Driver's Obsession: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 196)

by Flora Ferrari

  How much I love her?

  It’s a strong word, and not one I’ve ever used in the same sentence as myself. Not with anyone.

  Until now.

  Mike’s garage light stays on, I’ll never know if he really slept tonight.

  Me, I admit. I doze off a couple of times, but I’m eventually roused by a pair of fighting cats by the truck and notice it’s almost four in the morning, I decide it’s time to get to the track. To be ready for our six o’clock start.

  I notice a few other lights coming to life inside the house, and after a few minutes of waiting just to be sure it's Mike getting up I roll my truck down the street before starting it and leave once I see Penny’s light come on.

  Something tells me none of us really slept last night. Each of us for our own reasons.

  I’ve had big race meets before and usually sleep like a lamb, but everything’s different now.

  I tell myself Penny is safe and slept well, but if she’s feeling even half the way I do, I don’t think she slept a wink.

  Mike has his reasons too. New job, new team. Does he really know? Does he really know how bad I want her, no matter the cost?

  Today’s a decider for a lot of things. The race, my new team but I have a niggling feeling it’s gonna be the qualifier for even bigger stakes.

  For Penny herself.

  And she’s the one prize I intend to claim above all else.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Steve

  “Honey? You up?” Dad asks softly, only cracking my door open enough for me to hear him.

  I groan a reply, throwing back the covers and notice his relieved smile in the dim hallway light.

  “Big day, how’d you sleep?” he asks, knowing I put myself to bed early last night, skipping his dinner with Mack. I told him I had a headache, but dad knows when his little girl’s been crying, so he let it go.

  “Fine,” I lie.

  I haven’t slept a wink, not really.

  Twice last night I swear I heard Steve’s truck, sure I caught a hint of his cologne in the air too.

  But maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

  In his usual friendly but factual tone, dad gives me the drill for the morning. I have plenty of time to get ready, some clothes in a bag is all I really need.

  Over a blurry breakfast I only push around my plate and another ton of inquiries from my dad about what happened when Steve came back last night, it’s clear to both of us I’m in no mood to talk about it.

  “You can ask him yourself when we get to the track,” I snap, finally having had enough.

  Enough of everything so far that isn’t Steve’s hand holding mine on his body.

  “You don’t have to come,” Dad says ominously, and for a split second I wonder if it'd be better if I do stay behind.

  I don’t want to be a problem between dad and Steve, between his new team and future career.

  But the thought of not being close to him is unthinkable now.

  “I just don’t need an inquisition dad, I still have a headache. Okay?” I ask him, raising the white flag of truce, for now.

  He creases a frown, and after asking me to clean up and make sure the house is locked, he busies himself with his checklists for the third time.

  The drive up is tense, but mostly from what I can only imagine is dad’s own nerves about managing a new crew he’s never met in a league that’s new to him.

  With Steve’s own interest, dad’s well up to speed with the latest technology, he’s just never had the money or opportunity to be a part of it.

  “It’ll be fine, dad,” I reassure him, relaxing enough to doze for the rest of the ride once I see the shine of excitement replace the worry in his eyes. I start to drift off to the sound of his excitement as he goes over how great things are gonna be from now on.

  But before I do slip into sleep, all I can think about and feel is Steve. The foggy, very wet dream I have about him is followed by me saying his name. Screaming it.

  “Say something?” Dad asks, as I jolt awake, suddenly flushed and very certain I just screamed out Steve’s name in the car.

  “Here we are,” he announces, letting me off the hook as I see the raceway start to fill the horizon.

  Just a dream… but my god… I swear I just…

  “This is where Steve and I started with cars all those years ago, before you were even born,” Dad reminisces.

  It’s a qualifying and then round one race today, tomorrow the national tour to the championship snakes its way across two dozen states. I’ve under packed and feel a pang of anxiety about the whole thing.

  I’ll be expected to do whatever dad says the whole time too.

  Sleep should have restored me, but the feeling in my jeans is only hotter and wetter than ever for Steve now. I feel clammy, hot then cold and everything my dad says is just annoying.

  All I can think about, all I want is Steve.

  “Honey? Could you grab those passes and the map? I need to know where to go from here.”

  As if on cue, Steve himself steps out from the crowd, heads and shoulders above everyone else. He looks so handsome in his racing suit, all white with blue stripes. He’s pure muscle and has plenty of it… Everywhere.

  I can’t help but gasp, squeaking as I point him out to my dad.

  “I can see him honey, I have eyes too,” he murmurs.

  Moving through the crowd at the gates and letting himself on the back of dad’s truck, it’s hard not to be infected by his presence. He’s already a star, it oozes out of him.

  “You made it!” he says, beaming at my dad, and once dad’s eyes go back to steering, he gives me a special look in the rear view.

  A look I know is just for me, and makes me feel a thousand things again, all at once, and every single one of them special and good.

  “It’s easier for me to just point you in,” Steve says in his deep, commanding tone. “I had no idea there would be such a turnout. I didn’t sleep a wink,” he confesses.

  Another look as he inhales sharply, his huge hands hugging the headrest of the seat I’m in, pulling it back what feels like three inches towards him.

  “Just up here, left to the pit entrance and we’re right at the end,” he says confidently.

  “I could’ve found it,” Dad says, rolling his eyes before his smile takes over. He’s in his element now, beaming with excitement as he takes his place among the nations finest, doing what he loves and knows.

  “Well, I hope you had your oatmeal, man. I was just briefed and these guys sure have our workday set out. Penny can just hang out for now, until we have the whole crew on the same page,” he adds, giving dad a nod.

  I don’t mind one bit. The less I have to do officially the better. Maybe I can be in charge of mopping Steve’s brow, or helping him in and out of his suit if he needs to use the bathroom.

  I struggle to take my eyes off him, but give in. Hopelessly gazing into his deep, smoldering eyes and turning my head back every few seconds, pretending to look around, but really just staring at him.

  “The hell, Steve!” Somebody calls gruffly, opening his door and making my dad stop suddenly.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention… you’re late. It was a Five o’clock start.”

  My dad’s face sours, his hands gripping the wheel as he watches Steve disappear into the garage while another couple of guys introduce themselves to my dad.

  But all I can do is count the moments until we’re alone again.

  Together.

  Just like it should be.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Steve

  Showered, changed and briefed by the team, I feel a little better. But nothing can keep me from the front gate.

  I need to be sure she’s actually coming. There will be hell to pay, but I slip out, figuring I can guide them to the pit easier and the sooner Mike gets here, the better.

  I already took the rap for him being late. It’s my bad, not his and I let management know.

  “Well, let�
��s hope he has some fresh energy to bring to the crew!” The manager exclaimed, slapping me on the back with no hard feelings.

  Mike is briefed by the manager and the team who work on the other two cars once he arrives, the one for today’s trials and race is ready to go.

  It all goes by in a blur once I see Penny again, getting myself and the car ready, finding myself waiting at the starting line, astounded I can only think of one thing.

  Not the green light, not the other cars around me, just Penny.

  It feels like every breath I take now is because of her, everything is for her.

  I’ve never felt better and once the light’s green I know the sooner I get this out of the way, the sooner I’ll see her again.

  The car runs well, and the comm’s from the crew are encouraging, making it seem a lot easier than it even feels.

  With Penny at the front of my mind, it’s like the qualifying trial is just a chore and once I’m told how much we lead by, that I’ll be starting first off the grid, I can only think of her then too.

  The whole team, minus the two people I need to see most, swarm the car in the pit, and I’m rushed out and away from the car to a cheering crowd, media and told the boss of the team, the millionaire owner wants to speak with me personally.

  But I don’t really want any of this, I just want Penny and I strain to see her in the crowd the whole time until I’m eventually bundled off to one of the corporate tents in a grandstand, which once inside, looks more like a hotel than a tent.

  The team’s owner, an oil man, Buford ‘Tex’ Billings is as big as I am but for all the wrong reasons. His bulk makes sitting down a constant requirement, and the lack of him able to have his cigar lit seems to be causing him as much frustration as my need to see Penny, even Mike again.

  “Steve, mighty fine job. Mighty fine,” he drawls, rolling the wet end of his thick Havana across his mouth.

  “You win today, and you fly to the next race in my own jet, Y’ hear?” he asks me, raising both brows and giving me a sly grin.

  “You do the work, I’ll reward ya! No huffin’ in a bus for an upcoming champion. Is somethin’ wrong boy? You don’t look too pleased for the number one racer on the very soon to be number one team,” he observes in his thick southern accent, leaning forward.

  “I’m a straight man, Steve. Speak your mind if you got problems,” he offers, glancing at his watch to remind me that even though he’s sitting on his ass, time is money. My time, his money.

  “It’s just the people I had brought in as part of the pit crew… Mike Pinkerton… his daughter too…” I start to stammer.

  The old oil man’s eyes light up in a twinkle, and I can see why such a shrewd southerner does so well with anything he puts his hand on.

  “So, it’s a girl, eh! Fast cars and faster women, that it?” he asks, stifling a laugh, but I tense up and my hands fisting.

  “Alright, easy son,” he says. “They’ll be right there with you, we all will Steve. That’s why it's called a team,” he adds firmly, looking a little bored and disappointed his star’s hung up on something so trivial.

  “Like I said, Steve. You win the race, I’ll reward ya. Plain and simple. Shit happens, but don’t let that shit be comin’ from your end. I don’t want no angry daddy gumming up the work because their daughter can’t keep her panties dry… catch?” he asks, a strong edge in his voice.

  Suspicion and warning. I growl low but nod my head, reminding myself I need this job to give Penny the life she deserves. Having her along is gonna be tough in so many ways but I couldn’t think of doing it any other way.

  I extend my hand to the old man, to the hand that’s feeding me. “Mr. Billings, I’ll do my best.” Is all I can promise, and his firm reply of his stout hand in mine is as good as any gentleman’s agreement.

  Before I’m ushered out again, Billings has a word with the manager, who from his last name is a relation, wheezing instructions into his bent ear and with a nod from both, I get the distinct feeling I might just be getting to have my cake and eat it too after all.

  I just hope Mike’s doing alright, I haven’t even seen him to talk about the cars yet… and the main race starts in a little over an hour, with the team manager telling me there’s just enough time for a quick briefing, change and what he insists afterwards is a contractual power nap.

  And still no sign of Penny or Mike.

  “You look like shit, Steve. You been up all night, you hit the mark in qualifying, but we need you fresh. Like Mr. Billings said, you win today, and every day after, you can have anything you want just how you want it… but today, you gotta earn it. You gotta prove yourself some more, okay? Now get some fuckin’ rest… and then win that fuckin’ cup today,” he orders me.

  I internally join the dots in the man’s lineage, tracing it back to the owner of the team, who I peg as his grandpa, most likely.

  Aside from that, I have to agree with him.

  I do need some rest, even just a cat nap if I’m gonna be functional for the race.

  But I know it’s useless.

  Where are you, Penny?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Penny

  I tell myself to take deep breaths.

  Not to panic.

  You can do this… you got this… once Steve finds you again, he’ll take care of everything. He won’t just abandon you. Not like this…

  Dad’s look is sour, bordering on ‘fuck this shit’ once we’re grilled for being late, but after some more friendly directions from the other team members, some coffee and a more definite set of conditions for our future employment dad perks up. Unfortunately for me, I’m left on the sidelines for now.

  And no matter which way I turn or wherever I go, I can’t find Steve for the life of me.

  I’ve been around amateur and semi-pro teams since I can remember. Since I could crawl, so I’m not intimidated by the pit scene, the noise or the smell and I know where not to put my nose as well as my feet.

  But damn, if this pro team isn’t so unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Dad’s got his work cut out for him, that’s for sure. It’s more like a military or synchronized athletics team. Everyone at their station, everyone waiting for the next command and nobody standing idle or shooting the breeze.

  “Wish me luck. Qualifying starts any minute but I’m on the back up cars to start with,” Dad murmurs before pecking my head as he’s led away.

  Me?

  I’ve got an access all areas pass and a few ’Scuse me, thank you’s from the pit crew but I already miss the one thing that’s really brought me here.

  Huffing a sigh through puffed cheeks, and slotting my own team headphones on, I grab another coffee, a Danish and wait.

  And wait.

  It feels like forever, but there’s finally an unseen buzz of excitement as the qualifying race is about to start.

  Getting my bearings from the live video feed and other monitors, I can tell I’m on the wrong side of the team’s pit garage to be anywhere near Steve right now, but I finally get to see him.

  My heart’s in my throat before the start, but once he’s away, I feel it glowing in my chest like hot iron.

  His driving style is aggressive but determined, and I tell myself he’s thinking about me, that he wants to see me again as badly as I need him right now.

  But really?

  I dunno, a lot of the crew are amazed, impressed and finally awe-struck by his performance, which lands him first place on the grid for the main race after the qualifying laps.

  Not bad at all for the rookie driver.

  I’m pushed along in the throng of support crew, cheering their position but I’m only struggling to get close for my own reasons.

  For the second time in as many hours, Steve is whisked away, just out of sight and reach, unable to hear me either over the pit crew, shouting congratulations and finally, orders for the car to be readied for the actual race.

  From what I gather, overhearing what everyone else is saying, h
e’s been asked to meet the owner of the team. A rare privilege, with even the owner’s grandson, Benson who manages the team from what I’ve gathered, has his nose slightly out of joint from the attention Steve’s generated.

  And it starts to sink in, my biggest fear I’ve had all along, that my dad and I, as much as he’s tried to take us with him on his ride to success… we’ll most likely get left behind in the shadows.

  It feels like I am anyway at least.

  Turning to go who knows where next, I literally run straight into my dad, who looks like a kid in a candy store who’s been helping himself to anything red or blue in color.

  “Did you see? Isn’t it amazing, honey!” he gushes. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes, and we’re both drowned out by the pits filling up with every other car from the qualifying laps.

  “Gotta go, honey, keep nearby though and don’t wander off!” Is all I can make out before he’s off again, totally caught up in the moment.

  I’m glad for my dad, I really am. This is like his boyhood dream. He’s never wanted to race himself, but always wanted to run a mechanical crew for a pro team, and here we are.

  Here I am… all alone.

  Where are you, Steve?

  I don’t mean to, but I feel myself slipping into that place where no sleep, no proper food and emotional upheavals lives.

  Swinging back past the food section, I help myself. Why not? It’s free and it’s actually pretty good.

  No more coffee though, my nerves are shot so far, so just water and a sandwich from the ever evolving selection of food laid out for the pit crew.

  I find a footbridge for pass holders only, taking me over to the other side of the pits, a larger, grassed area that’s fenced in and filled with trailers.

  I wonder if there’s a bathroom anywhere nearby.

  My heart skips a beat when I get a fresh but faint blast of Steve’s cologne. It’s not a common scent, and I’d know it anywhere.

  “Steve?” I call out, not meaning to, but sounding as desperate as I feel.

  I open my mouth to call out again, but the sound of a trailer door banging open behind me makes me jump, almost calling out something else.