I smiled as young Sam could barely contain her excitement at being led away by Marc. She mouthed a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to Summer as they headed off on their mission.
“Aren’t you the matchmaker?” I teased Summer after they were out of earshot. I stood up, and she looked a little confused by my race leathers and boots.
“You’re a racer?” she asked.
“I am.”
“But…you’re so big.”
I smirked and was glad no one else was listening to our conversation. “And that’s why I’m not one of the title contenders.” I smiled.
Donald came over. “I see you’ve met James Spence, one of the privateer riders,” he said. I liked Donald well enough, but there was no profit for him in schmoozing me or riders like me that don’t have big factory contracts. “Are you okay, Summer?”
“Yes, thanks, Donald. I wish everyone would stop worrying over me,” she replied.
“How do you know each other?” I asked.
Before Summer could say anything, Donald piped up, “Summer’s going to be handling the PR for Dunlop’s Motorcycling Concerns.”
So much for us keeping it anonymous. I wanted to get her alone for just a few minutes, but it didn’t happen. She was taken away through the other garages, even though Sam and Marc hadn’t returned yet with the glass of water, and I had to head back to my garage because it was thirty minutes to race time.
***
The last few minutes before a race were always tense. Always. Lined up on the grid, helmet on, a pretty girl keeping the sun off of me with her umbrella, camera crews and reporters from various countries wandering up and down the grid. Keith was right—staring at Blake’s ass as he sat on his bike in front of me got very old, very fast. I tried to distract myself by looking at Suzi’s delicious butt as she stood next to him, keeping the heat off him, and that was better. But the more I looked, the more I thought about Summer again. My brain was completely occupied by her. I thought I’d never see her again, yet she had been on the track today. My heart had leaped when I’d realized who I was holding, and my mind had raced with the possibilities of us enjoying each other again.
Now, though, sitting on the grid, I was thinking about all the ways it could go wrong. The awkwardness that would inevitably ensue when we realized we have nothing in common, no matter how many times we fucked. I should probably forget about any kind of repeat performance with Summer.
I got off my bike and walked up to Blake.
“What the fuck do you want, Spence?” he snapped at me. He was really taking this rivalry too far.
“I need a word,” I told him, “with Suzi.”
His face fell as I turned my back on him. “Missed you last night, sexy,” I whispered to Suzi. Obviously I didn’t, because I was with Summer. I was just trying to screw with Blake.
“Missed you too, baby,” she purred back.
I could hear a grumbling behind me. “Why don’t you piss off, mate?” Blake barked as the klaxon announced to prepare for the parade lap. “Some of us are here to race, not pick up girls.”
“It’s not like you wouldn’t if you could, would you?” I teased him, “It’s just a shame you’re so ugly. Gotta go.” I winked at Suzi. She blew me an air kiss as I dashed back to my ride.
“I’ll fucking get you!” I thought I heard Blake wail behind me as Ray started up my motor.
It was a fun race. I liked the track, and I managed to avoid Blake locking his brakes and crashing at the hairpin in front of the Dunlop hospitality garage. I nearly crashed straight after, like a lovestruck idiot, thinking about whether Summer sat in there watching me or not.
Crowds gathered in the pits to see the top riders take their places and receive their trophies. Little Marc won. I actually scored a point for fifteenth place, and was on a pretty good high from that. Blake was unhurt from his little get-off, which made it the second time I’d beaten him this season. But as I watched Marc, Ducati’s Andrea Dovizioso, and the legendary Valentino Rossi on their podium spraying champagne across the eager fans below, I didn’t see Summer anywhere. Disappointed, I retired to my trailer to shower and change into some real clothes before I tried to figure out what the team wanted to do tonight.
The rock band Cheap Trick was playing the main arena after the race, which could be fun. Keith and Ray wanted to go, and Nick and Other James had never heard of them but were willing to tag along. I wanted to go to the Dunlop after-party, obviously, but I couldn’t interest them in it.
I took the team to the show, got them backstage so they could watch from the wings, then snuck away to the Dunlop suites. And there she was. As I headed out of the auditorium, I crossed under the tall tower and saw Summer stepping into a red Mustang convertible. She hadn’t seen me, so I jogged up to the car and talked to her through the open roof.
“So it was you?” I snapped. She jumped a little.