Smokin' & Spinnin'

by Miller, Andrea

  I steal a quick look at the clock on my iPhone. I have enough time for a quick shower to wash off the plane germs and freshen up. I hang up my clothes and jump into a cool shower in an attempt to wash off some of the humidity, which I know is futile since I will be going right back outside.

  I change into a strapless cobalt-blue maxi dress, which matches the color of Ryan’s car, and flat sandals. We will be doing a lot of walking, so flats are my friend. I throw on the accessories Brooke chose for me, which includes a gorgeous, beaded necklace. I am thankful that she brought these clothes over on Sunday before our big blowout. I miss her.

  My hair is another story. This Florida humidity is killing it. I pull it back in a frizzy bun. Several wispy layers that refuse to be confounded by my hair tie fall softly around my face. I secure my sunglasses on top of my head and stop to look in the mirror before I walk out the door. I don’t recognize my refelction. Due to my hectic work and life these days, I have lost a considerable amount of weight, which I don’t mind at all. But I look different; I actually look happy. There is color in my cheeks and a sparkle in my eye. Hmmm. I wonder why? I smile smugly at myself in the mirror. I am officially excited. Let’s do this! I almost want to skip into the lobby. Get control, Whitney, I chastise myself.

  As the elevator doors slide open, I scan the vast lobby for the security team that Jerri hired for the week. The owner, Maxwell Scott, is not hard to miss. I recognize him from his company profile picture on the Scott Security Services website. Maxwell stands about six-five, weighs about 250 pounds, and has a slick bald head, very marine-ish. I like him instantly.

  Maxwell and his team of three are dressed professionally in black pants and black shirts with “Security” written in white across the back. I approach the group that looks like an elite Navy SEAL team with a laugh. My giggle causes the group to turn around, as my approach surprises them.

  Maxwell eyes me intently; then I can see a glint of recognition wash over his face. “Miss Whitney?”

  I smile, nod, and offer my hand in introduction. “Maxwell.”

  He returns my smile and takes my hand. “Max, please call me Max!”

  We talk as we begin walking out of the hotel lobby, “Thank you for taking on this contract with such short notice. Jerri was adamant about having extra security for the team since we have so many pre-race activities throughout the beach.”

  Max nods. “I completely understand. I have secured the two black Cadillac Escalades from the local dealer in town. They are waiting outside.” He pauses, then ushers me toward the waiting SUVs. “The vehicles are registered under my name for privacy, but the owner knows they are for GCR Racing transportation,” he says as we walk through the hotel lobby and out into the Florida sunshine.

  “Great!” I exclaim as he opens the back door and I clamber into the bucket seat on the passenger side in the second row. Max speaks briefly into the wire in his ear, no doubt syncing up with the two team members in the other Escalade. He puts the the vehicle in drive and we set out to the track to retrieve Garrett, Ryan, and Colton for our first pre-race event.

  On our way to the speedway, Max and I talk briefly about the week ahead. “Did you receive a copy of the itinerary that I faxed to your office?” I question Max.

  “Yes, I did. Other than a few logistical questions, I am good to go.”

  “Good.” I nod my head at him, pleased at his competence. “All four guys will be with us for the duration of the week, is that correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  “Great! Jerri was adamant also that we have two security team members with Garrett at all times, then one for Colton and one for Ryan.”

  Max nods in agreement. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We will handle everything.”

  I sit back in my seat and feel at ease knowing that we have contracted with the right security company.

  We ride in silence for the remainder of the trip. I take out my iPhone. The picture on my home screen is one of Brooke and me taken by Matthew the night after I arrived in Charlotte. I smile. So much has happened since then. I switch over to text to send her a quick message. I hate fighting with her. She is the only person I have left in my life, and I don’t want to screw that up too. I type.

  _________________________________

  In Daytona. Hot! Thank you for the

  clothes. I am sorry. I miss you! <3.

  ___________________________________

  I hesitate over the send button, but only for a moment. I was wrong. I hit send. When I look back up, I am shrouded in darkness as go through the infield tunnel.

  The guys are all at the track, but the first event of the race week is a live question-and-answer session down at the Daytona Beach Pavilion. Then, Garrett has arranged a team dinner at the Cellar. By the time we enter the infield, I am giddy. The adrenaline is already pumping, and it is only Wednesday.

  We arrive to find the guys huddled together at Garrett’s hauler. I laugh because I can’t believe they are all ready to go. They are like a bunch of women, usually, never on time. Max brings the Cadillac to a stop. I slide out of the first Escalade with help from the other security team member. Max stays behind the wheel. As I scramble out of the SUV, my iPhone prompts me with a new message. I look down quickly. It is Brooke. My whole body relaxes when I read the message from her.

  _____________

  Me too! <3.

  _____________

  I smile flamboyantly because I am overjoyed that our little tiff is over. I toss my phone over my shoulder into the Escalade. The guys abruptly stop their conversation and pause to gawk at me. What in the world? I look myself over quickly to make sure a boob hasn’t popped out of my dress or I’ve had some other wardrobe malfunction. That was uncomfortable. Jeezus!

  Garrett, Colton, and Ryan walk over to our transportation. I notice that Ryan hangs back from the crowd. Garrett greets me formally with a knowing smile, “Miss Parker.” Colton smiles grandly at me behind Garrett’s back so that only I can see him. I nod to them both and smile in return as he and Colton scramble into the second Escalade, which leaves me to ride alone with Ryan in the first one with Max.

  Ryan raises his eyebrows to me as I follow him into the Escalade and sit in the bucket seat beside his. Thank God there is a noticeable space between us. I steal a glance at Max in the driver’s seat and start to make a hasty introduction. “Ryan, this—”

  Before I can finish, Ryan booms, “Maxwell!” and they bump fists. Clearly they know one another.

  “OK, I guess you two have met?” I question them both.

  “We were in military school together,” Ryan admits.

  “What?” I exclaim.

  Max interjects. “Yes, until his ass got kicked out!”

  I laugh out loud.

  “Well, at least I didn’t get kicked out of the marines!” Ryan hurls an insult at him.

  “Technicality!” Max exclaims. I shake my head in amusement as they talk animatedly to catch up.

  Chapter 23

  We make it to the pavilion area, but the traffic is gridlocked. I am nervous now. Ryan immediately sets me at ease. “Did you get everything worked out?”

  “What?” I ask, momentarily dumbfounded by him.

  “The schedule, Whitney?”

  “I…uh, yes, I did,” I fumble. “Oh, I did have another late request come through, from the Make-A-Wish Foundation, but I have it all worked out.”

  Ryan nods his head. “When do we go to the hospital?”

  “We aren’t going to the hospital,” I respond.

  “Why?” Ryan asks quickly. “You didn’t turn them down, did you?”

  “No, of course not, I spoke with Jake’s parents. Oh! His name is Jake. He is ten years old and has non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He has been doing remarkably well this week, so his doctors and parents agreed that he could attend the race.” I smile, pleased with the fact that I was able to work all that out for this precious little boy.

  Dumbfounded, Ryan looks at me like I am spea
king French. “Really?” Ryan asks curiously. “You arranged for them to get tickets and pit passes?”

  “No…Jake and his parents are going to attend the race as your personal guests, and Jake is going to sit with me over pit road. His parents will be sitting in the spectator’s pit box.”

  Ryan’s mouth immediately drops open in astonishment. “Are you serious?” he finally manages to ask. His reaction makes me nervous.

  “Is that OK? I mean…” I try to explain. “If you are not comfortable with that, I can make other arrangements. I thought this would be more memorable than you just visiting him in the hospital.”

  “No, Whitney! That is…is awesome! I can’t believe you organized something like that. Annalise sure as hell never would have.”

  I roll my eyes at the sheer mention of her name. “Whatever…” I grumble.

  “You know,” Ryan laughs, “you are even more beautiful when you are mad!”

  I gasp audibly and turn my eyes sharply to him, then to the front seat, where Max and his partner are talking between themselves. Thank God they didn’t hear that.

  I turn back to Ryan, who continues, “Why do you think I try to piss you off so much?”

  I open my mouth to speak, then close it again. Ryan laughs.

  “Speechless?” Then he mouths with great enthusiasm, “Wow!”

  I roll my eyes at him again, but am overtaken by the strong urge to laugh out loud.

  We maintain radio silence while we sit in beach traffic. I steal a few glances at Ryan. It is taking all my restraint to not crawl into his arms. I wonder if he feels the same way. I shake my head at my thoughts. I can’t go there, at least not now. I have a job to do.

  When we arrive at the pavilion, I have no more time for obscure thoughts. The scene at the beach is complete madness, not to mention paparazzi gone wild. The security team does an excellent job getting us inside the venue through a rear entrance. I climb out of the Escalade as security clears a path for Ryan up to the stage. I try to follow behind him, but Ryan ushers me ahead of him, leading me through the crowd with his hand on the small of my back. Will I ever get enough of his touch? The answer is automatic. No.

  The question-and-answer session with Team GCR goes incredibly smooth and fast, no doubt because I am enthralled with the guys and how they interact with their fans. Not to mention the fact, I get to learn too. I need to have my own question-and-answer session with Ryan. Maybe I don’t need that downloaded version of Nascar for Dummies, after all. I laugh at myself and my wayward thoughts. I am in deep, deep trouble.

  Chapter 24

  F inally, I reach my hotel and crash onto the bed fully clothed. After only one day of events, I am exhausted, not to mention a little drunk. No…scratch that, a lot drunk. The team dinner was the most nerve-racking event so far. I am in constant fear that my feelings for Ryan will show on my face. So, I unfortunately tried to alleviate those fears with wine. The third glass backfired on me. My only saving grace was being seated at opposite ends of the table from Ryan, which allowed me to interact with other members of the GCR team.

  I can’t even think about that now. My head is spinning. I shift in the bed and throw my leg over the side. My toes find the floor and momentarily stop the room from spinning. Tomorrow is going to be hell. Jeezus!

  I am about to fall asleep, when I hear a series of soft clicks and what sounds like my hotel door opening. My heart leaps into my throat. I am alarmed, but due to severe exhausted and intoxication, I cannot move. Before I can catch my breath, I feel a familiar hand on my upper back caressing my bare skin. The breath that I was holding escapes my lungs with a relieving sigh.

  I raise my head to turn my cheek toward the intruder. My eyes flutter open, and they instantly meet Ryan’s concerned gaze as he kneels down beside my bed. “What’s wrong, Whitney?” he says softly as he caresses my face.

  I shake my head against the hotel duvet. He knows I’m lying.

  “Come on. Sit up for me!” he commands.

  I shake my head. “I can’t. I’m scared I might throw up,” I mutter, embarrassed.

  “Why did you drink too much?” he questions me with concern in his voice.

  A lump wells in my throat, but I don’t answer.

  “Whit,” he prompts me again. He leans in close to me again, and I can feel his breath on my face. It is just as intoxicating as the wine.

  I open my eyes, and Ryan is waiting for my response patiently. Tears well up in my eyes, but I am too intoxicated to fight them.

  “Hey,” he says softly.

  I slowly raise my body up off the bed, into a sitting position, but look down at my hands while I desperately try to fight back the tears. I can feel Ryan’s eyes on me. I can’t look at him. What I thought would be a one-time event with Ryan has quickly become unexplainably more—much more. I can feel it down deep. For the life of me, I cannot figure out how Ryan and I went from borderline homicidal tendencies to this. These developing feelings that I have for Ryan are starting to scare me.

  I raise my head slowly and meet Ryan’s gaze. He is watching me intently like he is searching my face for answers.

  “My nerves,” I finally manage to mutter. “It’s all too much. It is hard for me to be around you with other people because I am scared my feelings will show on my face.”

  Ryan lets out a sigh and looks away. My heart hits the floor. I continue, although he doesn’t look at me.

  “I am scared because if someone finds out, then I will be out of a job, and you will be on to someone new.” There, I said it. You put alcohol in, and you get honesty out. I shrug my shoulders as Ryan finally turns back to face me. His look does not give anything away. I don’t know how he feels or if he could feel the same way.

  It’s really only about the latter now. I know that I’m just a current conquest for Ryan, but it is hard for me to admit that I have let my feelings for him grow even though I know this could all end at any moment. Stupid, I know. But then again, I didn’t take the time to think about this to begin with.

  “I don’t know how to make you understand or believe me, Whitney,” Ryan says softly.

  I shake my head because I don’t believe him, based on his current track record—with women, that is. My stomach starts to roll, and my head spins. I raise my hand to my head to steady myself.

  Ryan speaks softly again. “Lay back down.” He runs both hands around my neck. His touch sends chills down my spine, and I close my eyes. He grasps each end of my necklace and unlocks the fastener. I watch his every move as he removes my necklace and places it on the nightstand.

  Ryan looks around the room and spies my duffel bag on the floor. He rifles through it and comes up with a T-shirt. He returns to my side and kneels down. He hands the T-shirt to me as he proceeds to remove my shoes. While he is preoccupied with my sandals, I pull the T-shirt over my strapless dress, suddenly embarrassed by the way he is caring for me like a child.

  Ryan helps me stand. He pulls my blue sundress down caressing my legs with his fingers. “I love this color on you, and the fact that it matches my car, too.” I smile shyly although I am about to collapse from the sensation of his touch.

  I step out of my dress and kick it to the side as Ryan pulls the hotel duvet back. I slide down into the cool sheets. It feels heavenly. Ryan steps back and removes his shoes and empties his pockets. What is he doing?

  “Slide over,” Ryan says softly.

  I obey his command, and he slides down into the bed with me. I turn away from him, and he snuggles behind me. Ryan drapes his arms over me. I can feel his lips on my ear when he says, “I don’t mind if you tell Brooke about us. I know how important she is to you.”

  I nod against his embrace and whisper, “She is only thing I have left.”

  “Not anymore,” Ryan says, then softly kisses my neck below my ear and pulls me deeper into his arms. I smile into my pillow and am sated as I drift away.

  * * *

  I awake to the sound of my iPhone alarm. Oh no! My head p
ounds with each ring. I sit up, not even sure where my phone is, but quickly find it lying on the nightstand within arm’s reach. Suddenly, I realize as I swipe the home screen to silence the alarm that I am alone. Ryan is gone. Or was he ever there? Did I dream it?

  I try to process all these thoughts, but I am hit with a wave of nausea. I have to take something for my head. I turn back to the nightstand, and there is a glass of water waiting for me. Strange! Beside the glass is a note.

  I didn’t want to leave you, but I had to get back before dawn. Drink this water, and eat your breakfast. You will feel better. See you at the track.

  Gasp! He was here. My heart swells. Before I can process any thought in my brain, there is a slight knock on my door. My heart skips a beat.

  “Room service!” I hear someone call out from the door.

  I scamper to the door, still in my T-shirt, open it, and the attendant rolls though my door with a breakfast spread and a large vase of beautiful white roses. He hands me a small card as he sets up the feast. I am taken aback. I can’t believe Ryan coordinated all this for me.

  I hold the card tightly in my hand, then reach for my purse to find a tip.

  “Oh, no, ma’am, please, it has already been taken care of.”

  Of course it has. I smile and nod as he leaves. Once the door clicks and I am safely alone, I remove the white card from a small envelope.

  Please don’t worry. We will figure this out. RFC

  I laugh out loud at his signature, RFC, and the memory it evokes. My Ryan Fucking Carter. I lie back on the bed with a million thoughts fluttering in my mind. Does he want to figure this out? Is there more to figure out? He must care, or he wouldn’t have coordinated all this, this morning. Or does he know that he has already screwed me up and he feels sorry for me, as the end to this fling is near? My head continues to pound with each thought. I cannot do this to myself. This internal self-dialogue is taking its toll on me. I have to get control.