time, I suppose.”
He raised his eyebrows at the disapproval in her tone. “Libby, honey—” he winked at the receptionist “—can you dispose of this bottle for me? You know Dave won’t allow alcohol in the workshop during working hours, not even in the trash.”
“I’ll take it to the recycling bin,” Libby said with alacrity. Amber noticed that when she took the bottle, she held it exactly where Ryan’s fingers had been.
“You’re the best,” he said lightly.
Blushing, Libby hurried out the back, with the promise she’d be only half a minute, which left Amber alone with Ryan. If he hadn’t been obviously younger than she was, she might have felt threatened by such blatant male egotism. Instead, she took the opportunity to let off some of the steam she’d been holding in around her mom. “Something wrong with your legs, that you can’t take out your own trash?” she asked.
He grinned. “I didn’t want to deprive Libby of one of the high points of her day.”
“Doing your bidding?” Amber said, disgusted.
“She has a passion for recycling,” Ryan said, deadpan.
Amber scowled. Add twenty years, a beer belly and a foultemper, and Ryan could pass for Billy Blake. He had all the “right” qualities: inappropriate consumption of alcohol, too aware of his own charms and not afraid to use them to manipulate people into doing what he wanted.
His smile widened in the face of her scowl. “It’s been nice meeting you, Amber. I’m sure you’ll be a real asset to Matheson Racing.”
“I’m sure you will, too,” she said. “When you grow up.”
She held her breath, expecting to check off another of her dad’s traits: an anger problem. But although Ryan’s gaze didn’t hold as much humor as before, he didn’t exhibit any signs of a rage that might turn mean. He probably thought she was kidding. When he smiled slowly, she knew she was right.
“I look forward to getting to know you better,” he drawled. He gave Amber a half salute and said, “Later.”
She watched him disappear through the security door marked Workshop.
Not if I can help it, Amber thought. Giving this place the benefit of the doubt didn’t have to include Ryan, did it? Because she was certain she had him pegged.
T HE TRACK AT W ATKINS G LEN was one of two road courses used in the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series. Zack loved the road courses, this one and the one at Sonoma, California. The Watkins Glen track was never straightforward, never predictable. Zack relished that complexity: it felt as if he was unraveling the race, rather than just driving it.
Midmorning on Saturday, he stepped out of the hauler and scanned the garage area for Gaby once again. He glanced at his watch—she should have been here by now. Unless she was still mad at him over his insensitivity the other day, but he didn’t think that was likely.
The more Zack reflected on that kiss—which he did often—the more he was glad it had happened. If it hadn’t, he and Gaby would still be on tenterhooks over their sizzlingattraction. Now they’d brought it out into the open, and agreed it was a bad idea. Which meant they could now ignore it. They’d spent the rest of his day at charm school on role-plays and discussions that had covered just about every situation Zack might find himself in with his family, fans, or the media.
Now, he was keen to put his charming new persona to the test. He just needed Gaby here to remind him to think twice before he said something that might inflame his rivalry with Trent, or something that would push Chad’s stress levels beyond the tipping point. She was helpful when his dad hassled him, too, as he’d discovered at dinner with Amber last week. A sympathetic, knowing look from Gaby had defused the situation, stopping Zack from taking offence when he knew, in his heart, Brady probably hadn’t intended any.
They’d agreed that if things did turn sour with his brothers this weekend, Gaby would make some
He raised his eyebrows at the disapproval in her tone. “Libby, honey—” he winked at the receptionist “—can you dispose of this bottle for me? You know Dave won’t allow alcohol in the workshop during working hours, not even in the trash.”
“I’ll take it to the recycling bin,” Libby said with alacrity. Amber noticed that when she took the bottle, she held it exactly where Ryan’s fingers had been.
“You’re the best,” he said lightly.
Blushing, Libby hurried out the back, with the promise she’d be only half a minute, which left Amber alone with Ryan. If he hadn’t been obviously younger than she was, she might have felt threatened by such blatant male egotism. Instead, she took the opportunity to let off some of the steam she’d been holding in around her mom. “Something wrong with your legs, that you can’t take out your own trash?” she asked.
He grinned. “I didn’t want to deprive Libby of one of the high points of her day.”
“Doing your bidding?” Amber said, disgusted.
“She has a passion for recycling,” Ryan said, deadpan.
Amber scowled. Add twenty years, a beer belly and a foultemper, and Ryan could pass for Billy Blake. He had all the “right” qualities: inappropriate consumption of alcohol, too aware of his own charms and not afraid to use them to manipulate people into doing what he wanted.
His smile widened in the face of her scowl. “It’s been nice meeting you, Amber. I’m sure you’ll be a real asset to Matheson Racing.”
“I’m sure you will, too,” she said. “When you grow up.”
She held her breath, expecting to check off another of her dad’s traits: an anger problem. But although Ryan’s gaze didn’t hold as much humor as before, he didn’t exhibit any signs of a rage that might turn mean. He probably thought she was kidding. When he smiled slowly, she knew she was right.
“I look forward to getting to know you better,” he drawled. He gave Amber a half salute and said, “Later.”
She watched him disappear through the security door marked Workshop.
Not if I can help it, Amber thought. Giving this place the benefit of the doubt didn’t have to include Ryan, did it? Because she was certain she had him pegged.
T HE TRACK AT W ATKINS G LEN was one of two road courses used in the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series. Zack loved the road courses, this one and the one at Sonoma, California. The Watkins Glen track was never straightforward, never predictable. Zack relished that complexity: it felt as if he was unraveling the race, rather than just driving it.
Midmorning on Saturday, he stepped out of the hauler and scanned the garage area for Gaby once again. He glanced at his watch—she should have been here by now. Unless she was still mad at him over his insensitivity the other day, but he didn’t think that was likely.
The more Zack reflected on that kiss—which he did often—the more he was glad it had happened. If it hadn’t, he and Gaby would still be on tenterhooks over their sizzlingattraction. Now they’d brought it out into the open, and agreed it was a bad idea. Which meant they could now ignore it. They’d spent the rest of his day at charm school on role-plays and discussions that had covered just about every situation Zack might find himself in with his family, fans, or the media.
Now, he was keen to put his charming new persona to the test. He just needed Gaby here to remind him to think twice before he said something that might inflame his rivalry with Trent, or something that would push Chad’s stress levels beyond the tipping point. She was helpful when his dad hassled him, too, as he’d discovered at dinner with Amber last week. A sympathetic, knowing look from Gaby had defused the situation, stopping Zack from taking offence when he knew, in his heart, Brady probably hadn’t intended any.
They’d agreed that if things did turn sour with his brothers this weekend, Gaby would make some
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