The Player Penalty (SteelTrack Racing #3)

7-Lily

“I want to thank everyone for coming to this tropical paradise because of the cold weather up north.” Guests chuckle while Boone looks at Maddie and smiles. It softens his features, so the frozen tension around his eyes and mouth disappears. He seems almost friendly. “Madelyn and I have given each other many names during our relationship: boss, assistant, partner, friend, and asshole. That was me, by the way.” He pauses while the gathered crowd laughs. I can’t be the only one who thinks the last title is deserved. Sarah and Jake forgave him, while I still think he was horrible to her. “Since then, I’ve called Madelyn my love, heart, girlfriend, and fiancée. Now, I finally get to add the last one, wife.”

Boone Rivers rambles on, and I tune him out, choosing to look over the crowd instead. The wedding was perfect; it was a simple ceremony on the beach, with guests standing in a crowd around them. The two of them matched perfectly, her in all white and him in black—a devil and an angel, that was them.

The reception is outside, too, which makes sense in a tropical paradise like this one. People take advantage of the open bar, ordering pretty drinks with umbrellas and fruit wedges. My twenty-first birthday is long past, and I’m sticking to a single Shirley Temple. It’s a virgin, like me, but it won’t get me drunk either. I’ve drunk alcohol many times before, but I won’t risk getting hammered in front of my father and a wedding full of strangers.

“I haven’t thanked you for joining me,” Dad says. “This was a nice trip before the holidays, wasn’t it?”

Like most of the men in attendance, Dad is decked out in a cotton shirt and chinos. Not surprisingly, Julian is the exception. He’s dressed in a perfectly tailored suit and is currently busy flirting with one of the servers. If my useless eye is any guide, he won’t be around much longer, either.

“I’m glad we were invited.” I smile and secretly wish we were at home. Unfortunately, they invited my dad, and he invited me. Now, I’m surrounded by strangers at a tacky tiki bar. There are some familiar faces, but they’re busy being in a couple, and my dad doesn’t count.

I go back to staring at Julian, who catches my eye, nods, and returns to his conversation.

Dad notices and says, “Are you comfortable working with him? If you’re interested, I spoke to Boone about a place in the accounting department. Lots of useful skills are there for you, and I’m sure we can do something permanent once you finish school.”

I want to choke. “I’m not his type, Dad; plus, working with him leaves me a lot of free time for school, and you know how important that is. He works around my schedule, which helps so much. I’m keeping up very well this semester.”

He hesitates. “Tell me if he steps even a toe out of line.”

Every word I spoke was accurate, if only part of the story. Julian’s rules are simple ones. First, I do whatever I want, and second, I use the time to work on school. Every so often, he asks me to get him lunch. I see him a few days every week, and I’m not stuck in a department or job role that will lead to failure.

Dad appreciates that I’m nearby while I avoid the silly internship he bargained for.

“I will, promise. It’s fun working so close to you. I’m glad for the opportunity.” That last part is true.

Dad kisses my temple and yawns before we turn our attention to the dance floor. Most guests are part of a couple and busily take advantage of the live band and warm breeze.

“It’s past my bedtime,” he says. “Don’t forget your medicine.”

“My alarm is set.”

He leaves, and I sit at the table alone and lonely. Julian is my closest friend and is busy looking for another score. Sarah is dancing in her husband’s arms. A braver person might go looking for a dance partner of her own. The idea terrifies me.

I slip away from the party and down the short trail to the beach. At this late hour, there’s no one but me. The wind picks up enough to tickle rather than push, so I wander closer to the water’s edge.

I shake my hair loose and quickly separate the strands. Stepping out of my shoes, I step further into the water, and my toes dig into the wet sand.

Once, as a little girl, my dad took me on a beach vacation. The waves and sounds of the ocean fascinated me, but the idea of actually entering the water was frightening. I’d heard stories of people drowning or being eaten by sharks and was convinced that would be my fate. So, I spent the entire time happily making castles in the sand while my dad fruitlessly tried coaxing me into the water. The more he pushed, the more scared I became.

Our next vacation involved a series of museum trips.

“What are you doing out here all alone?”

I jump. “Julian. You frightened me.”

He steps back, further from the water, and yanks my hand so I’m seated next to him. “Go ahead and spill it. You’re not what I’d call a party girl, and you’re still unusually subdued. What is it? All the people. Yeah, that sucks, but we go home tomorrow, so it will be over soon.”

I frown at his comment. True or not, it’s harsh. “You aren’t funny.” Julian’s only response is to yank me closer so our hips and thighs touch. I squirm to pull my short skirt down. Showing off my underwear to a man who barely recognizes I’m female would be embarrassing. “I applied for another internship and didn’t get this one either.” The memory galls.

“Did you get an announcement or a phone call? I’m surprised they’re doing that on a weekend so close to the holidays.”

Christmas is only two weeks away, but that doesn’t mean the world has come to a stop. It does mean finals start soon, and then I’ll have four weeks to relax, sleep, and start a new hobby. Maybe knitting? Crochet was easy. I could learn pottery or another language, too. Some Italian could mean a trip to Italy someday.

Julian pokes me. “Hey.”

“Sorry, I was thinking of something.” The letter sits unopened in my purse because there’s no point in reading it. The interview is all the confirmation needed. “No, there wasn’t a phone call. I didn’t get it.”

“How do you know?” he pushes, and I hear the stubbornness in his voice. Julian won’t let up until I tell him. Ever since I revealed my secrets, he’s been relentlessly wanting to know me better.

“The interview was a disaster.”

“Maybe it wasn’t.”

“I was there. Believe me, disaster is an understatement. They asked about my career goals, and I panicked and said I didn’t know. Then I apologized, then I said sorry for my apology. One of the people interviewing took pity on me and asked if I needed a break. I said no and apologized again. You want to know what happened next?”

“You apologized,” Julian says as if it was a certainly rather than a guess.

“It was three days a week at a finance company, and I couldn’t get through an interview. At least it means I can’t get fired this time, so that’s a positive. Anyway, I’m meeting with a school counselor to switch my major next week.”

“You were fired from a job?” he asks.

“A clothing store. They required me to be there for the opening, and I was always late. It wasn’t intentional; something always happened, but they still fired me.”

Dad saw my internship with Rivers Motorsports as a way for me to gain experience and confidence. It’s a bonus that they won’t fire me because they need him.

Julian lies back on the sand and stretches his large frame. The moon’s shine reflects off his white shirt, and I’m reminded of the god Poseidon stepping from the waves.

I shake my head, feeling silly.

“This means you’ll be around next year.” He looks up at me with a sly grin and grabs my ankle. “Did you see that crowd back in there? I’d rather spend work time with you than with that group of stiff suits. From my perspective, your job loss is my job win.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, why would it? We were talking about me.” I snort and pull my ankle from his grasp. Julian doesn’t notice. “Think of it as the universe saying you don’t belong in a finance company. I often thought about your invisible comment during the last part of the season, you know.”

It was an idle comment, and I’d mostly been talking about myself. Life as a wallflower has its benefits, ones I regularly indulge in. Julian chose the limelight and won two back-to-back races after his playoff elimination. Dad said it was some of the best driving of his career before dismissing the entire thing as a fluke because Julian lacks the discipline to keep it up.

I did not respond.

“Are you planning more of the same?” I ask.

“To win? I plan that every week. Unfortunately, plans always fall apart at implementation. That’s racing.”

“That’s life,” I say.

Julian gets up and stares at me for so long that I grow uncomfortable. “You want to go swimming?”

“Now? In the dark?” I hiss at him. “We’re not allowed.”

“No one cares, and no one is around to stop us.”

“I’m not wearing a swimsuit.”

“You have a bra on. That’ll work.”

Julian, seeing my undergarments? Going into the ocean?

“There’s no lifeguard on duty. Plus, there might be sharks in the water.” Also, there must be at least a hundred other reasons why we shouldn’t.

“Are you afraid?” he asks with an amused laugh and then stops. “Please don’t be.” His voice grows deeper and more intimate.

I grow more afraid. “You don’t understand. I’ve never been.”

“You’ve never been in the ocean before?” he asks, not believing me.

I want to leave. “It’s late. We should go.”

I stand, and he follows. “We aren’t leaving. I’ll stay next to you, and you can hold on to me the entire time.” Julian removes his clothes right in front of me, so I’m torn between running away and watching him like some sneaky child. His shirt and pants are quickly gone, so he’s wearing nothing but boxer briefs.

I pointedly ignore his chest.

“I’ll turn around,” he says. “Look at me being a perfect gentleman. Don’t tell anyone; it’ll ruin my reputation. People will start thinking I’m a good person, and we can’t have that.”

He is a good person. “Don’t look. No peaking.”

What am I doing?

“My eyes are shut.”

This is stupid. We’ll get in trouble, and I’ll suffer my dad’s continued disappointment. He tries to hide it but gets frustrated with my struggles sometimes.

The zipper is louder than a helicopter. My dress slides next to his clothes, and I put a hand over my breasts.

“Take my hand,” Julian offers.

I accept, and then stupidly, like a pair of matching idiots, we’re walking into the ocean. The waves hit my ankles and then my shins and knees.

“Hold on to me.” I grip his arm. “You won’t crush me. Hold on.” He grabs my arms, putting them around his waist. “Almost to your hips.”

“Don’t let go.”

“I won’t.” Julian’s spread legs anchor us both. “I won’t ever let you go. I promise.”