Even if it’s only because the team’s owner is ordering them to.
The tradition is to lift the race winner up, but Steve’s letting it be known that his arm is firmly around me and he’s not going to let go. They all settle for hair scuffing for those who can reach, and pats on the back from everyone else.
There’s a dozen people talking all at once and I can’t make sense of what’s happening, but it doesn’t matter.
Steve’s firm hand squeezing me and his strong arm around me is all I need right now.
“He’ll come ‘round,” Steve says calmly and firmly into my ear before kissing it, giving me another squeeze that I can tell is raising a few eyebrows from the females in the group.
But I know my dad won’t ‘come ‘round.’ I know how hurt he’ll be if he isn’t already, knowing that there was something between me and Steve he either wasn’t told or knew he couldn’t stop.
He’s just being a dad I guess.
“C’mon son,” the team manager calls out, using the people in front to lean on until he makes his way to Steve, taking his other arm.
“Let’s get you out of here. A promise is a promise!”
I feel Steve moving off with him, a ripple of panic washing over me, but Steve’s grip on me isn’t loosening.
Wherever he goes, I know I’m going from now on.
“I got you. Just until I have to go out there, then I’ll come right back, promise,” he reminds me, jutting his chin towards the view of the podium across the track once we head up a level into the private atrium of the team’s garage.
“Now…” Exclaims the large, squat man who introduces himself as ‘Tex’. “You just gone and cost me one car but I did tell you to win at any cost, pretty much,” he says, a serious look on his face but a twinkle in his eyes as he looks from me to Steve before settling himself down behind a huge desk inside.
The walls are covered in monitors, with all the race and track coverage, plus the data from the pit crew, plus a whole bunch of other stuff I can only assume is stock markets and whatever else the guy has going on.
We’re still standing and I can feel Steve craning to catch a glimpse of the podium he’s supposed to be heading for.
“You’ll get your trophy,” Tex muses, almost to himself before his eyes travel up and down my body.
Not in a bad way, but in the way a grandparent or parent looks at someone with pride. A sense of achievement.
“I have to stay on especially seeing as you just wrecked a half million dollars’ worth of car, but there’s other business I have too,” he continues.
I feel Steve and myself flinching, thinking maybe this is the hello-goodbye, congrats on the new job, you’re fired speech, but the old man surprises us both.
“I told you I’d reward you if you won, and I will, Steve. I want you and your… assistant here to be my guest on my jet and again at the hotel I was to stay at tonight. But I want you fresh and recovered focused for the next race tomorrow. Y’ hear!” he asks sharply, holding up a pointed finger, but his eyes are still twinkling with delight.
“Yes sir,” Steve says, his voice low but sincere, his hand finding mine and giving it another squeeze.
“Good! Now go stand out there for a few minutes, tell the media something positive that doesn’t involve the car and enjoy yourselves,” he says, interrupted by the sound of the team manager behind us.
“Uh… Sorry Tex, but we have a podium…” he starts to say, but the old man has already brushed us all away with one hand, reaching for a fresh cigar from his box with the other and trying to answer a ringing phone at the same time.
“Just keep winning, Steve. But no more wrecked cars and all is forgiven!” We all hear him booming after us, fading off into a hacking cough as we’re led across to the podium side, over another covered footbridge above the swarming crowds.
I don’t mind letting Steve go to take his prize, just for a little while. I’m able to watch from the wings, just a few yards away really, and have to keep motioning at him with my hands to stop looking at me and look at the crowd, the cameras. All the media and new fans he has that are still enthralled by his spectacular finish.
There’s a million questions, and a ton of people wanting to ask them, but the team manager appoints a spokesman for the event and leads Steve and me straight to a waiting car afterword which he says is taking us to the airport.
“Boss’s orders,” he reminds us both, and although I have a ton of questions of my own, mostly about my dad, I give myself over to the moment.
The freedom and thrill of being alone with Steve again, it’s too good to be true but it’s actually happening and I’m not gonna miss my chance at giving myself to him a second time today.
Not for anything in the world.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Steve
If there’s such a thing as a day that just gets better by the minute, I’m living it.
I swear it's Penny. She’s just good fortune and an angel with the body of a goddess all rolled up into one.
I’m new to the pro racing scene, and although the big man said he’d reward me if I won, I seriously thought he was calling us into his office to fire us all before having us thrown out of his garage.
But by the looks, he’s a man of his word.
And so am I.
The private car is very private, with dark windows and a privacy screen between us and the driver, giving me the perfect opportunity to set to work on pleasing my woman.
But Penny is still a
