Ever Fallen In Love (3 page)

The clomp of footsteps broke the tension enveloping Tucker. He jerked around and drew back his fist.

"Hey, man, I don't fuck on the first date."

"Mat.” Relief washed through Tucker. At least the rookie wouldn't dismember him.

Mat held up both hands. “Who are you planning to pummel? I'm unarmed."

Tucker smoothed his hand over his thigh. “I'm sorry. I'm a little jumpy. Is Megan coming by?"

"The last I knew, she was on her way to Hickory.” Mat clicked the tab on his can of soda. Fizz splattered on his hand and dotted Tucker's shirt. “I never could open these things without making a mess.” He switched the can to his right hand and wiped the drips onto his rumpled shirt tail. “I think Megan left an hour ago. Want a Coke? There's Pepsi, too, if you're interested."

"Whatever's handy.” Tucker stepped out of the way as Mat withdrew a second can of soda from the mini-fridge. Tucker snorted and accepted the can. Damn. The rookie was all legs, and scrawny at that. Megan probably had to fold him like an accordion to get him into the car. She had a thing for tall men. Double damn.

"I love modern conveniences. How can I help you?” Mat sat in the curve of the couch and crossed his ankles. He bobbed his ebony brows. “I ain't much to look at but BL loves me."

BL?
Tucker tapped the top of his can, more for something to do rather than out of necessity. “Why are you here, exactly? Shouldn't you be on your way home, too?"

"Motor coach is in the shop.” Mat took a long sip of his drink. “Not ideal, but I'll manage. Sit."

"Are you busted or is the bus in need of repairs?” Tucker sat opposite Mat, still unsure of the situation.

"We traded the old bus in for one with bunks. Nic's preggers with twins, so we'll need the space.” Mat twiddled with his phone. “Ain't she pretty?"

Tucker took the device and half expected to see a picture of the motor coach. Instead a waifish brunette smiled as she flashed a diamond ring. “She's cute.” He handed the phone back to Mat. Okay, he could work with this. Megan didn't fiddle around with men in relationships. “I still don't get why you're riding home in the hauler."

Mat sighed and tossed the phone onto the seat. Humour lit up his dark eyes. “I've been waiting on your lazy ass to get here. Then I'm going home in Eric's motor coach. He didn't mind me bunking with him, so it works out.” Mathew stretched out and crossed his legs. “I know you really hadn't planned on coming here to talk to me."

"Really?"

"You're looking for Boss Lady."

The kid was quick. Irritating, and too damn young for his own good, but quick. “And you know this how?"

"First off, you have her annoying habit of starting questions with the word ‘and'. Second, Blitz, though awesome and the best place to work, is peanuts. You're with a primo team and don't need to piss around with us, so either you're doing community service, slumming, or you want her. I can't say as I blame you. If I wasn't married, I'd make a play for BL in a hot minute."

"Who the f—? I mean, who's BL?” Tucker shifted in his seat and toyed with the condensation on his can. The more Mat talked, the more Tucker wanted to like him, but damn if he didn't get to the meat of the situation quick.

"You crack me up, acting all proper.” Mat's shoulders shook as he laughed. “I can't exactly call her Megan Rodney, since I have no respect for her ex, Rick, and I feel all weirded out calling her Meg like Janine does. So, I started calling her Boss Lady. She thought it was funny and I ran with it."

"I see.” He'd had a pet name for her, too—not that he'd tell Mat.
Megs.
Some things were meant to be kept private.

"I see, as well.” Mathew snorted. “You got snookered.” He shrugged. “Probably just as well. If old man Rodney sees you sniffing around BL, he's likely to shit a brick."

Did Mat just say...? Tucker shook his head. The mere thought of Megan with Rick soured his stomach. Then again, it explained the confrontation half an hour prior. The prick. “They split over three years ago. What does he care? He's married to Amber, or is it Alicia? He hooked up with someone."

"Did he see you come here?"

"Maybe."

"He did, the mother fucking lunatic.” Mat shook his head and crinkled the can in his long fingers. “Rick will never commit to someone else as long as he's convinced Megan will want him back. As far as he thinks, she can't run the team without him. He's certain she'll beg him to dump Amber, because only
he
can figure out the ins and outs of team management. Rick believes BL has no brains."

"He underestimates her."

"Sure, she's got a lot on her plate. I'm not exactly setting the racing world on fire, and King's being King. Rick thinks if he pushes and pressures, BL will cave. The asshole. I swear he and King are working together to ruin her life."

Tucker draped his ankle over his knee, bobbing his foot. He thought about Mat's assumptions. Pairing Valletta and Mat wasn't Megan's best idea, but then again she needed to learn. Tucker had always gained the most wisdom learning from his errors. Still, she didn't deserve the strife he'd heard on the radio. He took a drink from the can and let the sugary liquid roll around his mouth. Almost as sweet as her kiss. He stared at her name on the side of the desk area.

"You wouldn't know why she wears that ugly-ass necklace all the time, would you?"

Tucker choked on his soda, the fizz burning the passages in his nose. “I'm sorry?"

"That necklace. She wears it everywhere."

"Maybe it holds special meaning?” Dear God, he hoped it still held meaning to her. “Some women are extra sentimental."

"She wore it when she married Rick. I don't think I've ever seen her take it off, come to think of it. I'm hoping it's not some sort of fucked-up signal to him she's just playing hard to get."

"That's gross."

"She married him, not me. Not that I was in the running.” Mat rolled his eyes. “Are you going to sit here and chew the fat with me, or pop the clutch and head to North Carolina?"

Never took the teardrop off... Comfort and hope welled in his soul. He'd never really left her mind. She might not be his, but she wasn't Rick's, either. Tucker surfaced from his thought-induced fog. “Listen to my advice about trusting your instincts on track and I'll take your advice. If I can, I do want to make your BL happy."

"I knew you had it in you...or will have you in her.” Mat's brows wrinkled. “Something like that. Anyway, follow the speed limits when you leave. The freeways between here and Hickory aren't the straightaways at Talladega."

Tucker crushed his can then gave Mat a salute. “Will do.” He exited the cabin and crossed the infield. As soon as the race ended tomorrow, he'd be on his way to Megan. The sixty-four thousand dollar question was, would she take him?

[Back to Table of Contents]

Megan stood in front of the floor-length windows and stared, unseeing, at the courtyard. She caressed the drop of white gold about her throat. In the last three days, her world—chaotic at the best of times—had turned completely upside down. Memories flooded her mind. Instead of the arrangements of trees and chrysanthemums bathed in the oranges, golds and reds of fall before her, Tucker's reflection filled her view. His crooked smile. The way the laughter on his lips reflected in his hazel eyes. A sweat dampened curl that always fell across his forehead.

Tears threatened behind her eyes. The same man who loved with all his soul and raced with every cell in his body also held the potential for maximum destruction. Besides, her heart wasn't ready to be ripped open again when he decided to leave. And she still wore his necklace. What a fool. At least she had two weeks before seeing him again.

A ping echoed in the room. Megan glanced around in search of the sound. She spied her computer and rolled her eyes. Duh. She had a new email.

Sighing, she plunked down in her seat and brought up the new document.

To: MRodney

From: JWalters

Re: Roster Changes

You need to see this! MPR Racing officially released Tucker Poston from contract due to lack of performance. Although the agreement isn't popular on either side, it's what's best for the team at large. Think he'll end up here hunting for a job? I'm game to show him around Blitz. Grin.

Or you could.

Megan closed the email. When life handed out lemons, Tucker got them in massive proportions.
Best for the team on the whole.
Who was Guy kidding? Tucker hadn't won in over a year—not enough reason to sack him, but more than enough for drastic measures. Then again, with Mat's unreliable performances at the various tracks around the circuit... She had nothing to comment about.

The idea of Janine showing Tucker around Blitz didn't sit well with her, either. She snorted. “Maybe Janine and Tucker should date.” The words tasted sour on her tongue. “God knows I need to get a life and forget about him."

Footsteps thumped in the hallway. The door to her office whipped open and King Valletta strolled into the room. His blue eyes twinkled as he raked his fingers through his sooty locks. “Are we on for Friday?"

"And hello to you, too.” She sighed. “If you mean the race, then I sure hope Janine set everything up.” Megan rolled her chair away from the desk and sat down. “These days, I have a hard time telling down from up."

"We do indeed race on Friday, but I meant our date.” King inched around the desk and sat on the edge. He flipped through the contents of her inbox. The muscles in his biceps bulged and the bottom spikes of his tribal tattoo peeked out from under his shirt sleeve. If the never-ending string of women peering at him from the fan walk and the spread in the local magazine were any indication, women thought he was hot. Who was she to think otherwise? Then again, to see him swagger through the team shop, it was evident he knew his attractiveness and used it to the highest degree.

King didn't rouse the long-buried desire she'd worked so hard to forget. Tucker brought to life things she had fought long and hard to ignore. What if
he
had a tribal tattoo on his arm? Or his nipples pierced? The edgy look tended to work for Tucker. He loved his kink. So did she. Holy hell. She gritted her teeth. Again, Tucker Poston infiltrated her thoughts. Damn it.

Megan tore her gaze away from King's arms and removed the papers from his hand. “King, we need to be thinking about next season. Heck, next week. Who are we going to get to fill in for Mathew when Nicole goes into labour?” She shoved the papers into a file folder. “Dating is the last thing on my mind."

King's dark brows furrowed as he leant forward. “Nicole isn't due until November thirtieth. Maybe the baby will be late and show up post-season."

"I want to believe you said that because you have her best interests at heart, but I highly doubt it. You only care about number one."

"So?” Using his middle finger, he smoothed a hank of hair off her forehead. “Relationships should be a high priority when you're lonely and I want to be your priority."

Megan sank back in her seat. She opened and closed her mouth, but the words didn't come. King cocked his head. His cologne curled around her, suffocating her. Did the man bathe in the bottle? “We have work to do."

Way to sound...less flustered.

King edged away from her, but the predatory gaze in his eyes never faded. “Fine. You want to talk drivers. I'll get Paul Walker to drive. He's good in the clutch and likes the track at Homestead."

Her brain began to function more clearly. She sent up a quick thank-you prayer. “Paul's a decent choice, but did you forget? He's got a broken foot."

"He won driving for Green Ghost Racing with the cast on. He's up to a walking boot.” King shrugged. “I suppose you have a better idea?"

"Mathew said he'd be in—” she glanced at the clock above the door “—ten minutes ago. He's got some ideas and, since it's his ride, he has some say whenever he gets here."

"He probably got lost in the hallway. He can't tell left from right."

"Possibly because you scream at him rather than offering direction? Blaming Mathew because your temper gets in the way has spiralled out of control. He can drive if you tell him what you want without screaming."

"He's young and impulsive and something tells me he's got you wrapped around his pinky finger."

"Shut up."

A knock echoed on the door. Mathew popped his head around the opened door. “Heya, BL. What's shakin'?"

Megan stood and offered her hand. “Good afternoon."

King snorted and turned towards the windows. “Speaking of young and impulsive."

"You're not funny, King. I stopped to see Nic, since the doctor ordered her on bed rest until the tots come along. She's ready to be done with pregnancy."

"I'll bet.” Megan stepped around her desk, putting space between herself and King. “Have you any thoughts on a fill-in driver?"

"I've given this plenty of thought and I think I know what will work best for Blitz.” Mathew plopped down on the chair. “Tuck Poston."

King shot out of his seat on the desk. “Fuck you, she's tapped Paul Walker."

"Tapped? Hold on.” Megan rubbed her temples. “We won't get anywhere with you two arguing."

"This is insane.” King rested his hands on his hips. His words came out like an accusation. “Tucker Poston—
Tuck
, as you called him—ain't coming here."

"MPR released him this morning. I saw the press conference.” Mat folded his arms and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Done deal."

"Guy Turner probably got tired of Tucker's guaranteed eighth-place finishes."

Mat shrugged. “If you ask me, it looked like a piss poor deal created to put Boyd Clark in the main light. Tucker got screwed. Oh, and he's on his way here. I figured you'd want him for an interview or something."

"Hell, no. Tucker Poston can't drive for shit, so it makes perfect sense. No one else wants him.” King's voice boomed in the office space. “He's a—"

"Enough,” Megan shouted, cutting off whatever else King had to add. “I've had enough."

"Oh, don't tell me you're considering Mathew's suggestion,” King growled. “You probably still have feelings for the fucktard."