Page 23 of Drive Me Wild (Drive Me #2)

TWENTY-THREE

THEO

I’m dying slow, painful death caused by one too many push-ups. One month without Russell whooping my arse, and it’s like I’ve never worked out in my life. I went on a lot of runs in Australia—anything to excuse myself from being in Richard’s presence over break—but nothing like the intensity of Russell’s workout regimen.

“Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven…” Russell counts like a drill sergeant. “Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty.”

I lie face-down on the mat and let out a muffled groan. My arms feel like uncooked spaghetti. If Jos were here, she’d sing the opening lines of Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.” We’re only thirty minutes into our session, and I’m ready to tap out.

“Can we be done?” I whine from the floor. “Please?”

“Nope. Not even close, bud,” he says. “Are you ready to focus now?”

“I am focused,” I argue, rolling onto my back. “Laser-focused.”

“On staring at the wall, maybe. But you’re definitely not focused on this.”

How am I supposed to concentrate when McAllister responded to our counter-offer two hours ago? They only compromised a little bit, so now personal sponsorships can remain in place, but they can’t overlap with specific products or services. So, if a McAllister sponsor wants us to promote shoes, I can no longer work on a shoe collaboration with Pegasus. The worst part is that they won’t back down on the Number One car—a.k.a Blake—finishing every race first. No exceptions.

“What’s next?” I sigh, standing up. “Can it be something less torturous? Maybe something that doesn’t make me want to jump in front of a moving car?”

“It’s not my job to watch you half-arse things, Walker. So do it right, and we won’t have to spend the rest of the morning arguing over how much training you still have to do.”

I grumble to myself as I start doing kettlebell squats. Russell reaches over and adjusts my body, so my shoulders get pushed back a bit. “Ten more reps. Then we’ll get started on chest flys.”

Fucking hell. I try to stand straight so I can argue with him, but he smacks the back of my head. I’m immediately back in position.

“I could sue you for damages, you know,” I complain as I bend my knees. “Emotional and physical harm or whatever.”

He snorts loudly. “You’re more than capable of harming yourself, mate. You’re going to pull something if you don’t keep your shoulders back. Let’s go.”

An hour later, I’m lying flat on my back on the floor once again, forcing my lungs to fill with oxygen, when a ball of fur pounces on my face. I’m momentarily suffocated until it moves off me and I get a leathery paw on my cheek instead.

What the fuck?

Sitting up, I find Blake grinning at me with undisguised amusement. He lets out a quick whistle and the fluff in question hops over to him with a wagging tail and flopping tongue. He looks like a tiny UGG boot with his curly caramel-colored fur.

“Uh… is that a dog?”

“As opposed to what? A peach pie?” Blake rolls his dark eyes. “Yes. Obviously, it’s a dog, Walker.”

“Whose dog is it?”

He stares at me like I’m an idiot. “Mine.”

“Let me rephrase.” I cough into the crook of my arm to clear my throat for dramatic effect. “Why do you have a dog?”

“Because it’s my dog,” he says with a frown. “I’m not sure what you’re not understanding. Ella and I got a dog. This is that dog. The dog is now ours. We are the owners of this dog.”

“Holy shit.” Blake Hollis has a dog. Two years ago, he couldn’t even take care of himself, and now he’s taking care of a living, breathing ball of… fluff. I look at the pup stationed at his feet and tap the floor to coax him to come back over.

He prances over, ditching his dad. Wow. Don’t think I’ll get over Blake being a dog dad anytime soon. Stopping in front of my feet, he lunges at my shoelaces. “Wait, I thought you weren’t training until later? What’re you doing here now?”

Blake gives me a guilty shrug. “As much as I like Poppy… I need a little peace and quiet.”

After spending summer break in New York—where Goldy successfully testified in the trial that put away the fucker who assaulted her last year—her best friend Poppy flew back to London with them to visit for the week. She’s in Portugal with the team for the Grand Prix this weekend before she heads back to New York.

“You want to play with Champ for a bit while I warm up?” Blake asks, walking over to the barbells.

I stare at him for a moment before rolling onto my side as I laugh. “You named your dog Champ… as in Champion?”

It’s a cute name, despite the fact that it sounds rather cocky.

He takes a large sip of his water and Champ’s ears perk up at the sound of the crinkling plastic water bottle. Not super environmentally friendly, but after a shitty practice three years ago, Blake threw his metal water bottle at a wall and shattered a fuck-ton of glass. They’ve baby-proofed him with plastic.

“Yes. Champion Bagel Hollis-Gold.”

I struggle to breathe once I hear Champ’s middle name. “Bagel?” I cough out. “You’re fucking with me.” This is the best thing I’ve heard all day. It almost makes up for McAllister’s shitty updated contract.

“No,” Blake grunts. “And I suggest not giving me any more shit if you’d like your face to remain unbroken.”

I pick Champ up and press his little black nose against my own. “You have bigger balls than your daddy. Did you know that, Champ? Your mummy neutered him and keeps them in her purse.”

Blake chucks his water bottle at my head. If that had been his metal water bottle, my skull would be in pieces all over the gym floor. I’m grateful for McAllister’s foresight. Champ aggressively licks my nose, so I place him back in my lap. I let out a yelp as he latches onto my finger. This thing is more lethal than Blake’s attitude. I pry his tiny jaw open, but apparently, that’s me challenging him. “Champ. No.”

He nips at my arms, but every time I put him back on the floor, he jumps onto me like it’s a game. I accept the fact that my body is a chew toy and let him climb all over, his tongue happily hanging out the side of his mouth.

“Question for you, Blakey Blake.”

The weights he’s using clank against the floor, the sound causing Champ to momentarily stop his assault on my exposed skin. How can something so small have teeth so sharp? Christ.

Blake turns to me. “Theo, for the last time, I am not measuring my dick. Stop asking.”

I roll my eyes, although his reaction isn’t that unwarranted. I don’t know why he’s not curious how scientifically big his dick is considering it’s a third leg, but whatever. “I was going to ask when you knew you wanted to get serious with Ella.”

“Oh.”

I flip Champ onto his back so I can give him a belly rub. “So? What made you want to go from fuckboy to lover boy?”

Blake chuckles at my words, taking a seat on the bench nearest to him. “I realized that being the one to make her laugh or smile made me just as happy as kicking your arse during a race.”

Blake tilts his head as he studies me. “You know, prying isn’t my style, but friends with benefits with Josie doesn’t make sense. It’s like you’re saying she’s good enough to fuck but not good enough to have feelings for, which we both know is total bullshit.”

“I’m not?—”

“Let me finish. Relationships aren’t a walk in the park, but being with Ella is the single-greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I had zero interest in getting married and having kids until her. And now? I have a bloody list of baby names I like, mate. I wouldn’t trade what we have for all the World Championship titles in the world. And in case you forgot, I have six of those.”

How could I possibly forget that he has the highest number of championship titles of any driver ever?

“You’re right.”

Blake starts to speak, no doubt gearing up to argue with me, but quickly stops himself. “I’m right?”

“Mm-hmm.” I scratch Champ behind the ears. “But don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t.” He chuckles. “I have a girlfriend, Walker. That means I’m never right.”

“Sounds like a personal problem, Blakey Blake.”

Rolling his eyes, he stands back up. “So what’s the plan?”

The plan is to convince Josie this is more than just a fuck or a fling for me. This is now a forever sort of thing.

I see Josie around the paddock and hotel, but it isn’t until we’re watching a movie alone in her hotel room the night before the race that I carry out my plan. And then blow it all to hell moments later when I open my mouth and state, “You’re a cat.”

Josie’s face scrunches up adorably and she tilts her head. Tugging at the strings on her jumper—that features my last name and number, thank you very much—she says, “What?”

“You’re my cat.”

Nice, Walker. Way to clarify things.

“Is this your way of saying you want me to role play as a cat,” Josie muses unsurely. “Because, um, I’m not sure how I feel about that. I mean, cats are cute and all, but I’m more of a dog person and?—”

“No, let me start over.” I take a deep breath, hoping my mind will stay in one lane and not do its typical routine of trying to fit twelve topics into one sentence. “Blake once made me watch this god-awful documentary on cats. In my defense, I had just taken an edible, and he could’ve asked me to stare at a wall and I would’ve agreed. It was actually a pretty good doc, though. I ended up crying over this little kitten named Annabelle who… you know what? Never mind. The point is, that it went on and on about how cats rub against objects to claim ownership. You’re like a cat. Now that you’ve rubbed on me, I’m one of your belongings. I don’t think I ever stood a chance.”

Josie opens her mouth but doesn’t say anything. Instead, her fingers tug at the delicate gold chain on her neck. “Um, okay. Well, thank you. I think?”

Not off to a great start, Walker.

“I don’t want you seeing other people,” I try again. “Or me. I don’t want either of us seeing other people.”

“Oh.” She pulls her necklace so hard I worry she may break it in half. Really not off to a good start. “To be honest, I thought that we were already kind of exclusively hooking up. But, um, I guess we never really clarified, so I guess it’s fine if you’ve been doing your thing or whatever. I haven’t been seeing anyone else, though. I’ve been focusing on myself and all that. Kind of rules out the whole dating thing, you know?”

My heart hammers in my chest at her words. “But aren’t we dating?”

“We’re friends with benefits. I mean, that’s what you suggested and what we both agreed to.”

“Is that all we are, though?”

Josie blinks up at me, her brown eyes narrowing as she searches my face. “I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if we’re dating or not?”

“I’m confused, Theo. Why are you asking me all this?”

“Because I want to be with you, Jos.” For good measure I add, “As more than just a friend you have sex with.”

Her pouty mouth widens into an “O,” but she doesn’t say anything. At the very least, I was expecting her to launch into some speech about how she doesn’t want to date me, but I wasn’t prepared for silence. That’s quite honestly the worst-case scenario. Neither of us tend to do well with extended periods of quiet.

“Well?” I prompt impatiently. “What’re your thoughts?”

Grabbing a clip off the coffee table, she twists her hair and locks it into place. “Okay, well, um… I’m not quite sure what to say, honestly. You caught me off guard, Theo. Give me a second to process, yeah?”

The past few months haven’t been enough time?

My mouth goes dry from the mix of adrenaline and embarrassment and anger, and it’s hard to get any words out. They stick in my mouth, fighting to stay there, but I force them out. “We can go back to being friends or whatever. It’s clear you don’t like me as more than that. Forgive me for thinking you could possibly see me as boyfriend material.”

“Theo, that’s not?—”

I interrupt her before she can finish her sentence, responding with a burst of unwarranted aggression. “I’ve always said my career comes first, but can you not see how important you are to me? How much I like being with you? We hung out while you were on your deathbed with a cold, for Christ’s sake, Josie. I wouldn’t even do that for Blake or Lucas, and they’ve been my best mates forever. What else do I have to do to prove that I’m serious about us?” I snap at Josie’s silence, my usual confidence fading into uncertainty. “You know what? Fine. If all I am is your personal pleasure palace, then so be it. I’m more than happy to live up to my title as a paddock playboy. Why try to fight nature, right?”

Josie presses a hand to her cheek but doesn’t say anything, so I quickly retreat out of her room. I need to catch my breath and figure out where the hell I veered off, made a U-turn, and then crashed into a barrier.