Page 87 of Cross the Line
When I’m moisturized and dressed, I head back downstairs and find Dev coming out of the kitchen toting a tray of sandwiches, lemonade, and what I’m sure are Stella Margaux macarons. He nods to the open sliding door that leads to the patio.
‘Come on, let’s have a picnic.’
I follow him out and settle in on the cushioned love seat. I turn my face up to the sun and let the sea breeze ruffle the frizzy ringlets that have escaped my bun. Everything about this moment is perfect.
Silently, he sets the tray down and hands me a glass of lemonade before sitting beside me. ‘How did you plan all of this so quickly?’ I ask as the drink cools my palm.
With an arm draped over me, he presses a single finger to my shoulder. ‘One, I amverywealthy. I can pay to make just about anything happen. And two’ – he presses another finger into my skin – ‘I know how to use the internet to order things.’
I lift my glass to my lips to hide my smile. ‘Dick,’ I mumble into the drink.
‘Oh, absolutely. But do you like it?’
Scanning the stunning surroundings, I sip my lemonade and pretend to consider my answer. ‘Hmm . . . Iguessyou did okay.’
He grazes his lips across my jaw and nips at the corner in revenge. When I turn my cheek to press against his, I can feel his grin.
‘Smart-ass,’ he murmurs. ‘I like you in that dress, by the way. I think I chose well.’
‘I won’t ask how you knew my exact size.’
‘Then I won’t admit that I pawed through your clothes while you were in the shower this morning.’
I laugh and pull back a little, cupping his cheek and losing myself in the dark depths of his eyes. ‘I know I said it already, but thank you. This is . . . this is amazing. It’s everything I could have wanted out of a date.’ Because all I really need is him.
His gaze flits over my face, his brows drawing together a fraction. ‘You don’t ever have to thank me for stuff like this, Willow. This is how you deserve to be treated.’
Tears once again prick at the back of my eyes. I ward them off by pressing my lips to his. The kiss is chaste and closed, but it’s achingly sweet.
Dev pulls back first, inspecting me for a second. With a soft chuckle, he dips his head and ruffles his hair like an embarrassed teenage boy who’s just had his first kiss. For a man I’d enthusiastically describe as incredibly sexy, the move is adorable.
‘All right, enough of that,’ he says, grabbing a plate of mini sandwiches off the tray. ‘Eat.’
I take one gratefully and sit back, biting into the soft bread and cheese. ‘Are you happy to have a break from racing?’ I ask when I finish chewing.
He nods as he grabs a sandwich as well. ‘As much as I love it, I love the downtime too. It’s nice to not have to rush from one place to another for a few weeks.’
I can appreciate that sentiment after following him all over Europe. But it hits me then that I won’t be doing that any more. I’m . . . done. I won’t have to jump on red-eye flights or cram into the vans that take us to circuits. Malibu is our last stop on this whirlwind adventure, and at the end of Alisha’s wedding weekend, my contract with Dev is up.
Grief punches me in the chest, nearly knocking the air from my lungs. I don’t want this part to end, even though it’ll allow us to bring our relationship out into the light. Helping to pull his reputation back from the brink has been an honour. I’ve loved getting to know the people at Argonaut – minus Buck and Nathaniel, who never spoke a single word to me – and I loved thanking them via Dev’s accounts for all the work they do. I’ve loved . . . all of it.
I never thought I’d enjoy a job like this, one full of travel and fast-paced events. For so long, I’ve envisioned myself working in a huge marketing department for a sports team, sitting at a desk, clicking a mouse all day. Something quiet and safe. To work closely with just one person originally felt like a step back. But now? I couldn’t imagine spending my days in a cubicle and likely never meeting the athletes I was promoting. The days when I strived for just that feel like a lifetime ago. Like someone else’s life.
‘What will you do once I’m not working for you any more?’ I ask Dev, doing my best to keep my voice level, even though my heart is pounding up into my throat.
‘I’m going to hire a PR firm like Howard originally asked me to.’ His answer comes so easily that it’s clear this isn’t the first time he’s considered his options. ‘You got everything perfectly back on track for me, so all they have to do is maintain it. And once I’m at Mascort—’
‘Don’t jinx it!’
‘Once I’mhopefullyat Mascort,’ he amends, ‘they’ll probably have a list of people for me to choose from that they’ve already vetted and approved. They’re the real deal. Unlike Argonaut, who pretty much told me to figure it out all by myself.’ He rolls his eyes.
I have to tamp down on the desire to blurt that I want to stay with him. That I want to keep doing what I’m doing, even if he really doesn’t need my help any more.
But I swallow back the words. It’s not a viable option if we want to have a public relationship, and especially if I ever want to have any kind of career unshadowed by rumours of sleeping my way into a job.
‘I’m crossing my fingers you get the Mascort contract,’ I say instead.
Dev blows out a breath, blessedly unaware of the turmoil raging inside me. ‘Me too. I know it won’t happen overnight, but I can’t take another season at Argonaut.’
