“What’s with you tonight?” Vince asked. “You look like the poster child for a whiny country song.”
They kept prodding at me for a while, but eventually I was sullen enough they left me alone. I didn’t even feel guilty about it. It was okay for me to not want to joke around every so often. The more they pushed me, the less likely I was to want to talk to them. Before the food even got there, I was starting to wish I hadn’t come, either. Usually I enjoyed the get-togethers before and after races, but I just wasn’t feeling it that night.
Which was why I was less than pleased when Merry got up and came to the end of the table to sit at one of the empty seats beside me. Everybody else seemed to have essentially forgotten about me, but she plopped right down and looked at me like she thought she was going to be the one who would break through my resistance. But before I got a chance to tell her I wanted to be left alone, she waved her glass of seltzer at me like a white flag.
“Not here to bother you. I get wanting space. Trust me, I’ve been there. But, we’re family. So, I’m just going to sit here, and you brood and if anybody comes to try to mess with you, I’ll tell them you’re keeping the cranky pregnant lady company.”
She grinned at me, and I managed to make a sound somewhere between a huff and a short laugh. We sat that way for another few minutes before the food came, then dove into our dinners. She was halfway through the heaping plate of pasta in front of her when she leaned to the side to press her shoulder to mine but didn’t look at me.
“If you did happen to not want to brood, we could talk. It doesn’t have to be about anything or anyone in particular,” she said.
I stayed quiet for a few seconds longer, then nodded.
“How is the hype for the tailgate event before the race tomorrow?” I asked.
In her role as the social media consultant for the company, Merry had made a tremendous difference in the visibility of the company. We were already popular before she came along, but after she did her magic, our fan base grew, and the money and opportunities were rolling in. She was amazing. I was pretty sure everything she was doing, including planning the parties she organized before each race, went far above and beyond the duties of most people in that type of position. But it was all her idea, and she did it very well.
“Pretty intense,” she admitted. “People started talking about it after the last race, and I’ve been getting a lot of messages about buying tickets.”
“Did Quentin start selling tickets to the parties?” I asked, surprised at the revelation.
“No,” Merry said, shaking her head with a bemused smile. “But it’s gotten so popular people just figured they had to buy tickets to go. They think it’s some kind of VIP experience.”
“Is that something you and Quentin are thinking about doing?” I asked, grateful for the conversation that finally managed to distract me at least enough to keep me talking.
“I don’t want to do that. The whole point of having the tailgate parties was to give the fans something fun to do that enhanced the races but didn’t cost a ton of money. It was just supposed to be fun and get people together and talking about the team. There’s already a ton of merchandise and food and everything for them to buy. I don’t want to get greedy and start charging for tickets. It should stay something accessible to everybody,” she said.
“I agree,” I told her.
“Speaking of merchandise, those shirts I was telling you about came in today,” she said.
“Really? How do they look?” I asked.
“Fantastic,” she told me, reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone. “Look.”
She showed me a picture of the shirts she’d designed. The front featured a graphic of me riding my bike, and the back had my name across the shoulders along with a list of the season’s races.
“That looks great,” I told her.
“Here’s Greg’s,” she said, swiping to the next picture, which showed a similar shirt designed for the other rider on the team.
“Did you show him?”
“Yep. He’s excited about it. Well, as excited as Greg gets.” She put her phone away. “So, you’re still up for signing a few of them before the race?”
“Sure. If anybody wants me to.”
She laughed. “They’ll want you to. Trust me.”
The rest of the night wasn’t too bad. I was glad Merry came to sit with me, and I enjoyed my chat with her. I’d liked her from the very beginning. When she first started working at the complex, she and Quentin didn’t get along very well. There were times when I was even concerned she would end up quitting because of the conflict between the two of them. It turned out they were both insanely attracted to each other, and neither of them could stand it. I still appreciated her friendship, and it was good to see her and my brother together. They were disgustingly in love, which was nice. Quentin wasn’t exactly the type any of us saw actually finding somebody and settling down at any point. He didn’t have the greatest track record with women, most often finding ones who were only interested in his money and the power and influence they thought they could get by hooking up with him.
But Merry was different. She actually adored him just for who he was, which was a feat in itself sometimes.
When I finally got home that night, the feelings of anger and frustration were creeping back. I couldn’t get Kelly out of my mind, wondering what she was doing and if she was still out. A shower didn’t calm me down. If anything, it only made me think about her more. I wished she was in there with me so I could watch the water pour down over her body and soap her up. Getting out of the shower, I crashed into bed and tried to will myself to sleep.
It didn’t work. Half an hour later, I was still tossing around filled with tension. I knew I shouldn’t, and there was still so much anger in me, but I couldn’t get my mind to stop spinning, so I reached under the covers and wrapped my hand around my cock. It was hard from thinking about her, and I let my memories of our night together fuel me to stroke until I finally exploded. The climax took away the tension, and I was finally able to relax.
16
Kelly
I poured my second cup of coffee into my mouth with one hand while I used the other to help Willa eat a bowl of fruit and oatmeal. Usually my mornings were more leisurely because I forced myself to get up with plenty of time so I could feel put together on my way to work. But that was when she slept through my getting-ready routine. This morning, for some reason, her eyes popped open when I peeked into her room like I did every other day. I tried to soothe her, to quiet her down and get her to go back to sleep, but my baby was wide-awake and wanted to get up and start her day with me.
Negotiating getting myself ready for work and taking care of my two-year-old really shouldn’t have been that much of a challenge. After all, before we’d moved here, Willa and I got up together just about every day. We always started our days together and it never seemed like a big deal balancing getting her dressed and feeding her breakfast with getting myself dressed and presentable for the day. Yet somehow that morning I couldn’t get it together. I loved seeing my little girl first thing in the morning, and nothing was better than the sloppy baby kiss she pressed to my mouth when I scooped her up out of her bed and hugged her close. But not following my routine had completely thrown me off.
At least, that’s what I was going to tell myself had thrown me off that morning. I didn’t want to admit it was still thinking about Darren or the fact that it was my first race day with the company.
I spooned up another bite of oatmeal for Willa and fed it to her. She reached for the spoon, apparently finally interested in feeding herself. I finished the coffee and contemplated having another. My heart was already racing, and my brain wasn’t all the way there, so I decided against it. Instead, I tried for what was probably the fifth time that morning to eat the two pieces of toast I’d buttered. I kept taking a bite, then getting distracted by something and abandoning the toast on the plate on the counter. It was cold
by the time I stood and concentrated on getting both slices down.
Out in the front of the apartment I heard the door open and knew it was Pam. I stepped out of the kitchen so I could look down the hallway into the living room. She smiled brightly at me and waved. I noticed she was carrying a large bag under one arm, and she dropped it onto the couch before coming to the kitchen.
“Look who’s awake bright and early this morning,” she said cheerfully when she saw Willa in her highchair.
“She’s had breakfast. I would guess she’s going to get tired and will need her nap earlier today,” I said.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Pam told me.
I let out a sigh. “I know you will. I’m sorry. My brain is just all over the place this morning.”
“That’s all right. It’s a big day for you. The first race! That’s really exciting.”
“It is,” I agreed. “It should be fun. I just hope it goes well.”
“Of course it will. They’re going to be blown away by their performance, and it’s all thanks to you,” she said.
“I don’t know about that. His riding skills are probably important, too.”
Pam shrugged and made a dismissive sound. “He’s basically just a jockey. All he does is sit. It’s all about the bike.”
I laughed. “Been following motorcycle racing?”
“I’ve picked up a few things. After talking to you about your career, I got interested. And I found out that race days are hard and long, so I wanted to make sure you are ready. I packed you some food. It’s in that bag on the couch. There’s Italian pasta salad, some good crusty bread, apples and peanut butter, crackers and pesto, a couple of brownies. Stuff like that. Don’t forget to eat while you make sure those bikes are running hot.” I laughed again, and Pam smiled. “That’s a thing, right? That’s what you biker kids say?”
I decided to get out of the house before she could confuse bikers and bike racers any further. It was getting late, and I needed to get to the complex to help with the preparations for the race. We had to do all the last-minute checks and tune-ups on the bikes, go through some practice runs, and get everything packed and ready to go over to the racetrack. Quentin told me about the tailgate party Merry threw for the fans before each race, and I looked forward to checking it out before taking my place in the pits.
“Thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I told Pam.
She waved me off and grabbed a cloth to wipe off Willa’s face. My daughter had a new determination to feed herself, but much of the remaining oatmeal and fruit had ended up on her chubby cheeks rather than actually in her mouth.
She waved her had dismissively. “It’s nothing. You’re so much more important in my life. My daughter moved away after declaring to me she decided she was never going to have children. Ever. Now, that’s a perfectly valid life choice. I can’t say I believe every woman is supposed to give birth or raise children. That’s up to everyone to make their own decision, and I would never want anyone to bring a child into this world if they didn’t really want one. But my daughter is my only child. Which means when she made the decision to not have children, she made the decision for me not to have grandchildren. That hurts a bit. But getting to be here with Willa is like having a grandbaby of my own. I’d pay you to let me watch her if I thought you’d take it.”
She finished with a laugh, and I smiled at her. Walking around the table, I kissed Willa on the head.
“I love you so much. You be a good girl, and I will see you when I get home. I’ll be later today, but you can call me.”
“Luh oou, Mama,” she said, and I just about melted.
Saying my goodbyes, I rushed out of the house and jumped into my car. The thought of what Pam had said stayed with me throughout my drive to the complex and as I rushed to the garage to get started on everything that needed to be done before the race. I really was lucky. Coming to a new place without really knowing anyone and not having a set plan of what I was going to do was a huge risk. Anything could have happened. I could have ended up totally alone, without the extra income I needed or without someone to take care of my daughter so I could work. Instead, I got my dream job and ended up with a neighbor who was rapidly becoming more like family. With everything going on and all the stress I was feeling, it was such a relief to know I had that.
I was the first one at the garage, and I immediately went to work going over all the checklists and readying everything that needed to be brought with us to the race. When Darren and Gus got to the garage there was too much to do for me to feel awkward, which was a blessing. I was still thinking about the encounter from the day before and how he’d looked after I told him I couldn’t go to dinner with the rest of the team. He seemed genuinely disappointed, and that made me feel guilty. But not just because I didn’t go out with everybody. I felt guilty because I didn’t tell him where I was actually going to be and the truth about me moving to Charlotte. That would have been a moment when I could have broached the subject. Right then I could have told him I wasn’t able to go to dinner with the rest of the team, but that I would very much like him to come back to my place with me.
Of course, that probably would have come across in a much different way than I intended it. But at least it would have gotten the conversation started. A conversation that definitely needed to be had at some point. Just not yet. I wasn’t ready.
The day flew by incredibly fast. It was as if time had been sped up and I was constantly chasing it, trying to fit far more into the minutes flying past than it was possible to get done. But I just kept going, kept working as hard as I could to get everything done. By the time we needed to pack up and head to the racetrack, some sort of miracle had occurred, and we’d managed to check everything off the lists.
“Is it always this hectic on race day?” I asked Vince as we loaded the trucks.
“Pretty much,” he told me with a laugh.
“It’s pretty intense,” I told him.
He laughed again, the sound enough to tell me he recognized the craziness that was his family leading up to an evening at the racetrack.
“You’ll get used to it,” he promised me.
The tailgating party I was looking forward to was fun, but I found myself thinking about the race. I ended up going down to the track before everybody else so I could get a feel for the area. It might have seemed silly to anybody else, but since it was my first time with the team, I wanted to feel comfortable and know I was ready to handle whatever might happen. Pam called me a few times throughout the day and checked in with me when it was time to put Willa to bed. I wanted to talk to her more, but it was important for me to stay focused on what I was doing. Taking care of the bikes was critical, and I had to do everything I could to keep Darren and Greg safe.
It was that sentiment, the reminder to myself every few seconds that the work I put into those bikes was what was keeping the men on them safe, that made my heart break when in the middle of the third lap, Greg went down. It all happened so fast, and yet it was almost like slow motion when I watched the machine tilt, topple over, then spin around toward the other bikes. The crunching sound was sickening, and as soon as the others were out of the way, the whole team took off running toward Greg sprawled out on the ground.
Relief washed over me when I saw him move. At least he was conscious. The medics came out right behind us, and I had to stand to the side and watch them move as fast as they could to get him off the track. Gus and I grabbed his bike and moved it to our tent to get it out of the way. Regardless of what just happened, the race was still going on. We had to try to block out all the noise and the worry and focus on figuring out what had happened to the bike. It wasn’t easy—I kept thinking about him falling and how much worse it could have been. I might not have worked with a bike racing team before, but I’d seen my fair share of brutal accidents on racetracks and knew firsthand how horrible the aftermath could be.
Even as I thought about Greg and felt awful, I cou
ldn’t stop thinking about Darren and feeling so thankful it wasn’t him. That created a flicker of guilt in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t help it. He was still out there on the track, and the worry was making it hard to breathe.
17
Darren
The race felt like it was going smoothly. I was focused, zeroed in on the path I was going to take around the track. The races this season were getting harder. I pulled out a first-place win during the premiere race of the season and since then, the other teams had been coming for me. I knew it was going to happen. That’s the way it is with racers. As soon as one really starts to succeed and jumps ahead of the pack, the others start to chase him. Everyone starts trying to figure out what that rider did to improve their performance and how they can do it for themselves. Bikes get modifications, riders try everything they can to get stronger and faster.
It wasn’t all bad. In fact, it was what made the job as thrilling as it was. There wasn’t any excitement or satisfaction in winning a race when everyone else was far behind. I didn’t want to be on top of a group that performed badly. I loved the challenge when I finished a race knowing I really earned my position. Unfortunately, not everyone thought that way. Most of the other riders had the same basic mindset as I did. They wanted to be the best among the best, not just to get an accolade or come in first because everybody else failed. They put the genuine work into improving themselves and pushing for greater success. Others, however, let getting beaten and never being able to climb higher get to their heads.
Of these were the dangerous riders. They entered a race with a clouded head, not able to think about anything but getting in front of those who were outperforming them. That could prove disastrous, and that night it did.
I got a good start to the race and like I always did, briefly checked on Greg to see how he was doing. He and I were on the same team, so we truly wanted each other to do well in races. But we still wanted to be the best, so there was a good-hearted rivalry between us. He was doing well, but just as we came around the curve of the track, I caught Greg go down in my peripheral vision. I spit out a stream of profanity, and it took everything I had in me to keep going and not immediately turn my bike off the side of the track. I wanted to run to Greg and check on him, to make sure he got through the crash all right, but I knew that wasn’t an option.
Millionaire Daddy: A Secret Baby Romance (Freeman Brothers Book 2) Page 9