Page 17 of Worth Every Game
Lydia is still pushing towards us, waving like a madwoman and yelling Jack’s name.
“Yes, yuck. You’re all hot and sweaty and—”
“Those your only objections?” All concern for Lydia appears to have vanished as he stares at me. He’s still grinning, and that smile is doing wacky things to my insides, melting them into a soupy glue. “Because I can go take a shower.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder as if the showers areright there.
I cock a hip. “I’m not kissing you at all,ever, but especially not here and now, so you can avoid dealing with that woman.” I nodat the frenzied Lydia who’s going to be on us in moments. “How old are you?”
Jack rolls his eyes but still manages to look amused rather than exasperated. “Fine.” He bows his head a little and says, “Excuse me while I go and deal with this situation like a grown up.” He turns to leave but looks back at me, pointing his finger like he can pin me in place with it. Which he obviously can because I don’t move a muscle. “Drinks. I want to see you at the drinks later.”
Before I can respond, he turns away and greets the crowd of women. Lydia steps to the front, the mask with Jack’s face printed on it dangling from one hand. She’s gorgeous, and she doesn’t hesitate for a second before she’s draped all over him, kissing his cheek, not seeming to care at all that he’s all damp and sweaty. He doesn’t appear to be pushing her away either. Envy rises in me like morning mist.
For a brief second, it felt like he was interested in me.Stupid.
As I stand there in a jealous stupor, her kiss on the cheek somehow becomes a kiss on the lips.
Did she do that, or did he?
The contents of my stomach curdle.That really is yuck. I tell myself I don’t care. I just rejected him. He’s free to do whatever he wants.
I wrench myself away from the sight of them together. It’s probably just as well I can’t stay for drinks, because I’d only have to watch Jack Lansen fend off all his female admirers. And I don’t want him to think I’m staying just for him. I can’t give the man’s ego any more fodder. His skull will explode.
But even so my fingers are itching to pull my phone from my coat pocket and call Marcia at the Marchmont to tell her I won’t be able to work this evening because I’ve been struck down by a sudden illness.
And maybe I have.
6
JACK
Freshly showered and dressed in a casual shirt and jeans, I walk into the director’s lounge. It’s the best entertaining space on the track, and I’ve hired the whole thing. I’m still on a post-win high. Feeling fucking brilliant. Not even Lydia attacking my face, suckering onto my lips like a barnacle, is enough to dampen my mood. I had to physically peel her off. Bizarrely, or perhaps not so bizarrely, any desire to fuck her has completely evaporated.
I put Lydia out of my mind and focus on my surroundings. The director’s lounge is enormous, with high ceilings and huge glass windows that look down on the track below. The light is fading fast outside, but the atmosphere in here is a winner. Everyone’s happy and the place is heaving with people, their excited chatter peppered with the pop of champagne corks. Most people are well on their way to being completely inebriated.
Near the main bar, someone is singing karaoke, badly. Not sure I approved that, but what the hell. People are enjoying themselves, and that’s the most important thing. I spot Nico and Kate over by the window. Seb and Matt are with them, andall four of them are joking around. The giddy sound of Kate’s laughter reaches my ears, and both Seb and Matt are smiling widely, clearly on the same post race high as me. It’s a normal expression for Seb, but racing fast cars is one of the few things that can get Matt Hawkston to crack a grin.
My heart gives a ceremonial thud, as though something important is going to happen tonight.
Elly. That’s what it is. If Nico and Kate are over there, Elly must be nearby too.
The whole time I was in the shower, lathering shampoo in my hair, I was thinking about her. Those cowboy boots and her killer thighs. The little skirts she wears, even when it’s freezing outside. The anticipation of seeing her makes me feel like a teenager. Who would have thought hearing her sing would get under my skin so much?
I’m only half-aware of all the people in the room offering to buy me a drink and slamming their hands on my back and shoulders. I’m smiling and thanking them, but if any of them really cared to notice I’m sure they’d see I’m not fully focused.
Where is she?
When I reach our group, Kate throws her arms around my neck and Nico grabs my hand in his, congratulating me with a handshake even as Kate is still in my arms. If anyone can pull me out of my Elly-induced daze, it’s these two. They’re all smiles and admiration and it feels pretty damn satisfying to be on the receiving end of it all.
Seb and Matt come over to greet me too.
“Just as good as you were in your twenties, mate,” Matt says, offering up his fist for a bump. While I return the bump, Seb turns away abruptly, fiddles with something, and spins back. His face has been supplanted by an image of mine. “Hottest man on the track,” Seb jeers from behind the mask.
Fuck’s sake. “Prick,” I mutter, pulling the mask so the elastic snaps and Seb’s face is revealed again, looking irritatingly amused. I toss the mask aside, where it lands in a puddle of what looks like beer on a nearby table.
“I was gonna keep that,” Seb moans.
“What the fuck for?” I query.
“Target practice.”