Chapter 8
“You can’t avoid me for the entire trip,” Jake said.
Georgia kept her gaze on her phone. “I’m not avoiding you.”
A total lie.
She’d been avoiding him, unsuccessfully, since he arrived unannounced on her doorstep. It was bad enough that he was rocking a pair of low-slung jeans that encased his ass perfectly. Now there they were walking through the Austin raceway to grab his uniform for the upcoming photoshoot.
Well, he was walking slightly ahead and she pretended to otherwise be occupied. But as he made his way down the hallway, her tongue turned to silk and stayed put.
Race car drivers weren’t built like football players or MMA fighters; they were more like Calvin Klein underwear models, with lean, sinewed muscles that ran vertically. And practically zero percent body fat.
The least amount of weight when racing the better.
He slowed his pace to match hers and lowered his sunglasses to look over them. “You haven’t spoken a word in a half hour.”
“I’m checking my email to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”
“Really? Because it looks like you’re scrolling on Instagram.”
Busted.
She put her phone in her pocket. “You want me to be honest?”
“Always,” he said in that soft, familiar tone that still made her toes curl. They were practically melding with the soles of her feet.
“I don’t know what to say. Once upon a time I knew you better than I knew myself. But we aren’t those people anymore.”
He took a long pause as if trying to figure out what to say. Finally, when he spoke it was in a hushed tone. “Then let’s start from scratch. Tell me about this project.”
“Well. The gala is on the twenty-first.”
“What color is your dress so I can match my cummerbund.”
She bit back a snicker. “This isn’t prom.”
“So no corsage?”
This time she met his gaze and holy moly his gaze was intense. She had to swallow before answering. “We are going as colleagues.”
“I’ll find out the color.”
She rolled her eyes. “The most important part is the Christmas party with Ben and his family on the twenty-third. Oh, we have the photo shoot on the twentieth. I found a man near your grandparents who has a classic sports car collection. He agreed to let us use a few for the shoot.”
“Darryl Morter? We’ve met. Actually we’re pretty good friends.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you are.”
“I’ve been out to his place a few times. His collection is legendary. My grandpa and I used to go there when I was a kid.”
Georgia could imagine a little Jake walking around all those hot rods and racing cars, his eyes big and brain cataloguing every detail of every car.
It reminded her of the time when he was still in Formula 2 and he showed her his race car.
He’d been so excited, he was bouncing on his toes.
Then he dressed her up in full gear and had her climb in the car.
The way he looked at her, as if he knew she fit into all the parts of his world, made her feel so precious and loved.
He must have taken a few dozen pictures that day. Not that he posted them on his socials. He’d broken a cardinal rule of letting someone in the vehicle. But he was willing to take the risk because she’d introduced him to Connor.
Speaking of rules: “None of them can leave the premises, and only he can drive them, but his property is perfect.”
“I bet you that he lets me drive one.”
“He was very explicit. Only he drives.”
“Want to make a wager?” he asked with sex in his voice.
This time she did laugh. “Pass.”
“I never knew you to pass on a bet.”
“It isn’t professional,” she said, channeling her best cool-as-a-cucumber tone.
“Sugar, nothing about you and me is professional. You can list off every boring detail of the itinerary but there is still this hum between us.”
None of it was real. You’re older, wiser. Don’t fall for his shit.
“You’re mistaking it with annoyance.”
“Fine. If you’re so sure, then why are you hesitating?”
“I’m not hesitating, I’m trying think what I want when I win.”
They made it to his private room, and he grabbed his uniform from the closet.
It looked like a fighter pilot jumper, but with sponsor logos instead of medals.
But those sponsors were like medals in his world.
The better the driver, the bigger the sponsors.
“Ouch. Wounded. Right in the ego. I might need CPR.”
“Pretty sure you need a personality transplant first.”
“You wound me again. But I’ll recover. I always bounce back—especially when I’m flirting with someone stubbornly immune to my charms.”
“Immune? Please. I had my shots in kindergarten. Flirt repellant included.”
“Great, then what do you want?”
Georgia knew better than to make a bet with one of the most charming and electric men on the planet. It was a bad move. But curiosity won out. “What’s at stake?”
He folded his uniform into a duffel bag that he’d brought with him.
“If I win? I’ll stop flirting. Completely. Cold turkey. You’ll never hear another innuendo again. Not even a wink. Swear on my espresso machine.”
She raised a single brow, the universal really? of expressions. “You love that espresso machine.”
“Exactly. High stakes.”
“Alright. And if you win?”
“When I win, you have to have dinner with me. No discussion of the past. Just a time to get to know the people we are now.”
Her heart fell to her polished toes. “Absolutely not.”
“Look, we’re going to be working with each other a lot during this project. Not to mention when we run into each other at our mutual friends’ get-togethers. Don’t you want to find some kind of middle ground?”
He made a valid point. It was what was best for the project. Shitty for her, but she’d take shitty if it meant helping more kids. She stuck out her hand. “Deal.”
“Maybe we should kiss on it.”
“What happened to no flirting?” she snapped, not dropping her hand.
“That’s if you win. Until then it’s open season.”
“Handshake or I change my mind.”
He stopped walking and took her hand. Immediate heat shimmered in the confines of the room. She yanked her hand back like she’d been burned.
His eyes met hers and they were like twilight’s sky. She loved twilight.
“Now that you’ve given me every detailed moment of our itinerary, tell me about the actual project. The heart of it. What gets you going every morning.”
A shot of excitement bubbled up like it always did when she talked about her job. She tried to quell it, but she couldn’t help the need to share her hard work with someone who would understand how important her job was to her.
“We’re trying to attract a new group of donors. We’ve got corporations down, but we haven’t broken into the sports industry.”
“There is so much crossover between wishes and athletes, it only seems natural that team owners would want to donate to the cause.”
“You would think,” she said. “But we’re having a hard time getting them to see how being sponsors could benefit them.”
“I would think that being a part of a great cause would be enough,” he said, and she sent him the side-eye. “Right. It always comes down to what it can do for them.”
“Our thought was—”
“Our thought or your thought?”
She felt herself start to give her normal spiel about how it’s a team effort, but for some reason she wanted someone to know she’d not only spearheaded this project, she’d fought two long years to get the go-ahead. If she were being honest, she didn’t want someone to know—she wanted him to know.
He was a risk-taker, and she’d always admired that in him.
Before they’d met, she’d played things safe.
Safe degree, safe job—safe won out over passion.
She had an internship offer with a Fortune 500 company that would have led to a job when she graduated.
A job that offered a six-figure salary. There were also stock options, a signing bonus, and a relocation budget if they sent her to another state.
It was a sweet deal. Period. But for someone who’d accumulated over a hundred grand in college debt? It was the way out. An easy way out.
Georgia hadn’t had the luxury of taking the easy anything, so it was tempting to follow the money. She was also offered a no-salary position at The Wish Project. She’d narrowed it down to just the two, listing the pros and cons of each.
The paid internship would have meant she could quit her tutoring job at the school and focus on something that would take her the distance. Whereas the volunteer position meant she’d have to also carry a job at the tutoring center on top of her insane course load.
Then Connor died and her priorities changed.
She decided to follow her heart. Everyone thought she was crazy to pass up the opportunity, but she told herself that money would come and go.
Plus, once she graduated, she’d have enough money to live her life.
It would never be as much as corporate America.
But she’d rather have a job that fulfilled her dreams than one that would keep her busy.
“The whole thing was my idea,” she answered his question. “I mean, if I landed a major athlete and it brought a new fan base to the sport, maybe other team owners would step up and contribute.”
“And that’s where I come in.”
“Yup.”
She could see the wheels turning in his head. “Was I your first choice?”
Go for honest. He’s bound to find out anyway.
“No. I was going to ask Henry, but it conflicted with another endorsement deal he signed.”
“So I was your second?”
“You were the only way my boss would agree to me spending the time and resources needed on something that might not work.”
“Don’t flatter me,” he deadpanned.
“I could have lied.”
“No, you couldn’t have. Not only do you suck at lying, as previously discussed, you hate to lie.”
Truth. She hated it when doctors sugar-coated things. Georgia would rather have the truth, no matter how devastating, so that she could plan her next move. The truth had equipped her with the power to navigate situations and advocate for her brother the way he deserved.
“What did you think when your boss connected me to your project?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. I knew our paths would cross from time to time because of Henry and Jane, but that’s not the same as working together for a week straight. The idea of that brought back a lot of unexpected feelings. Feelings I didn’t want to have to face.”
“Like?”
“Disappointment,” she admitted, as they walked out into the sunshine. The fresh air felt good on her warm body and cleared her head.
“Hmm,” was all he said, but the tone implied he was the disappointed one. Which made no sense. She was the injured party, not him.
“How did you feel when you saw me?” she asked and then kicked herself. She didn’t want him to know she’d thought about his initial reaction nonstop since that day.
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but his blasé tone rubbed her wrong. Here she’d been dreading their reunion, and he’d reacted as if they’d just been former fuck buddies.
“Caught off guard. It was like a tsunami of emotions slamming me against a palm tree. Good and bad.”
Georgia didn’t want to know which feelings fell into which category. Just like she didn’t want to know the cause behind the hollow throb in her chest.
“Maybe we should go back to ignoring each other,” she said and all but felt Jake tense up. Felt his walls erect faster than an F1 car.
“Whatever you want, darlin’.”