Chapter 19 Regan
NINETEEN
REGAN
I climb out of my car, pissed and disappointed about the way this race went. Anything that we tried just didn’t work to help make our car any better, and I was stuck in the back of the field all day.
After an interview, I climb over the pit wall and head into the hauler to put my gear away and prepare for the post-race meeting. I know we lost a lot of ground in the points today. Dad comes into the hauler as I’m still putting away all my gear.
“How you feeling, kiddo? You fought hard, it was a tough day,” he says sympathetically.
“It sucked,” I say a little too loudly. “Dixon is creeping closer, and I checked, and now Hicks is third.” My tone is a whine of disbelief and desperation. This is going to be a tougher fight if I keep having races like this one.
“He is, but we have plenty of races to make up for this one. Go back, change, and relax. I’ll take care of everything else after the meeting.”
The meeting ends, and I head back to the RV. My brain is still spinning with thoughts of the day’s events and how I could have done better. A voice breaks me of my thoughts…Dean. His long stride has easily caught up with me.
“Tough race today,” he says, looking like he actually means it. What is he playing at?
I shrug. Trying to play it cool, like I wasn’t just about to spiral. “It happens to all of us. Can’t win them all,” I partially joke, trying not to let my disappointment seep through.
“A group of us are going out for dinner tonight. Do you want to come?” He rubs the back of his neck like he’s nervous.
I look up at him, confused. Usually, Leslie is the one invited to things and she brings me.
Not the other way around. She is more approachable than me, I suppose, with her more outgoing personality.
“You can bring Leslie, too,” he adds, as if reading my mind.
“Oh—umm,” I stammer. “Sure. Text me where you’re going and we’ll meet you there.”
A small smile appears on his face that makes butterflies go off in my stomach.
Why are there butterflies in my stomach?
This is not normal. I shouldn’t be feeling like this about my rival, of all people.
I do my best to rid my stomach of the fluttering beasts, but then Dean flashes a wide smile at me and there they are again.
“Great. See you there.” He walks away with a pep in his step.
Interesting.
Before I hop into the shower, I shoot off a text to Leslie.
Me
Hey. A group of us are going to dinner. Wanna come?
Leslie
Sure. Who’s going?
Me
Idk. Dean invited me. Didn’t get specifics
Leslie
So it’s Dean now? but sure. I’ll meet you at your place
Me
ok see you in a few
I finish getting ready and wait for Leslie to come by for us to go to the restaurant that Dean texted me.
I probably took way too long deciding on an outfit.
I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s just a group dinner.
It’s not like I haven’t been invited before.
But Dean is the one who asked me; that’s never happened before, and the way Dean asked was like he really wanted me to be there.
I decided on a pair of linen shorts, a plain blue shirt, and some sandals—simple, but still a little bit cute.
A knock on the door pulls me away from checking my outfit for the millionth time, and Leslie is here for us to carpool to the restaurant.
She's wearing some black leggings and an oversized shirt, her usual, casual self. Now I feel overdressed, but it’s too late now.
As we pull up to the restaurant, the group stands outside, waiting for everyone to arrive before getting a table.
Dean seems deep in conversation with Taylor, but as soon as he sees me, he doesn’t look away.
It’s almost as if he’s forgotten anyone else is here but me.
It brings back those damn butterflies, and I don’t have a net big enough to capture them all.
Being forced to drive here together for the race and actually talk to each other has made me see more of him than just the cocky, playboy side that he shows everyone else.
Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve seen any grid girls this weekend. Maybe that’s because he doesn’t have his own space to use. That has to be it, it can’t be because of anything else.
Once the host takes us to a table, everyone seems to scramble to get a seat.
Before I know it, the only seat open is the one next to Dean.
Leslie, who’s sitting next to Chase, looks at me and winks.
What the hell? Did she see something at Chase’s party?
I figured she was too drunk to remember anything from that night. That doesn’t seem to be the case.
Great.
It feels like all eyes are on us as I take my seat next to him.
I do my best to focus on the menu, but Dean’s scent invades my senses, sending hints of sandalwood and clean laundry.
I try not to inhale too deeply because it is fucking intoxicating, just like it was at the hospital event when we posed for a picture.
Suddenly, I feel an elbow jab into my ribs, getting my attention. I mutter a curse and look up to see a waitress waiting for me to say something.
“Water and a Modelo, please.” My go-to order. I return to reading the menu, still unable to fully focus through Dean’s dizzying scent. The waitress returns with our drinks and places them down on the table. Dean ordered some kind of dark draft beer. It sounds good, actually.
“Risking a local draft?” I ask.
“I like to live life on the edge.” He smirks as he takes a sip from the glass. I laugh at his remark.
Is Dean Dixon funny?
After the waitress takes our orders, Dean and I are having a conversation when Ian decides to yell across the table at us.
“Dixon! Don’t get too cozied up to Brady down there. It may make the rest of us jealous,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Some of the guys laugh, but the rest just stare, not amused.
I roll my eyes. No use responding to stupid comments like that. If I did, I’d never stop talking. The screech of a chair being pushed back gets everyone’s attention as Dean stands, placing his palms on the table, leaning forward, glaring daggers at Ian.
“You’ll be wise to shut the fuck up, Hicks!” he growls out. The darkness that’s come over Dean’s eyes is almost…protective.
“Relax, man, it was just a joke.” He chuckles lightly.
The tic in Dean’s jaw says that to him, it’s not a joke. It’s a threat. I place my hand on Dean’s arm, warmth radiating through my fingertips, to try to get him to sit down.
“Dean, it’s okay. He was making a joke,” I say, keeping my voice calm. Dean slowly sits and the table resumes having their conversations, seemingly forgetting what just happened. I can see Ian smirking still, knowing that he got under Dean’s skin—and liked it.
Dean turns to me, the anger dissipating from his features. “A joke at your expense.”
“And?” I question. “It’s not like you haven’t done it. Won’t be the last time it happens. Just let it go. Please?”
He looks down at the table before looking back at me. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He takes a sip of his beer. “I never went the sexist route, though, those irk me.”
I scoff. “Yeah, tell me about it. Story of my damn life in this sport.” Mostly it’s from trolls on the internet, but sometimes interviews can get rough with some of the questions they ask me, but wouldn’t dare ask the guys.
Food finally arrives and the conversations are flowing as we all enjoy our meals, all tensions forgotten, all stresses nonexistent.
Just out, having fun for a change. I then feel the touch of Dean’s knee against mine.
I stare down at our joined knees, and it seems…
intentional. He doesn’t hurry to pull it away and neither do I.
The warmth it provides shoots up my leg and through my spine, making me shiver.
He pulls his leg away, and it doesn’t happen again through the rest of dinner, but I can see a slightly satisfied glance from him, like he knows what his touch just did to my body.
After returning to the track, I drop Leslie off at her place, but she doesn’t seem like she’s going to go inside. Weird. I do my best to be quiet entering the RV since Dad is probably sleeping on the pull-out couch.
“How was it?” asks a gravelly voice from under the covers.
“It was a good time,” I admit. Usually, Leslie drags me out kicking and screaming, but I’m glad I went.
“Good. I’m glad. It’s nice to see you hanging out with people besides Leslie.” He rolls over and I hear a slight snore. I head into my room to get ready for bed and plug my phone in to charge.
Dean
Thanks for coming out tonight. Hope you had fun
Me
I did. Thanks again for the invite. Hope you had fun too
Dean
I did. Maybe I should invite you more often haha
Me
Maybe you should. The guys usually forget about me lol
Dean
Yea guys are assholes
Me
Used to it. It’s fine
Dean
It’s not fine. I’ll be sure to get y’all more invites
Me
Appreciate that but not necessary
Dean
Thanks again for saving a damsel in distress. I’m riding back with Sanford
Me
Cool. Safe trip
Dean
You too
I turn the screen off and do my best to go to sleep.
My mind is still swimming with thoughts of Dean and what happened at dinner tonight.
His scent, him standing up for me, his knee against mine.
A strange feeling tickles back up my spine.
I’m not sure what’s happening between me and Dean, but something is. I’m nervous about where it could go.