Smokin' & Spinnin' (38 page)

He strides over to me and puts his hands on either side of my face. “I have to do this, Whit. I have to do this for him. Please tell me that you understand?”

I nod nervously. There is no need for me to argue with Ryan, nor to question him. “Can Josh get the car there in time for qualifying?”

Ryan nods.

“OK, then, I will handle the rest,” I offer anxiously. I am not sure how he is going to pull this off, but getting the car to the track is a start.

Ryan lets out a huge sigh of relief. I guess he was expecting a fight. He runs his hand from my face around my neck and pulls me into a fierce embrace. He pulls back and looks at me with a heated gaze. “I love you!”

And with that confession, he envelops me in a passionate kiss that leaves me breathless.

Ryan pulls back and looks deep into my eyes. “Do you need some time?”

I cock my head to the side, unsure of where he is headed with this question.

“What I meant was, do you want some time off to go see your parents? I know you haven’t been home in a while, and now…I know how important that is.”

I take a deep breath. I miss my parents, but I can’t go back there.

Ryan must sense my conflict, and he offers, “I could go with you.”

I laugh. “No, but thanks. I will figure something out when the season is over. I just want to focus on my job and getting you back where you need to be.”

He smiles warmly. “Whitney, I really appreciate everything you do for me. And thank you for understanding that I need to race on Sunday.”

I nod.

Ryan leans in and kisses me deeply again. “I need to do this as much as I need you.”

I smile against his lips and gently pull away. “Let’s get to work then!” I smirk and turn sharply on my good heel, but not before he smacks me softly on my behind. I laugh and kick up my good leg. “Ha!” I start to limp away, but Ryan sweeps me up into his arms and takes me back to his bed.

* * *

I wake up early despite the midnight disruption. I have work to do. Within an hour, I have secured a late qualifying spot for Ryan and a private charter flight for us to Chicago. I also made hotel reservations. It’s too late in the game to get Ryan’s bus to the infield. He barely got his race car there. No one will be expecting Ryan at the track today. I place a call to Jerri to inform her of his plans. Our team doesn’t need anymore surprises.

While I have been steadily making arrangements, Ryan has gone back over to his parents’ house to tell his mom that he plans to race on Sunday at Chicagoland. The thought sends chills down my spine. I can’t even imagine that conversation. I know his mom will be devastated. I know she wanted Ryan to have some downtime to grieve. That is not going to happen. Then I suddenly realize that this is how he is grieving, doing what his dad taught him and what they loved doing together. My thoughts instantly go back to Daytona, now only a bittersweet memory, but I am so thankful to have been a part of it.

I glance at my iPhone to check the time. The plane will be fueled up and ready to leave Charlotte Douglas International in two hours. I text Ryan.

__________________________

Plane leaving in two hours.

__________________________

As soon as the text is sent, I hear the back door close, and Ryan shouts, “I’m here!”

He walks through the kitchen and eyes me sitting at his kitchen island. I am still wearing only his T-shirt. I know that look on his face.

“Oh no!” I gasp. “I have to take a shower!”

Ryan gives me that smug son-of-a-bitch smile. “I can do two things at one time.”

I roll my eyes at him as he flings me over his shoulder and strides purposefully to the bathroom.
Bastard!

* * *

Somehow, we make it to the airport on time. We board the private plane and take our seats. The flight is a good three hours long, and as soon as it lands, Ryan will barely have enough time to get to the track to qualify his car. The time schedule for the afternoon is hectic, but it takes my mind off the past few days and keeps me focused on the task at hand.

“How did it go with your Mom?” I ask warily.

Ryan takes a deep breath, “A lot better than I expected, but she was very upset.” I nod quietly not wanting to press him for more details. I turn to look out the cabin window as our plane ascends into the sky.

I realize midflight that I have not a damn clue about the track we are headed to. I normally research the track and surrounding area during my race preparations. I look over to Ryan to ask him a few questions, but he is reclined back in his seat, with his earbuds in place, and his eyes closed. For the first time in a week, he looks peaceful. Whatever he is listening to, I need to download. I choose not to bother him. I guess I will figure out Chicagoland when we arrive.

Chapter 42

O
ur plane touches down at a private airfield outside of Chicago around three o’clock. I steal a glance at Ryan. He is back in tense mode. The emotion radiates across his face and body. Since we are alone on the plane, I reach over and gingerly grasp his hand. Ryan smiles at me, and I can feel his whole body relax. It worked.

A car is waiting to take us directly to the track for qualifying, but we have to fight through a gang of paparazzi at the airport entrance. Evidently, our arrival in Chicago was leaked. Ryan effectively ignores the shouts of invasive questions from the unsympathetic media. He takes my hand and calmly pushes a way for us through the madness to the waiting courier, a gesture that will no doubt incite a gossip riot before Sunday.

Finally, we arrive in Joliet, Illinois, which is about forty-five minutes outside of Chicago. Tension radiates throughout the car and the silence is unsettling.

“You don’t have to do this, you know?” I say, trying to reassure him.

“Yes, I do!” he snaps back, but apologizes quickly. “I’m sorry, Whit. But this is the only way that I know how to deal.” I nod as he looks despondently out of the window.

As we approach the speedway, my stomach is in nervous knots. I actually want to hyperventilate, but I try to breathe deeply for Ryan’s sake. He is about to jump directly into his car to qualify, and he doesn’t need my anxiety on top of his. Ryan reaches over and takes my hand as we make our way through the infield tunnel. I look over at him and smile despite my anxiousness.

The car slows to a stop. Ryan leans over and gives me a chaste kiss before jumping out. He heads off to his hauler to gear up. I grab our bags and start over to pit road, hoping that Bobby and the crew have had ample time to arrive. A big sigh of relief washes over me when I find Bobby in the garage.

“Hey kid,” he says softly. I can still see the pain in his eyes, too. Our whole organization is bruised. Bobby worked alongside Garrett for over thirty years.

I smile sweetly. “Hey yourself! Can we pull this off?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiles back at me and shakes his head. “I don’t know, but we are gonna give it one hell of a try.”

Ryan rounds the corner all suited up in his racing gear. He embraces Bobby with an all-consuming fatherly hug. This team is all family. I realize this now, and it has taken a tragic event to remind them all. Suddenly, I am extremely grateful for becoming a part of this wonderful organization.

Ryan apologizes to Bobby. “I’m sorry I threw this on y’all at the last minute.”

Bobby smiles. “Your daddy would have kicked your ass if you missed a race!”

We all laugh. True story.

Ryan climbs into his car and sets out for pit road. I pull out my iPad to do some quick research on the track. Chicagoland Speedway is a one-and-a-half mile D-shaped oval with varying speeds averaging 145 miles per hour. It’s fast, but not super-speedway fast.

Ryan takes the track effortlessly as I watch the monitor. He takes a warm-up lap, then proceeds across the start/finish line for the timed trial. Ryan fires his car into turn one, accelerating around 180 miles per hour. I can tell he is being extremely careful in an attempt not to screw up the lap, or maybe in anxiety. I am not sure. He roars down the back straightaway, into turns three then four.

I hear Bobby muttering under his breath, “Come on. Come on!”

Ryan slides his car over the start/finish line in 29.78 seconds, landing him around nineteenth position. I let out a long breath that I didn’t realize I had been holding. That was intense!

Ryan pulls his car back into the garage. He slides out stealthily, and damn, he is so hot in that racing uniform. He peels it back, and I feel like I’m about to melt.

Ryan looks at me, concerned. “Everything OK?”

I smile wryly. “Yes.” All my anxiety is definitely gone now. He takes notice, but still looks confused.

Ryan walks over to Bobby. “The car is awesome, but it’s me that’s the problem.” He is radiating tension again. “I just can’t get into the groove. I can’t focus.”

“Ryan,” Bobby responds, “get in some practice laps. You have been through a lot lately. It will come back to you. Don’t force it. Now, go get some rest. You’re gonna need it for Sunday!”

The car is waiting to take us back to Chicago. The Joliet area was booked solid because of the race weekend. Plus, with the media coverage surrounding my accident and Garrett’s death, I felt like Ryan needed to be away from the madness and paparazzi. In fact, I even made a reservation under a false name, which I am grateful for now since the incident at the airport.

Ryan is very quiet in the car. I can tell he is in race mode, but the atmosphere is still tense during the drive. I fidget uncomfortably, and Ryan notices.

“Are you sure everything is OK?”

I smile. “Yes, just a lot on my mind. This all happened so fast. I booked at the Ritz. I hope that’s OK?” I say fast.

“I have no idea. I am sure it’s fine, though. One room?”

“Umm…yes. Since we are away from the track, I thought it would be okay.” I’m glad I was right. He smiles and takes my hand. I steal a nervous glance at the driver. Ryan firmly grips my hand so hard that I have to look back at him.

“I told you, I don’t care who knows anymore,” he whispers firmly as he pulls me in close to his side, erasing the distance between us. “Everyone will know on Sunday anyway.”

What
? I raise my eyebrows in confused silence.

* * *

We make it though hotel check-in unnoticed. Ryan collapses onto the bed as the bellman brings up our luggage.

“Do you want to go out to dinner?” This is our first time together during a race weekend, so I have no clue what is customary. He is lying facedown on the bed, but I can see him shaking his head no. “OK…well, I’m gonna take a shower.” Ryan doesn’t move or respond.

I grab my cosmetic case and head to the shower. The bathroom is glorious, and the shower is therapeutic. I take my time soaking up the scalding water. I can feel my muscles relax almost instantly. I hate to step out from the oasis, but my fingers are pruning. And unfortunately, I have work to do.

When I emerge from the bathroom, Ryan is pacing the floor of the hotel room. He is on the phone, but his voice is not audible. The curtain on the expansive glass window has been opened, exposing the breathtaking vista of Chicago at night. The combined scenery is breathtaking.

Ryan immediately stills when he senses my presence. He turns back sharply to me. “I will call you back!” Ryan abruptly hangs up the phone.

I raise my eyebrows at him. He looks like a kid caught with his hand in the candy jar.
Strange!

Ryan walks over to me, and I realize he has changed clothes. He is dressed up. I look him over, confused. He has on jeans, a button-down shirt, and his leather jacket. He is gorgeous.
But where is he going?

“I thought you didn’t want to go out?”

Ryan looks uncomfortable and shifts his weight from his left to right foot.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

“I…I need to go out for a bit. Is that OK?” Ryan says.

I am unsure of what is happening or where he is going, but I don’t question him. “OK.” I look down at my hands. “I have work to do anyway,” I mumble.

Ryan laughs and pulls my chin up to meet his gaze. “No, you don’t. I will bring back some dinner for us.” With that statement, he caresses my face, and I lay my head in his hand. “Whit, you’re tired. You haven’t fully recovered from the accident. Please rest until I get back.”

“OK,” I whisper.

Ryan gently kisses my lips, and the heat radiates through my body. He shakes his head and leans his forehand against mine. “I have to go now, or I will never leave.” He smiles against my lips.

“Then don’t go,” I say in a hushed whisper.

“I won’t be long, baby. Get some rest.”

Ryan leaves the room, and I feel a pool of dread in my stomach and a huge lump in my throat. I fight back tears because I have no idea why he left. I sincerely hope that it’s not because of me. I shake my head to rid my brain of these thoughts.

I pile up in the super-luxurious bed and take out my laptop. I have a few e-mails to send in regard to Sunday and Ryan’s last-minute decision to race. Plus, I need to inform Jerri of a few pre-race details. I fire off a few e-mails and feel my eyes getting heavy. I don’t realize it, but I fall asleep in the middle of updating Ryan’s fan page on Facebook.