Getting behind the wheel and pulling out onto the track revved him up. Cranking up the speed made him forget everything but the feel of the track and testing the way the car handled.
He’d always been the most content when he was in his car. From the first time he’d climbed into one of his buddy’s midget cars on a dirt track, he’d been hooked. Only sixteen years old at the time, the roar of the engine, the smell of oil and fuel and dirt flying into his face had been a lure he couldn’t deny. He’d still been playing baseball at the time, with the promise of a sports scholarship and pressure from his father to pursue law and a future in politics. Under his father’s thumb and still tied to the Preston money, he’d toed the family line, but found every opportunity he could to race cars and learn about engines.
And still managed to piss off his father when he’d accepted the baseball scholarship to Oklahoma.
As he cranked up his speed heading around the track, he cracked a smile. Irritating his dad had always been one of his greatest pleasures. Maybe he could still find a way to do that. He might have agreed to help him, but he didn’t have to do it the Mitchell Preston way. He could control Evelyn and her laptop and he’d make damn sure nothing went onto the Internet that he didn’t want on there, worded exactly the way he wanted it.
This might be his father’s race, but they were going to play by his rules.
He downshifted around the curve, then laid on the throttle on the straightaway and gave the car everything he had on the last lap. By the time he began to slow down, the last of his adrenaline rush had burned itself out.
Now he had a plan, and his car was in good shape. He felt good about this race and the position of his race team. Of course this was only the first practice run, but he had to keep a positive outlook.
He climbed out and Ian fell in step with him as the crew took the car to the garage.
“Well?” he asked, his focus on the car and only on the car right now.
“Decent time and the car looked good. You ran it a little tight out there. You burning off some frustration?”
Ian knew him well, could always tell Gray’s mood from the way he drove. “Maybe a little.”
“What’s going on? And who’s the hot blonde?”
He blew out a frustrated breath, ready to climb into his Chevy again and do more laps, the only thing that could ease his irritation. “She works for my father.”
Ian stopped and stared at Evelyn, currently sitting in the front row of the stands, before turning his attention back to Gray. “No wonder you were so pissed off. What’s she doing here?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’m listening.”
“I sort of agreed to help out my father’s campaign.”
Ian arched a brow. “No shit. Your dad dying or something? Because that’s the only reason I can think of that you’d bend to the old man’s will.”
Gray snorted. “No. Not that I’m aware of, anyway. He’s got a shot at the vice presidential nomination.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. And they think my fan base can make him look more attractive.”
Ian laughed. “I’m sure they could. What I want to know is why you give a shit.”
“My mom asked me to help.”
“Oh. That’s different.”
“Yeah.”
“And the hottie works for your dad?”
“Apparently she’s my liaison to my dad, so she’ll be with us for the time being.”
“Sweet, man. You could have gotten some old fat bald guy. Instead you get a centerfold. Not really a hardship, is it?”
“I can already tell she’s going to be a pain in my ass.”
Ian slapped him on the back. “Oh. Gee. I feel really sorry for you. Having to put up with looking at her every day.”
“Suck it, Ian.”
He laughed. “I’ll see you later. I think your centerfold looks like she wants to talk to you.”
FIVE
GRAY LOOKED OVER TOWARD THE STANDS. EVELYN HAD gotten up and now leaned against one of the flagpoles.
He really wished Ian hadn’t called her a centerfold. She had an arm casually wrapped around the flagpole, and his mind swam with visions of her naked and doing a slinky pole dance.
His cock tightened and he realized he liked her a lot better when he was raging and pissed off at her rather than thinking about her as beautiful or sexy or, God forbid, centerfold material. Which was completely inappropriate since he was working with her in a professional capacity and shouldn’t be objectifying her by fantasizing about her and the flagpole.
Then again, when had his dick ever been appropriate? He probably got that from his father, which made him feel even worse.
She walked toward him. He met her halfway.
“I’m really sorry,” she said before he could even open his mouth to apologize for acting like such an asshole and going off on her. “You’re absolutely right. I got ahead of myself and posted something without your input. I’ve removed it and it won’t happen again.”
Well, hell. “You know, between you and Donny, you’re both ruining my righteous speech-making abilities today.”