Then what?
He didn’t want to think about that day.
TWENTY-TWO
THE NOMADIC NATURE OF AUTO RACING REMINDED EVELYN of the campaign trail, so it was no hardship to pack up again and move to yet another city. And the city after that, and the city after that.
After Daytona Beach, Gray had suggested she stop staying at hotels, since she spent all her time sleeping in his bed, anyway.
They’d argued that point in every city the past few weeks.
She told him she had an expense account and she had to book a hotel room in each city, otherwise everyone would wonder where she was sleeping. Gray said it was no one’s business where she was sleeping. She disagreed. She had a reputation that mattered to her, so she continued to book a room in each city, and not once had she spent a single night in said hotels.
And as she looked out over the racers from her perch on the pit box, spotting Gray’s car instantly, she was reminded of last night, when she’d tried to admonish Gray that it was late and he had a race today and he should be asleep.
Instead, he’d kept her up and kept her coming time and time again with his hands and his mouth and his beautiful c**k until she couldn’t remember how many orgasms she’d had.
She wondered if he was tired, if her staying with him every night at his trailer would affect his concentration on race days. She’d have to monitor his performance today, because she wouldn’t want to be the cause of him wrecking or having a poor race result.
She sighed and leaned back, trying to relax but finding it increasingly more difficult to do so.
She was embedded so deep in this relationship with Gray, and she had no idea what she was going to do when it was over.
Walk away with a giant smile on her face and a heart in tatters, she supposed. She’d promised herself she’d guard her heart, and she’d done a lousy job of it, because she kept growing closer and closer to him, which was dangerous not only to her heart, but to her career.
She hadn’t come here to fall in love. She’d come here to work, which was heating up and keeping her busy, thankfully. It was becoming clear to her, to the senator, and also to the media, that Senator Preston was the front-runner to be selected to be on the ticket with John Cameron as his vice presidential running mate. It wouldn’t be announced officially until the convention in a few weeks, but the time was drawing closer and her time with Gray would soon be coming to a close.
It was an exciting time for her, politically. She couldn’t wait to get to Atlanta for the convention. This was the moment she’d dreamed about since she first went to work for the senator. It would be his time in the spotlight, something he’d fought so hard for—something everyone on his team had fought for.
But for some reason the idea of packing up and leaving Gray brought nothing but a giant knot of anguish in the pit of her stomach.
She shook off thoughts of her impending departure. There was still a lot to do here.
Her campaign to gain potential votes for Governor Cameron and for Senator Mitchell still lay with Gray. She’d beefed up his social media accounts, and tied him in with the senator by reminding people that Gray’s father was running for political office, and that Gray had endorsed his father’s campaign. She listed all of the reasons Gray thought his father and Governor Cameron would make good candidates for vice president and president. He’d been generous in allowing her to post photographs and even these few political sound bites, something he’d sworn he’d never do.
Week by week he’d been bending. She knew it was for her and not for his father.
She wished she could mend that relationship somehow. Not for the good of the campaign, but for father and son.
For Gray.
If she could just get the senator to show up here, to come to a race, to show Gray that he was here for him. She knew that would go a long way to show Gray that his father cared.
But she wouldn’t interfere, wouldn’t dare meddle in their relationship. That was going to have to be something that flowed naturally and on its own.
So instead, she hung out in the pit box, becoming something of a statistician after several races. Ian had been great about teaching her everything there was about all those screens and what they meant. She was too curious to remain ignorant. Now she knew how many laps Gray could go before he ran out of fuel and how his engine was running.
He had come in fifth and seventh the last two races. Respectable, but not what Gray wanted. Of course, he wanted to win every race.
Today, though, was a road race, a totally different animal according to Gray. The track wasn’t oval but more like driving a twisting, winding road along the countryside, though at much higher speeds. And instead of going really fast and making a lot of repetitive left turns, it was a harrowing event where drivers blocked other drivers, and restarts were a free-for-all, especially as they neared the end of the race, when it was critical to be up front.
Gray had already told her road courses weren’t his forte. He’d explained his talent was speed and the standard track, not constant downshifting, braking, and right turns then left turns.
And it showed. He was twelfth at the restart. Donny, his teammate, was fifteenth.
She bit her lip and leaned forward as they got the green flag. Within four laps, Gray had moved up to tenth, which wasn’t bad, but it was so hard to pass on this tight, twisty course, and as the laps counted down and drivers were shoved off the course by other more aggressive drivers, she worried for Gray, especially as Cal McClusky hit him from behind. She squeezed her hands together, certain he was going to spin out. He corrected, though, and barreled forward, maintaining control.
She exhaled, watching him pass one car, then another, leaving Cal two cars behind him. But he couldn’t make enough headway in the time left, and he ended up in eighth place at the finish line.
All things considered, not too bad. Donny finished twelfth and neither of them wrecked.
At the end of the day, they met in the trailer. Gray invited Donny and Stacie to join them for pizza. Evelyn and Stacie had already picked it up when Gray called her to tell her their interviews were almost finished.
The guys grabbed water and fell into the booth while Evelyn and Stacie got out the plates and napkins.
“Rough one today?” she asked.
“I hate road courses.” Gray grabbed two slices of pizza and put them on his plate.
“Me, too,” Donny said. “They’re hard to maneuver. It’s not even racing, man.”