Chapter 22
‘This might be the cutest town I’ve ever seen. I bet it’s like something out of a film when it snows.’ Marco hadn’t stopped chattering since they’d left the confines of the ranch, and he was starting to drive Savi insane.
Her head was elsewhere; primarily on her brother who was sat in the back in his wheelchair, chatting back just as much.
This was weird. Weston didn’t go anywhere and yet here he was coming to watch their guest do a fashion show for them.
Marco hadn’t even been on the ranch half an hour before he’d successfully done the one thing Savi had failed to do every time she’d been home in the last few years.
‘I haven’t been downtown in so long,’ Weston muttered, gazing out of the window as they passed the local bakery.
A lot of the stores, cafés and restaurants in the area needed work doing to them, and most were in the process of having said work done.
She would deny it if anyone asked, but she’d made a donation or two to help speed the town’s development along.
‘You don’t get out much, Wes?’ Marco questioned, causing Savi to inhale sharply and wait for an uncomfortable silence to follow but it never came.
‘Not really. I don’t like all the fuss when I leave the ranch. It’s like the local outcast has finally left his hiding place and everyone crowds around me.’
‘Wouldn’t people fuss less if they saw you more often?’
‘You don’t know the residents of Sheridan,’ Weston laughed.
Savi had endured this argument with him countless times, tried to encourage him to go out and give their friends his time.
They’d rallied around him and sent gift baskets and cards when he was in hospital, then they’d delivered home-cooked meals when he first came home.
She knew lots of them had reached out to him, too, invited him to dinners and drinks and backyard barbecues.
He had just had such a hard time adjusting to his new way of life that he retreated into himself.
But Marco was here now, and she was starting to see that maybe all he’d needed was an outsider to invade his personal space and force him to embrace his reality.
Pulling into a parking space in front of the only store Marco needed to fulfil his dreams, Savi stopped the car. ‘We’re here.’
‘Don’t forget to let me out!’ Weston called out.
She opened the trunk and hit a button which allowed Wes to be lowered to the ground, and he immediately shot off.
He got plenty of fresh air being out in the country, but this was different.
He seemed excited. ‘Race you to the store, De Luca,’ he yelled, but he was already gone.
Savi laughed as she watched two grown men chasing each other down the sidewalk, Marco purposefully lagging so he didn’t overtake him.
‘Hurry up, Cowgirl!’ Marco yelled, grabbing the attention of a few passersby.
One was a gentleman who had done some work at the ranch the previous summer for her dad.
He looked pleased as punch to see Weston out of the house, but he kept it to himself, tipping his hat at Savi when she noticed and smiling away.
If everyone could behave like that, Wes might do this more often.
She locked the car, another gift from her to her family, and followed them inside.
Marco was almost doubled over looking at the sheer number of boots in here; they lined the walls, all different colours.
There were browns, pinks, blues, greys. Any colour you could think of, this store had them.
‘People come from all over the place to visit this one particular store.’ She grabbed a pair of pink ones in her size, admiring the embroidery.
‘I can see why,’ Marco responded, eyes tracing every pair. Thankfully the selection of hats was much smaller, because she imagined they would be here for hours just for the boots. ‘So, which colour do you think I should go for?’
‘The obvious answer is Revolution Racing red, but I think tan or black would suit you better,’ Savi answered, deciding to try the pink pair on. They would work great with her collection of white sundresses.
‘But if a specific pair speaks to you, then you’ve gotta try them,’ Weston added. ‘Sav has about thirty pairs, each of them different in some way but they all have a story tied to them.’
‘I have black ones with sunflowers on. Wore those the day we got Mocha and she nibbled on them– think she thought the flowers were real.’
‘And you’ve got the white ones with red hearts which you wore for graduation,’ Weston laughed. ‘They stole the spotlight when you walked onto the stage.’
‘I’m feeling like I need an entire outfit, guys…’ Marco called out from the end of the aisle, where he’d found the back of the store which was filled with shirts and jeans.
‘If that’s what you want, we’ll have you in the dressing room ASAP.’ Savi picked up a pair of black boots with dark brown embroidery and held them out to him. ‘How about these?’
‘Love them. I’ll get a just-for-fun pair, too.
’ He waited for Weston to wheel himself back up the aisle out of the way of the brown pair he’d been eyeing.
The main part of the boots was a dark brown while the leg consisted of burnt orange flames with blue stitching, very apt for a racing driver.
‘Or maybe two, because you’re right, I need Revolution red.
We can rock up to the next race with our matching boots and the fans will be screaming couple goals. ’
‘They already are screaming that and all you’ve done on camera is kiss a couple of times, which by the way, gross.’ Weston scrunched his nose up in disgust.
‘Wes, shut up. For once in your life.’ Marco let out a loud laugh at their bickering. ‘Don’t laugh, Monaco, it will encourage him.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he saluted.
Savi clutched her new pink boots tightly and walloped him on the arm with them. ‘Don’t call me ma’am. Ever. I draw the line at Cowgirl.’
‘Someone’s feeling feisty today,’ Weston commented, which only set Marco off more.
Savi pointed a finger at her brother. ‘Don’t think I won’t hit you too, Weston Jameson Hart. Your wheelchair doesn’t make you immune. Come on, Monaco. Let’s get you a nice denim shirt.’
The two of them followed behind her still laughing but keeping any comments to themselves, and then suddenly Marco was lost in a maze of denim, leather, flannel and suede with his upper torso and head sticking out above the rails of clothing.
‘How am I meant to choose? There are so many options, and they all look great.’
‘We’ll choose for you,’ she suggested, picking out a few denim options. ‘You know… you could go all out and get this.’ Savi held out a denim shirt with the USA flag printed across the front and the shoulders.
‘I’m sold. Pass it here.’ He took it from her excitedly, adding it to his growing collection. ‘You choose another one that’s a little more subtle, and I’ll go grab a hat. Wes, come with me.’
They came back ten minutes later to find Savi leaning against a rail, having chosen a second shirt within seconds.
She was a thrifter by nature, so this came easily to her.
She also had a fake boyfriend who dressed very well, and a willing model who had the perfect athletic figure.
Marco would do well at the rodeo if he ever gave up racing.
‘How much have you got?!’ She gawked at the mountain of items on Weston’s lap and in Marco’s arms. They might as well have bought the entire store.
‘I might be borrowing some of your suitcase space for Le Mans. Please pack light,’ he shrugged. ‘Right, dressing room. Wait here, guys. I’ll be needing your advice.’
They waited for an age as Marco battled with zips, belts and buttons behind the curtain, giving Savi a spare moment to breathe.
She had surprised herself with how level-headed she had been since the initial shock had worn off, and she was trying her best to focus on being home and being present.
It just wasn’t as simple as she kept letting herself believe.
She wasn’t sure if she was ever going to speak to Jesse again, and that sort of scared her.
‘Are you done yet?’ Weston shouted.
Marco’s head popped out from the red curtain, his curls dishevelled. ‘I don’t think you’re ready for how fucking cool I look.’ And with that, he stepped out of the dressing room.
The belt he’d chosen had a huge gold and silver buckle with the brand logo on it, the denim shirt with the USA flag fit perfectly, highlighting his broad shoulders, and the dark blue jeans hugged his ass in all the right ways.
Not that she was looking too closely. Then there were the red boots and black hat, both of which suited him in a way Savi couldn’t quite explain.
Marco was not the kind of guy who looked like he could pull this look off, until he put it all together. She was stunned. ‘Wow.’
‘I have never felt sexier in my entire life,’ he stated.
‘Damn,’ Weston let out a low whistle, ‘get this man on a catwalk.’
‘Savannah, you trying anything on?’ Marco looked at her own pile of clothes which she had slowly gathered since stepping foot in the store.
‘I suppose I should try this dress on.’
‘Don’t forget the zebra boots you found a second ago!’ Weston reached down by the side of his chair, picking them up and holding them out to her.
‘Where did you find those?!’ Marco’s jaw dropped. ‘Savannah, you have to get these. They match the livery of our cars, it’s fate.’
‘We’ll see. They’re in the thousands, and I’ve never spent that much on a pair of boots before. It just feels too extravagant.’ She scurried into the dressing room next to Marco’s, climbing out of her workout gear, a travel essential, and into the dress she’d found.
It was black, sleeveless, with a floaty skirt and a built-in corset. It was the kind of thing she would wear if she was going out somewhere fancy but still wanted to feel like herself. A dress she would wear if Jesse had ever taken her on a real date.
‘How long does it take to put a dress on?’ Marco muttered, his voice filling the silent store.
‘I heard that!’ Savi replied. ‘And the answer is a while when it’s got a corset!’
‘Do you need help, Savannah?’ She could hear the amusement in his tone, and she wanted to say no out of spite for him mocking her, but she was mature enough to admit she would be here forever if she didn’t accept his assistance.
‘Please,’ she sighed and within moments, Marco was in the dressing room with her. He drew the curtain behind them to give her some privacy, even though it was only her brother and the store owner out there. ‘It’s a lace-up and I can’t get it tight enough.’
‘Right, brace yourself…’ He waited for Savi to grip the walls and take a deep breath in before he set about pulling the strings as tight as they would go. He tied them up in a bow and stood back, admiring his handiwork. ‘Done.’
Savi looked at herself in the mirror, studying the way it clung to her body in all the right places.
She hadn’t felt this elegant in a long time; her bare shoulders looked strong thanks to all the weight training she did, but her frame was still dainty.
That was just genetics. Marco watched her reflection, his eyes catching on her chest. That looked great, too.
‘My boots.’ She pointed down at the black and white boots with the faux zebra fur detailing, realising she couldn’t put them on herself. Trying to bend in a corset just wasn’t going to work.
‘Hold onto my shoulders.’ Marco crouched down and lifted her leg up, the palm of his hand soft against her bare skin. He took his time sliding her boots on, one at a time.
‘Thanks,’ she whispered, watching him with a strange sense of appreciation.
Her skin felt like it was on fire under his touch, and she didn’t know if it was because they were in a tiny box mere inches apart, but she did know this was the first time she’d felt anything like this for someone who wasn’t Jesse.
And what made it stranger was, she was allowed to feel it now.
‘What’s going on in there?!’ Weston’s voice broke her out of her spell.
‘Your sister is getting new boots.’ Marco threw the curtain open. ‘Look at them! What an outfit, Cowgirl. You have to get them.’
‘But they’re so expensive,’ she pouted. ‘They’re six grand.’
‘Sav, you deserve to be able to buy yourself nice things. Not just keep buying everything for everyone else.’ Weston gave her a guilt-ridden smile, and she wished he didn’t have to feel like that. He always acted like he was a burden, and she hated it.
‘I’m buying them for you if you won’t treat yourself,’ Marco stated. ‘Consider it a thank you for bringing me here and for being a wonderful teammate.’
‘Mars, I can’t let you do that.’ She had tears in her eyes as she looked at him.
‘You can. We have talked about my financial situation; you’ve seen where I live. Besides, every time you wear them I want you to remember the time you brought your idiot Italian-Monegasque teammate to Wyoming and let him go full Yeehaw.’
‘You heard the man,’ Weston grinned.
But all Savi could do in response was throw herself into Marco’s arms and give him a suffocating hug, their bodies moulded together. Whatever this friendship was, she cherished it, and she never wanted it to end. Not when either of them parted ways from Revolution Racing, not ever.