Chapter 19
Marina
“What happened?” I ask, rushing inside the trailer.
Poppy hops up from the couch and looks at the TV on the wall. “Seventh place in qualifying.”
Relief washes through me as I shut the door and lock it. I don’t want any uninvited guests entering. “That’s where he was in Miami.”
“Is that good? Seems good since it’s out of twenty.”
“Cash and my brothers were happy. It’s in points positioning.”
She sits back down and blinks at me like she’s working through a calculus problem. I’ve seen the look since Noah’s tutoring is the only reason she passed that class. “I hear you speaking, but none of that makes sense.”
“You win money if you get points.” I strip off the robe I wore, crossing the studio lot. “I think.” Tossing it on the bed, I rush back to sit beside her. “Have they done any interviews?”
“First and second drivers. How are there so many cute race car drivers in one sport?”
Figuring that’s rhetorical, I bite my lip and lean forward, stabbing my elbows into my thighs. “There he is!” I jump to my feet while she ramps up the volume.
“Two races in a row in seventh. It worked well for you last time in Miami. How are you feeling about tomorrow?”
Cash looks straight into the camera, and that gaze caresses my soul. My breath stops hard in my chest, and I can’t swallow. All I can do is stare at him and that gorgeous face of his.
He says, “You know I don’t get into predictions, Chuck, but I’m feeling better than I have in a long time.”
“Get some rest, and we’ll see you on the track tomorrow. Cash Ryatt,” Chuck says, turning to face the camera.
A woman puts her arm around his back to guide him off camera . . . It’s not jealousy I feel, though. I trust him, and that’s her job. She’s a little handsy, but I am too with him. Okay, maybe I’ll casually mention it next time we talk. Or not, and I’ll be supportive instead.
Oh geez, I’m doing my head in. I turn around to Poppy. “He was good, right?”
“Really great.” She stands and clicks off the TV. “He looks happy. Is that because of you?”
“A girl can dream.” I feel delirious like anything is possible after seeing him.
The hard edges of his usual expression are absent even in the seriousness of the interview.
I slip off my shoes and climb onto the bed at the back of the trailer.
As I stare up through the moonroof, the weather couldn’t be more perfect, but it’s Cash who makes me feel invincible.
“How is it that I feel like I could walk on the clouds right now?”
“Because you’re in love?” Poppy calls while approaching. Leaning her shoulder against the small closet door, she says, “You guys talk every night.”
“You hear me?”
“I hear you laugh sometimes. I can’t hear anything being said.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she smiles. “You never seemed this happy before. And look at him. It’s moving fast between you two. Should I worry?”
Sitting up, I rest back on my hands. “No.” I feel so certain about Cash that saying anything less would feel like a disservice to our blossoming relationship. “As fast as it seems in hours and days, it’s been weeks and feels right in other ways.”
“Are we rhyming on purpose, or did love make you do it?”
We both crack up. “Love makes a person do silly things.”
“It sure does.”
A knock on the door has both of us going to the front of the trailer again. She opens it to see the assistant director. “We are wrapping you for the day, Marina. We plan to get some exterior shots, so you’re free to go.”
“Thank you,” I say. Turning to Poppy, I laugh. “Let’s get out of here before they change their minds, and it’s another fourteen-hour day.”
We hurry to get our stuff, and I change clothes. Since the wardrobe girl is fucking my ex-boyfriend, I need to drop these in the box outside the door. I want no contact with her.
We do the deed and get in the car. As soon as she starts the engine, she says, “I have a few interviews in LA.”
Although the news comes as a surprise, I’m happy for her since she’s started to worry more about her career. “That’s great.” She backs out of the parking spot and drives toward the gate. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. I’m going to set you up with some meals.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
She smiles when she glances my way. “I want to.”
“I’m not going to complain. I love your cooking.” My selfish side asks, needing to prepare for her absence. “How long will you be gone?” I like having my best friend around. She’s not only a comfort to me but she’s also fun to talk to and watch TV with before we retire to our rooms each night.
“I promised my parents I’d visit after LA, so I’m flying to Beacon right after.”
“You’ll still make the premiere next weekend? I really want you there.”
Smiling, she glances my way. “I wouldn’t miss it. Anyway, I have to make sure they pamper the movie's star, and I’ll be there for any wardrobe malfunctions.”
“Are we expecting a wardrobe malfunction?”
“It might boost the career if you reveal a little nip.”
I burst out laughing. “That will do nothing but get me shunned in Hollywood, so let’s hope there are no nip slips.”
“I’m your girl.”
Her words remind me of the conversation I had with Cash last night. I’m his girl, and he’s my guy, to put it simply. We’re more complex than that, but it’s fun to feel this excited about being with someone. I miss him.
I even miss the soreness.
He touched parts of me that had never been reached before and woke my body up to the possibilities. Getting him off my mind has been impossible, which has miraculously dulled all other concerns. “Poppy?”
As memories of his face between my legs swirl around my head, my face warms, and heat creeps across my chest.
She glances over with worry, threading her brows together. “What is it?”
I press my hands to my cheeks, hoping to cool them down, but grin stupidly at her instead. “I need to tell someone, and I know we can tell each other anything, so I—”
“Oh my God, Marina, you’re freaking me out. Is this good news? Just tell me.”
“It’s not a big deal.” I cackle in delight. “He’s huge . . . it’s a huge deal.”
Looping around toward the street that leads to the apartment, she laughs and reaches over to feel my forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Better than ever.”
“Okay then, spit it out.” The puns just come without even trying. If she only knew what she was saying.
“There was no spitting involved.”
“Marina, what the hell?” She bursts out laughing. Slowing for a red light as soon as she stops, she says, “Tell me every dirty detail.”
I can’t keep it to myself any longer. “He gave me the best orgasms of my life.”
“I knew it! I knew something was up with you all glowing and walking on sunshine.” Her mouth then falls open. “Wait, as in plural?”
I nod erratically. “As. In. Plural.”
“Oh wow, Marina. Lucky girl.” She glances at me once more before driving again. Taking a turn into the garage, she’s grinning as if she’s the one who scored. “I miss sex.”
This time, my mouth falls open. “How long has it been?”
“Too long. I was up before dawn and falling into bed at midnight at that last job. There was no time for a social life.”
I smirk. “You don’t have to be social to have sex.”
“True,” she replies with a laugh. “But it’s nice to catch a name.”
She’s laughing when her phone lights up on the console between us. We both glance down. “Ugh. It’s him. My old boss wants me back.” Gripping the steering wheel, she shakes her head. “The new guy can’t get the wheatgrass shot right.”
“Isn’t it just wheatgrass?”
“I always put a few special ingredients in it.”
Although my eyes go wide, I’m not as surprised as I appear. “Should I ask?”
Turning into the parking garage, she replies, “Probably best if you don’t.” With a burst of laughter, she adds, “It’s a few drops of pineapple juice to cut the grass. Pun intended.” She pulls in our assigned spot and cuts the engine.
I trust this woman with my life, but for a split second there, I had my doubts. “Sounds really good actually.”
“Glad you think so. I’m making some for you. We’ve been eating like crap lately. We both need to get premiere-ready.” We get out of the car and slam the doors shut.
“What would I do without you?”
When we walk toward the elevator, she says, “Apparently have multiple orgasms. I think you’re doing just fine without me.”
Later in the night, I want to call Cash, but I know he’s strict with his schedule the night before a race. Miami excluded. But I do text him, so he knows that I’m thinking about him:
Congrats today! I know tomorrow is also going to be amazing.
It takes about two minutes of me staring at the phone, but then I receive a reply:
Thanks. I’m feeling good about tomorrow. I’ll try to call you after the race. Sweet dreams, babe.
Me:
Sweet dreams.
As much as I love our nightly calls and text exchanges, I’m feeling lonely. Sleep is going to be my friend tonight instead of dwelling on the fact that I won’t get to see Cash in person for another week. That is, if I can slip away during the time I’ll be promoting the movie.
Watching Cash come in fifth and move up in the rankings along with Westcott Racing has me wishing I had someone to celebrate with. I know he won’t see it for a while since he can’t have his phone on him, but I text Cash anyway:
So proud of you! Congratulations!
I also send a congrats to the family group text, letting them know I watched from Vancouver. I get quick replies from most of them. Harbor is celebrating with the crew in the paddock. I want to be there, but being a distraction is not something I want to be responsible for.
Lying on the couch, I watch the reporters scramble to interview the team members and drivers as they get out of their cars.
Any flash of Cash has me sitting upright until the interviews die down and the sports channel switches to baseball.
No interview with Cash is disappointing, but the happiness I feel for him is like it was my own win.
He did amazing today. I want to shout it from the rooftops.
I also don’t want the cops called on me, so I don’t shout. I lie on the couch smiling over my boyfriend’s great performance on the track today instead. I just wish I could be there to celebrate with him.
Someone knocking on the door startles me awake. Still groggy, I look ahead where night lies on the other side of the sliding glass door. Behind me, the knocking continues.
I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep, but something isn’t right.
I tap my phone to see the time when I stand. 11 p.m. What the hell? Who would be here at that hour? And more importantly, is it safe, or should I call the police?
Since Poppy isn’t here, I walk over so the person won’t hear me closing in. I peek through the peephole, my heart stopping fast in my chest.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
Hurrying to unlock the bolts and latches, I finally free the door and swing it wide open. I jump right into Cash’s arms—legs wrapped around his hips and my arms around his neck. “What are you doing here?” I ask, covering his face with kisses.
“I was in the neighborhood.”