“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.”
Trent
I lied to Drew.