Page 55 of Cross the Line
I’m about to tell her as much, but she doesn’t give me a chance to argue. ‘You need to put in as much face time as possible tonight.’ She looks out into the crowd, her attention snagging on something behind me. Probably Buck and his Texas posse. ‘I still can’t believe he didn’t invite you to that dinner.’
My protectiveness scales back a little at the reminder. On the plane yesterday, I told her about Reid’s comment. She and I sat side by side and caught up, since I’d passed out the second I made it back to my hotel room after my meeting with the engineers the night before. It was a blessing, really, that I’d accidentally bailed on her. If I’d shared the information then, there’s no way she would have slept peacefully that night. Pissed doesn’t even begin to describe how angry she was when I finally spilled the details.
If she didn’t get why I have to leave Argonaut before, she does now. And she wholeheartedly agrees. I have to find a team to take me on, because my time here is ticking away. If I’m not careful, I’ll be left without a race seat next season.
It’s not necessarily a death sentence. Plenty of drivers have disappeared for a year or two, even three, and made a successful comeback. But I don’t want to take that risk. I don’t want to step back and find myself forgotten. I haven’t made a big enough impact on the sport to remain in the collective consciousness for long. I need to make a splash.
I need to win.
‘It is what it is.’ I pick up a plate and hand it to her. ‘I’ll look for Reid in a bit and see what information I can get out of him.’
‘You think he actually went to the dinner?’
I shrug and reach for the tongs at the first taco station. ‘No clue. But Buck is a hard man to say no to, even if you’re not interested in what he’s saying.’
Willow lowers her voice as I place food on her plate, her attention fixed firmly on my face. ‘And you think he wants Reid to take your spot?’
‘Not like he’s going to take Nathaniel’s.’
She falls silent at that, her red lips pulling down in a frown. She doesn’t even protest when I pile five tacos on her plate. I don’t expect her to eat them all, and she doesn’t, but she surprises me by eating three and a half once we find a table, though she broods the whole time.
I don’t interrupt her, and Chava peeled off to eat with a group of mechanics, so I soak in silence until she finally pushes her plate away and turns to me.
‘It’s time to kick things into overdrive,’ she declares, her eyes lit with a determined intensity.
I smirk, but my pulse picks up a little. She’s sexy when she’s scheming. ‘I think I know a little bit about that.’
She angles her body toward me, her posture straight like she’s no longer in pain. The drugs have likely kicked in, and being off her feet surely doesn’t hurt. Not to mention the distraction of having a problem to solve.
‘It’s time to get out there and socialize,’ she instructs. ‘Talk to Buck and everyone he’s with. Talk to anyone who looks remotely important, even if you don’t recognize them.Especiallyif you don’t recognize them. You’re done sitting in the shadows and keeping your head down. The scandal’s over; we’ve made a ton of progress on your reputation. It’s time to go on the charm offensive and get people back in your corner.’
My smirk morphs into a grin. I love watching the way her mind works. She’s a phenom, a genius at what she does. And goddamn if I’m not getting a little hard right now because of how passionate she is about this plan. About me.
‘This is just the first step,’ she warns. ‘Get ready toreallyput yourself back out there, including doing the drivers’ press conferences again.’
Argonaut hasn’t sent me to one since Jani’s post went viral, even though teammates are supposed to trade off. They’ve been coming up with various excuses as to why I can’t attend, like that I’m recovering from an ear infection, or that I’ve lost my voice after a meet and greet. I wouldn’t be surprised if they told the press that a giant whale came out of the ocean and swallowed me whole – but don’t worry, I’ll be fit to race this weekend.
I haven’t complained. Willingly setting myself up for invasive questions after Jani’s big fuck-you? No thanks. I field plenty of those in the media pen after races already, though I can usually count on Patsy to quickly guide me away before things go too far south.
But if Willow gets her way, I’m going to have to face it head-on.
‘Time to tell the world that Dev Anderson is back,’ she finishes, nodding slowly, resolutely.
‘No, not that I’m back,’ I correct her, brushing my fingers over her temple as I tuck her hair behind her ear, unable to resist touching the source of her brilliance. Maybe a little will rub off on me. ‘I want them to know I never left.’
Her eyes are alight, and her grin radiant. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss her more.
‘That’s right,’ she says. ‘You never left.’
——
Willow meant what she said about kicking things into overdrive.
My social media engagement is up a wild amount. I’m in talks for a new brand deal with a major fitness technology company. And a few mainstream media outlets have even contacted Howard about doing interviews. I’m not sure what kind of black magic Willow has been performing behind the scenes in the past couple of days, but it’s working. My name is very much back in people’s mouths – and none of the talk is negative.
Today, though, it’s on me to play my part. I’m waiting in the wings at Silverstone for the drivers’ press conference to start. In a few minutes, I’ll share a couch with Zaid Yousef, Thomas Maxwell-Brown, Axel Bergmüller and Reid Coleman. Zaid and Axel are in the midst of a heated battle for first place in the championship, so the questions lobbed today will likely be directed at the two of them. But damn if I’m not just as interested as the rest of the world to see the bitter rivals sitting side by side.
When Reid shows up, we do the hand-slap, back-pat thing, and he dutifully nods to the woman standing next to me. I swear, Argonaut’s head of comms only smiles when her favourite Texas boy is around.
