“Hmm. Well, congratulations then,” Linda said, and that seemed to be the end of it. “So are you actually working today, or did you bring your man candy just for show and now you’re bugging?”
“I’m working, thank you very much. And his name is Rhett. Show a little respect,” she told Linda, but since she was grinning, the admonishment wasn’t going to have much impact. But she couldn’t help it. She was feeling, well, like a new bride. It was embarrassing, but she couldn’t stop it.
Linda rolled her eyes. “Sure thing, hon. I’m on it.”
“We’re having a party on Valentine’s Day, and you’re invited.”
“Open bar?” Linda asked.
“Cash bar.” There was no way in hell Shawn was paying for her friends and family to get liquored up and line dance to Cotton-Eyed Joe.
“What?” Linda was appalled.
“Maybe we can work something out,” Rhett said. “We’ll see how long the guest list is.”
They left Linda sputtering at her desk about the nerve of some people, and they went into Shawn’s office. Rhett closed the door firmly behind him and said, “Give me a kiss.”
“Another one?” she teased, though she was more than willing to comply. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him deeply. “Mmm. Wakes me up better than coffee.”
“I thought it was my cock pounding you that woke you up this morning.”
“That, too.” Her nipples hardened at the memory of how he had awakened her with kisses and a teasing hand over her breasts, her sex, dragging her out of sleep and into languid pleasure before entering her with a decisive thrust. “I don’t usually like Monday mornings, but then again, they’ve never started like that.”
He patted her backside with a familiarity that came from having seen and touched every inch of her, and Shawn felt perfectly comfortable in his arms. It was odd to think that she was more intimate, more connected, with a man she had known ten days than with a man she’d spent three years dating.
“We have a new tradition, then.”
Neither one of them mentioned that this was supposed to be temporary. They were clearly both determined to just enjoy it, and Shawn was willing to reside in Delusionville for a while longer. “Thanks for coming in with me on your day off.”
“I’m glad to. I want to see what you do, see the behind-the-scenes here at the track.”
She kissed him again, because she couldn’t seem to get enough of his lips. “Hm. Then I guess we’d better open this door back up and behave ourselves, or the only work that will get done today will be of a more personal nature.”
He sighed. “Alright, let’s get cracking.” He nudged her forward and opened the door back up. “But later we’ll pick back up where we left off.”
“I don’t doubt it for a minute,” she told him most sincerely. Then aware that several of her employees were craning their necks to gawk into her office, she went around her desk and sat down, indicating he take a seat himself. “So this is my cave, where I spend the majority of my time. Glamorous, isn’t it?”
“About as much so as the inside of a stock car.” Rhett settled into his chair and glanced around at her many stacks of papers, the old promo posters that had been tacked to the wall and were now faded. “So how is business?”
That was the crux of all her problems. “Business is slow. We’re two-bit in a crowded field. I hate to admit that, but it’s true. We run a variety of races, from vintage to moto to modifieds, but they’re local and regional. They don’t draw the big crowds, so we don’t get the big vendors or the big sponsors. No big dollars coming in from corporate, and ticket sales alone can’t turn a profit, nor can entry fees for drivers.” Shawn settled back in her chair, letting it swivel a little. “It’s hard for me to talk about this—it feels disloyal to Pops—but the truth is, racing has changed. This isn’t the seventies, when it was good ole boys throwing down on the track for shits and grins. This is about money. Survival.”
Rhett nodded. “I understand that, and I appreciate that you’re willing to discuss it with me. Family businesses are more than dollar signs or bricks and mortar. It’s a way of life. It’s about heart, not money.”
“Exactly.” She felt relief that he got it. Got her. “But heart won’t pay the electric bill, and I’m concerned that we’re losing ground every year. We won’t make it if I don’t make some changes.”
“You need to go national.” Rhett steepled his fingers in front of his chin and leaned toward her desk. “You need sanctioning from the big dogs.”
Shawn nodded. “With their stamp of approval, and the possibility of earning national points here, as well as a track title, we’ll pull bigger drivers, bigger sponsorships, bigger vendors. But I don’t even know where to begin with that. I’m not a wheeler and dealer. I’m not a public relations expert. I’ve basically been the events coordinator. Our staff is small. I don’t know where to start.”
“I don’t either. But I can guarantee Eve does. Didn’t you say she offered some recommendations for new hires?”
“Yes. I have to contact them and do some interviews. I feel like I’m in over my head, I’m not going to lie. We need a new website. New promo photos. Social media networking. We need to be modern if we want to succeed, while still holding on to the idea that Hamby is a family track, run by a family, for families to enjoy together.”
Rhett smiled. “I totally agree. And what better way to kick off the new season and a media blitz than with our wedding here at the track? Pit crew member marries track owner in a wedding attended by some of the hottest names in professional racing. The new Hamby Speedway dynasty. We’ll spin the shit out of it.”
Shawn started to get excited and nervous all at the same time. “But the hottest names in racing won’t be at our wedding, that I’m aware of. We said family and closest friends only.”
“I say we broaden the circle a bit. You grew up with Evan and Elec Monroe, and Evan was my boss. Eve will be there. I’ll invite Evan’s crew chief, since he and I worked together for two years, and he’s a fan favorite. Doesn’t your friend Harley work for Cooper Brickman? She can bring him as a date.”
The thought of Harley inviting her boss, one of the most notorious playboys on the driving circuit, as her date, made her laugh. “I think Harley would curl up like a pill bug if we suggested that. She does not like the spotlight.”
“But you get the idea.”
“We’re going to turn our wedding into a media blitz?” It made total sense, but somehow it offended her. It was a wedding, not a business opportunity. Except it wasn’t a real wedding, so she was clearly being ridiculous.
“Yes.” Rhett had a calculating look on his face that she recognized. It meant he was focused on the idea and was going to devote his energy to making it successful. “We’ll do this, Shawn. We make the track a success and your Pops will be proud, toasting you with a glass of whiskey up there in the racetrack in the sky.”
Her heart melted like ice cream in August. “Thanks, Rhett. I appreciate you helping me. You don’t have to, you know.”
“I don’t have to. I want to.” He smiled at her. “We’re in this together. You and me. I care about you.”
“I care about you, too,” she said.
Which was probably the greatest risk of all, but she was willing to take it.
RHETT sat across the table from Shawn at a steak house, watching her cut her beef into bite-size pieces and eat them, her eyes sparkling, expression animated. He loved a woman who wasn’t afraid to eat some meat and potatoes. He loved the way she smiled at him, like he was the only person in the room. Except for when she would occasionally glance up at the TV to check the score on the Gamecocks basketball game playing over the bar.