CHAPTER EIGHT CECI
Chapter Eight
Ceci
You’ll give me one season, Roxanne?” Ceci asked, grabbing a pair of jeans from her dresser and tossing them on her bed.
“If you agree to do this, yes. Not this upcoming season, but next.”
If there was anyone who could polish Anker’s tarnished image, it was PR extraordinaire, Roxanne Windsor.
Not only was she the best in the business, she appeared to have been inoculated against the Anker virus that sank its teeth into most women.
She was immune to his peculiar brand of charm.
And that fact seemed to command his respect.
“I’m still pissed that you didn’t keep up your end of the bargain at the auction.”
“I’m sorry about that, but as I told you the woman who was set to outbid you stepped out for less than a minute to answer an important call.”
That wasn’t all Ceci was pissed about. She’d bought this ranch-style home in Montana a year ago.
It was a place she could come to in between the F1 seasons and get away from all things Formula 1.
Now, not only was she going to have to spend the day with Sir Stick Up His Ass, this date would be the first of many. But it was a deal Ceci couldn’t refuse.
It wasn’t just that she needed Anker to win.
She needed to stand by him the way he’d always stood by her.
He’d always backed her when she had to go up against the Blue Jet Lightning owners.
And as odd as it might sound to people who didn’t really know either of them, they were sort of kindred spirits.
They both knew what it was like to grow up without a mother or father standing by their side.
“After today’s date,” Roxanne said, “you can wait until the season starts. Then one date for every race.”
“Okay,” she groaned.
If I went back to driving, I wouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit.
Yeah, but there’d still be bullshit, it would just be different bullshit.
Ceci sighed after ending the call.
It was obvious what Roxanne was getting out of the deal. Some press and attention for her client. And since the auction she’d gotten it. Going out on a date with the team principal for Clarke’s biggest rival was just the kind of thing that caused a stir.
Ceci understood Roxanne’s angle. What she couldn’t figure out was Clarke’s. She couldn’t imagine him wanting the kind of press Roxanne was looking for. So why would he agree to it?
She tossed her cell on her bed and grabbed her jeans.
“This journalist definitely nailed it,” Pixel shouted from the living room. Ceci heard her giggling. “Raging lion. Jungle cat.”
Ceci could murder that journalist. She’d had enough of that man appearing every night in her dreams. At least as long as he wore that mask, she could pretend it wasn’t him. She didn’t want him to suddenly appear sans mask as a raging lion or jungle cat.
Ceci yelled back, “Sir Stick Up His Ass is neither of those things.”
“Well, he did a good job of looking like one when he was up on that stage. Still no mention of how he got that black eye. So it seems neither he nor Roxanne have told the press.”
Ceci plunked down on her bed to put on her boots. “Of course they haven’t. They’re not about to tell the world Clarke’s not only been taken down by Blue Jet Lightning’s lead driver on the track, but the team principal off it.”
Ceci thought back to that episode in the men’s room.
Most women would like to think he’d done the gallant thing—stepped in to protect her.
That’s definitely how Aunt Delilah would interpret it, given her romantic tendencies.
But Ceci knew he wasn’t protecting her, he was protecting himself—his precious image.
The consummate gentleman seen with Ceci Rivers, the Snake Charmer, in the men’s room of The Royal Horseguards in London. Unthinkable! Impropriety on steroids!
He just had to jump into something that was none of his business. It had been up to her to take care of that cretin, and she would have if Sir Stick hadn’t gotten in the way.
She entered the living room where Pixel sat on the sofa.
“He should be thanking me. No one was talking about him before. Now he’s the mysterious, brooding knight with all sorts of speculation as to how he got that black eye.” She paused. “I’m filling my flask with bourbon. I’ll need alcohol if I’m going to get through this.”
Pixel laughed. “Is that what you’re going to wear? Jeans and a T-shirt? It’s below freezing out there.”
“Layers. I’ll throw on a sweater over this. And I’ll be wearing a parka.”
“You do know he’s probably going to show up in an Armani suit or something like that.”
“Carrying a dozen red roses no doubt—how original.”
“He’ll probably take you to a posh restaurant.”
“There isn’t a city within three hundred miles of here.
I don’t know how many more miles you’d have to go beyond that to get to a posh restaurant.
Although I suppose that might not stop him.
For all I know, he’ll arrive by helicopter.
If he complains about what I’m wearing, I’ll suggest we hit a diner.
Or better yet, a drive-through. I’d be willing to bet that man has never been to either. ”
“You know very well he won’t complain. You just want to make him suffer.”
“Look I don’t have to come up with anything to make the man suffer. My presence alone will do it.”
Ceci sometimes wondered if it was just the fact that she was a woman that disturbed him. If he, like a number of the men she’d encountered, thought Formula 1 was no place for a woman. Then again, he seemed to get along fine with Nico Angelini, the one and only female Formula 1 driver.
“Besides,” Ceci said, placing her hands on her hips, “if what I’m wearing doesn’t suit the occasion, it’ll be his fault, not mine.
He didn’t tell me what we’d be doing.” Ceci held up a finger.
“I almost forgot.” She walked over to her desk, picked up an envelope, and handed it to Pixel.
“That came with my father’s rifle. Special delivery. ”
Pixel grinned. “The Man in the Iron Mask.” She ran her fingers over the envelope. “Wow, this might be the nicest stationery I’ve ever seen.”
Ceci had thought the same thing when it arrived.
It was like holding velvet. And when she held it up to her nose, it smelled like vanilla.
She’d been tempted to put her mouth on it to see if it might be edible.
The only thing that stopped her was the fact that she would ruin it if she did.
She couldn’t bring herself to. Not with something so lovely.
Pixel turned it over. “A lion.”
She was referring to the etching that sat at the apex of the flap; the animal’s powerful physique was on the envelope itself, while its head and glorious mane were on the flap.
Pixel pulled out the card and read. “Your rifle.” She stared at it before turning to Ceci. “That’s it?”
Ceci nodded. “I told you it was Sir Stick. Of course, the man would have impeccable penmanship.”
“And the rifle?”
“Already returned it.”
She’d been able to do so without her father knowing she’d taken it. He’d bought it at an auction in England and kept it at a home he had there. But he was back in Texas when Ceci returned the rifle a couple days after the party.
Pixel ran her fingers over the etchings along all four sides of the card. “They’re all cats. Very rare.” Pixel pointed to each. “Amur leopard, black-footed cat, Iberian lynx, fishing cat.”
“Fishing cat?”
“Yeah, it swims.” Pixel handed it back to Ceci. “I can’t believe the dude is coming all the way out here to Cornhole, Montana, for this.”
“I know. You wanna hear his response when I told him I was in Montana?”
Pixel nodded.
Ceci returned the card to her desk and picked up her phone.
“I know. You’re in Cornhole Junction. I’ll be there Saturday at twelve noon, which means he’ll be here in approximately ten minutes.”
“Unless he’s late.”
Ceci made a face as she flopped onto the sofa beside Pixel. “Can you imagine that man ever being late?”
“No, you’re right. Maybe early, but never late. Have you been following all the drama surrounding the date? It’s been a trending topic ever since the auction.”
Ceci sighed. “Yeah, about that …”
She told Pixel about the deal she’d struck with Roxanne.
Pixel nearly fell off the sofa laughing.
Ceci shoved her. “It isn’t funny.”
“You know, you never used to let him get to you.”
Ceci’s head virtually snapped as she turned to her friend. “What do you mean? Get to me? He doesn’t—hasn’t—gotten to me.”
“Okay, maybe get to you isn’t exactly the right way to put it, but in the past, we wouldn’t have been talking about him like this. You would have fun teasing him, make him feel awkward, he’d blush and eventually run away. But now it’s like you’re engaging with him.”
“That’s because he’s talking back. And sometimes he’s even been the one who instigates the exchange.”
Just then Boudica lumbered up. Pixel reached down to pet the English bulldog, but Boudica was more interested in what sat on the side table—a bag full of dog treats, as well as a collapsible water bowl, and poop bags. His leash sat beside the bag.
“What is Boudica’s leash doing here?” Pixel asked.
“He’s coming with. He’s my buffer.”
“Does—?”
“No, Sir Stick Up His Ass doesn’t know.”
“How do you suppose he’ll react?”
Ceci shrugged. “Hopefully, he’ll insist that Boudica can’t come along, given dogs aren’t allowed wherever he’s taking me, and that’ll be that, and then you and I and Boudica can go to The Montana Snowpocalypse.”
The Montana Snowpocalypse was an annual fair held in Cornhole. Ceci attended the festival for the first time last year with Pixel shortly after buying this house.
“Devious,” said Pixel. “And generally, a good plan—with any other man. But it won’t work with this one. He’s too much of a gentleman. If he’s planned on taking you someplace that won’t allow dogs, he’ll come up with something else.”
Pixel was right. Even his timing was impeccable because just then there was a knock at the door.
“Oh,” said Pixel, looking at her phone, “he may break out in hives over the prospect of arriving late, but he seems to have no problem arriving early. By five minutes.”
“Come on, Boudica,” said Ceci, heading to the door. “Get your cell phone camera ready, Pixel. I want you to capture his reaction when Boudica slobbers all over his Armani suit.”
Once at the door, she picked up the bulldog.
Pixel chuckled. “No one could ever call you subtle.”
Ceci swung the door open with enthusiasm and then blinked at the sight before her.
“Aunt Delilah! What are you doing here?”
“I should have thought that obvious. I’ve come to visit.”
“You never come to visit me here.”
“Now that is just blatantly false. I’m here now,” her aunt said, pushing past her.
“I’ve left my luggage in my car. You can go out later to get it.
” She rubbed noses with Boudica. “Hello, you handsome fella.” She glanced over at the sofa.
“Hello, Piper. Here to offer moral support as well?” She didn’t wait for an answer.
She turned to Ceci, clucking her tongue.
“Using Boudica as a buffer, I see. Subtlety never was your strongpoint, dear.”
“How did you know I was here?” Ceci demanded.
“Felix told me.”
Felix was one of the doormen at her New York City apartment.
Aunt Delilah scanned the room. “Where is he?”
“To whom are you referring?” fumed Ceci.
Aunt Delilah heaved a heavy sigh as she flopped into the oversized armchair by the sofa. “Is that really how you want to play it, dear? We both know whom we’re talking about. The raging lion. What does a dame need to do around here to get a drink?”
It wasn’t even noon yet.
Pixel stood up. “Martini suit you, Aunt Delulu?”
“That will suit me just fine, dear. Just make sure it’s extra, extra, extra dry. Just the teensiest, tiniest drop of vermouth.”
“In other words, bring her a glass of gin,” said Ceci.
Just then the doorbell rang.
Pixel looked at her phone. “On time, to the second.”
Holding Boudica, Ceci marched to the front door.
She threw her shoulders back, lifted her chin, put on her beaming smile, and prepared to take enormous pleasure out of Sir Stick’s dismay when he saw both what she was wearing and what she was holding.
But when she opened the door, her smile disappeared.
What the fleeking fuck?
Sir Clarke stood before her dressed casually in jeans, a sweater, and a parka. But it was what he held in his arms that had her staring in disbelief. Not a dozen long-stemmed red roses, but a dog—a dainty and delicate brindle whippet.