Page 27 of Driving Wild

I can’t help but laugh at the way she describes me. “Well, I’ll have you know that some fungus is tasty, and if I’m not mistaken, you enjoy it.” I pull her close again and kiss the hell out of her.

“Well then, I’ll have you know, Red, that you are one thorn that I’d willingly keep in my ass if you’ll let me because I’m enjoying having you as mine.”

“Take me to bed, Cowboy. I’m ready for a rough ride.”

I jump out of that tub so fast water runs everywhere. But I couldn’t care less. I’ll clean that up in the morning.

Last week was a bitch. I went out to California with Matt for his weekend race, and now, I’m playing the game of Tetris, getting a whole week’s worth of work into three days.

Thursday is D-day, as I like to call it. I fly to Boston to meet with my father, fully prepared to tell him just what’s going on and not planning on taking any of his pushback when it comes to Matt. My heart is slowly belonging to my fake husband, and he needs to understand that Matt isn't the man the press make him out to be. The bright side to the weekend is that I do have the fundraiser with Cortney on Saturday, which is going to be the highlight of the weekend.

I’m looking forward to spending some time with Mila since we’ve only been able to see one another on FaceTime lately. She’s been packing and getting ready to move into her townhouse, close to Matt, that we set up for her.

As I finish up the day, I’m still missing a few things when it comes to getting sponsors interested in coming on board with Mila. I make myself a list of the things to do in the morning when I come in. It seems like lately the list is getting longer. Or is it just my worry or my perfection kicking in and me wanting this to go off without an issue?

I drive back toward the house. I knew that today would be quiet. Matt is still out west for the long stretch. I didn’t realize that I’d become accustomed to our routines each night. But now that he isn’t waiting for me, I take my time driving home.

Walking to the dark townhouse, I find it quiet. That’s one thing that I’ve gotten so used to when I walk through the door. Matt is always playing music. Yeah, I give him hell about his country music selection, but it is growing on me. I’ve started to add his songs slowly to my own playlist. Guess it's my way of keeping him with me even when I’m apart from him.

I yell out, “Alexa, play Matt’s country playlist.”

The music starts to fill the room, and I notice that the song is one of Matt’s favorites. It’s an old George Strait song, “Amarillo by Morning.” The only reason I know the name of the damn thing is because it came on one morning when I was making our coffee, and Matt decided we needed an impromptu dance session in the kitchen to it. At the time, I thought he was just being silly and wanting to see how I’d react to being so close to him. But the longer the song went on, the more I relaxed into his arms. I enjoyed it, and that may have been the turning point when I started to see him as more than just a fuckboy. He’s a good guy. He’s just hiding under a man-child.

As the song finishes, I make my way to the bedroom to change out of my work clothes and get into bed. I’m dead tired and don’t even have the energy to get takeout delivered. I just want to sleep.

I plug my phone into the charging port and hear it chime as I get comfy to go to sleep. With the time difference in Texas, we’ve been playing phone tag. But for once, he catches me right before I drift off to sleep.

Hitting the button, I see his gorgeous smile come across the screen.

“Hey, Red. Are you in bed already?” he asks, concern written on his face.

“Hey, Cowboy. Yes, just laid down. It’s been a long day. Doing everything that needed to be done in three days is kicking my ass. So how’s my driver doing? Staying away from all those pit lizards, right?”

“Yes, Mom. In fact, I’m on my way out to dinner with none other than Ryan and Clint.”

“Augh, safety in numbers, Mr. McCall. Keep them in line.”

Looking at me, he gives me the biggest laugh. “You do know who I just said I’m going to dinner with, right? Clint doesn’t stay in line on a good day. We’re going to a public bar. If he doesn’t make a scene, then I’ll drop to my knees as soon as I’m home.”

I pause to think of any comment to say back to that—I have nothing.

“Well, y’all have a great time and be safe, okay?”

“We will. I’ll text you in the morning. Sleep good, Red. Night,” he says as he ends the call, and I drift off into sleep.

D-day—T-minus twelve hours.

Do not freak out, Grace. It’s just your dad. The man who has loved and cared for you your whole life. He’s also the man who taught you to be a bulldog and not roll over anymore. Because those are the people who cut your knees out from under you and walk away.

I step onto the plane at Charlotte, my palms getting clammy. Dear God, am I going to pass out? I have flown a million times, and this flight will be no different.

“Miss, can I get you something to drink?” the flight attendant asks as soon as we get the all-clear signs from the pilot.

“Yes, please. A vodka cranberry would be amazing right now.”

After taking my glass and drinking the whole drink before she has time to help the passengers behind me, I ask for one more since she’s still within talking distance of me.

Walking off the plane, I’m lost in thought when a man I don’t recognize comes up to me.

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