The Blind Date

by Alice Ward

  When the checkered flag went up, I cried. Screaming and crying and altogether out of my mind with happiness. What a way not only to go out, but to go on to bigger and better things. I did my victory lap to the screams of the crowd, and when I pulled into pit road, I saw the crowds waiting for me. Tons of press. Lots of fans. My crew, Daddy, Brody, and… Locke Cage.

  My jaw dropped. I hadn’t expected him here, and maybe that was why the press was swarming so hard today. They wanted some big news, and maybe Locke was going to give it to them tonight.

  I knew I was dirty. My face was covered in a film of red clay, the tears caking mud to my cheeks, but I didn’t care. I loved being dirty. I slid out of the window and into the arms of fans, friends, people who were all screaming my name. Brody actually kissed me on the forehead, and for once I was so happy I didn’t punch him in return. Daddy hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe. The Sandersons were absent, but I wasn’t looking for them. I made eye contact with Locke, and it was like nothing could break it.

  Like one magnet pulled to another, I drew closer to him in the crowd. He was wearing dark hipster jeans, an untucked white shirt, and was probably the only guy in the place in a blazer. But as squeaky clean as he was, he looked… damn sexy.

  I grinned. “Hey, boss.”

  “Nice race,” he said, looking rather astonished at the chaos surrounding us, and at that moment, it was so obvious. This was his first race.

  He was in over his head.

  “That was just the first part,” I explained over the roar of the crowd. It was so loud, he leaned in to hear me, and I had to yell. But damned if he didn’t smell like some woodsy aftershave that made me want to lick him from collarbone to jaw. “The next part is the Death Match, with hand-to-hand-combat.”

  He raised an eyebrow. He was too smart to buy it, and I laughed as someone thrust a microphone under my nose. “How does it feel to know that you shattered a glass ceiling for women everywhere, Emily?”

  I opened my mouth, stunned, wishing I had something more eloquent to say than, Fucking awesome. And the name is Emma, bitch.

  Locke guided the microphone toward him. “Her name is Emma. Emma James. And you better get it right now because you’re going to see a lot more of her.”

  The woman, like probably all women in the world, was magnetically attracted to him. She practically simpered, looking up at him through her lashes. “So, Mr. Cage, is UnCaged Fitness in some sort of sponsorship arrangement with this woman?”

  He nodded. “We’ll be sponsoring all of Emma James’s races for the foreseeable future, and you can expect to see her in the NASCAR Monster Energy Cup Series very soon.”

  The press went wild with this. One man asked, “And how does your older brother, Brody, feel about this?”

  “I—” I wish I could say that he was as happy as I was, but I knew that was a lie. Sure, we fought, but I’d never been closer to anyone than I’d been to Brody. He went through the motions, but this had to have been killing him. “He’s fine. He supports me through thick and thin. He’s—”

  I searched through the crowd, but he was already gone.

  “Can you give us any details of the sponsorship yet?” someone asked.

  Locke nodded, “We’re proud to sponsor this talented person for the NASCAR Monster Energy Cup Series because what can we say? She drives like a girl.”

  An hour later, after the award ceremony, I was still in a daze. I went back to the camper, cradling my big-ass gold trophy with plans to have it share my pillow that night. After a lukewarm shower, I slid into my jean shorts and favorite halter top, ready to get some dogs at the nearest concession stand.

  When I stepped out, Locke was standing out there, talking to Daddy. They both looked at me like I was a young girl, coming downstairs in a dress for my first prom.

  I barely refrained from looking down to make sure my shorts were zipped. “What?”

  “Well, you better get yourself packed,” my dad said. “Mr. Cage is whisking you away.”

  Whisking? That sounded kind of dirty. Or like I was an egg. “What?”

  “Sorry it’s short notice, but we tried to call,” Locke explained. “We’ve only got the racetrack booked for tomorrow afternoon. We wanted to work on your ad, and if we don’t get it done now, we’ll have to wait another three weeks. So I flew up here to take you over.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I started to walk back to the camper.

  “And you might want to get dressed a little, um, less casual.” he said. “Thought we could stop for dinner.”

  I frowned. I realized “less casual” was code for nicer but it wasn’t like I packed my evening dresses when I went to these things. Then I remembered that my halter top was long on fabric and could double as a dress, albeit a very short one. I unsnapped the jean shorts, slid them over my hips until they fell to the ground, and stepped out of them. “Happy?”

  My father just rolled his eyes, as I hadn’t done anything he hadn’t expected, but Locke was clearly astonished as if I’d just flashed him my naked boobs.

  I flattened the shirt down over my upper thighs and inspected it. “Please, Mr. Cage, don’t look like I violated you. I’m still fully clothed.”

  He blinked. “Yes. Yes, I guess that’ll do.” He ran a hand through that thick mop of untamed, russet-colored hair. “I’ll wait here while you pack.”

  “Won’t take long,” I told him, and it didn’t. I threw all my stuff into my overnight duffel and returned not five minutes later. “Ready?”

  Again, surprised. I didn’t know what kind of women he was used to dealing with, but I bet it normally took him at least three hours to pack for himself. Golden boy probably had to make a list to do it and check it twice. “Yeah.”

  Out of all the cars in the lot, Locke’s was the only limo. Somehow, though dust was on everything and everyone, and was already climbing up my bare legs despite the fact that I’d taken a shower twenty minutes before, his car was spotless. “You don’t have to impress me, boss,” I said as I slid in.

  “Please, don’t call me boss,” he said gently. We sat side by side, but I could feel his gaze heavy on my bare legs.

  “Fine. But what I’m telling you is… the contract’s signed. I’m already yours. And I’m good with McDonald’s.”

  He laughed. “I don’t spend millions on someone and then take them out for fast-food. It clogs arteries.”

  “Well, it’s your wallet,” I told him. “Besides, clogged arteries build character.”

  He snickered, then reached into his briefcase and pulled out a pink box wrapped with a white ribbon. “For you.”

  I was a tomboy, for sure, but the little tiny girly part of me loved presents. I smiled as he slid it over to me. “Do I open it now?”

  “By all means.”

  I pulled the ribbon, watching the silk loops unwind completely before taking my time lifting the lid. I peered down into the open space and wrinkled my nose. “Oh. Looky,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “You love it. You know you do. And it will grow on you, I’m sure.”

  I lifted it out of the box. As promised, my very own CageFree. This one was black with checkered flags around the band. I frowned at it. It didn’t seem very free to me, being tethered to a thing that told you when to poop.

  “It’s our deluxe model,” he explained, taking it from me and pressing the buttons on it. He motioned to my wrist, and when I extended it, clipped it on. It didn’t look terrible, but I hated jewelry. It felt heavy on my arm. “I programmed it for you already. You can even play music on it and get your daily news.”

  I looked skeptically at the display with the time. Just what I’ve always wanted.

  “The instruction booklet is in the box,” he said.

  I peered inside. Sure enough, there was a booklet as thick as a dictionary. “Great. So happy,” I mumbled.

  “I know, right? It’s a beauty. You’ll love it.” He lifted the sleeve of his dress shirt to bare a sleek, black one. “I don’t go anywher
e without mine.”

  “Well, guess I won’t either.” I shot him another eyeroll. “Since you told me the contract is null and void if I do.”

  He looked genuinely disappointed. “You don’t seem as happy as I’d hoped.”

  Crap. I was being a bitch.

  Instantly sorry, I jingled the thing on my wrist. “Oh, I am. It’s just that I don’t usually wear jewelry. I don’t like it.”

  He looked at me like I was an alien from another planet. I knew, a woman who didn’t like jewelry probably didn’t exist in his pretty-boy world, but he didn’t remark on it. He simply lifted another present out of his bag. What was this, Christmas? “Present number two.”

  I stared at it, not wanting to take it off his hands. It was another box, this one with a green ribbon, but it was almost the exact same size of the other one, which worried me. One of them wasn’t enough? I needed to wear two?

  “Don’t you want it?”

  I chewed on my bottom lip. “I’m afraid, after the last one.”

  He pushed it onto my lap. “Go ahead.”

  I opened it reluctantly. The picture on the box told me what it was. “A cell phone,” I whispered.

  He grinned. “Welcome to the technological age.”

  “Oh.” I stared at the blank screen that was as big as my foot. “I don’t know how to—”

  “It’s all powered up and ready to go. You just turn it on, and it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

  I raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Is this so that you can keep tabs on me at all times?”

  His grin grew wider. “Partly. It’s more because I was thinking that you’d probably want a way to get in touch with your family while you’re away from them.”

  I smiled at that. It was actually a good thing because I already missed them.

  We drove through to the entrance of a small airport, and I glanced out the window at the small building. I looked for a runway, but my eyes widened when I saw the helicopter. “Okay. You can just turn around and take me back. I am not flying in that thing.”

  His jaw sagged. “You drive at speeds of nearly two hundred miles per hour, and you’re afraid of a helicopter?”

  “Hell, yes. At least we stay on the ground.” I hugged myself as the limo came to a stop, and the contraption on my arm started to buzz, indicating my suddenly skyrocketing heartrate. I thrust my arm in front of his face so he could see it. “See? That’s the warning bell. Warning me not to get on that flying mousetrap.”

  The driver opened the door, and I stepped outside as my wrist warden kept buzzing. I was this close to ripping it off and stomping on it. Locke came up casually beside me, took my wrist, pressed a button, and the thing stopped vibrating. With a smirk on his face, he tugged on my elbow and led me toward the whirling deathtrap. The rotors spun overhead, and I ducked down instinctively as he led me to the door.

  He sat me down and fastened my seatbelt, stuck a headset on my head. He picked up another headset and put it over his ears. I jumped when his voice filled my ears. “Emma, this is Joe, and he’s been my pilot for six years. Before that, he flew in the navy. Joe, this is Emma, our newest Like a Girl spokesperson. She’s a virgin, so go easy on her.”

  I scowled at him as the wind from the propellers continued to whip my hair around. Oh god, I was truly going to have a heart attack.

  “Aye-aye, captain,” the pilot said, smiling at me. He looked a little like my father, so I immediately relaxed. A little.

  I was even fairly calm when we rose straight into the sky.

  When a stiff wind hit the side of the helicopter, we jerked violently to one side. I stiffened, my fingers latching onto the armrest until my knuckles were white.

  Locke, sitting beside me, put a warm hand on my gooseflesh-covered knee. I felt a jolt of electricity spike all the way up to my core. He leaned in and said in a low, sexy voice, “That’s normal. Just relax. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  I knew he only meant it from a business standpoint because I was one of his very expensive properties, but I liked it nonetheless.

  Scratch that, I loved it. And I wanted his hand to stay there. In fact, I wanted both of his hands on me, and on more places than just my knee.

  But he removed it a second later.

  As we sailed over the lights of the airport, I decided it wasn’t so bad. We usually took the camper to every race we went to, which limited my vision of my surroundings. Seeing the whole world spread before me, frightening though it was, was kind of cool.

  “Are we already in Daytona?” I asked when we landed an hour later. Damn, that was quick.

  “It’s Charleston,” he said, pulling the headset off and reaching over to unbuckle me.

  I frowned. “Okay, but why—”

  “My favorite restaurant is here.”

  So, in Locke Cage’s perfect little la-la-world, going out for dinner meant jet-setting across state lines to get his best girly, flavorless meal. I rolled my eyes. “Not McDonald’s, then?”

  We got into another fancy looking car that took us down to the harbor, where there were narrow cobblestone streets. The owner of this place, Magnolia’s, knew him too. When we were seated at a candlelit table for two overlooking the harbor, I couldn’t help thinking how romantic it looked. Maybe he did this with all his new associates, but I shivered as the waiter put a napkin in my lap. “This is cozy,” I said, feeling awkward.

  He grinned at me across the table. “They don’t have burgers here.”

  I looked down at the menu, then licked my lips as a bread basket appeared. “But they have bread,” I said triumphantly, grabbing a roll and slathering it with butter as he watched, that frown back in place. “Why do you hate carbs so much?”

  “I like complex ones,” he said, looking a little embarrassed. “Simple, not so much.”

  What? I stared at him, wondering if he was serious. “You’re about as annoying as this thing.” I waved the CageFree in his face. “You got to live a little, boy.”

  “That a challenge?”

  I looked up from my roll to find him watching me closely, and my stomach twisted deep and low. “Maybe. Tell me that wasn’t your first stock car race.”

  He nodded. “I confess. You just popped my stock car racing cherry back there.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “I liked you,” he admitted. “I liked watching you. You were impressive, Miss James.”

  He had me on the verge of blushing, something I promised myself I wouldn’t do. But god, he was attractive in his blazer, in the candlelight, dashing and debonair, like something out of one of those men’s magazines. I’d always thought those men were not my style, but I’d definitely begun to change my tune.

  “Before we got to Daytona, I wanted to fill you in on a few of the demands of your contract,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “There was one thing I wanted to clarify.”

  I nodded, wondering if this was where the dream fell apart, and they told me that I’d have to pose nude or sell my soul or wear tons of jewelry or any one of the many things I simply refused to do.

  “We’re working on the arm for Brody,” he said, tenting his hands on the table in front of him. “But it’s only an arm in the sense that it’ll help him to perform the duties as pit chief. I’m told custom builds for racing cars are entirely different, and more expensive, possibly in the range of mid-six figures. And that’s not a part of the deal, as it’s your racing career we’re interested in, not his.”

  I frowned. “Fine. Then I’ll just have to win the money to pay for his custom build with my first race.”

  He grinned. “You seem so sure of yourself.”

  “Well, Mr. Cage. Popular opinion is, I’m not worthy competition, but I’ve always gone with the unpopular opinion. It’s more fun that way.” I tapped the table with my fingers. “You said it yourself. If I was a natural at this, I’d have been born a man.”

  He smiled. “As I recall, your brother responded to that one. How would you have respon
ded?”

  I laughed. “Isn’t it obvious? I don’t mean to be crass, but I’ll give you a hint. It starts with fuck and ends with you.”

  I expected him to get upset, but he didn’t. He just lifted his glass of wine and held it up, and we toasted. “I think this is going to be a very interesting racing season,” he said.

  After dinner, we got back into the helicopter, and this time, we went straight to Daytona. An hour later, I was bushed. The day had been never-ending, what with an early rise to get ready, the race, the celebration… hell, I felt like I’d left my dad and Brody eons ago. I couldn’t stop yawning. Another limo, this time a gorgeous Audi A8 extended, drove us downtown as he explained the schedule for tomorrow. Turned out, I’d have to be up at the crack of ass to get ready for the shoot.

  The shoot. Like I was some damn model. I’d seen the other Like a Girl ads, and they were good, all black-and-white, the women fierce, sweaty, determined… hot. Right then, I could probably pull off sweaty, but that was it.

  “Fine,” I grouched. “Just show me to a bed.”

  We stopped at a high-rise. It didn’t look like a hotel, and according to a sign, we’d arrived at Luxury Condominium Living. When we got to the top floor, the door opened up to a huge, wide space adorned with modern furnishings. About twenty of my house-over-the-shop could’ve fit in this one room. He dropped my bag in the foyer and turned on an overhead light, making the place look even bigger. I walked about, meandering to a couple of sliding doors that led to a cavernous bedroom. The whole place was walled in windows, and it was so pristine and huge and… perfect for a my-shit-don’t-stink man like him.

  I whirled to him. He was leaning against the doorjamb, staring at me, watching for my expression, eyes intent.

  A thought suddenly occurred to me. “Wait. Um. I’m sorry. When I said I wanted to go to bed, I didn’t mean your bed. I’m… this isn’t… I meant my own hotel room.”

  “This is your bed,” he said, turning on a light that illuminated it more fully. “All of it is yours.”

  “You mean…?”

  The truth hit me. This was my place. My own apartment.