Smokin' & Spinnin'

by Miller, Andrea

  “No!” she exclaims.

  “I sent you a text before my plane took off. It was delayed, I was exhausted, and I just wanted to sleep today. I turned off my phone,” I say, exasperated.

  Brooke raises her eyebrows at me, and I can tell she is pissed.

  “Please let me get some clothes on!” I turn on my heel to the bedroom, praying that she doesn’t follow me. She doesn’t. Ryan is sitting on the edge of my bed when I enter the room. As soon as I enter, he charges me. The power of his embrace forces us into the wall with an audible thud. His lean hands encircle my body, and his lips find mine within an instant. He captivates me. I have lost all control to him. I don’t even care that Brooke and Matthew are a few feet away.

  Brooke’s voice breaks me from my trance. “Whitney?”

  I groan softly against Ryan’s lips and pull away. “Be right there!” He raises his eyebrows at me, and I shush him by putting my index finger up against his mouth. I mouth, “I’ll be right back!”

  I pull on some lounge pants and toddle back into the kitchen, where Brooke stands, peeved. She has a cell phone in her hand.

  “Whose is this?” she asks.

  My heart falls to the floor. It’s Ryan’s cell phone. I give her a strange look and say, “It’s my work cell.”

  “But I thought you were using your own cell phone for work,” she quickly retorts.

  OK, here we go with the inquisition. “No…I mean yes…I have my personal one and a work phone, but I don’t use it.”

  Brooke gives me a hard stare. She knows I am lying. I am a terrible liar! I walk over and attempt to take the phone from her. She pulls it back abruptly.

  “If you don’t use it, then why does it have a password?”

  Oh Damn! I did not see that one coming. She is starting to tick me off now. “Give me the freaking phone!” I shout a little too loud.

  Brooke takes a step back, stunned by my tone. “What’s the pass code, Whitney?” she retorts. I have challenged her now and my odds of winning are not great.

  I finally lose it. “What the hell is your problem? Did you not have enough depositions or cross-examinations this week, Brooke? Or did you just feel the need to come over here and give me hell on my only day off?”

  Matthew snickers in the background as I continue my rant.

  “I mean, this is my only day off in weeks, and you barge in here and start questioning me about a damn cell phone?” I pause. I can see a look of hurt on Brooke’s face, but it is fleeting. She throws the cell phone at my head, which I barely catch before it smacks me in the face.

  “Come on, Matthew.” And she walks out the door. I roll my eyes at her immaturity. Matthew does as he is told and follows suit out the door, giving me a small wave and nod of the head.

  As the door slams, I slide down onto the couch. I put my head in my arms. No, No, No! I can feel Ryan approach from the hall. I don’t look up at him. I feel sick about the way I acted, but I had to get her out of the apartment. And she pushed me too far.

  Ryan sits down beside me. “I take it she doesn’t know?”

  I shake my head silently. He runs his hand around my neck and up into my hair. It takes my breath every time he does that. I look up into his eyes.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he says softly as he pulls me up from the couch.

  I nod. Sounds like the best idea I have heard all day. Well…since I have been awake, that is!

  “Get dressed and meet me downstairs,” Ryan commands, then kisses me swiftly.

  As he leaves the apartment, I race back to my bedroom. I don’t know where we are going, but I couldn’t care less at this point. Actually, that’s not really true. I would have preferred it if he had just stayed here and we just went to my bedroom.

  Now insanely awake, I throw on some navy-blue Capri pants, a white blouse, and some cute flip-flops. I run a brush through my long hair and whip it up into a ponytail. I grab some light makeup, touch up my face, and add a little lip gloss. I know we are not going “out” in public, but I at least want to look nice for him.

  I spritz on some perfume, grab my phone and keys, and I’m out the door. I scale the stairs effortlessly and walk out into the street. I look at the cars parked on the curb, expecting to see Ryan’s sleek black Camaro, but it is his big white Chevrolet truck that I find parallel parked almost at the end of the block.

  I look around to make sure no one is watching. I am clear. I bound up to Ryan’s life-size Tonka truck. Before I can pull the door handle, it swings open from inside, and I am met by Ryan’s gorgeous face and megawatt smile. My insides flutter. I grab hold of the door handle, step up on the rail, and hoist myself up into the truck with Ryan.

  “Ready?” he asks. I only nod and smile in an attempt to not give my anxiousness away. Ryan pulls his truck out and onto the road, and we meander through the streets of downtown Charlotte.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, but feel confident in the fact that we are going to his house. There isn’t any other place we can go.

  “I had planned to take you to the lake today,” Ryan says as he makes a left turn, following the I-77 signs, “but since you didn’t bother to answer your damn phone, you shot those plans to hell and back.”

  “Hold on! When I left Kentucky last night, you had basically cussed me out during the little temper tantrum that you threw down, then walked away without giving me the opportunity to explain.” I shrug. “I assumed we were done.”

  Ryan laughs wholeheartedly. “Whitney, I am far from done with you!” And with statement, he reaches out and hooks his hand around my upper thigh to pull me across the bench seat so that I am sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. Our bodies touch, and the delicious heat radiates throughout my body, causing my face to flush.

  Every inch of my body aches for him. I take a deep breath to calm my giddiness. I look up at Ryan to find him watching me just as intently with a pained look of emotion on his face that I cannot read. I can’t tell if its concern for him, for me, or for the both of us. Finally, Ryan smiles at me, breaking the sexual tension, and kisses me quickly before turning his eyes back to the road.

  Ryan takes the on-ramp to the interstate cautiously. It makes me laugh out loud.

  “What’s funny?”

  “You. I guess I expected you to drive with a heavier foot.”

  Ryan looks at me attentively. “Normally, I do, but not with you in the truck, though.”

  Oh!

  “Besides, I wouldn’t want to scare you!”

  I roll my eyes, but am shocked by his endearment. “I don’t scare easily. You should know that by now!”

  “Yeah, well…we will see about that!”

  I know he has something up his sleeve. Ryan picks up his speed as we head out of Charlotte.

  “So, the lake?” I ask.

  He nods. “I have a house up on Lake Norman. I thought we could spend the day up there, but—” I hold up my hand to stop him from saying anything further, but he continues. “You are going to have to settle for dinner at my house instead.”

  Ryan wraps his left arm around my body and pulls me in closer to him. I snuggle into his warm embrace and smile. Wherever he is, is where I wanna be.

  Chapter 21

  “Help! I need help!” I say audibly, but only to myself. I cannot think or concentrate because the phone is incessantly ringing, and the office chatter is above acceptable levels. Not to mention the recurring thoughts of last night with Ryan. I am overwhelmed to say the least.

  This week is the big Saturday-night race at Daytona International Speedway in Daytona Beach, Florida. My plane leaves in the morning, and I am nowhere near ready. Ryan’s schedule is jam-packed with events, and requests are still coming to me via e-mail, text, calls, and fax. I want to scream. I prop my elbows up on my desk and put my head in my hands. Think, Whitney, think. But all I can think about is Sunday afternoon and evening with Ryan.

  After my argument with Brooke, I gladly accompanied Ryan to his home for dinner. It’s not li
ke we can go anywhere in public, but I love being there with him. We are in our own bubble, away from the craziness that is his life, well, my life, too, now. He is accustomed to it. Me…not so much!

  Since our professional relationship has taken a personal detour, I am obsessed with making sure that I complete all my job responsibilities to the letter. I don’t want to give him any cause to be upset with me. Fearful that I am trying to include too many events in the week, I fire off a text to Ryan.

  ___________

  I need help.

  ____________

  His response is quick, and I instantly regret that I sent it. I should have sorted this all out myself. I am a big girl.

  __________

  With what!?

  __________

  My heart flutters.

  ____________________________________________

  I’m stressed. Requests keep coming in, and your

  schedule is already slammed. I don’t want to say no,

  but I don’t want you cuss me out AGAIN either.

  ____________________________________________

  Another instant response leads to a frustrating conversation with Ryan.

  ________________

  Are you serious?

  _______________

  _______

  Yessss.

  ______

  _________________________________

  Just do the best you can Whitney.

  _________________________________

  ______________________

  That is not helping me.

  _______________________

  ___________

  I trust you.

  ____________

  ___________________________________________

  Well that’s a first, thanks, but that doesn’t

  help. Can you come into the office?

  ___________________________________________

  ___________________________________________

  No, plane leaves in a few hours. You can handle.

  ____________________________________________

  I slam my phone down on my desk. Damn! I am not making any progress today. I look at my phone for the time. It’s almost noon. Maybe lunch will help. I make my way to the break room. The whole office is abuzz, and the excitement of the employees is on my last nerve. I am way too overwhelmed to be enthusiastic. I am so ready to get on the plane and get the hell out of here, then figure it all out as I go.

  I walk through the break room door and spy Josh at one of the tables. I lay my sandwich down and groan loudly.

  “What is that for?” Josh asks.

  “You people are on my nerves!” I erupt. Then, consciously, I look around to make sure no one is offended by my comments.

  Josh eyes me warily. “First of all, ‘you people’ includes you now. Second of all, Daytona races are the biggest of the year. Daytona is the Mecca or Holy Grail of NASCAR. And thirdly, Garrett will be driving on Saturday too. It is really exciting.”

  I groan loudly again. “Not you too.” I lay my head down in my hands on the table.

  Josh humors me. “What seems to be the problem?” I look up at him. “It’s just too much! Ryan’s schedule is already full, but requests keep coming in, and I don’t know what to do because whatever I do, I am sure it will be wrong.”

  Josh snorts, “Aw, now, I’m sure lover boy will be glad to help you sort it all out.”

  A look of sheer mortification falls over my face. How could he know? Josh raises an inquisitive eyebrow at my reaction. I quickly remember myself, then shoot Josh a “get real” look, and he erupts in laughter. Crisis averted. Whew!

  Josh and I talk about the race. He gives me a historical background on the Daytona International Speedway, which is very interesting. I like the fact that the very first NASCAR races were raced, in fact, on the beach. Now, that had to be something. Josh also adds that the entire staff of GCR Racing has been given tickets to the race by Garrett, which explains the mass hysteria.

  I make my way back to my office to devise a plan to get through the rest of the day. I look down at my phone on my desk. I didn’t realize I’d left it lying on my desk. I quickly pick it up to see if I have missed any calls or messages. Four missed calls and two new text messages. Damn!

  I select the call log. Ryan has called four times, but has left no voice mails. What the heck does he want? I switch over to text. There’s one text from Jerri that tells me the final travel itinerary for my trip is ready. The second text is from Ryan! I am disappointed that I have no messages or calls from Brooke. I know she is still pissed at me, but if I get too close to her, she will know. I want to tell her so badly, but I can’t risk it. I have to distance myself from her until we figure this all out.

  I pull up Ryan’s text to read it.

  ___________________________________________

  Come over to the house. I will go over the schedule with you.

  ____________________________________________

  I almost drop the phone! What? Oh no, no, no! I text him back.

  ____________________________________

  I thought you had an afternoon plane.

  _____________________________________

  I am seriously confused. Ryan responds.

  ___________________________________________

  I can take a later flight. Tell Jerri you are leaving to pack.

  ___________________________________________

  I note the time on my phone. It’s only one o’clock. I pause. I can’t do that. I know I will technically still be working, but I can’t leave this office before five o’clock. He always puts me in an awkward position. Damn him! Jerri will know I’m up to something. I am a terrible liar. If I go there who knows where that might lead. Oh, I know where it will lead, all right, because work is the last thing on his mind. I don’t need that distraction right now. I should make him come here.

  I type out my response.

  ________________________________

  I can’t. Please come here.

  ______________________________________

  He responds instantly and stubbornly.

  __

  No.

  __

  Bastard! I guess I will figure it out on my own. I don’t need him. I can handle this. I type out my final response.

  _____________________

  Fine. I will handle myself.

  __________________________

  I wait for another response. I don’t get one. Another standoff. Well, I better get back to it. Time is ticking. I sit back down to my computer to finalize my daily itinerary. Pre-race activities begin Wednesday in Daytona and go heavily until the start of the Pepsi 400 on Saturday night. I need to make sure I am organized each day. I don’t need or want another misstep with Ryan. I want him to be confident in my abilities to do this job.

  I’m finally getting into the groove of it all and actually loving it. Each week, my job is a means to an end, an exciting end. I love how each week culminates with a race. I am thriving on it, not to mention developing a love for the sport. I remember Ryan desperately trying to explain the adrenaline rush and how stock car racing can get embedded in your veins. I thought it was all bullshit. But I know better now!

  I am fiercely typing out Friday’s schedule when a voice calls out to me from the doorway of my office, “Looks like you figured it out!”

  Ah, that will be Ryan! I turn around slowly in my chair to face him, and there he stands, my smug bastard dressed casually in a white knit polo shirt and neatly pressed khaki shorts, leaning against my door.

  “So, did you really need my help or just want to see me?”

  I groan loudly and roll my eyes directly at Mr. Arrogance.

  “Forget it, Ryan! I got this!” I say flippantly.

  “Do you now?” he quips.

  “I made some executive decisions, which I am sure you will chastise me publicly for if you don’t like them.”

  Ryan takes a look back out into the hall
way, then steps into my office, conscious of outside ears. “Whit…” he says sultrily.

  Whit? When did that start?

  “I have other ways to handle you now.”

  “Ryan!” I gasp, praying no one is within earshot of that comment. He laughs at my horror. I shake my head and roll my eyes at the same time at him.

  Ryan takes a seat at my desk, and I eye him intently. Damn, he is so hot. I shake my head. No! Don’t go there. Ryan laughs at me.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “The expression on your face completely gives you away. It’s comical that I can tell exactly what you’re thinking about!”

  I groan. “OK, would you please go so I can finish what I am working on?”

  “OK…well then…since you don’t need me now”—Ryan winks at me—“I’m headed to the beach.”

  Confused, I ask, “I thought you were not leaving until later?”

  “I changed my plans, but since you declined my offer, I guess I will be on my way.” He cocks his head coyly to one side.

  Ryan stands, walks toward the door, and turns back to face me. “See you at the beach, Whit!” Then a wry smile comes over his face, and he completely changes his tone and tack. “I’ll expect my complete itineraries before I get on the plane, so you better get to it! I know I will have to make several changes.” He says this in a loud, obnoxious tone, no doubt so others in the office can hear his arrogance. He pounds the casing of the door with his fists, gives me a wink, and is gone.

  Bastard!

  Chapter 22

  Iarrive in Florida by noon the following day. It is early July, which means the weather is hot and humid. Thankfully, I have packed a lot of light dresses. The entire team is booked at the Plaza except, of course, for Ryan, Garrett, and Colton. They will be staying on their buses in the infield of the racetrack. That’s got to suck. Then again, their buses cost well over a million bucks each. Still, they are missing the beach view.

  As I cross the lobby to the elevators, I notice that the Plaza is equipped with a full-service spa. I am envious. I wish I could make time for a massage. No such luck, though. I barely have enough time to put my bags in the room before I have to meet the other team managers and security members. GCR has hired a few extra security personnel for Garrett and Ryan. It is my job to oversee them. I have to meet them in the lobby for a briefing soon.