Page 21 of Boy Issues

Donovan quickly changed into his fire suit, finding himself anxious to get out there as soon as possible. He wasn’t all that interested in whoever was doing laps, but he did want to look over the Dodge closely before he got behind the wheel. He finished lacing up his Porsche driving shoes, yanked on his gloves then grabbed his helmet.

Several of the regulars who either worked the pit or who liked to hang out and watch, called out greetings as he emerged from the locker room. The familiar noise of fast wheels, the easy, informal camaraderie, the laughter and shouts—even the fucking wind and non-stop dust—eased a portion of Donovan’s soul.

Donovan cradled his helmet in one arm, then put on his aviators to help eyes adjust to the bright sun after emerging from the darkness of the locker room. He meandered over to where Bunny stood guffawing with someone Donovan had never seen before.

“Hey, Donovan! This here’s Jarrod. I thought you’d like to meet him since he’s one of your type.”

Donovan coughed, choking on his own spit. Bunny regarded him with a wide, friendly smile, so Donovan didn’t think he was being an ass, but…

“Donovan Fonterra, correct?” The man Bunny had called Jarrod held out his hand.

Donovan was nothing if not polite and expert at all the social niceties the world had to offer, so he immediately accepted the gesture.

“Yes, that’s me. And you’re Jarrod…?”

“Hamilton. My family runs an import-export company out of Long Beach. International Cartage? I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

Nope. Donovan nodded with his most stellar smile. “International Cartage. Of course.”

Jarrod kept yacking away as if Donovan gave a shit. “…and I meant to say hello to you at Brittany Sheffield’s wedding, but the next time I looked for you, you were nowhere to be seen.”

Donovan inwardly groaned. “You’re a member of the club?” It gets better. “I hadn’t realized.”

Bunny smacked Donovan’s arm. “See? I told ya. He’s one of you rich types. Figured you’d have a lot to talk about.”

Donovan made sure to leave his polite smile right where it was, despite the fact he was inwardly seething. He hadn’t left the stuffy family firm, driven through hellacious traffic away from the city and every pretentious snob he had to deal with, only to be introduced to a new one at his safe haven.

“Well,” Donovan’s grin edged toward the maniacal. “What brings you here? Are you having a driver test out a car for you?”

“Me?” Jarrod laughed as if what Donovan had just was hilarious. “Lord no. I’ve been testing her out myself all morning. Bunny tells me you like to race now and again. That true?”

Donovan dug his nails into his palms. “Yes. Now and again.”

Un-fucking-real. The bastard’s features held the same smug expression that Donovan had been tortured with for years from members of his own family and the crowd they ran in.

Is that how Silver views me?

He wiped the back of his hand over his brow, the beads of sweat regathering almost immediately. He hadn’t escaped the city for this shit.

Jarrod regarded him with a chuckle—whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. “Excellent.” He indicated to the track with his hand. “What do you say to a few laps around the track after those two are finished.” His fixed his gaze on Donovan. “See what you can do.”

With a blasé tone, Donovan replied, “Sure, why not? I always enjoy a friendly race.”

Jarrod broke into a grin. “Then why don’t we raise the stakes? Add a bet to the mix.”

Donovan’s irritation was on the verge of making him snap. “That’s not necessary. I came out here to blow off steam today, that’s all.”

Jarrod’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Problems at the firm? I have heard at the club you’ve lost a few big accounts lately.” He shrugged. “I imagine you need to be a bit conservative these days.” He sighed and clapped Donovan on the shoulder. “No worries. I hope it gets better soon.”

Donovan jerked away from Jarrod’s touch. “You heard wrong.” Sort of. “And if you’re so sure of yourself, then prove it.” He narrowed his eyes at the worm. “What are we betting?”

“I’ll make it easy on you.” He smirked. “Ten K.”

The muscles in Donovan’s jaw hurt from how hard he was clenching his teeth. He sucked in a lungful of air through his nose. “Ten it is.”

Jarrod gave him a curt nod. “Not that I don’t trust you, but let’s have Bunny hold the promise note for our little wager. Couldn’t hurt to have a witness.”

“No, couldn’t hurt.” Donovan arched his eyebrows. “Not that I don’t trust you.”

---