Page 17 of Drive Me Wild (Drive Me #2)

SEVENTEEN

THEO

Gray thunderclouds multiply and roll across the sky, covering all evidence that it was sunny an hour ago. I duck into the motorhome a few seconds before the rain starts at full force, blurring the scenery outside the glass windows.

“Walker! Over here,” a voice calls out.

I turn around and spot my manager camped out in the front corner of the cafeteria. Making my way over to him, my eyes narrow in on the pastrami sandwich near his right hand.

“Nice job out there today, mate,” Martin greets me as I approach. “Your lap time was killer.”

I turn a chair around and sit, my chest against the back, legs spread eagle on either side of the seat. “Why thank you, kind sir. You gonna finish that?” Before he can respond, I grab the remaining half of the sandwich from his plate. Chef Albie’s deli sandwiches always hit the spot and qualifying tends to work up my appetite.

Martin rolls his eyes but doesn’t chastise me. Instead, he pulls out a manila envelope from his briefcase. My McAllister contract. Pieces of lean-cut pastrami fall out of my mouth.

“I’ve highlighted the areas you should look at,” Martin says, pushing me the document. “And before you panic, remember that we’re going to negotiate.”

Shit.

Section I. Article II.

[Term Clause]

After completing the one (1) year Contract term, the Contract between McAllister Racing and Theodore Walker automatically terminates, although is subject to the renewal option of Contract to the parties.

Only one year? My original contract with McAllister was for five years. Five. Before I had even driven for them, they knew they wanted me long-term. Now they’re only guaranteeing one more season?

Section III.

[Social Media Policy]

The McAllister Racing marketing team will handle [Theo Walker]’s social media [including, but not limited to Instagram, X, LinkedIn, Facebook, TikTok] for all content involving McAllister Racing, their sponsors, and/or their brand-related deals to protect shareholder interest. Furthermore, any social media posts that are deemed controversial will result in a $10,000 fine for [Theo Walker].

C’mon. Seriously? They want to baby proof my account? It’s not like I post myself snorting cocaine while wearing a McAllister T-shirt. I don’t even like drugs! I’ve bawled my eyes out every time I’ve smoked or done an edible.

Section VI. Article X.

[Sponsorship and Endorsements Clause]

McAllister Racing sponsorships supersede individual sponsorships and endorsements. No overlap will be permitted. Including but not limited to sponsorships in these areas: beverage companies, sportswear brands [footwear/activewear], sporting goods [gear and equipment], electronics maker.

My largest and favorite personal sponsors are sportswear and sporting goods. Not only do they want to screw me out of millions, but they want me to ruin relationships I’ve worked hard to cultivate. Lovely.

Section XII. Article III.

[Code of Practice]

During pre-race practice and qualifying periods, there will be no restriction on the efforts of either driver. In the designated Grand Prix circuit, for the interest of point aggregation, the Number One car will be expected to finish the race ahead of the second car. For this purpose, the support car will accept that no passing maneuver will be attempted unless the Number One driver has suffered mechanical issues or if given a clear signal from the pits.

My hands shake as I put the contract down. “This isn’t a contract, Martin. This is a prison sentence.”

It’s not uncommon for a team principal to order a car to move aside during a race—whether it’s for safety or strategy—but to make me sign something that says that’ll be every race is demeaning to me and my talent. It’s saying I’m not the best and I never will be. It’s fucking personal.

“Other than those areas, it’s a great offer, Theo.” Martin gives me a tight-lipped smile. “You’ll receive a nice bonus, plus performance bonuses, and an increased percentage in corporate sponsorships.”

“A great offer?” I say loudly. A few people look in our direction, but I don’t care. I’m heated. “They’re not only fucking locking me out of my accounts, but they’re also fucking me out of millions and my existing relationships! And fucking me up the?—”

“Theo,” Martin says sharply. “Calm down. We’re going to counter-offer. When was the last time you ever signed a contract without changing half of the shit on it?”

I take a beat to think about it. “Never.”

“Exactly. We’ll get this to where you want it to be, okay?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Good. Because this is completely unacceptable.”

This has to be about more than simply my breakup with Christina. You don’t slap a two-time World Champion in his peak with contract restrictions like he’s a first-year driver still proving himself to the team. Not renewing with McAllister isn’t an option, it’s just not. McAllister is the best of the best. Everest, Ithaca, and AlphaVite deliver great wins, too, but those weren’t my dad’s team, McAllister was. I’m not giving up the one thing I still have left of him.

“Why don’t you cool it on social media while we work out the details of the contract,” Martin suggests. “I don’t give a fuck what you post, but let’s maybe not live stream yourself from a club this year?”

I roll my eyes. “My fans like how relatable I am.”

“I’m not sure what world you’re living in, kid, but bottle service at a private table at TAO isn’t exactly average .” He lifts a brow in amusement. “You’re aspirational, not relatable.”

“I’m not going to change who I am just to get on Avery’s good side, Martin. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“I never told you to change who you are, Walker, but I do think toning it down a bit won’t hurt. Would it kill you to do a Q it was the bathtub in some random chick’s hotel room last year—the spout was shaped like a snake, which I thought was cool. I don’t think that’s going to help my case, though, so I keep the information to myself.

“Fine, I’ll tone it down. Anything else? Do you think Avery wants me to lick his toes? Wax his asshole?”

Martin ignores my quip and takes a sip of his water. “I’m not interested in what Avery wants. I’m interested in what you want, which is why I’m going to connect with my legal team and come up with a counter-offer. So just lie low, don’t do anything stupider than usual, and we’ll be fine. Capisce ?”

Standing from the chair, my entire body pinched with aggravation and tight with resentment, I mumble my agreement before sulking off to the privacy of my suite. Russell stops by after having talked to Martin himself, but I’m not in the mood to discuss it, not even with him.

Before he started dating my mum, back when he was just my dad’s old manager and a friend-slash-father-figure to me, I would have texted Richard about this. Or left a long-winded voicemail bitching about how much I hate the politics and contractual bullshit of the sport when all I want to do is race. But now his loyalty is no longer mine, it’s my mum’s, and the last thing I need is her stressing about me if he repeats anything I tell him.

For the next hour, I lose myself in the F1 racing game. This alternate reality allows me to race for McAllister with no stipulations or strings attached.

A soft knock briefly distracts me as I finish lap twenty-two of the virtual Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. Josie’s blonde head pops in a moment later. Her smile softens the knotted rope playing tug-of-war in my stomach. “Hi, can I hide out in here?”

I pause the game, motioning for her to come in. “Only if you tell me who we’re hiding from.”

She squeezes herself through the crack she’s left open before shutting the door behind her. The black T-shirt she’s wearing rides up a bit in the front, showing off the toned midriff I ran my tongue over last night. I move the oversized pillow taking up half of the couch so she can join me.

“I’m hiding from Rhys,” Josie admits from the safety of her seat. “I think my brain will explode into a million tiny pieces if he asks me how to A/B test a Facebook ad campaign one more time.”

McAllister’s director of marketing is completely clueless when it comes to the intricacies of social media marketing. He understands the importance of everything, just not how to do it himself. Which is fair, since he has a team for that, but he also asks the same questions an exorbitant number of times.

I offer her the second controller. “Want to play?”

She takes it from my hand and lets me walk her through how to set up her own driver, something I did for her last time. After a ten-minute refresher, we start a new race. It only takes fourteen laps before Josie asks, “Do you want to talk about whatever’s bothering you?”

“Ugh,” I groan teasingly. “Why do women always want to talk?”

Josie smacks my controller out of my hand, but keeps her eyes focused on the screen. It takes me a moment to reel in my surprise and, by the time I’ve picked up the controller, she’s already sped ahead of me.

“You’re the chattiest man I’ve ever met,” she says, aggressively pressing buttons. I’m not sure what sort of combination she thinks she’s doing, but I can confirm it isn’t going to help in any way. “Do you not remember talking my ear off about your uncanny ability to always know when fruit is ripe?”

I scoff at her very correct observation. “And do you remember talking my ear off about why I should put on sunscreen every morning?”

“I stand by that,” Josie says vehemently. “Not only does it aid in skin cancer prevention, but it also helps with wrinkles and aging lines. I’m just looking out for you, Walker. You may not realize it, but you’re constantly exposed to UV radiation. Even in your handy-dandy little racing helmet. But if you want sunspots and a wrinkly face, then by all means, ignore my advice. Just don’t come crying to me and asking for the best anti-aging serum when you’re in your forties looking sixty-five.”

My lips tilt up in a grin. “Do you want me to walk around with an umbrella to protect myself, too?”

She pauses the game and whips her head to me. “This is no laughing matter. You may think you’re above every other man, but you’re not above the sun, Theodore Chase Walker. It’s a flaming ball of light and fire and… other things.”

“Who says I think I’m above every man?”

“You!” She throws her head back and laughs. All I want to do is cover the exposed skin in love bites, each mark a memory of the moans she makes when I suck on the skin. “During the interview with SkySports this morning, you said, ‘My race number may be seventeen, but I’m number one at everything else.’”

Sounds about right .

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.” I chuckle. “At the very least, I’m number one at giving orgasms.”

“Christ, Walker, are you always going to—” Josie’s cheeks turn bright pink and her voice cuts off. “Never mind.”

“Always going to do what?” I prompt her. “C’mon, Jos, you can’t keep me hanging like that.”

She waves me off. “Forget it. It’s fine. Can we just go back to playing the game?”

I have a sister and a brain. When a woman says it’s fine, it’s not fine. It’s quite possibly the furthest thing from fine. I once had this chick tell me she was fine, and then she threw a Louboutin heel at my head. Thankfully, my response time is quick, but “I’m fine” almost cost me my vision in my left eye.

“It’s obviously not fine,” I say gently. “And you know me well enough to know I’m not going to let this go until you tell me. So we can do this the easy way or the hard way, but both scenarios end up with you sharing.”

Josie sighs but doesn’t say anything. Looks like we’re going with the hard way .

I start singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” loudly, knowing it won’t take more than ten seconds until Josie begs me to stop. She once compared my singing voice to “a chainsaw going through a blender while in a helicopter.” And I’m the dramatic one. Go figure.

She claps her hands over her ears. “Fine! Fine! You’re making my eardrums bleed.”

Ha! Success.

“Now that we have that settled,” I say with a grin. “Please finish the sentence. ‘Christ, Walker, are you always going to…’”

Josie reaches up to toy with the thin golden chain hanging around her neck. A small “J” dangles from it and she presses it between her thumb and pointer finger. “Remind me that you’re more sexually experienced than I am.”

My jaw springs open and I blink rapidly. That is most definitely not fine. All I can manage to get out is a strangled, “What do you mean? You’ve been in multiple long-term relationships.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean we were super sexually adventurous or anything. I’m used to rotating through about three positions and calling it a night. Your favorite position is probably called the Horny Hippo or something. And I’m sure you’ve done wild positions with other funky names, like The Flying Squirrel or The Roman Spork .”

She lists a few more absurd names, and I burst out laughing, unable to keep a straight face when she says The Tuba Twist . Missionary is my favorite position, but it sounds lame to say that.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Josie says, her face turning bright red. “I made things weird. Let’s forget it ever happened. ‘Kay? Kay. Sounds like a plan to me. The best laid plans… something. I can’t remember the exact phrase right now. Doesn’t matter. You’re on board with striking this all from the record, right? Because I know you’d rather drink bleach than have that sort of conversation.”

She’s not wrong that I tend to avoid this type of chat, preferring to roll around in hot coal and broken glass instead. But with Josie, I don’t mind. She’s always the exception.

“You didn’t make things weird,” I reassure her. “We should be able to talk about these things with one another. Oi? We’re friends, first and foremost. And I want you to enjoy being with me as much as I enjoy being with you.”

Josie shifts in her seat. “I enjoy it. Trust me. I just… I just don’t want you to think I’m boring because I can’t lift my leg behind my head and don’t want to do anything while upside down. I’m down to, you know, try some new things, but I’m not trying to break my back playing Twister with my body, you know?”

“What kind of sex do you think I’ve had? You make it seem like I’ve fucked women while traipsing over a shark-infested body of water.”

She nods. “Well, I don’t know. It could be possible. Remi told a story on Dating and Dildos about a girl she knows who had sex while skydiving.”

I chuckle. “I’ve had my fair share of crazy sex, but that doesn’t mean that’s all I want, Jos. And full transparency… I’m intimidated as hell by your experience. I’m up against blokes who have had years of experience learning your body and what makes you come undone. So getting you to climax? It makes me feel damn good, angel.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep,” I confirm. “But if you’re interested in trying out the Crocodile Corkscrew , we can?—”

“Nope. The only corkscrews I need are for wine, thank you very much.” She laughs. “Now, can you tell me what’s going on with you? And don’t say you’re fine because you only crack your knuckles when you’re stressed, and you’ve been popping them like damn firecrackers since I came in here.”

“You’re a clever woman, Bancroft.” I laugh, thoroughly impressed. Cracking my fingers is a nervous habit I rarely realize I’m doing. I tap the scar running through my left brow. “You know my scar?”

“Mm-hmm,” she says before a smile blooms across her lips. “I believe you said it’s from either cage fighting a lion or a failed attempt at using a can opener while blindfolded?”

“Or from skateboarding down the side of a volcano.”

Josie rolls her eyes, but the edges of her lips twitch up. I take a deep breath. This is one of the few topics where I fail to find words.

I sigh. “It’s from Avery.”

Josie’s jaw drops, but her eyebrows raise. “As in… James Avery?”

“Yup.”

“Did he hit you with brass knuckles?”

It felt like it. The ugly class ring Avery wears immediately flashes into my mind. It’s gaudy as hell. Josie runs her thumb over the white jagged skin, and I melt like butter under her touch.

“I dated his daughter Christina.” I pause briefly. “Well… she thought we were dating, I thought we were having fun.”

“Like we’re having fun?” she asks softly, averting her eyes.

“Not at all,” I reassure her. “I was in my early twenties and a certified idiot when this happened.”

“You’re still a certified idiot.” Her eyes briefly meet mine and she gives me a quick smile. “So, he punched you because you dated his daughter? That seems excessive.”

I sigh. “It ended piss poorly.”

I don’t blame myself for what happened, but I do know my actions played a part in Christina’s spiraling. Once I filed a restraining order, her parents sent her to a health and wellness rehabilitation center in Switzerland, or that’s what the rumor mill claims.

Josie traces her pointer finger against the contour of my ab muscles straining against my shirt. “Did something happen between the two of you earlier?”

I don’t answer right away. “Avery’s had it out for me ever since. And listen, I’m not stupid, I know Blake’s the favorite, but I still pull my weight for the team, you know? I’m just as much a part of McAllister as he is. Avery’s just been going out of his way to make things difficult for me. It got to me earlier, I guess.”

Josie kisses me deeply, helping me momentarily forget what we’re talking about. I’m usually the initiator, so it takes me by surprise, but I lean in, letting the taste of her lips calm my rapidly beating heart. Our tongues seek each other out and I briefly wonder if I’m too obsessed with kissing her, but brush the thought away.

She pulls back moments later. “Blake’s not everyone’s favorite.”

“No?”

Her tantalizingly plump lips tug into a cheeky smile. “Nope. I heard one of the engineers likes you better.”

“Oof.” I let out a low chuckle. “Well, regardless, you’re still my favorite.”

“Obviously,” she scoffs, shooting me a playful wink. “I’m everyone’s favorite.”

She’s not wrong.

I quickly ruffle her hair. “Want to head back to the hotel and order in some food? Maybe watch a movie or something? I don’t really feel like going out.”

“Sure. Oh!” She claps her hands together. “Can we get sushi?”

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

Grabbing my phone off the tiny table nestled next to the couch in my suite, I see a new message from Blake.

Blakey Blake

Hey. Adler and I are going to grab dinner in a bit. You in?

Theo Walker

Nah. Gonna hang in tonight. Thanks, though, mate.

Blakey Blake

Wild Walker choosing to stay in? The world must be ending.

The world isn’t ending. My world is just starting to revolve around a blushing blonde with the most kissable lips I’ve ever encountered.

“Theo?” Josie says as we gather our stuff to leave.

I lift my head. “Hmm?”

A smile lights up her face before she presses her soft lips against my forehead. “You’re my favorite, too.”