Off the Mark, page 27
What we were going to do after the championship race, however, hadn’t been discussed at all.
I gulped my martini, and the vodka burned on the way down. I wasn’t sure what was making me more uneasy—knowing that what happened next between us was still up in the air.
Or realizing how desperately I’d looked forward to seeing Rowan’s smile every day. How desperately, painfully, I was going to miss being here in Philly. It wasn’t my home, but it was the first place in a very long time that made me feel…that made me feel…
Loved.
That word—love—swept through me with the force of a fragrant summer storm.
You’re it for him, dear, Alice had said. She’d known me for all of one dinner and understood why I’d kept Rowan at arm’s length. He’d always been the one for me.
“Charlie, are you okay?” Quinn asked, interrupting my frazzled thoughts. “Is it something with the September race?”
I forced a smile, brushing the bangs from my eyes. “Sorry about that. I will be there in September and would love to hang with you both. I’m just anxious tonight because of the awards ceremony.” I fluttered my hand at the scene around us—the convention center rooms had been transformed into sleek, upscale dining complete with a stage, a podium, and servers circulating with champagne flutes. “Between you and me, I dig meeting the fans and hanging out with other racers. But the snooty corporate events have never been my thing. Especially right now, when the only award I’d be up for is ‘most number of embarrassing pictures online.’”
Riley snorted. “Fuck ’em. That reputation stuff is toxic, and I hate seeing it become part of our motocross culture. At least, with a team, there’s a built-in support that comes with it. You’re not just a single bull’s-eye for social media to focus on.”
I shot them a wry look. “The fans like you guys though.”
“Because we’re super fucking cute,” Quinn added.
I laughed and clinked their glasses again. “Cheers to that.”
“They like you and your boyfriend too,” Riley said. “What’s his name again? That hunky redhead?”
I shifted on the barstool and felt a delicious burn between my legs, courtesy of that hunky redhead.
“His name is Rowan, and he is very hunky, thank you.”
Dempsey walked up to us then, sporting a silvery suit and a freshly buzzed head.
“Speaking of fashion icons,” I sang.
She raised a tattooed finger at the bartender before turning to the three of us. “Ladies. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Riley and Quinn seemed adorably flustered by Dempsey’s presence—I knew part of it was that she was an actual icon. But I hadn’t told Dempsey about Archer’s Angels sniffing around my status yet and wasn’t sure if she’d be flattered, like I was. Or pissed because she’d make less money off of me long-term.
Either way, the couple made a smooth exit a minute later, and I promised to return the martini favor at a future date. Dempsey tapped her nails on her glass of whiskey and cocked her head.
“Did they buy you a drink?” she asked.
“Yes, they did. My agent hasn’t even done that. And I got second place and everything for her at my last race.” I plopped my chin in my hand and sighed.
She rolled her eyes playfully and called out for another martini from the bartender. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I’ll be there at the championship race and have it on pod authority that you’re a fan favorite.”
“After one second-place prize?”
She squeezed my hand. “People are rooting for you, Charlie. Did it feel amazing?”
I nodded, much too emotional to speak. My second cocktail arrived, and the vodka loosened the grip of my throat. “There’s nothing like it, is there? Feeling like you’re finally back where you belong?”
“No, there isn’t. And when you get first in a couple days, it’ll feel even more magnificent.” She released me. Took a step back and examined me from head to toe. “Also, you’re glowing.”
I shrugged. “Cool.”
She moved close, like she was about to smell me. I laughed and shoved her back. “What’s happening? Are you unwell?”
“You have a hickey.” She sipped her whiskey imperiously. “That’s why you’re glowing. It’s Rowan, isn’t it? Your hot baseball friend?”
My hand flew to my neck. “I used a ton of makeup to cover it up.”
“No one will notice. I only did because I invented the hickey cover-up in high school.” Another smile flew across her face. “I was very popular with the cheerleading squad.”
“All of them?”
“I was.” She frowned. “Until I wasn’t. But I got what I deserved, since I was dating quite a lot of them. At the same time.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And you’re giving me shit because Rowan’s making me glow?”
“Just a teeny bit. But it’s nice, Charlie. Seeing you happy. Like legitimately happy.”
She shook the ice in her glass, a line forming between her brows. “Can you come with me tomorrow morning to meet with Bettencourt? Some of the reps are in town for the championship, and they offered a face-to-face for both of us.”
The sweet, sultry pleasure of the last two days vanished in a surge of anxiety. “A face-to-face? Is that good or bad?”
She lowered her voice. “The video of you and that reporter, James, is going a little viral. Within the community, but I’ve seen other athletes sharing it too. The guy was clearly proud to be flaunting his love of the double standard in pro sports, and you called him on it. I think it’s great, and you come off looking like a queen.”
“But?” I asked, stomach dropping.
“A family-friendly image, in Bettencourt’s mind, is probably less combative. Their perspective, not mine.”
“Ah, okay. Women should just shut up and take it, huh?”
She studied me closely, and all I could see were eviction notices and dwindling bank accounts. “You did the right thing. If we were able to go back in time, I’d tell you to do the same thing, all over again.”
I sniffed, toeing my boot against the floor. “If I was able to go back in time, I wouldn’t have said yeah, who cares? And then gotten drunk in all those bars the night before my first race here.”
“Oh, Charlie.” Her face contorted in sympathy. “It’s not confirmed. But when I saw the email request come through, I don’t know. It felt ominous to me.”
I nodded, releasing a long, shaky breath. “I’m glad I know we’ve got a battle ahead. At least tomorrow we won’t be walking in unprepared. I, uh…didn’t tell you, but my dad’s being evicted. I technically always need money, but I need more money now and a significant source of it to keep him in his house. Our house.” I blew another breath. “It’s been a lot of pressure lately.”
She studied me over her glass. “You’ve been here before with him, haven’t you?”
“Sure, yeah. Off and on, from when I was a teenager. It’s been hard on him, all the changes.”
“Hard on you too. Harder if you believe you have to fix all these problems by yourself,” she said simply. “I adore your dad, Charlie. He’s one of the best of us, and I learned so much, training with him. And he loves you.”
I pressed the heel of my palm to my right eye before a tear could escape. “’Course he does.”
“And also…that’s a lot of responsibility for a kid. I don’t think it was fair for all of it to fall on you.”
She found my hand again while I composed myself—why I was crying, in public, about money was beyond me. When wasn’t I stressed out about money?
“Do you want to work with Bettencourt?”
My gaze snapped back to hers. “Yes. Why?”
“It’s okay to use them for money. It’s even okay to use them for money and not like them very much. Plenty of times I had to wade through that murky gray area.” She glanced back at Riley and Quinn and her lips curled into a secretive smile. “I pushed you to sign with them, Charlie. And you haven’t seemed happy since. Not happy like you’ve been the past three weeks.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that—except she was right. Hadn’t I admitted to Rowan that I’d been flustered and out of it on the racetrack since Bettencourt came on the scene?
Hadn’t I felt uncomfortable about working with a sponsor whose values didn’t align with my own?
“It’s a lot of cash,” was all I said. In a tone of voice that would convince no one.
“And you and I have cozied up with worse people for less. Bills are bills. But you’ve blossomed here, babe. Yelling at shitty reporters, winning races again, getting positive press?” She tapped my nose. “It’s something to think about.”
The compliment had me smiling. “Did you say I blossomed like some kind of…flower?”
She pursed her lips. “Like a muddy, badass, dirt bike flower.”
“Decent save.”
She suddenly stared past my shoulder, then huffed out a laugh. “Speaking of flowers.”
I spun to find Rowan, dressed head to toe in a dark navy suit, his dress shirt open at the collar. He prowled through the crowd like a big cat in the jungle—confident, dangerous—and I wasn’t the only person watching him with their jaw hanging open.
I’d had this man every filthy way imaginable, and my mouth still went bone-dry at the sight of him.
Our eyes locked, and I blushed everywhere. Then I noticed what Dempsey had been pointing out. The slender bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.
My heart spun like my bike when I whipped it through the air.
Dempsey leaned in to whisper rapidly, “Okay, I’m gonna go. Have fun with your hot baseball player and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, but actually, that’s a whole lot.”
She left. And there was Rowan O’Callaghan, standing in front of me in a damn suit, presenting me with a bouquet of cheerful sunflowers.
The audacity I had to assume I could pretend with this man was laughable.
He pulled me close and rumbled a greeting at my ear. Pressed a kiss to the side of my neck that had my knees weakening. “I wanted to bring you flowers for our date. But don’t worry, I also nervously bought out the rest of the bouquets and now my kitchen looks like a garden.”
I managed to squeak out, “For me?”
“It’s always been for you, Charlie.”
And there I was, sunflowers in hand.
Glowing.
25
ROWAN
The fact that I could walk after spotting Charlie at the bar was a fucking miracle. I’d had better luck moving my lower body after baseball practices that were nothin’ but wind sprints.
It’d been twenty hours since she’d left my bed. And the second my gaze connected with hers through the crowd, I was a goner.
The need to touch her was what finally propelled me forward in the end. She sat balanced on a barstool in a purple jumpsuit that had my eyes roving over her exposed collarbones and the delicate slope of her neck. My fingers twitched at my sides.
All I could think about was what she tasted like there, what that column of golden hair felt like wrapped around my hand.
She was no more beautiful than the first night I saw her at Jolene’s. But everything between us was different now. Charlie had cried out my name and fallen apart beneath my tongue. Had snored softly on my chest and laughed with her head under my sheets.
Around her, I was insatiable.
“It’s always been for you, Charlie,” I said, presenting the bouquet of sunflowers. “And you look absolutely, incredibly gorgeous.”
She stepped back to examine me with her hands on my lapels. She arched a single eyebrow and said, “Holy shit, you look hot in a suit.”
I chuckled and raised a finger at the bartender for a beer. Settled onto a stool, facing Charlie almost exactly the way I had two and a half weeks ago, at a bar in the suburbs where we learned how to touch each other for our fake relationship.
“See, at a certain point, it’s like I don’t even have to flirt. You’re doing it for me.”
She settled back with a sly grin, eyes sweeping me from head to toe. It made me seriously consider wearing one of these every day if it made Charlie this happy.
I crooked a finger with a wink. She tipped her upper body forward and hovered her mouth over mine. “I missed you.”
“Same,” I said. “My sheets smell like you now.”
“That sounds like a delightful problem to have.”
“Oh, it definitely is,” I drawled. “Luckily, Dean came by and shook me by the shoulders a few times until I snapped out of it.”
I tugged on my left cuff link. “You can thank him and Tabitha, by the way. They did all of this since I don’t own one of these myself.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For putting on a suit for me. And coming as my date. My real one.”
I took her hand and brought it to my lips for a kiss. “Thank you for asking. So what is this shindig all about?”
There’d been signs everywhere when I walked in—all the sponsors of the convention seemed to be out in numbers, as well as racers, their trainers, and agents. It wasn’t exactly black tie, but it was fancy enough to remind me of the dinners we went to when I played baseball, charming the owners and their staff.
I’d spent those nights itchy and uncomfortable and yanking at my tight collar. I knew Charlie felt similarly and could spot the pro athletes around us based on their stiff body language alone.
“The galas are a big deal,” she said. “Especially for the fans. It signifies the end of the convention and gets everyone amped up for the championship race.” Her smile widened. “I used to go with my dad to events like this when I was little, before he got hurt and he didn’t mind putting on an outfit without holes in it. I would steal all the shrimp cocktails and eat them in the corner. Wondering if I’d ever get to have fans the way that he did.”
“How do you feel being here tonight?”
“Grateful,” she said. “Always grateful.”
“And how do you feel about the race?”
A quick grin. “I’d love to say something cool like that championship is mine for the taking. The truth is, I don’t know if I’ll win. I’ve been competing against some of the most talented women in my field and they want it as badly as I do.”
Her throat worked on a swallow. “But how I feel is way different from when I got here, way different from how it’s been for these past months. More focused, more aware of my body, less scared and anxious when I think about competing. Does that make sense?”
I stroked my thumb across the top of her hand. “Nothing beats a victory. And nothing beats knowing that you deserve to be out there, winning or not. It’s powerful, remembering the joy of it. I can tell you feel differently. It’s pretty obvious to me. And”—I lowered my voice— “for what it’s worth, that championship is yours for the taking.”
Her response was a pretty smile that spun my heart around.
I wanted to ask about Bettencourt. When we’d shaken on our agreement at that suburban bar—fake dating for a couple of miracles—she’d hoped to be back on their good side by now.
Something in me hesitated to poke around the strategic side of this partnership, the pretend parts tied to money and outcomes. Like bringing it all back up again would rip a hole in the dreamy paradise of the past couple days.
Charlie stepped close and loosely draped her arm around my neck. I curled my hands around her waist, and the skin-to-skin contact made my rush of concern vanish.
“More importantly…didn’t you say this morning that Luciana and the board were coming by today?” she asked. “Did they formally offer you the job?”
I pressed my lips together, trying not to break. But it was pointless. She gripped my face, I burst into a grin, and she said, “Rowan. Did something amazing happen? Tell me, tell me.”
“Yeah, something amazing happened,” I said slowly. “Luciana spoke with the board after our call and to Elaine as well. Who said that hiring me as her replacement was the smartest move because no one was as dedicated as I was. That no one would work harder for the folks that relied on us. Then they officially offered me the position as executive director. And I…said yes.”
Her jaw dropped. Then she pulled me in for a hug, and I sank fully into it, grateful for her affection.
“Are you scared?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah, I am,” I admitted, resisting the urge to shrug it off and crack a joke. “I want this new role. Want this new challenge. But life happens and it’s random. A car accident in the middle of the night took away my parents. The first pitch during my sixty-first game in the major leagues took away my dreams. Sometimes hoping for new, happy things feels dangerous to me. It can so easily disappear.”
She stroked my hair before pulling back to look at me. “Does it feel safer not to take risks? To stay where you are?”
I smiled, grabbed my chest. “Bullseye. How’d you know?”
“When my dad’s racing career ended, he didn’t know what to put his energy into,” Charlie said. “He had so much anger. So much rage and grief. And he was a man used to beating his emotions into submission through physical activity. Riding the track in our back woods for hours, until he was exhausted. Without that outlet, he was so sad and stagnant.”
Charlie propped her elbow on the bar and set her chin in her hand. “There’s not a right or wrong way to handle this stuff. My dad’s experience just was, and that’s okay. I know you had a lot of rage and grief too. But you also found something that made you just as fulfilled, found something that’s made you and your neighborhood better. And I’ve always admired that about you, Rowan. It’s like you feel your fear but you don’t let it hold you back.”
I bent to kiss her cheek, lingered there for a moment. “Thank you for always getting it. I can’t tell you what it means to me.”
She blinked, her eyes shining, but then she was smiling. “Rowan O’Callaghan, executive director. You couldn’t stop being a leader even if you tried.”
“You got me there, gorgeous. Now I just need a cleaning crew to overhaul Elaine’s office. I love that woman, but walking into that chaos every day is a struggle.”
