Smokin' & Spinnin' (26 page)

Behind us, I hear a sudden commotion. I turn away quickly to see Matt, the driver Garrett wrecked, angrily approaching us. He shouts loudly and incoherently, but in the midst of the celebration, all I can understand is that he is pissed. Maxwell appears out of nowhere and quickly intercedes with a throng of NASCAR officials. After Matt is removed, officials break up our teams’ infield celebration and order us over to victory lane.

It is insanity. Garrett is actively arguing with some person I do not know but who appears to be in the NASCAR organization. Garrett says the race was way too close to call and insists to the NASCAR officials that Ryan share this victory with him! Since he is Garrett Ryan Carter Sr., they don’t argue with him. With two cars, two teams, and a horde of media swarming the platform, I can’t even get over to Ryan to congratulate him. I am stuck on Garrett’s team’s side as the awards ceremony begins.

Fireworks explode, and ticker tape erupts from sky. That’s when the beer and champagne flies, even more so from Ryan’s side. I am thankful now to be stuck with Garrett’s team so that I don’t get soaked. After the trophy presentation, the media descends. I manage to squirrel my way through the crowd to Ryan. Our eyes meet and he immediately reaches out for my hand to pull me through the crowd. In the midst of the madness, I believe he is about to draw me into his arms, but he stops himself. We stand stock-still in the middle of hundreds of excited people, locked in a heated gaze. The look on his face makes my stomach flip-flop. I raise my eyebrows to him in warning. I tighten my grip on his hand, then release it quickly.

“Congratulations!” I yell over the crowd.

“How fucking awesome was that?” Ryan says, grinning from ear to ear, and I desperately want to kiss him.

I laugh and nod. “Yes, it was great!”

And just like that, Ryan is pulled away from me and thrust back in front of a camera. And in the mass chaos, I lose him again. It’s OK, though. My job is done for the day. Plus, I need to make my way to the airport.

It’s almost midnight. I know the celebrations for Garrett’s win will go well into the night, but I don’t want to miss my plane. I want to be home to sleep in my own bed and enjoy my day off tomorrow, the rarity that it is.

Chapter 27

L
uckily, the Daytona Beach International Airport is right next door to the super-speedway. Planes have been actively taking off for the last couple of hours carrying drivers and their families back to Charlotte. After the hat dance and a few hundred pictures, I arrive at the airport in plenty of time and easily waltz through security, probably because it’s so late. When I get to the gate, I learn that my flight has been delayed for two hours.
Great!

I locate a seat and attempt to make myself comfortable for the time being. I check my cell phone. There is a new message from Brooke.

___________________________________

Trial this week, maybe next Monday?

__________________________________

I nod to myself, though disheartened. But, I guess I have waited this long. Another week will not make a difference. I type back to Brooke:

____

ok

____

Thankfully, the plane ride home is a short one. I take out my iPod and secure my earbuds. I wonder what she has in store for me tonight as I
hit shuffle.
Ahhh!
Norah Jones. She jazzily croons, “Come away with me in the night.”

Nice, Norah
. I laugh at the irony. It is night, and I am going away. However, I am alone. I laugh to myself. As Norah continues to sing in my ears with her sultry voice, I long for Ryan. It would be nice if he were here, but things are way more complicated between us than the simple journey Norah sings about.

I take out my iPad to pass the time. I start preparing a few press releases and sponsorship letters in conclusion to tonight’s race, which means fewer things that I will have to do on Monday. I am fiercely typing out my thoughts when I am roughly tapped on the shoulder. Instinctively, I jump, almost dropping my iPad to the floor.

I look up and into the beautiful yet smug face of Ryan Carter. I scramble to gain my composure.

“Can’t believe you just left like that!” he says suspiciously, but I am confused.

I mutter an apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interfere. Plus, I didn’t want to miss my plane.”

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Why aren’t you on the plane?”

I flush and stammer, “I…I just found out that it is delayed for two hours.” I steal a glance at the time on my iPad. “Well…only by an hour now.” I smile nervously. Since when does he make me nervous?
Since you started sleeping with him. Yes, that’s when
.

Ryan reaches down to grab my rolling suitcase. “Let’s go!”

Confused again, I ask, “Where?”

“My dad chartered a private plane, and it is about to pull out of the gate.”

I exclaim, “Uh, no way! I am not gonna intrude, and your parents will be on the plane, and that would just be weird.”

I can tell I have agitated Ryan, but he calmly says, “Whitney, cut the crap! Get on the damn plane!”

I raise my eyebrows at him and square my shoulders in preparation for another fight. Just as I am about to defend my position, I hear someone approach me from behind and say, “Get on the damn plane, Whitney!”

I whip my head around. It’s Garrett!

Ryan and Garrett both laugh at my reaction. They don’t give me the opportunity to argue. They trot off together through the private gate. I reach down to quickly gather my things and catch up with them, then walk through the gate and step out directly onto the tarmac. Ryan turns to make sure that I am following, but he is locked in a sideways embrace with his dad as they walk up to the private jet. It has been a wonderful night for them, and I am so glad they were able to share such a great experience.

As I climb up the stairs, I realize that I have never been on a private plane before. A girl could get used to this. I follow Ryan, and he directs me to a seat in the back of the plane. The plane is small, but it is incredibly comfortable. There is an empty seat beside mine, which I hope Ryan plans to take; although, I am not sure how to act in front of his dad.
Professional, Whitney! That’s how you act, I remind myself
.

Several other people I recognize from Garrett’s team get on the plane. I smile politely to them as they all congratulate Garrett and
Ryan. Ryan’s mom follows shortly behind them, though she doesn’t acknowledge my presence on the aircraft. Ryan slides into the empty seat next to mine. I beam up at him, relieved.

He motions to all those surrounding his dad and yells out, “I let him win, you know!”

I gawk at Ryan as a round of shouts and comments fly back to him. I know better. “Yeah right!”

He smiles smugly back at me and gives me a wink. Bastard! My bastard!

The plane takes off smoothly as we say our good-byes to the lights of the Daytona International Speedway. I have determined that night races are my favorite. Ryan and I continue to make small talk, but I am too tired to conversationally function. I lay my head back on the comfortable headrest and drift off.

It feels like I have just floated into a deep sleep when I feel Ryan rouse me from my slumber, “Hey,” he says softly.

I groan quietly.

“We are about to land,” he says.

As soon as he says those words, the landing gear pops out from underneath us, and immediately I am awake. That loud sound scares me senseless every time.

I am so unbelievably tired. It has been an emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausting week. Ryan helps me with my bags as the other passengers quickly leave the plane ahead of us.

“What lot is your car in?” Ryan asks as we walk across the tarmac alone.

I have to think a moment, but my brain won’t function. Then I remember. “I took a cab here. I always take a cab to the airport. I’ll just take a cab home,” I say sleepily.

Ryan rolls his eyes at me. “If you think for one minute that I’m gonna let you take a cab alone at this hour, you are crazy! And, you’re not going to your apartment.”

What!

“Ryan,” I whine, “it’s so late! I am so tired, please! Where are we going?”

He simply replies, “Home.”

At this point, I’m too tired to argue, and really, there is no place that I would rather be. I willingly follow Ryan to his car parked in the private lot.

Due to the time of night, or early morning, I should say, we arrive at Ryan’s house about forty-five minutes later. I have never spent the night here, with the exception of sofa. I am not sure what he expects or where I should sleep, for that matter.

I must have a distressed look on my face because Ryan asks, “What’s wrong?”

“I…I can just sleep on the couch,” I stammer. I look back at Ryan, who looks pissed.

“Whitney, it is far too late for your shit!” he says angrily. “Get in the damn bed!”

I groan. “I…I need a shower, I think,” I plead sleepily.

Ryan nods his head in agreement as he drops our bags to the floor. “So do I.”

Oh my!

By the time we climb into Ryan’s bed, it is almost 4:00 a.m. I am asleep before my head hits the pillow. Ryan nudges me, but I am still too groggy to move.

“Whitney, wake up!”

I open my eyes and can see light filtering through the closed blinds. “What time is it?” I ask drowsily.

“It’s almost eleven a.m.”

He is far too chipper after only seven hours of sleep. But they were glorious hours wrapped up in Ryan’s embrace. I groan audibly. Ryan is awake and already dressed. When did this happen?

It takes me a minute to assimilate myself. Once I do, I close my eyes again, hoping he goes away and lets me sleep. I don’t move. I am far too comfortable.

Ryan says, “Come on. I want you to go somewhere with me.”

Whoa! Wait! What!

“Ryan!” I exclaim, now fully awake. I sit up automatically. “This is my only day off. Please let me sleep!”

He shakes his head and kneels down beside the bed. “Please don’t argue with me. I need you to have an open mind. OK?”

“Where are we going?” I whine.

“Out!”

My heart falls to my feet. “Out! Where? What if someone sees us?”

“I don’t give a shit anymore!” he exclaims. “All I wanted was to be able to hold you and have you celebrate with me, by my side. It was hard for me.”

Oh!

“But Ryan,” I whine at him, shaking off his heartfelt statement, “I don’t think I have any clean clothes!”

He laughs. “We already solved that problem once, remember?”

I roll my sleepy blue eyes at him and fall back onto his pillow. “It is way too early for jokes!” I snap. “I cannot believe that you have just sprung this on me like it’s no big deal.”

He laughs at my distress. “Honestly, Whitney, it really isn’t.”

I put my head in my hands. I can’t think. I am overacting as usual.
Get it together,
I scold myself.

Ryan turns around and strides out of the room. “You’ll be fine! I made some coffee. I am going to get your other suitcase from the car.”

I groan loudly again, but anxiety takes over. I have gone from sleeping soundly to majorly stressed out about going “out” to God knows
where with Ryan. I get up from the bed and wander idly to the kitchen. Ryan has the best coffee. I make myself a steaming cup and sit at the bar trying to get my thoughts straight. The only thing my brain can recall is Ryan commanding me to his bed, but not before our
ahh!mazing
shower last night. I sigh loudly. I run my arm against the cool granite countertop and lay my head down on my arm wearily. There is a slight rain falling outside, and its overcast. Just like the last time I spent the night here. It is the perfect weather to sleep all day.
Ugh! Why did Ryan have to wake me up?
Maybe I can convince him to come back to bed with me. I sigh.

I have almost fallen back asleep with my head on the countertop when I am broken from my sweet recollections by a loud rapping on the back patio door. It scares me. I sit up on the barstool, but before I can process what is happening, I hear the doorknob rattle and the door crack. I jump up and fall backward off my barstool.
Shit
! I manage to stand upright on the floor, but the door swings open before I can hide.