Page 15 of Driving Wild

“Ryan’s gonna line up behind you, and hopefully, he can give you the boost you need to get out in front of him. So be ready,” Doug calls.

Coming up to the start line, Doug comes over the radio once again.

“Go, go, go. Green, green.”

With each gear change, my adrenaline spikes a little higher, and I know that if I’m going to win, it’s going to be now. So I throw it into another gear and block Clint. Getting out in front of him, I make it back to the line as the white flag goes. Four turns, that’s all. The one track that I’ve wanted to conquer and there are only two turns left. I see Clint, trying to keep Ryan behind him, and I know that it’s mine. One turn, seeing the checkered flag coming down as I cross the line. I did it, I think, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter just as I started to relax.

Isat on top of the pit box, watching my husband win at Miami. The weather was perfect today. It was a little breezy, so I didn't have to worry about wearing a ton of clothes. He had battled Clint most of the race, and when the tire issue came, I wasn’t sure he was going to make it back to the top spot, but he proved to everyone that he had the car to beat.

Just as I step down from the pit box, I hear my name being called. Turning, I see my best friend, Tinley, running toward me.

“Grace, I’m so happy for you guys. I know Matt’s wanted to win here for a while, and look at that—you may just be his lucky charm,” she says while taking my hand and walking us toward Victory Lane, with more pep in her step then I was expecting from my once wallflower friend.

Walking down the pit lane, I feel eyes on me and see the flashes from cameras going off, and just as I think I might get away without having to give a statement, a female reporter comes up. Not wanting to be rude, I say hello, just as she pushes the recorder into my face.

“So tell me, Grace, what’s it like watching your husband battle your family’s race team for the win?”

Stopping to take a deep breath, I put on my PR hat and give the answer that’s easiest.

“Well, Marcy, I love my family, and I’m happy when they do well, but when it comes to my husband, I always want him in Victory Lane over anyone else. So if you’ll excuse me, that's where I need to get to,” I say as sweetly as possible, grabbing hold of Tinley again and making my way to congratulate Matt.

Victory Lane is one place that I never thought I’d be as a girlfriend, or for me right now, as a wife. I grew up around this, and I had no interest in drivers. So to find myself now celebrating as the doting wife, it’s all so weird. I watch Matt's car come to a stop in the middle of Victory Lane, the smell of rubber in the air and the motor blowing smoke as he turns the car off. I can’t help but smile at him, and his smile covers his face from inside his helmet. He wanted this win so badly; I could hear it in his voice over the headset. And when they had the green-white-checker, he had to work twice as hard to keep Clint at bay. He deserves the win; he worked his ass off, and I’m so happy for him.

“Go to him, Grace. It may be fake, but I know he wants you beside him when he gets out of that car,” Tinley says quietly as she pushes me toward him.

Walking over to Matt, I can’t help but feel butterflies in my stomach as he pulls his helmet off and climbs out of the car. Covered in sweat, the man is still a walking wet dream. He may piss me off and get under my skin but damn, my “husband” is hot.

Pulling me to him, he smiles that genuine smile at me.

“Looks like I have a new lucky charm, Red,” he says as he leans down and kisses me quickly just as the crew members spray us with Gatorade.

Looking up at him, I can’t help but laugh and hug him tight.

“I’m proud of you, Cowboy. Now go celebrate with the team. I’m gonna stand over there with Tinley,” I say, starting to walk away, only to be pulled back into his chest and thrown over his shoulder as we make our way up on stage.

“Put me down, you caveman,” I say, laughing as we go to meet the crew members.

“I think I kind of like this view, Red. If we weren’t on TV right now, I might just smack your ass, but I wouldn’t want to give your dad any extra reasons to hate me more than he already does,” Matt says, setting me down on my feet just as Ryan comes over to congratulate him.

“Talk about making an impression, bud,” Ryan says, slapping Matt on the back and doing one of those guy side hugs. “Next time, just take her in front of everyone and claim her.” Ryan laughs as he comes over to me and gives me a hug too.

“Have you, by any chance, seen my other half, Grace?” Ryan asks.

Pointing over to the corner, I guide him to where Tinley stands, talking with a lady in a NASCAR official uniform.

Ryan and Tinley are so sickly sweet it makes my teeth hurt. The moment she connects with his eyes, she smiles so big I can’t help but feel just a little jealous, thinking that I want someone to look at me the same way she does him. With so much love he’d take on the entire world. And for Tinley, he did.

After two hours of interviews and hat swaps with different sponsors, we are finally able to head back to the trailer. I am exhausted, walking next to Matt, leaning into his body. If I’m this tired, I know that Matt must be dead on his feet. Stepping into the trailer, Matt grabs the back of my neck, spinning me around to face him.

“Thank you for today, Grace. Having you standing with me may have been the kick in the ass I needed to prove to myself that I deserve this life,” he says, crowding me against the wall as we step into the bedroom.

“I didn’t do anything, Cowboy; I was just there. That was all you,” I say, running my hand down his chest. He’s still sticky from the Gatorade bath, and I notice his eyes don’t leave mine. Seeing what I might do next.

“So tell me, Cowboy, what do you usually do after a win?” I ask, knowing the answer but wanting it to come from his lips.

“Well, it depends on the win. Sometimes, I go out with the team, and we just relax. Other times, I’m so wired up that I need a release and look for a willing participant,” he says with a smirk.

Looking up at his face, I can’t help but want to drop to my knees and congratulate him on the win today, but something holds me back. Maybe it’s the fact that I shouldn’t cross this invisible line, or maybe it’s because I can feel my heart starting to become involved, and I’m not sure I’m willing to give it away again.

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