Page 30 of Drive To Survive

“If I was, I wouldn’t have answered your fucking call.”

I laughed harder. As much as I sometimes allowed what I’d lost to pull me to dark places and hold me prisoner there, I had the best friends a man could hope for in Tate and Jared, as well as two parents who thought I walked on water and who adored me, even if I didn’t go to see them nearly as often as I should. These were the things that made me rich in everything that truly mattered.

And now I could add Rhett to that list. There was something about that kid that called to me on a level I hadn’t expected. I wanted to protect him, to encourage and foster his raw talent, to give him the life he deserved.

But what about Everly? Did I want to go there? At thirty-one, I’d never had a long-term relationship. Hadn’t been remotely interested. Yet a single mum with sea-blue eyes that saw right through my bullshit made me hanker after a life I hadn’t imagined for myself.

“Fancy meeting up for a beer?” I asked. “Sonnie’s in fifteen?”

“Yup, I’m in, although I’ve no idea what or where Sonnie’s is.”

“That’s what satnav’s are for.”

He laughed. “Dick. Any reason for this impromptu get-together? I thought you’d have had enough of me last night.”

“No. Actually, yeah.” I suddenly realized I wanted to talk to him about Everly and why I was so determined not to explore a fling, or more. I’d racked up the excuses, and all of them had started to sound like BS when I replayed them in my mind.

He chuckled. “Well, which one is it?”

“Just get your arse to Sonnie’s, jerkoff.”

I hung up and climbed into my car. When I reached the bar, I couldn’t spot any free spaces, so I pulled into the lot across the street. I did spot Tate’s rented Ferrari parked right outside, though. Rolling my eyes, I pushed open the door, spying Tate at the bar with two bottles of beer in front of him, condensation dripping down the sides. One of the great things about America versus England was that the beer was always cold here. Back home, not so much. It was more of a potluck situation than a guarantee.

“How the fuck did you get that space right outside?” I asked, sliding onto the stool next to his. “Don’t tell me. As you drove down the street, a bright light shone down from heaven and Moses parted the parked cars, making a spot just for you.”

Tate gave me one of his “What the fuck are you rambling on about?” expressions, the one with the arched eyebrow and a hint of mirth twisting his mouth.

“What can I say? Some people have it, and some don’t.”

“If you fell into a vat of shit, you’d come up smelling of Armani.”

He laughed, picked up one of the beers by the neck, and knocked it against mine. I drank deeply, the distinctive taste of hops and alcohol cooling my throat. “Fuck, it’s hot today.”

“Is that what you dragged me out here for? To discuss the fucking weather?”

Poking my tongue on the inside of my cheek, I shook my head. “No.”

He shifted in his seat to face me, catching the uncertainty in my tone. “I’m listening.”

Keeping it as brief as I could—men weren’t exactly deep sharers when it came to, well, anything—I told him first about Rhett and then about his mother. I laid it all on the line, how I’d felt an instant attraction, then thought she was married, which meant she was off-limits. And then how I’d read her application and discovered the truth, but despite that, I’d remained determined to avoid her.

Until today.

“Y’know, I’m sure that application came to me,” Tate said, rubbing his chin. “In fact, yup, it’s coming back to me now. I didn’t hesitate to put the kid forward for a place. Who wouldn’t when you read what his mother had written?” His crooked smile alerted me to an imminent ribbing. “And you stick your tongue down her throat the second she opens her mouth. At least it wasn’t your cock. Small mercies, I suppose. Should we expect a lawsuit for sexual harassment?”

“Fuck off, Tate. It’s not like that. Don’t make me regret talking to you about this.”

He nudged me with his elbow. “Lighten up, man. So, you like this woman?”

“Yeah, but it’s hardly ethical, is it?”

Tate angled his head and stared at me. “What the fuck are you talking about? She’s over twenty-one. So are you. You’re not taking advantage of her or telling her that if she doesn’t put out, her kid loses his place. You’re not using any kind of coercion. What’s really going on here? What are you so afraid of? Voodoo pussy?”

I blinked a few times while I picked at the label on my beer bottle. It came away easily. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing. After the accident, I kind of lost it there for a while.”

“Yeah, I know. I witnessed the whole thing, remember?”

I nodded. “I haven’t had sex in… a while. Not since the day you and Jared came over to my place in London and staged an intervention.”

---