Page 60 of Hook Up

“No one cares about me, Ryder.”

That’s not entirely true, particularly not with my rabid fanbase, but there’s no sense in upsetting her. “I care about you. A whole hell of a lot.”

“You better.” With a kiss into the phone, she ends the call and I mentally prepare for my discussion with Greg. Here’s hoping I don’t have to duck and cover. “Morning. Ready for the weekend?”

“Probably more nervous than you are.”

“You’ll do great.”

Greg clears his throat, holding up a magazine. “You’re married?”

With a sigh, I nod. “I am.”

“Am I correct to assume your wife is my sister?”

“You are.”

“Is this some sort of public relations thing? I know Greer mentioned some sort of deal between the two of you, but I thought that was just your way of keeping her close.”

“There is no deal, except that she’s my wife.”

“Then why wasn’t anyone told? You know, like us little people, also known as her family?”

Shit, this is taking a dangerous turn. “We eloped in Barbados. A quiet ceremony with just the two of us.”

“Right, but Barbados ended weeks ago and I’m finding out from a rag mag.”

“We planned on keeping it quiet until after the first race.”

“Meaningyouplanned to keep it quiet?” He holds up his hand when I try to interject. “Let me say my peace. So, you eloped. Fine. You’re keeping it on the down low. Okay. But then, on the same rack of magazines that is crowing about your marriage to some mystery brunette, there’s this.”

He tosses two magazines my way and I cringe, reading the captions about Mandi and my imminent reconciliation. “Dude, it’s tabloids. They’re all bullshit.”

“Normally, I’d agree. But this woman who claims you two are back together was at your house last night. I saw you drinking wine on the patio.”

Mayday, mayday. “I didn’t know you heard us.”

“I live literally across the pool, Ryder. But that’s the wrong response. Your ex was here and your wife—my sister—isn’t. It’s your life but if you hurt Greer, I’m going to hurt you.”

“I’ll never hurt her. You have my word. I absolutely adore Gigi.”

“This looks bad, man. Dead this situation with Mandi because if Greer finds out there’s truth to these claims, she’ll run away faster than any F1.”

Greg’s words stick with me until the second I slide behind the wheel for Friday’s practice. I need my head in the game, tabloid fodder or no. Luckily, he’s shelved any discussion of his sister, his only focus on the safety and speed of the vehicle carrying me around the circuit.

Just like me, he has a one-track mind when it’s go time.

My friend has also proven himself a valuable addition to the team. Hey, I don’t just choose my crew willy-nilly.

I trust him with my life because that’s what he holds in his hands.

Friday’s practice went smooth as glass, even though I noticed Greg didn’t give it twenty minutes before a beer was in his hand. When I pulled him aside, he downplayed it, promising me, much like his sister, that he doesn’t mix business with pleasure. Let’s hope that’s the truth.

As soon as practice wraps, a hand claps around my shoulder. Glancing up, I catch Colton’s amused smirk. “So, is there truth to this rumor, or are the magazines spouting shit again?” I chuckle, and Colton’s grin widens. “Holy crap. You crossed to the dark side. Please tell me it isn’t Mandi.”

“Her name is Greer, and I’ve been in love with her since I was ten. We reconnected at her brother’s wedding,” I add, motioning in Greg’s direction.

“That old Vegas adage doesn’t hold true for you, does it?” Colton shoots me a light jab in the arm, toasting me with his water bottle. “Congratulations. Where is she?”

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