by Candi Heart
Exhaling in relief and clutching the bottle of painkillers, I shut the drawer I’d thrown them into and hurried to the kitchen, chugging the pills down with a tall glass of water. I took a deep breath, placed the glass in the sink, and leaned against the counter.
I’d been trying and failing to keep Charlyse off of my mind, and now it was affecting my damn work. I either needed to get over my fear and go to her, or get under another woman. It didn’t get any clearer than that.
I’d worked way too fucking hard to get where I was, and had my father’s legacy to continue, and I had no intentions of throwing any of that away.
Chapter 19
Charlyse
TIGHTENING THE BOLT, I chewed my lip in concentration.
Ever since I’d gotten back to work, my head had started to clear. Obviously, I was too busy to think of much more than what the cars I was repairing required, and I was damn thankful for that fact. I needed the normalcy that came with my work. At least when my mind was busy, it couldn’t run wild.
Plus, I tended to be in better spirits when my hands were busy and I had a puzzle to solve. My attention faltered from the brake-line at the sound of footsteps. I quirked a brow when a pair of dirty jeans covering feet in rough-worn boots greeted me.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, not bothering to slide out from under the car. I could hear him just fine from here.
I flinched and almost hit my head when I heard something smack the ground next to the car. “Looks like you’re famous... again,” he said in an amused tone.
My gut clenched. I glanced at the Racer’s Weekly mag Dad had dropped to the ground and instantly felt sick. The last thing I wanted to see were more photos of Tyler and me, happy and smiling at one of the parties.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
He chuckled. “Lock up when you finish that one.”
“Always do.”
I waited a few beats before curiosity got the best of me. I had intended on finishing the brake-line, but I couldn’t concentrate with the magazine beaming at me from under the harsh shop lights, like a beacon of temptation. I rolled out from under the racer, and snatched up the magazine. I sat up on the creeper and wiped my hands on a red oil rag I kept in my front pocket. Turning my head slightly, I flipped the magazine over. Looked like a regular issue of Racer’s Weekly. I could only imagine what was in it.
Groan.
Lifting myself from the creeper and stepping over to the rec bench, I sat down, already flipping through the first pages of the stupid magazine.
In the first few sections I made my way through, everything inside looked to be just as ad-packed and half-assed as it usually was. At least until I reached the event coverage and my eyes landed on a photo that nearly stopped my heart. I squeezed my eyes shut and slowly opened them again, hoping it had been a mirage.
No such luck.
This isn’t happening.
Right there, in all its colorful glory, was an image of Colton kissing me for all the world to see. I reluctantly read the caption, and cringed:
“It looks as though things have cooled off with Tyler Dalton, as Charlyse Cruise has already heated things up with a handsome stranger at DiDi’s Lounge Saturday night...”
Heart plummeting, I slammed the magazine closed. I angrily chucked it with a flick of my wrist, Frisbee-style, across the garage floor and watched as it landed with a smack against the cement and then slid. A lump formed in my throat. The picture made it look like it was the exact opposite of what it had actually been. It left no room for any other possibilities. Anyone who looked at it would think Colton and I were together.
In that way.
I sighed and pulled my phone from my coveralls pocket, stopping myself from sending some sort of explanation for the pic to my Dad. Why had he sounded amused, anyway? He had teased Colton and me in the past how we should just be together already... but that obviously would never happen. Now, I would have to explain.
Dad, I could handle... but Tyler? Would he see it? Laughing at my stupidity, I walked over and picked up the rag mag, and then tossed it into a nearby trash can. That asshole wouldn’t give two shits if he saw it.
Plus, I didn’t owe him an explanation. I actually grinned at the little fantasy in my head of him seeing it and getting jealous. Was Tyler a jealous person? I had no idea, he’d never shown any overly jealous tendencies in my presence, except the last night we were together when he’d placed that showy kiss on me as I had been casually chatting with Justin whats-his-name.
I put the phone back in my coveralls. I’d get back to work and forget about it. What was done was done. I could talk to Dad in the morning.
And... maybe Colton after that.
I’d been avoiding his calls and texts. Mainly because I needed space. But we were better than that. I still didn’t want to pursue anything beyond what we had, and his texts had stated that, very bluntly, along with his zillion apologies. But deep down, I didn’t want to lose him any more than he’d want to lose me. Especially not for something as silly as misguided feelings and an impulsive mistake.
We could get past this. Right?
Chapter 20
Tyler
THE BRUNETTE WAS MODEL-gorgeous. Lovely enough that for a split second, I thought she might be just the thing I needed to get my head back in the game. The thing that would help me keep my mind off Charlyse long enough for me to actually let her go. And by the way she swayed in front of me, her ample curves rippling in waves with her dance half-fooled me into thinking a gentleman’s club was where I wanted to be right then.
Tucking a hundred into her G-string when she lowered onto my lap, gyrating and rolling her hips wantonly for my pleasure, I tried to force myself to get into the moment. Every time I had the urge to push her off me, I forced myself to keep my hands on the armrest.
I just needed to give it time.
Charlyse was a whole lot of woman, and not someone I’d found easy to shake, but I was a man. I’d get my groove back. I could forget her if I reminded myself of that. If I woke up the version of myself that I actually recognized—the infamous playboy who’d fallen asleep somewhere in my psyche—I could probably get the old Tyler back. The one who was comfortable with one-night fucks and keeping every damn person at arm’s length for my own safety.
I tried to train my eyes on the stripper’s breasts and lose myself in her vanilla musk scent, but by the time the second song came on, I realized it was futile and I was wasting my time. I clamped my jaw shut, avoiding her gaze when recognition filled her hazel eyes.
“Everything all right, baby?”
Clearing my throat, I placed my hands on her hips. “Get up, sweetheart.”
“Are you sure? I—”
“Just. Please, get up.”
Pouting playfully, she tossed her long, dark hair to the side and rose up off me, even throwing her sex appeal into it as she arched her back, putting her ass in my face like a cat in heat. She was a knockout, without question, but my heart wasn’t in it.
She gave me a sultry smile. “You paid for fifteen minutes, baby.”
Rising from the chair, I snapped out of my depressing thoughts, looking at her like I’d already half-forgotten she was there. “Keep it,” I said, getting annoyed, more at myself than her.
She pushed out her plump bottom lip. “Was it something I did?”
I had already begun to walk away and I stopped and turned around to look at her. “Not something you did, no.”
Before she could ask me anything else, I got the hell out of there. I had a bottle waiting at home with my name written all over it.
I’d drink it alone.
ODDLY ENOUGH, I WOKE the next morning without a trace of a hangover, not that I’d drunk all that much the night before. And even though the night didn’t play out exactly as planned, the day itself was weightless in a way the previous few days hadn’t been. It almost made me think the emotional storm I’d been fighting against was finally passing.
I seized that opportu
nity immediately. Trudging to the bathroom, I started up the shower and looked at myself in the quickly-fogging mirror. I had noticeable bags under my eyes, which seemed to add ten years. My normally bright blue eyes looked more like a dull gray, and I was way overdue for a haircut. When my gaze moved down to my chest and stomach, I groaned. I have got to hit the gym. I was getting too thin. I made a mental note to have Zara order me some powdered weight gain stuff.
As the hot water pounded me from the six different showerheads positioned around the standalone shower, my mind, of course, drifted to her. Her big, playful hazel-green eyes, the dimples in her cheeks, her full breasts, the flat of her stomach between those curvy, luscious hips... and of course, now I was rock hard.
Goddammit. I was meant to be moving past her. I just had a hot-as-fuck stripper practically dry humping me last night and this fucker wouldn’t even so much as flinch. Thirty seconds of thinking about Charlyse’s body and it was straining so painfully hard, I would have to take care of this before I hit the track.
AFTER A FEW LAPS AROUND, I parked the Bugatti, and then hit the corporate gym. After some cardio and weights, I rinsed off in the showers. I then made my way back to my office, renewed by the endorphins. I smiled as I remembered the feel of a steering wheel between my fingers, of being in control of the wild ride instead of being flung along to play the role of life’s bitch. It reminded me that I was the one in command of my destiny, and that I only needed to focus my attention ahead of me. I could forget the past. Even learn from it. My father, once again, had taught me that.
When I finally swept into my office, I flicked on my espresso machine and grabbed the box of donuts Zara had had the forethought to bring in for me. She was always doing sweet things like that. They were the sorts of things that made me feel like I was a little bit less alone than I actually was. Sure, she was on the payroll, but she wasn’t being paid to go the extra-extra mile.
Humming to myself, I grabbed the mail out of the bin, tossing the sales circulars into the wastebasket by my desk as I leaned against it. I brought a glazed cake donut to my lips and took a bite.
Racer’s Weekly was next in the stack, and I began to thumb through it with mild interest after setting the bills and invoices to the side. I hadn’t had a chance to check their coverage of Kristoff’s Thursday interview. Hopefully, there would be more good news in that. If Kristoff managed to charm them, I’d have won faithful supporters and maybe even some more sponsors, and that was invaluable.
Cracking it open, I flipped through the pages, ignoring the ads and preliminary racing stats. Flicking quickly through the event pages, my eyes thought they saw a woman who looked exactly like Charlyse several seconds too late. I shouldn’t flip back. It wouldn’t be her. Why would it be? The photos of us from both the Grand Prix party and the Vegas event had been in last week’s issue, which had been quickly thrown into the trash when I’d seen it. That had been a stab to the heart, as the issue was released the day after she’d taken off from my hotel room. I had briefly thought about calling a friend I had, who would get any address and phone number in the world, and having him get me Charlyse’s, but then thought better of it. She had never given me her number, as it hadn’t been necessary. At this point it would probably just come off as creepy if I called or texted out of the blue.
Looking back at the magazine, I was frozen... wondering. Nah, I didn’t need to flip back; I was finally getting my feet back under me. I’d fucked up, but I’d learn to live with it. It probably wasn’t her anyway, and I didn’t need to see a woman who looked like her.
Continuing to flick through in search of the interview, I gritted my teeth against the curiosity flaring in my gut. Then with a sigh, I gave in to it, swiped the pages back to the first event page, and worked my way back through.
I found what I’d glanced over. The woman in the picture was Charlyse.
But she wasn’t alone. She was with that annoying Thor caricature. The one who’d come with her to the pre-season party. Bile rising to my throat, I read what was written underneath, and my blood heated. I was angry at the snarky caption, but then my chest hurt to see her kissing someone else. I slammed the magazine shut and tossed it onto the desk.
Clenching my fists, I did some deep breaths before I trashed my own office in a fit of ire. Honestly, I didn’t give a fuck that I didn’t have the right to be angry. I was. But I didn’t have to stay angry.
I stared out the window of my office, which overlooked the city via an entire wall of glass. I thought long and hard about what I was going to do. I just wasn’t getting over her, so what did that tell me?
Then a thought hit me. I’d overheard some gossip Zara and her secretary were chatting about last week. Charlyse’s old man had planned to throw an anniversary party for his shop tonight, and we’d received an invitation.
I could go to that party and confront her. Set her straight on playing me for a fool. Had she been with Thor all along? I was quickly suspecting that was the deal. She had told me she wasn’t, but maybe they had broken up when she decided to come with me to Vegas on a whim. It all made sense now. She ran away with me to get away from him, and at the first sign of me letting her go—or maybe he’d begged for her back—she ran again. But she’s not going to run away anymore. She’ll be confronted until the truth spills from her perfectly plump pink lips.
Slamming my fist into the desk, I struggled to keep my head. I needed to keep my cool. I’d let go of her, after all. It had been my choice. A stupid choice based on ego and fear. But I could undo it. I could go to that party and undo it.
She was mine. Not Lookalike-Thor’s. Mine.
Chapter 21
Charlyse
COLTON’S EYES HELD a heartbreaking innocence in them that made me feel like my heart was melting in my chest. “I’m really sorry, babe.”
I’d already decided to just let it go, and I was doing just that. I’d known him too long to let a silly half-step get between us.
I nodded with a sigh. “Shit happens, Colton. It’s fine. Let’s just—”
“Let it go?” he interrupted hopefully.
My lips broke into a warm smile. “Yes. Let’s just let it go.”
“Thank you, Char. You don’t know how upset I’ve been. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat... I just think that with the alcohol, and then seeing Alyssa... I...”
“Colton?” I cut in, my eyebrow raised.
“What?”
“Letting it go is probably best done by not talking about it anymore.”
He smiled, rolling his eyes at his faux pas. “Right.” He nodded. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for. Let’s enjoy the party.”
He nodded. “Right. Where’s dear old Dad?”
I jerked a thumb behind me and wriggled my brow. “In the back on a call.”
Colton grinned. “The waitress?”
“Yep. It’s on again.”
Colton chuckled. “God bless him. I assume he’s inviting her here?”
Drawing a sip of my pinot, I shrugged. “Who knows with those two? They have more drama than the Kardashians.”
I enjoyed the deep authenticity of Colton’s laugh as I watched the other mechanics and their significant others slowly roll in. The rest of the racers who’d become regulars for Dad would be through later, no doubt, always having to make a grand entrance. By the time an hour had passed, I’d relaxed. There was already starting to be a pretty good turnout for Dad’s shop’s anniversary party.
Cleaning up a few spills and dancing a few songs, I settled back by the window next to Colton, thoroughly enjoying the easy flow of dealing with the comforts I’d grown up around. It was simple, peaceful, and uncomplicated. Just what I needed right now.
“Um, Char?” Colton asked at the same time I felt his body stiffen beside me. Following his gaze, a buzz of electricity shot through me as I caught sight of Tyler, looking way too delicious in a light-blue button-down shirt rolled to the elbows and dark dress pants. Jenna, my cousin, w
as greeting people at the door, and she smiled brightly up at him and handed him one of the small flyers Colton had made to commemorate the twentieth anniversary of Owen and Sons. Tyler smiled graciously at Jenna and then began to scan the large room.
I immediately turned my attention to the cup of wine in my hand, suddenly finding it to be the most interesting thing in the room. Kind of odd for him to be here, no? I was so confused. He’d never attended one of my dad’s functions before. Tyler was, like, racing royalty. Dad and I were, like, townsfolk.
I took a gulp of wine, and then set it down. “I need some air.”
“Want me to come with?”
Smiling, I gave Colton a soft shake of my head. “Nah, I’ll be back in a jiff.”
He grabbed my elbow and pierced me with a sincere look. “If you’re sure?”
Drawing my lip between my teeth, I nodded and then fast-walked as gracefully as I could in heels to make it out the back door without catching Tyler’s eye.
If I smoked, I would be lighting one up right now as I heaved out heavy breaths into the Texas night air. I leaned my back against the side of the building, staring off into the parking lot. I needed to clear my head. I needed to think about what I was going to do when I went back inside there.
Why is he here? I racked my brain, trying to figure it out. He had come alone, and hadn’t even flirted with Jenna. My cousin was model-thin and drop-dead gorgeous, and had a never-ending line of men banging down her door, she was so beautiful—and sweet on top of all that.
