But Dylan wasn’t anyone’s pet.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Jimmy,” Dylan said. “I get an offer like that once a week. From men who can look me in the eye when they do it. My company is not for sale. Never will be. You can stand in line like the rest of the owners when the time comes. Gentlemen,” he said and took his leave from the silent, gape-faced assholes.
Dylan caught sight of Blake in the corner, surrounded by rich white guys. Blake caught his eye and Dylan tilted his head toward the exit. Blake nodded and Dylan left the stuffy, crowded room that stank of perfume and cigars and stepped out onto the big wraparound porch of the mansion nestled up into the northwest corner of Charlotte.
The humidity was thick away from his mountain and there were way too many people here, but duty demanded he come down occasionally and meet with the men who paid him so much goddamned money. And in the case of Jimmy Morrow, would pay him so much more.
“Hello, stranger.”
A woman stepped out of the shadows wearing a classic black dress over a body that made a man look twice. She flipped long brown hair over her shoulder and shot him a sly smile.
“Jennifer.” Something warm rolled over in his chest. They’d had some good times not too long ago. She was one of the few people from his life before who didn’t treat him any differently now. Though he was rich now, and Jennifer did enjoy money. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“Just got here,” she said. “I’m surprised to see you here. Someone yank your chain? Force you down off that mountain?”
“Blake insisted I come down and make nice.”
“Hmmm,” she laughed.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Daddy’s looking for a new driver. He’s here to grease some palms.”
“This is the place for it,” he said. The NASCAR corporate gala brought everyone out of hiding. Including him.
“You know,” she said, stepping even closer. He could smell her in the darkness, something bright and sharp. “He was asking if I thought you’d be interested in scouting—”
“No.”
“But—”
“No, Jennifer.”
Her slow prowl across the porch paused for a moment, but she got her stride back. That was the thing about Jennifer: she never got knocked off her stride for long. He actually admired that about her. She pouted at him, making the most of those lips she’d been born with. “You know, you used to be a lot nicer.”
“I used to be a kid,” he said. And a fool. So damn grateful and eager for what those men at the party could give him. So damn happy to be out of his cage he would have done anything for the people paying his way. He’d enjoyed being one of their golden boys for a few short years. An up-and-coming driver with a bright future. It had been a relief putting the darkest of his sins as far behind him as he could. Pretending his hands were clean.
But then karma, his old friend, came back around. She always did.
Luckily he was a far better engine builder than he’d ever been a driver.
“You leaving?” She’d gotten close enough that she could touch him. She didn’t. She wasn’t that brave. Or stupid. She’d been the last woman who’d touched him, years ago. And he’d liked it for a long time, until quite suddenly, he couldn’t stand it.
“Soon,” Dylan said.
“Want some company?” To his surprise, she lifted her hand toward his face, as if she were going to run her fingers over the scars there.
He turned his face aside and stepped back away from her touch. Jennifer had a habit of wanting more. Always more. Too much. And his world didn’t work like that. He didn’t work like that. Whatever he’d had to give a person had been taken from him years ago.
“You know that’s not going to happen,” he said.
She dropped her arm and the sly smile vanished. “You’ve changed, you know that? Ever since—”
“Go back to the party,” he said quietly. “Before you say something we both regret.”