“I watch her driving, not her. And she can have a boulder on her shoulder for all I care. That’s her problem, not mine.”
“She’s going to need to learn to smile if she wants to make the suits and the fans happy. Doesn’t matter if she doesn’t want to be pals with any of us, but she needs to play the game smarter with her image.”
Evan glanced back at Kendall thoughtfully. She’d only been driving in the series since Daytona and he had been abiding by a policy of trying not to notice she was around. He knew she was getting a lot of media coverage because his sister Eve, his PR rep, was complaining about it, but Evan hadn’t watched any of it. Was Kendall really pulling attitude?
If the way she had spoken to him was any indication, yes. But that was different. They had a history.
“Well, isn’t that what her PR person is for? To tell her to smile pretty for the camera?” And why should he care? It was her career, her life. None of his concern.
“I’m sure. But I have to say, I’m curious how all of this is going to play out.”
“I’m not,” he declared, in a voice he knew was short and clipped and bordering on childish.
But he couldn’t help it. He was already having enough problems getting around the track each week. He didn’t need Kendall Holbrook distracting him, too.
“Didn’t you used to date Kendall?” Ryder asked casually, tossing his helmet in his hands.
Was nothing a goddamn secret in this town? Everyone was always in everyone else’s business, and Evan was tired of it. “For about a minute a hundred years ago.”
“You still have any feelings for her?”
Evan lost patience with the conversation. He did not have feelings for that woman, other than a lingering annoyance that she’d been such a total wimp about breaking up with him. The least she could have done was have the decency to tell him what he’d done wrong.
“What the hell is this, Dr. Phil? You get married and suddenly you want to talk about feelings? I don’t have any feelings.”
Ryder laughed. “For a guy who doesn’t have feelings you sound pretty riled up. Hey, I’m just offering an ear, man. And since I’m a guy who knows a thing or two about taking a second chance on a relationship, I figured I’d throw it out there that I’m around if you want to talk.”
What he was feeling was damned uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation. “Thanks, but I’m good. But I’ll call you if I need someone to go get a mani/pedi with.”
“Douche bag. Don’t be crying in your beer to me then.”
“I won’t.” He had nothing to cry over other than the sorry ass state of his career.
Which come to think of it, was bad enough to shed a tear or two.
Evan looked over and caught Kendall’s eye. She made a face and turned away.
Feeling the need to kick a tire, Evan spotted his sister Eve. Perfect. She was always willing to go a round with him, and he needed someone to fight with.
“Hey, Eve,” he called when she was within a few feet of him. “Were you planning to work today or just stare at your reflection in your BlackBerry screen?”
“Shut up or I will cut you,” Eve said as she halted in front of him, her eyes flashing right back at him.
His tepid comment hadn’t brought that on. Eve was primed to go a round herself.
Evan tensed his shoulders and glanced over at Ryder, who just shrugged his shoulders and moved out of firing range.
“What’s your problem? Besides lack of sex and a nose that could use plastic surgery.” It probably wasn’t wise to go at his sister when she was clearly in a mood, but it was a defense mechanism he’d perfected with her over the years. Insult first instead of waiting for the strike.
“My problem is that we’re in deep shit, Evan. No joking, no smiling, no blustering, or prancing around with a blonde on your arm is going to fix this.”
The irritation he’d been feeling all morning was suddenly replaced by the first niggle of fear. Eve was overdramatic, but this was a little much even for her. “What’s going on?” he asked cautiously.
“Your sponsor pulled out.”
For a second Evan’s vision went black, like it had when he’d hit the wall at 120 miles per hour and given himself a killer concussion.
He couldn’t have heard her right. That couldn’t be right.
Trying not to panic, he spit out, “What? What do you mean?”
Eve reached up to smooth back her ponytail, and he saw that her hands were shaking. “I mean you lost a major sponsor. Five hundred thousand a race, gone. We’re f**ked.”
“Jesus Christ.” Evan stared at her in disbelief. It was unbelievable. Incomprehensible. A total f**king disastrous hideous awful nightmare.
His career was in the goddamn toilet.
With a growl, he stomped down the track to the exit before he actually did kick a tire and got fined on top of all the other problems he had.
Of course, he had to walk past Kendall Va-Jay-Jay Holbrook, who didn’t even spare him a glance.
His career was spiraling down with the speed of a felled plane, and hers was rising equally as fast.
And worst of all, he did still have feelings for her.
Ryder was right, he was a douche bag. A stupid, sponsorless, unlovable, easily dumped douche bag.
CHAPTER TWO
TUESDAY was going on a date with Evan. Kendall stared at her friend and pondered exactly how she felt about that. Glancing over at Evan, she caught his eye. She couldn’t help but pull a face.
She knew that for the past ten years he’d been dating a revolving door of women. Blondes, brunettes, redheads—it didn’t seem to matter. As long as they were beautiful and dumb, with a substantial rack, they had been on his arm. She looked away, unable to deal with the intensity of his stare. It didn’t matter who he dated, and she was pathetic that she still let him get under her skin after all these years.
Hell, she should be grateful he had spent the last decade parading models around in front of the cameras. It only proved he was shallow and that he commodified women, which was why they hadn’t worked out.
She’d been over it almost from the beginning of the end. There were no feelings there other than disdain.
But that didn’t mean she wanted her best friend grabbing a beer with him.
“Why did you just ask Evan out?” She paused while a car went around the track behind them, drowning out any words she might have spoken. “I thought you said he would be lousy in bed.”