Chapter 7

 

 

Dani

od, I hate him sometimes.

How the hell did I ever let him in?

I almost kissed him.

Seriously?

I’m horrified by my actions, but I stay and finish out the event. I stay in the background when Leslie Adamson interviews Michael, Levi, Phillip, Cash, and Shriller. A small smile pulling on my lips as I watch the pride the other men are showing for Michael.

After the interview, there’s a motorcycle race where Shriller takes first place, followed by the trucks and a closing ceremony where Michael thanks everyone for coming out. His speech isn’t long, but it’s impactful.

“It's no secret that this cause is near to my heart. I made so many mistakes in my life and went down a dark path.” My eyes scan the crowd, seeing everyone's eyes on Michael on the track. The large screen behind him zooming in on his handsome face and charismatic grin. “Because I had the love and support of some incredible, stubborn people, I’m here today. I want to make sure that anyone that needs help can get it. And by being here today, you all helped to get us closer to that goal. Thank you!”

Applause rings throughout the massive outdoor track, and I see the Monroes. Brooke and Cassie are wiping tears from their cheeks, and everyone is beaming with pride.

Slowly everyone funnels out of the crowded speedway, and I drive Cash to the hotel where we’re staying, my thoughts solely on Michael.

I’m pissed I’ve let him get to me already.

One more day. I just have to get through tomorrow, and then I’m out of here.

We go to the suite that has two separate bedrooms, but a common living room. I go straight to the mini bar. Cash is used to being around alcohol and swears it doesn't bother him.

Usually I avoid drinking around him, but tonight is a special occasion.

I grab a glass and ice, pouring whiskey over it and take a much-needed drink.

Cash tosses his hotel key on the table, dropping to the sofa and popping his feet up on the wooden coffee table. Legs crossed at the ankle, he watches me with an amused smirk. “Yeah, this is pretty much how I’d expect you to react to today.”

“Fuck off, Cash.” I take another drink and kick my heels off, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

He chuckles, totally unaffected. “I’m gonna have shirts made that say that.”

My hands grip the glass as I slosh the ice and liquid together, slowly feeling the effects of the alcohol. “They'd sell like crazy.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

I take yet another sip, slurping the cool liquid between my lips. “Nope.”

“Dani, I know it wasn’t easy to see him today.”

“Did you know that he fucking replaced me? With that blond bimbo?”

The slow grin on Cash's face tells me he knows and that the prick think she's hot. “Watch how you talk about my future wife.”

I roll my eyes and finish off my drink. “As if, Cash. Even you can't fall for that all-together, domineering act.”

His shoulders lift with laughter as he shakes his head at me. “Damn, Dani. You do get that she's pretty much you?”

“Fuck. You.”

He laughs. “Don't be jealous. I’m sure they’ve only fucked a couple of times.”

I punch his arm playfully, and he laughs at me as I set the empty glass on the table. Staying in an upright position, I stare straight ahead.

“You think he's staying clean?”

Cash leans up on the edge of the couch, his body against mine as I lay my head on his shoulder. “I hope so. He seemed good today, except for that bizarre fight.”

I stiffen next to him. Brandon makes me nervous. I know he brings up the demons of Michael's past, and he's clearly still suffering himself.

“Yeah, old friends turned enemies.”

“You know what that’s all about?”

I shake my head from left to right in a lie. “No.”

“So, he got to you, huh? You’re clearly agitated.”

I lift my head and look at Cash, his confident arrogant smile reminiscent of Michael’s. “No. I’m fine.”

“Mmhmm . . . Sure you are. Admit it, he got you all hot and bothered. Michael Monroe and his magic cock.”

I lean back, sinking into the couch, groaning. “Anyone could get me hot and bothered these days Cash. And stop saying that.”

He snickers as he leans backward next to me. He loves giving me shit. “Well, I tried to hook you up. You hated Seth.”

I roll my eyes. It’s no secret to Cash that Michael was the last guy I was with. A few months ago, Cash set me up on a date with his dumbass racing buddy, Seth. The guy talked about himself the entire time. Not about cars or racing, but literally just him—his hair, his wardrobe choices. The guy was a tool.

“Who wouldn't?”

“He's not that bad. And you need to get laid. Ms. I’m Wired Like a Dude.”

The old me would have fucked him, without a doubt. He was cute enough, but I was bored out of my mind, and my thoughts were on Michael the whole night.

“So, you fuck me then.”

I freeze, staring straight ahead as I mentally slap myself and pray I didn’t just say that out loud.

I’m not gonna lie. I’ve thought about it. He's a good guy who I care about and is sexy as sin. There's no real love feeling other than friendship. If I just want something to take my mind off Michael Monroe, he'd be the perfect one to help me.

The sober, logical Dani shot that idea right down, but the buzzed, over-tired Dani that just had one hell of a day?

Why not?

His head turns to me, comical confusion and amusement on his face. “No fucking way.”

That of course sparks a challenge in my alcohol-soaked brain. “Why the hell not? I’ve seen your eyes scan my body. Don't pretend you haven't thought about it, Cash.”

His face moves mere inches from mine and for a second, I think he may actually kiss me. But he just speaks, keeping his voice quiet, “Of course, I have, but it won't help Dani. If I kissed you right now, it wouldn’t be my lips you felt. If I touched you, it wouldn’t be my hands.”

I twist my body at the waist and face him, my hand resting on his solid chest, the soft cotton fabric of his t-shirt not hiding the hardness of his muscle. “I know exactly who I’m touching right now.”

My voice is barely above a whisper, and my hand is trembling as his hand covers mine. “But I’m not who you want to be touching. I’d gladly tear your clothes off and fuck you until neither of us can move if I thought it would help. But it would only hurt, and to be honest, you’re the best fucking friend I’ve had in a long time. I won't ruin that for a few minutes of sweaty bliss. He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “Get your ass to bed.”

A tear slips down my cheek, and he swipes it away easily. “You mean a lot to me too.”

He was there when I had no one, and I get the feeling he always will be.

I made a true friend, and even though he's going to give me shit about this for years to come, I know deep down he understands completely.

One more day. I just have to get through one more day with Michael Monroe.