing, you need to come down on a Saturday night. That’s when you’ll see amazing.” Dave’s smiling from ear to ear. He lives for the races, which is why he started this place up over thirty years ago.
“Can we?” Maddie asks, turning to me.
I nod. “Sure, I don’t see why not,” I agree.
When we get back to my place, Maddie insists on getting over to Damon’s. I hate to see her go, but I don’t want to be the clingy type. She grabs the things she had with her at the gym and asks if my driver can take her over in the town car since we don’t want Damon to see her getting out of my car.
We load up in the back, and my driver climbs behind the wheel. As we drive across town, I hold her hand between us.
“I had a lot of fun today. Thank you for helping take my mind off of everything.” She offers a sweet smile.
“Come here,” I whisper, leaning in for a kiss.
She leans over and catches my lips with hers. I place my hand on her jaw and hold her to me as I deepen the kiss.
“I’m going to miss you in my bed tonight,” I whisper against her lips.
Her blue eyes seem to darken. “I’m going to miss being in your bed.” She begins kissing me again.
I pull away. “Are you sure you want to go to your brother’s?” I ask with a grin, hoping it seduces her into coming back home with me.
“I’m sure. We have our arrangement, and I’m afraid staying over every night will complicate that.”
I nod in agreement, even though it wouldn’t bother me to complicate things a bit. Thinking that scares me, and I quickly change gears. Any other woman and I’d be dying to get rid of her at this point. Why is she different? Why am I so willing to throw away all my beliefs all for one girl?
“Here we are, ma’am,” the driver says.
She leans over and presses a kiss to my mouth so quick that I don’t have time to respond. “I’ll talk to you later,” she says, opening her door and running toward the house.
The driver doesn’t wait for her to get inside, he just drives away the second the door is shut. I don’t ask him to stay. I don’t say anything. I’m confused by the thoughts swirling around my head. On the one hand, I’m terrified of her wanting more, of having to come up with a bullshit compromise that will keep her in my life and probably hurt her. I also can’t stomach the thought of letting her walk away if things get to be too complicated.
When I get home, the house is quiet—the way I usually like it—but now, it feels too quiet, too lonely. I head to my study and pour a glass of scotch, then sit at my desk and look around the room. I don’t ever remember being bored before. What did I do before? I entertained myself with the gym, booze, and women. But suddenly, finding women has no appeal.
I’m lost in thought when Quinn walks into the room. “Mr. Windsor, is there anything I can do for you?” she asks, slowly walking closer.
I wave my hand in the air. “I’m fine, thanks.”
She steps in front of me. “Are you sure? You seem lonely, sad. I can cheer you up,” she offers, raising her hands and unbuttoning her top. Before I can move to stop her or say anything, her top is open, and her bare breasts are there, right before my eyes. They’re big and round and perky. Obviously fake, but perfect, nonetheless.
“I’d love to make you feel better, Mr. Windsor,” she says, walking closer, rubbing her hands over them and making them bounce.
I tip back the rest of the glass and stand, my eyes never leaving her. She thinks I’m falling for her trap as I close the distance between us. I grab her shirt on either side of her body and pull it together. “You’re fired, Quinn. Please leave immediately, and don’t forget to call my mother for your last week’s pay.”
She nods slowly, and her eyes fall to the ground as she spins around.
“And if she asks why you were fired, I wouldn’t lie. Because I sure as hell won’t,” I add on, picking up my glass and refilling it.
I’m sitting in the study, alone, watching the fire as I drink my third glass of scotch. My phone rings from in my pocket, and I pull it out.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, Bennet,” Damon says. “I got an unexpected house guest, and they’re having a bit of a girls’ night tonight. Want to get out for a while, have a few drinks?”
I look at my watch to see that it’s only eight o’clock. “Yeah, why not? Did you have a place in mind?”
“Maury’s Pub?”
Since I’ve already had too much to drink, I grab an Uber, I’ll give my driver the night off. Damon is already there, sitting in a small booth in the back corner by himself. I stop at the bar, grab a beer, and head over.
“What’s up, man?” I ask, sliding into the booth.
He shakes his head as he picks up his beer, taking a sip. “Not much. What have you been doing?”
I do the same, not sure what to say since what I’m doing is his baby sister.
“Man, I got my sister at the house right now. Her place burned down. It’s like being a kid and getting picked on all over again.”
I laugh but pull my brows together, confused.
“Jazz has always been my sister’s best friend. We all grew up together. So, I’ve been through so many of these sleepovers, I can’t even keep count anymore.”
I nod, understanding. “That sucks about your sister's place. I hope she had insurance.”
He nods. “She did, but it will take some time for the check to come in. And then she’ll have the whole process of finding a new place.” He lets out a deep breath as his eyes grow wide. “God, I dread it. It took her months to decide on the place she had. And if I know her, she’ll probably end up bunking with that worthless boyfriend of hers.”
“Boyfriend?” I ask, a knot forming in my stomach.
“Yeah, when Jazz and I were getting together, she introduced us to this loser, Travis I think was his name. I thought they broke it off, but she stayed somewhere last night and wouldn’t say where. They’re probably back together.”
I nod as my worries fade, realizing Travis is her cover. “Why don’t you like him?” I ask, just to make chitchat.
“He’s just a loser. He’s this skinny punk kid that wears baggy pants, has gold chains, and tattoos all over the place, such a fucking poser. He’s just the kind of guy you know will never get any kind of decent job. Would you want your sister with that?”
I laugh, but I can’t imagine hanging out with the kind of guy Damon’s describing. “My sister is basically the same. She graduated with a degree in art.” I snort. “I mean, I get doing what you love, but sometimes what you love doesn’t pay the bills. Which is why she’s in the position she’s in now. She called me a sellout because I took over the company to make money and keep our parents off my back. I mean, I still do the things I like on my downtime.”
“You still race?” he asks.
“Not as much, but when I feel like it.”
“What about boxing?” he asks, and with that question, he has a moment of clarity. His face goes slack, and his eyes glaze over like he’s remembering something. Then, his eyes find mine, and they narrow in anger.
9
Maddie
When Bennet drops me off, I rush into the house before Jazz and Damon notice a strange car in front of their house.
I let myself in. “Hello? Honey, I’m home,” I joke, walking through the foyer and finding them in the living room, sitting on the couch and watching tv.
Jazz smiles when she sees me. “Bout time you got here. I’ve been waiting all day,” she says.
I flop down on the couch between them, just to be annoying. “This is going to be just like old times! We can pick on Damon. Only this time, Mom isn’t here for him to run to.” I laugh, and so does Jazz. When we look over at Damon, he doesn’t look impressed.
“Is that what we’re doing tonight? Having a slumber party?” He arches an eyebrow.
I look over at Jazz, and she looks at me.
“Just for tonight; tomorrow night and every other will be business as usual. I promise,” Jazz says, smiling sweetly at him to get her way.
“Alright. I’ll get out of here and let you have your naked pillow fights and do makeovers.”
My face pinches. “You know that’s not what happens at slumber parties, right?”
He groans. “See, you’ve been here for five minutes, and already you’re ruining my dreams. Actually fuck that, the fact you’re my sister ruined it.” He swipes the keys off the table. As he heads for the door, he bends over the back of the couch, giving Jazz a goodbye kiss.
“Hey you’re the one that brought it up sicko!” I shout after him.
The moment I hear the door close behind him, I turn to Jazz. “I know you’re pregnant, but what liquor do you have up in here. I’m stressed as hell.”
She offers up a smile. “I bet you are. I’d be freaking out if I lost all my stuff.”
We stand, and she leads me into the kitchen.
“Did you guys get all your stuff from your old apartment?” I ask.
She nods as she digs me out a beer. “Yeah, we picked it up and took most of it directly to the country house.”
I snort. “The country house?”
She laughs. “That’s what we’re calling it. This,” she motions around the house we’re in, the house in the city, “is the townhouse.”
I laugh. “I don’t think that’s what townhouse means.”
She jerks her head toward me. “What do you mean?”
“Townhouses are those houses that are built side by side, like they have a front yard and a back yard, but no side yard because it’s built onto another house. It’s not a townhouse because it’s in town.”
She laughs. “Really?”
I nod and take a drink of my beer. “You really thought it meant that?”
She nods and laughs so hard, she snorts.
“Damon didn’t tell you?”
She’s now sitting on the floor, laughing and shaking her head.
I can’t help but join in on her laughter. “That’s funny. He probably thinks it’s cute that you think that.”
Her laughter dies down, and she wipes the tears from her eyes. Holding out her hand, I pull her back up.
She pops some popcorn, and we head back into the living room. “So, tell me about the new guy you’re seeing.”
“How do you know I’m seeing a new guy?” I ask, taking a big swig of beer.
“Come on, Mads.” She levels her eyes on me. “We’ve known one another for, like, our whole lives. You think I don’t know when you’re getting some? Spill it.” She grabs my knee and shakes it.
I laugh and roll my eyes. “I am seeing someone, but you can’t tell Damon.”
“Is it Bennet? It’s Bennet, isn’t it?”
I try not to smile, but I do as I shake my head. “We’re not together-together, though.”
She cuts her eyes to me. “What does that mean?”
“It means, we’re hanging out, we’re hooking up, but there’s no attachment. No strings. No nothing. When we’re together, we’re together. When we’re not, we’re not. That easy.”
She laughs. “Yeah, okay.”
“What?” I ask.
“That literally never works out, Mads. Have you not seen a movie in the last twenty years?”
“Do you not know me? All of my relationships are strictly friends with benefits.”
“Yeah because you pick duds that you get bored with after a few weeks. This one will be different. This one will either last forever, or it will break you forever.”
My mouth drops open. “What a mean thing to say!” I gently smack her leg, not trying to hurt the pregnant lady.
She shrugs. “It’s just how I see it.”
I shake my head. “No. No way. Bennet and I are two in the same. He doesn’t do love, and I don’t either. I’m keeping my distance. No way am I going to fall in love with Bennet Windsor.”
She snorts. “But is he keeping his distance? He’s clearly already invited you to stay the night. Did you sleep in the same bed? Did you spend the day together?”
“Yes and yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”
She turns herself so that she’s facing me instead of the tv. “How many hook-ups have you had?”
I shrug.
“Okay, well how many hook-ups have you had that lead to staying the night, sleeping toget
her, and spending the whole next day together? Not to mention you work out together and work together.”
I look at her while I think.
Zero.
I mean, some have had many of those things, but not all. Never all. I didn’t stay the whole night with anyone until Travis. And even then, I never stayed the whole next day with him. If anything, it was a miracle even to have breakfast together.
Oh fuck. What if she’s right? What if Bennet is getting too close without even realizing it? This is definitely something I need to talk to him about.
“See, I told you,” Jazz says, fixing her eyes back on the tv but keeping the small grin on her face.
I sit back and drink my beer, thinking over everything she’s said. What would happen if Bennet and I got serious? Would we get married? Would I move into that big, fancy mansion of his? Would we have kids? I don’t want any of that. I don’t want to tie myself to another human being. I don’t want to bring kids into this world. Who wants to pass on this shitty existence to another person? And that mansion, don’t get me started. I’d much prefer a reasonably sized home that wouldn’t require a staff to clean.
“What in the hell are you thinking about so hard over there?” she asks, cutting through my thoughts.
“Moving to the country and living off the land,” I confess.
She laughs long and hard. “Okay, that’s not you. Where’s that coming from?”
I shrug. “I’m just tired. I’m tired of people and their standards. I’m tired of working as hard as I do and still struggling.”
“Whoa, didn’t you get a raise with that new job?”
I nod. “I did, but still. I’m working myself to death every day just to live. I mean, I can’t afford a real vacation. I can’t travel the world. Have you ever thought about how much money you spend at the store just to eat, and then you gotta spend more money on toilet paper! Vicious cycle,” I rant.
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