Charity nodded. “I love him. I’m in love with him, which I’m okay with. The thing is, I don’t think he’s interested in loving me back.”
“You won’t know until you talk to him.”
“And when he crushes me like a bug?”
Pia gave her a warm smile. “You don’t know he will.”
“Can you honestly see him saying he loves me and wants to be with me for the rest of his life?”
“Yes.”
Now it was Charity’s turn to smile, although her feelings were more sad than hopeful. “You’re not a very good liar.”
“I think there’s a chance.”
There was always a chance, Charity thought sadly. Just not a very good one.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JOSH ALWAYS ENJOYED Los Angeles. The city was big and sprawling, with an air of self-importance. New York might be the leading edge of the country and the midsection might have the heart, but L.A. was cool and everyone knew it.
He took the elevator down to the baggage-claim level at LAX, then walked toward the petite woman in a suit, holding a sign that said Golden.
“Not that I wouldn’t know you anywhere,” she said when he walked up to her. “How was your flight?”
“Good,” he said. “Quick.”
“I prefer mine to last,” she said as she led the way to the town car.
She was pretty enough. Mid twenties, easy smile and a body no conservative suit could conceal. There was a time when he would have considered pursuing her not very subtle invitation. Maybe even in the back of the town car. Today…not so much.
The flight from Sacramento had been less than an hour. The drive into Century City took nearly that long. Airport traffic was tough, as always, and once they arrived at the high rise, they went underground to find parking.
Josh took the elevator to the thirty-second floor, where a tall, thin man was waiting. The offices were quietly elegant, as was typical for an upscale law firm. The carpeting was plush, the views amazing and the conference room massive.
Josh walked in and greeted the people already waiting for him. There were two lawyers, an advertising executive, three former racing coaches, a representative from a bike manufacturer and an athletic-shoe designer.
After introductions and offers of coffee, they sat down at the table. One of the lawyers, Pete Gray, went first.
“Your proposal was interesting,” Pete began, nodding at the folder in front of him. “Our clients are intrigued. You’ve lined up excellent sponsors, you have regional and local support. The city obviously wants this to happen.”
“They’ve offered land and tax breaks,” Josh said. “It doesn’t get much better than that.”
Everyone nodded.
Pete continued. “We have preliminary bids for the construction itself. There was an interesting one from Hendrix Construction. The owner, an Ethan Hendrix, asked for the opportunity to undercut the lowest bid by five percent.”
Josh hadn’t known about that. “His firm does quality work. They would be my preferred choice.”
“We’re putting together a prospectus for our clients,” Pete continued. “We’re recommending they invest. On one condition.”
Josh had had an idea about this ever since he’d been invited to L.A. for the meeting. He still didn’t know how he felt about it.
“We want you to run the school.”
Josh opened the folder in front of him. As he’d put together much of the package, he knew what was inside. The pictures of kids on racing bikes were familiar, as was the diagram for the facility. There would be workout space, an indoor track, classrooms and lecture halls. His idea had always been to integrate the school into the community. Over time he could see them bringing in experts to talk about everything from nutrition and aging to different sports for every season.
“I’ve never run anything like this,” he said.
“You have several successful businesses,” one of the women said. He thought she might be the advertising executive. “You understand how to make a profit.”
“I’m not a coach.”
“No. You’ll be hiring coaches,” Pete told him. “You have the skill set we’re looking for and a name. Being Josh Golden helps get investors interested. My recommendation hinges on you, Josh. Unless you’re thinking of getting back into racing professionally. I’ve heard some rumors.”
“I’m in a race,” he said. “I’m going to see how that goes.”
Two of the coaches looked interested. The third was skeptical.
He knew that professional racing was a grueling sport and that he would be facing a hell of a challenge if he planned on competing professionally. Training would take over his life. He would have to commit with every fiber of his being. There wouldn’t be room for anything else. Not even the fear.
But glory and fame weren’t what drove him. Instead he wanted to find that part of himself he’d lost. Once he had it, there wouldn’t be anything left to prove. If he could get that piece back in a single race, that’s all it would take.