Smokin' & Spinnin' (14 page)

“Seriously? Did you just pop open the champagne?”

“Damn right I did. If I am letting you talk me into doing this, then I need alcohol. Besides, I am definitely not letting it go to waste either.”

Brooke shrieks, “Did you get his number?”

“Got it!” I respond as I pile up in the middle of the luxe hotel bed. “Call me on the hotel number that I am texting to you now. We can talk while I text Ryan.”

“Gotcha!” Brooke hangs up again.

Shortly the hotel phone buzzes, and I grab it up. “OK,” I say. “Here goes the first text.”

“Wait!” Brooke interjects. “What are you going to say?”

“Hush! I will read it!” I say, then read each text aloud to Brooke as I send them.

My first text reads:

_____________________________________

Thanks for the warm welcome to Sonoma.

_____________________________________

Ryan’s response is automatic.

____________

Who is this?

___________

I type hastily, giving the play-by-play to Brooke.

___________________

It’s Whitney.

___________________

Another quick response.

__________________________

What are you talking about?

___________________________

I type:

_________________________________________

Well…the embarrassing display of flowers, cham
pagne, and strawberries that were just delivered
to my hotel room. Were those not from you?

________________________________________

I laugh as I read my text aloud and take a hasty sip of the champagne.

“You are too much!” Brooke laughs. “This is way better than some of the stupid pranks we pulled in high school!”

Another message comes through from Ryan.

_______

Hell No!

________

“Oh no! He is getting pissed, Brooke,” I say after I read his latest response. I fire another message. I need to end this quick.

______________________________________

OK, guess I have a secret admirer then.

_______________________________________

Ryan is quiet. There is no response.

Brooke says, “Nothing?”

“Nope.” I am stuck on what to say next.

“Say something about the massage and dinner,” Brooke prompts.

Before I can think about what to type, Ryan sends another message.

_____________________________________

Why are you at the hotel? You are sup
posed to be at the track.

___________________________________

“What?” I screech.

“What did he say?” Brooke cries out.

“He is crazy. Jerri said that I did not have to go until Sunday.”

Coolly, I text him back.

____________________________________________

Sorry, I don’t have to be there until the am. I
guess I am on my way to a massage appoint
ment and dinner. See you tomorrow.

______________________________________

Brooke laughs as I read it aloud to her. “That will make him think!” I laugh, but an incoming text alert startles me. “Wait, Brooke, here is another message.”

_____________________________________________

I don’t give a shit what Jerri told you. You work
for ME. Get your ass over here now.

____________________________________________

“Damn it, Brooke!” I exclaim. “Shit! He is officially pissed now. I knew it. I knew this was going to happen.”

“Oh boo! Let him be pissed,” Brooke says.

“Yeah, you don’t have to work for him, so that is very easy for you to say! We were in a much better place this week too,” I shout.

“What?” Brooke exclaims. “What did you mean by that?”

Oops! I said too much!
I have failed to mention my night with Ryan to her, for obvious reasons. I finish off my glass of champagne and take a deep breath. “Well…yes, let’s see…he hasn’t cussed me out since Monday, but then again, I haven’t seen him either.”

Brooke is silent. I am not a good liar, and Brooke is an excellent lawyer whose job is to determine when people are lying. Another message comes through from Ryan.

___________________________________

I expect you here in thirty minutes.

__________________________________

“Ugh! Great. Just great. Brooke, I gotta go,” I slam the phone down on the receiver. I take a breath and pick it back up again. I dial 0 for the front desk and pray that the same guy who checked me in doesn’t answer. Luckily a girl answers. “I need a car or shuttle or cab to the race track. I need to be there quickly.”

The young girl on the line is very helpful. “Yes, ma’am. All of our shuttles are out, but I will have a cab waiting for you.”

“Thanks!” I say quickly as I slam the phone down again.

I jump up and walk into the bathroom and look in the mirror. Damn Brooke. I have about five hours’ worth of airplane on my body, not to mention exhaustion and jet lag, and he wants me to come to the track now. I run a brush through my hair, touch up my makeup, and I am out the door, but not before pouring myself another glass of champagne in a hotel paper cup. The small amount of bubbly that I have already drank has gone straight to my head. I am sure drinking on the job is against company policy, but I am going to need this in order to deal with Ryan.

The twenty-minute ride to the Infineon Raceway is probably the longest of my life. The night air in the desert is cold. I wish I had a jacket or sweatshirt or something, and the impending confrontation with Ryan only makes it worse. When I arrive at the track, I make my way over to the GCR hauler. The first person I see is Bobby.

“Hey Whitney, we weren’t expecting you until tomorrow!”

I laugh. “I wasn’t expecting me either, but I have been summoned by the higher-ups!” I say with mock enthusiasm, putting quotes around “higher” with my fingers.

Bobby laughs a deep, jolly laugh that eases my trepidation. “Ahhh…well, good luck with that. He is in an especially foul mood tonight!”

Great! And I am the one to blame for it.

“What’s wrong?” I say as if I don’t know, as if I wasn’t the root cause of it all.

Bobby sighs. “First of all, he missed his damn flight last night!”

Oh shit!

“Which made him late for qualifying, which means he will have to start at the rear of the field tomorrow!” Bobby groans with disgust.

I nod, wild-eyed, taking all this information in.
Damn! It is my fault after all!

“He says he wants to go over the schedule tomorrow since there were some last-minute changes,” I lie. “I hope it doesn’t make the situation worse.”

“Well…good luck!” Bobby exclaims. “He’s on his bus changing clothes, two rows over, last bus.” He motions as he directs me.

“Gotcha! If I don’t return in, oh…say twenty minutes, you might better call the squad,” I say as I head out to find Ryan.

Bobby laughs again. “Whitney, you are good for us! I like having you around.”

I stop dead in my tracks. I turn back to face Bobby, taken aback by his comments. He smiles at me, nods, and then goes back to work.

I find Ryan’s million-dollar luxury coach, take a deep breath, and knock firmly on the door. What seems like hours pass, and the door finally swings open. My breath hitches in my throat, and my heart literally stops. Ryan is standing on the top step wearing only his jeans, which haven’t been buttoned. His chest is bare, and the outline of his muscles is breathtaking. I never knew race car drivers were so fit. Ryan notices my gawk, rolls his eyes at me, and retreats back inside, leaving the door open. I scramble up the stairs and into the bus behind him about twenty shades of red. He sits down on the couch in the living area and pulls on his shirt.

After a beat, he looks me over, and I shift, uncomfortable, from one foot to the other. The second “cup” of champagne was a very bad idea. It is hard for me to focus on his face.

Ryan narrows his eyes at me. “Have you been drinking?”

I roll my eyes at him and accidently slur, “No!” Oh well!

Ryan brushes off my vague speech and doesn’t acknowledge my lie either. “What the hell were those text messages about? Were you making that shit up?”

I blink at his inquiry. “No, I, uh…I was just trying to piss you off.” I look down at my hands.

“Well…you succeeded!” he snaps as he pulls on his dark brown loafers.

“No, I was just surprised that Annalise had orchestrated all that. I had no idea that is what you people do on a race weekend.” Ryan raises his head sharply to me. “I mean, it must have been serious between the two of you.”

He laughs in mocked disgust. “Far from it!”

“I wasn’t lying about all that stuff. When I checked in, there was all this extravagance. I was taken aback. Then, they gave me the itinerary that was addressed to Annalise. It listed the appointment time for the massage and then the dinner reservation,” I try to explain.

“And you are sure it was for two?”

I nod my head and sash back, “Yes! The last time I checked, a couples massage isn’t for one.” Ryan’s mouth falls in a firm line, and I’m not sure which issue he is angry about—what I did, my attitude, or Annalise’s plans.

“And you’re sure the delivery wasn’t for you?” he questions again.

“Uh, yes! The itinerary was clearly addressed to her. Besides, who would send something like that to my hotel room?” I say, brushing off his insistence.

Ryan isn’t convinced. He narrows his eyes at me and cocks his head to one side. “It wouldn’t be hard to guess.”

What the hell does that mean?

Before I can respond, Ryan starts again, “Well, the joke’s on you because I never leave this track. I stay here on this bus all weekend long so I can focus on everything that is happening at the track and with the race.”

My mouth busts wide open as well the lid to pandoras box, as I unload a huge question that was better left unsaid. “So, who was all that for?”

Ryan raises his eyebrows at me. “Now that would be the million-dollar question of the day, wouldn’t it?” He stands up and tucks the hem of his shirt into his jeans, grabs a ball cap bearing the GCR logo, takes a glance in the mirror, then heads toward the door. “But…the pieces of the puzzle are starting to fall together!” Ryan says, deadpan.

What is he talking about?

“Where are you going?” I exclaim in exasperation.

“Out!” he shouts to me over his shoulder.

“No shit! Why did you have me come out here?” I call out to him.

He turns back to me. “To piss
you
off! Whitney, don’t try to screw with me like that again because in the end, I always win!” And he slams the door in my face.
Great!

With that statement, I stumble back on his anger and sit down on his couch. I never once thought that all those plans wouldn’t have been for Ryan. But thinking back on what he said last night at his house, that Annalise couldn’t be trusted, maybe he suspected that she was
seeing someone else. Was she seeing someone else behind his back? If so, then I just confirmed it for him. I flash back to the memory of my own flowers, they were identical to the ones in my hotel room.
It’s just a coincidence,
I tell myself brushing off my suspicions. There are too many questions and what ifs! I stand up and make a mental list of them to go over with Brooke when I get back to my hotel room. This is getting good…

Chapter 15

T
he wheels of the airplane’s landing gear softly skid across the runway, jerking me back to reality. I am thankful to be back in Charlotte on solid ground after another nonstop weekend of traveling. My whole body aches. I have no idea what time it is or what time zone my body is on. I only know that I want be in my bed asleep. The stewardess gives the all-clear sign as we taxi into the gate. I pull out my iPhone and quickly switch it back on. It takes a few minutes to regenerate, but it remains silent. No messages or e-mails.

I quickly text a message to Brooke to let her know that I have landed safely. As I hit send, my thoughts darken. Besides my mother, she is the only person who would care. Big sigh! I have hardly spoken to my mother since I left home, especially after I was given the public relations position. I know she is hurt that I left so abruptly. Hell, if it hadn’t been for her, I would have been known as the next runaway bride.

I switch over to e-mails and type a quick one to my mom.

Mom,

I am sorry that I haven’t been able to talk to you much lately. I am fine. Really. I love my new job. And as you can see, I am
working almost seven days a week. I have just landed back in Charlotte after spending the weekend in California. I will talk to you again soon. I just wanted you to know that I love you and I miss you.

Whit

As I press send, a single tear rolls down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away and then glance around to make sure that no one noticed.
Jeezus! Get a grip, Whitney!
It must be the jet lag.

Ryan was right. The road course was definitely not worth it. I laugh as I recall his comments over team communications at the start of the race,
“Y’all get comfortable. This is going to be boring!” Thankfully, Bobby quipped back with somewhat decent language, “Stop your damn whining! Get up on the wheel and get after it!”
I laugh. I am beginning to enjoy my job despite the asshole I have for a boss.