Speed Demons (20 page)

“She’s a reporter,” Mal said, pulling his upper lip up in a sneer.

“Actually, I’m a photojournalist,” Blythe said firmly.

Evie didn’t want to invite the men into her house. They’d never been here before, and she wasn’t about to change that now. This was her sanctuary, not a family-owned property.

“Are you going to keep us standing here?” Mal asked. “Where’s your manners, girl?”

“Where are yours?” She placed her hands on her hips. “You come unannounced, scold me immediately, and have the gall to—”

“Ah, for heaven’s sake. We flew down in Harrison’s plane and rented a car. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.” Mal gestured dismissively. “You should have enough room in this cottage of yours to put us up for the night.”

She heard Blythe take a deep breath and understood exactly what was going through Blythe’s mind. She couldn’t agree more. It was staggering that someone could be so presumptuous.

“No. I only have one guest room and that’s where Blythe’s staying.”

“So this girl isn’t your latest dalliance?” Harrison huffed. “I assumed since she was shacking up with you, then—”

“Harrison!” Her jaw slacked for a moment at her grandfather’s rudeness. “I’d expect such offensive talk from Mal, but now I see where he inherited his lack of manners. I suggest that you say what you came to say and drive off and fly home again.”

“Damn it, Evie.” Mal nearly sputtered. “Your grandfather is an old man, and you can’t expect him to have the energy to go back and forth on the same day.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you decided to come down.” She opened the door to her trunk and pulled out her sports bag. “If you’ve got nothing to tell me, Blythe and I are going inside.”

“We’re concerned for you. For your future. For your ability, or lack thereof. You narrowly escaped death last year, and you’re likely to have the same thing happen again. Since you won’t listen to me, I figured your grandfather might be able to knock some sense into you.” Mal gestured emphatically.

“With a father like you, Evangeline sure doesn’t need any enemies in the press or hostile bloggers.” Blythe hissed the words like a vicious cobra. “How the hell can you justify showing up here and undermining her training like this?” Blythe stepped close to her, clearly ready to defend her.

Evie’s chest constricted at the sight of the furious Blythe. Her friends had stuck up for her before, especially Ben and his crew. But nobody had ever acted so against their basic personality on such a personal level before.

“Oh, my God,” Mal said, laughing. “Got to say you’ve got spunk, little lady.”

“Oh, trust me,
Mal
, I may be little, but I’m no lady.” Blythe raised her camera. “I’d suggest you not put that to the test.”

“Mal, are we going inside or not?” Harrison asked.

“Not.” She hoisted her bag up on her shoulder and plucked the key from her pocket with her free hand. “Let’s go up, Blythe. Clearly it’s the same old tired argument.”

“No. It’s not. This time it’s more than our not thinking NASCAR’s good enough for a Marshall.” Mal spoke fast. “You remember Douglas Lindstrom?”

She halted, glancing over her shoulder. “Yes. Owner of that new F1 team. What’s it called? Rinaldi?”

“Riglianti. It’s a mix between U.S.-based team members and Italian entrepreneurs. Their cars are like the Ferrari.”

“And you’re telling me this because—”

“They need to enter the stage with a proper splash, not only when it comes to competing, but to attract attention. Having an already world-famous, notorious even, in some circles, female driver would do the trick.”

*

Blythe stared from Evie to Mal and Harrison and back again. How the hell was this man, Evie’s father, able to insult and compliment his daughter, and make her the offer of a lifetime, all in one sentence?

“Notorious, huh? That’s a new one. You’ve called me a few things since I fell in love with stock-car racing, but that’s one to add to your less-flattering vocabulary.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Mal gestured wildly.

“Yeah, I did. I think you called me a publicity stunt.”

Blythe inwardly cheered Evie for cutting to the chase, for seeing the truth in what Mal had tried to sugarcoat.

Harrison suddenly interfered. “How about you, Blythe?”

“I’m a good driver, but I’d never get behind the wheel of a Formula One car.” She grinned when her words made Evie chuckle.

“Very funny. What I meant was, wouldn’t it further your career if you could be the one to break the story about Evie driving for Riglianti?”

She gazed at the older of the two men long enough for him to shift from one foot to the other and back again. “Further my career,” she said, as if she seriously considered it. “Now there’s a thought.”

“Surely a photographer such as you could see the benefit from breaking a page-one news story?” Mal said.

“What kind of photographer would that be?” she asked, her voice pure silk.

“Blythe…” Evie said.

“No, no, Evangeline, I want to hear this.” She felt calm.

“You said yourself, a news reporter. If you got a major story, you’d move up, be among the big guys as a sports reporter. I’ve never heard of you, but if you pulled this off, you could be right up there, working for ESPN or something.” Mal looked pleased at his angle.

“Oh, you fool.” Evie groaned. “You don’t know who she is, do you? You only watch sports on TV, so you have no fucking clue. God, you’re embarrassing.” She covered her eyes.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Mal flung his hands into the air.

“Blythe is an award-winning photographer with numerous books on the bestseller list. She’s represented in galleries and museums, and her pictures are used in college-level social science courses and such subjects. Take your fancy offer, which sounded just like what I’d
hate
to do, and sho—”

“Evie. Don’t.” Blythe stepped close to Evie and placed a hand at the small of her back. “Let’s go inside. This conversation is over.”

“You’re right.” Evie trembled against her touch and glared at Mal and Harrison with eyes like narrow slits. “Take Harrison to a hotel before he falls over from fatigue. He’s an old man. Don’t come around unless I invite you, Mal. The way I feel now, it’ll be when hell goes into complete permafrost.” She swiveled and unlocked the door. They stepped inside and Evie locked and set the alarm.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Blythe said. “Take a bath and relax. I’ll fix those steaks for us.”

“Blythe. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. And I couldn’t care less what they say to me. It’s you they hurt. Try to hurt.”

“I’m embarrassed for you to have to listen to such idiotic rambling.” Evie blanched. “Did I hear Harrison ask me if you were my latest dalliance? Oh, God. He did, didn’t he? That sounds like I have lovers all over the place. I don’t, I really don’t.”

Something tender erupted in her chest. “Shh. You’re fine. You don’t have to explain. You’re fine.”

“I just don’t want you to think you’re one among many. I haven’t been with anyone since way before the crash.” Evie touched her cheek. “You’re special.”

“Thank you. I’m also especially hungry, which I think is our biggest issue right now. Don’t get yourself all worked up. Go have a bath or a hot shower. I’ll cook and clean myself up after we’ve eaten.”

“Blythe.” Evie suddenly wrapped her arms tight around her. “I just need to hug you first.”

“Hug away.” She took the chance to bury her face against Evie’s neck. In fact, she was angrier than she’d been in a long time. How dared these men violate Evie’s privacy, her sanctuary, and force their offensive language and ideas on her? They obviously didn’t care that she was fighting to resume her dream without getting killed while doing so. Pressing her lips against Evie’s skin, she inhaled deeply. No matter what, standing together like this made her feel secure. Now it was up to her to help keep these men away from Evie, to help keep her safe.

Chapter Nineteen

I can’t believe he did this.
Evie stood by the fireplace and raised her cold hands to the roaring fire, desperately needing to feel the heat. Dressed in a terry-cloth robe and with a towel around her damp hair, she shivered uncontrollably. Behind her Blythe approached, carrying two plates.

“I thought we’d eat by the fire. I managed to grab a quick shower too, while the steaks defrosted in the micro.” She wore a towel around her hair also, but instead of a robe, Blythe had opted for sweatpants and a white T-shirt.

“Okay.” Evie pulled a couple of the supersized pillows up to the coffee table and sat down on one of them. Blythe handed her one of the plates. The meat and steamed vegetables looked great, but she wasn’t hungry. She needed the food to keep her strength up while in training, so she ate anyway, the bites seeming to grow in her mouth.

Blythe unwrapped her towel and let her hair fall back over her shoulders. “I’ll probably look like an overexcited poodle soon, but if I keep the towel on, it’ll be even worse.”

She laughed, despite her confusion. The heat from the fire felt good, but Blythe’s presence felt even better. “Poodle, huh? I like dogs.”

“You’re calling me a dog? How flattering.” Blythe speared some vegetables and chewed them thoughtfully. “I’m clearly losing my appeal.”

“No, you’re not.” She knew they were kidding around, but she didn’t want Blythe to think for a moment, even as a joke, that she was anything but wonderful.

“Good to know.” Blythe winked. “You okay, Evie? You look a bit pale.”

“Just pissed.”

“Can’t say I blame you.”

“I should be over it. I mean, how he talks to me. It’s been the same song and dance for years. I don’t know why I let it get to me.”

“Because no matter how old we get, we keep seeking validation from our parents.” Blythe looked sad for a moment. “It’s not just me saying this. It’s a pretty well-known fact.”

“I guess.” She forced herself to finish the steak, but gave up on the broccoli. “But, logically, I know he’ll never change. I mean, they’ll never change. They’ll still think I’m betraying their legacy, that I’m tarnishing the family by doing what I love instead of following in their footsteps. I know this. Why can’t I just once and for all say ‘screw you’ and move on?”

“I think you’ve tried to do that many times. When you find your bearings and move on, there they come, popping up to try and reel you back in. You’re going to have to figure out how to deal with them.”

“Any suggestions?” The cold weight in her gut shifted again, reminding her of its existence. “Disown them? Like you did?”

Blythe winced. “No. I couldn’t recommend that,” she said quietly.

“Damn. I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m being an ass.”

“You’re upset.”

“Not your fault.” She crawled over to Blythe and took her pillow with her. “In fact, you’re my shining knight, aren’t you? First that knife fight and then tonight.”

“Knife fight?” Blythe shrugged. “Prone to exaggeration, much?”

“Just a tad.” It was good to joke around again. “Still true in a sense. You stuck up for me.”

“You’re my lover.” Blythe studied her hands.

More warmth seeped into her system. “Yes, I am, aren’t I?” Blythe’s close proximity made her breathless. “We haven’t really talked about that.”

“No.” Blythe raised her gaze to hers. “Do you want to? Talk about it, I mean?” She grew faintly pink.

“If we do, I’ll ravish you here on the spot.” She was only half joking. Blythe was incredibly alluring with her curly, damp hair, clean-scrubbed face, and naked feet.

“Not an entirely good argument if you’re trying to deter me.” Blythe wrinkled her nose.

“Oh, God. Don’t look at me that way if you want to talk.” She couldn’t resist Blythe’s bright eyes and wide smile.
Adorable.

“Not sure what you mean, since I don’t have a mirror handy.” Blythe ran the back of her fingers along Evie’s cheek. “So, last night.”

“Last night was amazing. Hot. Volcanic, even.” She took Blythe’s hand in hers.

“I think I hear a ‘but’ in there somewhere.” Blythe’s eyes lost their sparkle.

“No, not because of anything about you.” She wasn’t sure how to explain.

“Oh, please. Don’t give me that line. The ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ cliché.” Blythe began to pull back.

“Blythe. Stop. Listen, please. I loved last night. I can’t say how much I adored making love to you. If I’m struggling with anything, and God knows I am, it’s not that. In fact, last night was the first time I actually
felt
with every fiber of my being. You know?” She squeezed Blythe’s hand.

“God, it’s so hard to explain. This last year, I’ve been doing all the right things. Going through physical therapy, group therapy, dealing with media, fighting my way back. I’ve been doing this, but never with my whole being. I used to do things head over heels, a bit reckless even, before. With my whole self. In for a penny and all that.” She sobbed and began to tremble again. “And last night, for the first time since the crash, when we made love, I was my whole self again. Feeling all of you with all of me. This probably sounds totally weird.”

Blythe wiped at Evie’s tears, not saying anything, merely waiting.

“And as much as I’m thrilled, it scares me. Today too, when Mal and Harrison showed up and started offending you, it scared me even more.”

“Why?”

“Because, if I lose this,” she said, waving her hand between them, “this thing with you, this connection, I’m afraid I won’t feel, or be, my whole self again.” Hiccupping, she reached for a Kleenex on the coffee table and wiped her eyes and nose. “And that makes me sound totally clingy and needy.”

“Evangeline.” Blythe moved closer, straddling her legs, then pressed her forehead against hers, rocking her a few moments. “My turn now?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know if it was readily noticeable, but before last night, I hadn’t made love with anyone for quite a while. Longer than I care to admit, since it makes me feel too self-conscious.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Years.”

“Oh.” Evie gazed up at her. “Then I feel kind of special.”

Blythe could’ve kissed her just for saying that, but knew she should wait. “Good. You are.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I want you to know, really understand, that I couldn’t care any less what your father and grandfather might think of me. I do, however, care about how you respond to them, to their treatment of you.”