Drew
Twice.
That’s how many times I saw Trent this week.
Once when I showed up to introduce him to Joey and once a few days ago when I stopped by to give him a car part I’d ordered for his Mustang.
He’d been on his way out, so I literally handed him the part, we exchanged a few stupid pleasantries like strangers, and then he left.
So basically, I’d seen him not at all.
His reaction to Joey wasn’t what I expected either. He was stunned at first, of course, about her being a girl. We all totally expected a dude.
I know. What a sexist thing to say.
But in my defense, there were hardly any female racecar drivers in the pro circuit and almost as few in the indie world. It just wasn’t common.
She could drive. She proved it that first day on the track and then countless other times this week when we’d go out driving.
She was basically hell on high heels.
Yep. She drove in heels.
She was something.
I was thinking about asking her out. I mean, why not? She was hot, drove like a badass, and had a smart mouth.
I liked her.
But something held me back. Every time I thought about seeing if she’d be interested in taking more than the cars for a ride, I didn’t.
She was kind of my co-worker.
It would be unprofessional to date a co-worker. Even in a world where there were no rules and she’d be going back to where she came from soon.
Maybe it wasn’t because she was a co-worker.
It was something else. Something that made me uncomfortable and kind of squirmy to think about.
How was I supposed to think about it anyway when all I could think about was driving and the lack of T’s presence?
We were definitely avoiding each other.
He started it. But I hadn’t tried very hard to find out why. I, too, was participating in the avoidance.
I missed him. Like someone ripped a gaping hole in my life, in my chest. The cold air whistled through it constantly, creating an odd, painful ache.
Deep down, I suspected why we were dancing around each other this way. Maybe I should just admit it to myself. Say the words inside my own head. Try them out.
I’m not ready.
“Earth to Drew,” Joey said, waving her hand in front of my face.
I snapped out of my head and back to reality. “Huh?”
She made a sound and set down her fork. “You wanna talk?”
I blinked and glanced around the busy restaurant as if I suspected someone might know what I’d been thinking. We’d stopped in here for a bite before we hit the streets. We’d been at the Chesapeake Speedway three nights this week already, so tonight I wanted to really take to the open road.
I was so anxious to open up the full power of my car the balls of my feet itched. I felt like I was filled to the brim with tension and anxiety, and the only way to get it out was going to be to drive so fast it all blew away.
“Sorry,” I mumbled and picked at a fry on my plate. “I was just thinking about something I wanted to try with my engine.” I lied.
She was eating a giant salad. No fries. ‘Course, even if she had ordered them, I wouldn’t be eating them off her plate. They wouldn’t taste as good.
“Look, I know we’ve only known each other a week, but it seems like something’s bothering you,” she said point blank.
“You’re direct.” I hedged. “I like that.”
“Yeah, well, I come by it honestly,” she muttered.
“What do you mean?”
She sighed like she was sentenced to some chore she didn’t want to do. “Ron Gamble is my father.”
I abandoned the fries I wasn’t even eating to gawk at her. “What the what?”
“Can we skip the whole oh my God thing?” She moaned. “We already did that when you saw I was a girl.”
I chuckled. “You get that reaction a lot, huh?”
“Are you kidding? Being a girl and Ron Gamble’s offspring is a double-edged sword.” She picked up her Coke and took a sip. I really appreciated that it wasn’t diet. And her salad had steak on it. Most girls drank diet or water and ate lettuce.
It was totally boring.
“I guess I can see how it might be an issue.”
She gave me a bored look. “The odds are stacked against me. I have to prove myself twice as much because I’m a female driver. Then when I do smoke all the meatheads on the track, it’s because Daddy bought me fancy car parts, got me fancy training, and paid my way into the pros.”
“You want to be known for your talent and skill,” I stated.
“Just like every other driver on the road. It’s a constant fight.” Weariness crept into her tone.
I bet she intimidated about ninety-eight percent of the men she met. She was strong, independent, and went after what she wanted. She clearly excelled in her chosen sport and didn’t try to ride the coattails of her rich father. Hell, I hadn’t even realized she was his daughter. Clearly, they kept it on the down low as much as possible. Not to mention she was beautiful and the descendant of a very powerful man…
Yeah. The deck was stacked against her.
Kinda made me feel better about my shitty week.
Yeah. I was an ass.
It was going to take a strong man to stand next to a woman like her.
“You should make it easier on yourself and stop driving in heels,” I said.
She looked at me funny.
I shrugged. “Well, clearly, you already have enough to battle against. Why strap those demons on your feet? Wear sneakers. Might as well be comfortable while you piss off everyone.”
She burst out laughing. When she got herself under control, she flipped her wild curls over her shoulder and squinted at me. “You don’t care, do you?”
“That Gamble’s your father?” I shook my head. “Nope.”
“That’s a nice change.”
“If it makes a difference…” I began and leaned forward across the table. “I think your success is even more impressive now that I know. Having him as a father is definitely a career handicap. But you keep going anyway, and you’re a good driver. For a girl.”
She threw a piece of bread at me. It reminded me of how I always blew my straw paper at Trent.
“I’m not that successful,” she said. “Yet.”
“You’re an up-and-comer. It’s just a matter of time.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
I gave her a level look. “I looked you up. Impressive stats.”
“You looked me up?”
I don’t know why she was surprised. “Think I was going to drive with someone who knew all about me and I knew nothing about them?”
“Fair enough,” she allowed.
“You were on the drivers to watch list for next season in GearShark.”
“It was a very brief mention.” Her voice was clipped.
“You sound bitter.”
“Maybe a little. All the men had bios posted. All I had was one line of stats. Nothing else.”
I’d noticed that, too. Must be hell to be a woman in a male-dominated sport.
“Well, it will be even sweeter when you leave them all in your dust and start making covers.”
“So what about you?” she asked, changing the subject.
“What about me?”
“You were about to tell me what’s got your panties in a bunch.”
I scowled. “I don’t wear panties. I wear boxer briefs. Wanna see ‘em?” I wagged my eyebrows suggestively.
She couldn’t be distracted. “Is it Trent?”
I sobered. “Why would you ask that?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I’d gotten the impression you two were close. But he hasn’t been around at all this week. I thought maybe that’s why you’re acting like someone stole your favorite toy.”
Perceptive.
And annoying.
Luckily, I was saved from answering when my cell rang. I pulled it out quickly and glanced down with a little bit of a flutter in my stomach.
I knew he’d call.
But it wasn’t him.
My mood darkened and my stomach turned sour. It was a number I didn’t recognize. I wasn’t going to answer it, but if I didn’t, I’d have to keep talking to Joey.
“What?” I demanded. I never said I had to be friendly.
“Impromptu race down near River Falls Street. Buy-in is four grand. If you commit, you’ll be number five, making the pot a twenty grand take. You in?”
I whistled low. “Twenty grand? That’s some high stakes.”
Joey looked up, interested.
“Lorhaven’s call,” the voice, which I did not know, said. He was talking low and hushed.
“Lorhaven know you’re inviting me?” I asked.
“Nope. Thought it might make things interesting, though. Make him work a little harder for a win.”
“Who said he’d win?” I countered.
The person laughed. “Exactly.”
I made a sound. “I’m real tempted. But I don’t have four grand lying around.”
“Damn. That’s disappointing.”
“But thanks for the invite.”
Joey practically leapt over the table. “Do it!”
I glanced up. “What?”
“A race?” she mouthed.
I nodded.
“What?” the man on the end of the line asked. He’d thought I was talking to him.
“Hang on,” I said and looked at her.
“I have the money. Let’s go.” She slapped her napkin on the table and stood to grab her leather Moto jacket off her chair.
Excitement pumped into my system. “Actually. I’m in,” I said. “When’s it starting?”
“Five minutes,” he answered.
I hung up and stood. “We gotta haul ass, woman.”
“My first street race.” The curls on her head bounced with excitement.
I threw some money on the table to cover the bill and reached for her hand. “C’mon, I’m about to show you how the other half of the racing world drives.”