Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Over the next few days, I’ve never felt busier.
The morning after the incident with Liam, Demi and I met with Phil to inform him of the latest development and make a game plan for telling the team before we leave for the next stop.
The following days are filled with practices, and when I’m not in my truck, I’m locked away in the room with Demi, combing through the bank accounts of dozens of employees and growing increasingly frustrated as we come up empty.
The same goes for the information about the person who hired Liam: the phone number they used was a burner that is no longer active, bought in Georgia and activated in Louisiana two weeks later.
We can’t seem to find anything or anyone behind it, and the circuit hasn’t been to either state this season.
That being said, while I’ve been busy, there isn’t any true reason to be holed up in my hotel room any moment I’m not actively in my truck, other than to avoid Rome. After I talked with Demi, I’ve made the subconscious decision to take away any chance of an opportunity arising.
Okay, maybe it was a little conscious, but if I don’t bump into him, there’s no opportunity for me to encounter a moral dilemma, right?
Right.
Unfortunately, it seems like my luck has run out.
“Lana,” Rome calls from down the hall, not long after the mandatory meeting where we were introduced to the new tech taking Liam’s place.
We decided not to have Phil reveal why he was fired, only saying that his departure was for family-related reasons.
Demi set up cameras in the meeting room to record everyone’s facial expressions.
Demi will spend the next few days going over every single person’s face, trying to see if anyone didn’t appear surprised or worried enough.
“So what, you’re just going to ignore me now?
” he asks, sidling up to me. I roll my eyes even as my heart races.
I ran right to the locker room after the meeting, wasting as much time as possible to try to avoid him once again, but it didn’t seem to have worked.
I wonder if he waited for me, ready to intercept me as I walked past, and even though it’s stupid, the mere thought warms my chest.
“No one could ignore an ego as big as yours. Don’t worry, pretty boy,” I say, continuing to walk toward the arena for another meet and greet in the pit. His steps falter as his hand reaches out to grab my wrist, burning where it touches me and stopping me in my tracks.
“But you have been.” He steps closer, leaving barely a foot barely between us. “Ever since you kissed me.” My eyes widen, and I glance around the empty hallway, anxious someone will have heard.
“Don’t worry, they’re all out on the track,” he says.
Relief moves through me before I look at his eyebrow without meaning to.
There’s a fresh bandage there, and for a single, irrational, beyond-stupid moment, I can’t stop the bolt of jealousy that moves through me, wondering who put it there.
His lips tip as if reading my mind, “I’ve been forced to bandage myself up now that my hot nurse has gone MIA.
” I roll my eyes but try to ignore the relief that cools my irritation.
“Oh, the cruelty,” I murmur before trying to walk away, but his hand holds me in place. I sigh before crossing my arms across my chest.
“So what’s this about? I give you the best kiss of your life, and you ghost me?” I glare at him, despite my beating heart.
“I didn’t ghost you. I’ve been busy. And I only…
did it,” I say, stumbling over my words awkwardly and trying not to say kiss.
“Because you were a wreck. I was afraid you would go back out there and hit someone.” He doesn’t look offended; instead, he looks entertained as he tugs me closer.
To my shock, horror, and utter excitement, I let him.
My hand is pinned between us, and his heart beats beneath my palm. A steady, comforting rhythm.
“So next time I get worked up, you’ll help me relieve that tension?” he asks, voice low. I groan at the line, pushing at his hard chest and trying to ignore the ideas that run through my mind.
I’m here for a reason. I’m here for the mission. I’ll be gone as soon as it’s figured out.
“I wouldn’t hold your breath.” My eyes travel his face intentionally before a lazy smile spreads across my lips.
“Or maybe, do.” I gasp when he pulls me in even closer, his arm wrapping around my waist. It’s so similar to the other day, except we’re no longer on even footing.
Now I have to tilt my head to meet his eyes, and he has to look down at me.
From this angle, I can see just how full his lips are, and the way they tip up at the edges, in an ever-present smirk.
“I love it when you get all bratty with me.” I roll my eyes, but can’t ignore the way his hand tightens on my hip.
His eyes move from mine to my lips and back, and for a moment, I’m sure he’s going to kiss me again.
A mix of apprehension and excitement battles in my chest, but I don’t push him away.
There’s a pull between us that I don’t know if I can ignore much longer.
“Come on, you two,” a familiar teasing voice calls before that happens, though.
“The fans await.” When I look over his shoulder, Demi is smiling, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail that shows off her sharp features and, most importantly, her teasing grin.
I step back, trying to ignore the disappointment roiling in my chest.
“You’re kind of a cockblock, Demi. Anyone ever told you that?” Rome mutters, but it only widens Demi’s smile.
“Once or twice. Though, please, do tell me what I was blocking, considering you were in the middle of a busy hallway.” A blush burns on my cheeks. With a sigh, Rome moves toward the exit, but his hand settles on my lower back, guiding me forward.
“Come on, heartbreaker. Let’s go meet the fans.” I groan, making Demi and Rome both laugh. As we step out, I note Rome’s truck is parked beside mine again. Together, they look like the angel and devil on your shoulder, a bright, bubbly, sunshine-filled unicorn truck, and a dark, dangerous ram.
Somehow, it works.
Cheers erupt as we approach, women’s voices hooting and hollering at Roman.
“Looks like all of your adoring fans have been waiting,” I say with a laugh as our steps slow in front of our meet-and-greet locations.
Courtney stands nearby, looking thoroughly annoyed by our tardiness, but Rome looks at me, slightly confused and fully entertained.
“Mine?”
“I’m not jealous, before you say it,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I’m just saying, I can hear the girls ready to drop their panties for you from a mile away.
” His face transforms, the confusion melting, something new and interesting I don’t think I’ve seen before moving across his handsome face.
Then, it shifts into understanding and something close to entertainment as he looks down at me once more, a wide grin cutting across his features.
“They’re not here for me, Lana.” Now it’s my turn to be confused, my brows furrowed, but when he tips his chin, I follow his line of sight, and the breath stops in my lungs.
Because he’s right: the line isn’t for him. It’s not for Tyler, Oliver, or Jordan, either.
It’s for me.
There’s a line of women and girls smiling and looking at me excitedly, pink and purple and glittering shirts with Heartbreaker plastered across them.
“What…?” I ask, confused, my heart pounding. I barely feel Roman’s hand on my lower back, though I’m grateful for the grounding touch. He tries to move me forward gently, but my feet remain planted. “That’s for me?”
“Sure is. That article blew up. People are excited to meet you, Lana. You’re an inspiration,” Courtney says, coming over with her clipboard in hand. “I’m going to manage your line to make sure we can get through everyone in a reasonable amount of time.
As she speaks, my eye catches on a group of three little girls of various ages, one with blonde hair and two brunettes with braids, all wearing matching shirts and jumping excitedly.
One is holding a doll in one hand and a toy car in the other, and for a moment I see myself, a version I hid away—because it wasn’t cool to like dolls if you were hanging with your brothers, and it wasn’t cool to want to play trucks when your friends were into Barbies.
I knew the article the reporter wrote last week was making the rounds.
Demi told me it was doing numbers on social media, though I didn’t think it meant anything in real life.
But seeing it in person—a line of young women and girls eager to meet me—causes emotions to crash into me, and the dozens of smiling faces suddenly feel far too overwhelming.
“I actually—” My words fade as my chest tightens.
“I’ll be right back. I, uh, I forgot something,” I say, before nearly running toward the exit of the arena.
Once through the door, closed away from the chaos I just left, I finally let the feelings wash over me.
My eyes fill with tears as I rest my back on the solid tile of the hallway, covering my face with my hands and trying to inhale deeply and get it together.
Before the first tear falls, though, warm hands are on my wrists, pulling them away.
“Lana, baby, what’s wrong?” It takes a moment for my watery eyes to focus, and when they do, I see him. Rome, his curls flopping into his face, his eyes warm and soft, looking at me with such gentleness and concern that it makes the emotion in my throat swell further.
“They’re… they’re….” A choked breath comes out. “They’re all here to meet me. They’re all wearing shirts with my name on them.” His lips tip up.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Finally, a sob escapes me, and Rome’s face changes once again as he stands straight and pulls me into his chest. Without my permission, the dam breaks, and I start crying in earnest into Rome’s shirt.
When I was dirt biking, I changed myself to fit in.
It was a necessity if I wanted to succeed, and I accepted that.
When I was in college, I hid away all my rough-and-tumble tendencies to fit in with the sorority girls who loved boy bands and pink, because if I talked about bikes or cars, they’d look at me like I had lost my mind.
And yet, somehow, here I am, being myself in what is, strangely, the most authentic way I’ve ever revealed who I am—and I’m being… accepted.
“What’s wrong?” Rome asks, his hand running up and down my back.
“I just… They all…”
“They’re there because of you,” he answers. I look up at him and nod before explaining.
“I’m just a girl. I don’t deserve this. I’m not as good as you or Tyler, or—”
Before I can finish my sentence, rough hands are on my cheeks, tipping my chin, pulling me close until his lips are pressing hard and fierce on mine, sending any doubt from my mind.
I freeze for a moment before my arms slide up, looping around his shoulders and holding on tight, desperate to have something solid beneath my hands as my world is turned upside down.
His lips glide on mine, soft and assured, and slowly my body loosens as the feeling in my throat eases.
I lean into the kiss, ignoring everything else.
After minutes, hours, or possibly just moments, he pulls back before pressing his forehead to mine, a small smile on his lips.
“That actually does work out pretty well,” he murmurs.
“Kissing to shut you up. Might have to try it again.” Despite the emotions still brewing in my chest that are now mixed with the strange headiness of that kiss, I push on his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.
“Now, the next time I hear you saying something like that, telling me you’re just a girl or not as good as any of the other drivers, I’m not just kissing you.
I’m dragging you to the locker room and spanking you until you believe just how fucking spectacular you are.
” My jaw drops as I stare at him with wide eyes, but he just smiles.
“You’re out of your mind,” I say, and he shrugs like it’s not the insult I intended.
“Not the first time I’ve heard that, and it won’t be the last. Are you okay now?” he asks, sliding a thumb over my cheek, brushing away the remnants of a tear. I take a deep, albeit shaky breath, then nod.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. It was stupid,” I say, dabbing at my eyes. “I’m such a girl, crying over the silliest things.”
It’s one of the few things I was never able to drop, one of the things I was always most insecure about growing up.
Stub my toe? I’d cry. Watch a sad movie?
I’d cry. See a deer and her babies in a field?
You guessed it, I’m probably bawling. My brothers made fun of me for it my entire life, poking fun in that way that brothers do.
Although if anyone else did it, they were sure to get their asses kicked.
It was okay for them to make fun of me, but not other people. But before I can explain that, Rome’s lips are on mine again.
“What did I say?” he asks after he breaks the second heady kiss.
Resting his forehead on mine. My mind is muddled, dazed by the power of his kisses.
“None of that. No more belittling yourself. You’re you, Lana.
And you are spectacular.” The lump returns to my throat, though for a different reason altogether.
He gives me a small smile, then another soft, brief kiss.
“Now, we have a line out there waiting, but if you keep that shit up, I’ll find the time to show you just how amazing you really are.
” It’s a threat, but it’s not nearly as effective as he may have intended, though the way he smiles tells me he knows that.
“Your call, heartbreaker,” he murmurs, and I shiver before letting out a sigh.
“Maybe next time. I have adoring fans to meet,” I say with a smile.
“That’s my girl,” he says, then leads me back out.
And I might not be allowed to call myself just a girl, but I think I might like calling myself Roman’s girl.