AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“This stops now. Whatever bullshit the two of you have is done. Ignite always comes first. The driver championship means nothing if the team isn’t at the top of the constructors’—”
“You want the constructor title, I need the driver one. They go hand-in-hand, remember?” It’s how it’s always been since I signed with the team, and it ain’t changing now.
“I tell you to pull back,” Murph levels me with an unyielding stare. “You fucking pull back, and you,” he focuses on Connor, “when you’re told to let him through, you follow the order without a fucking complaint. I’m not here to look like a fucking idiot in front of the world.”
Sitting in his chair, he as good as dismisses us with his silence. Connor walks out with a quiet grumble, leaving me alone with Murph.
“He’s going to cause an accident,” I tell him.
“It takes two reckless fools, Brody. He’s only doing what you would do.”
“He disobeyed a team order.”
“We’re not much of a team if you two can’t get your shit straight.” After a long pause, he adds, “We’re having a get together tonight to thank the team for all their hard work. I want you there and I want you to fix this shit. I don’t have time to patch silly playground rifts. Connor is a kid, but you’re a man. You know better than to antagonize the person who’s going to have your back.”
“This is bullshit!”
“Your attitude is bullshit, Brody, and your father agrees with me; we can’t carry on with the two of you constantly fighting each other. Someone will have to go, and no one is irreplaceable in this sport.”
Batting away his remark, I head for the door. I’m too tired to deal with this shit. The race today was chaos. Between the weather, the issues with the tires, and Connor, my fucking head is pounding and I’m ready to get on my jet and spend the next two weeks with my sister and her kids. But before that, I have the team get together to get through. And as much as I don’t have the energy for it, I won’t let them down, because Murph is right. Every person who’s kept us pushing and pressing forward, deserves to be thanked and appreciated.
Chapter Three
Pouring another pint, I smile as one of the pub regulars tries to chat me up again. Clive is a sweetheart in his early sixties. He’s a little too old for me, but he’s harmless though. He takes his pint off the bar and heads back to his table, stumbling as he goes. The jukebox is playing some ’70s song and the atmosphere is alive in the pub. I really love this place.
Growing up, all our friends thought it was so cool that our parents owned a pub. But to be honest, it wasn’t a big deal. They still took us to school, picked us up, cooked us dinner and read to us before tucking us into bed. Mom and Dad never once made us feel like anything other than their priority. That’s partly why I’m here on a Saturday night. They needed an extra pair of hands behind the bar and nowadays I like to make them my priority. Lord knows they’ve done enough for me in the past year. But I won’t be giving up my career in bookkeeping anytime soon.
“Holy shit.” Rowan nudges me, a look of disbelief on his face.
“What?” I turn to see what’s grabbed his attention but nothing stands out.
“Do you know who that is?” he asks, attempting to be subtle at pointing out the guy in a cap in the booth to the left. “That’s Brody Spencer, he’s the current Formula 1 champion.”
My attempt at feigning interest must fall flat as Rowan rolls his eyes before he turns his attention back to the patron in question. I follow his gaze, taking him in. Messy hair flicks out from beneath his baseball cap, shadowing most of his face. His jaw is sharp enough that it’s obvious he’s a looker and when he smiles, it softens. Hiding behind his cap does nothing to blur his good looks while he attempts to blend in with the other patrons.
“It’s the summer break, but I figured drivers making that sort of cash would spend it somewhere more exotic, not Silverbell,” he scoffs, still studying the guy like he’s some kind of legend.
I can’t lie and say I know anything about Formula 1. I’ve heard Rowan talk about it plenty of times, but watching cars race around in a circle has never really appealed to me.
“Rosie, be a doll and grab me another whiskey, will ya?” another of the regulars says, breaking me from my train of thought.
With a smile and a nod, I get back to work and leave my brother to fawn over his hero. But it doesn’t stop me from stealing the occasional glance as the guy laughs with Maggie, the town’s resident baker and my close friend. Although, I’m beginning to wonder what her holding out on me like this means to our friendship. She’s mentioned nothing about going on a date or seeing anyone. Let’s face it, this town is small enough that word travels fast. Well, I guess, good for her, right? She deserves to let loose.
Saturday night is in full swing, orders are backing up in the kitchen and I leave Rowan to handle the bar while I help Kylie get food out to customers. Navigating my way between booths and tables, I greet everyone and let the noise of the bar wash over me.
The mix of chatter and laughter all around me makes me smile. The familiarity of it soothing me and quieting my frantic thoughts, offering me a rare reprieve. Slipping into the kitchen, I grab a couple of plates before heading back out and dropping them off to the right customers, apologizing for the delay.
By the time the backlog is clear, Deke, our chef, is looking a lot less frazzled and back to his normal, sarcastic self. At six foot four and sporting two full sleeves of tattoos, Deke is a pussycat disguised as a tiger.
Pushing through the swinging kitchen door, I shake my head in amusement at Deke’s flippant comment and turn just in time to smack into a solid wall of muscle.
Gravity escapes me and I’m sure my ass is going to make contact with the hardwood floor, but a strong grip seizes my waist. The breath that was taken from me at the sudden impact returns in a rush when I look up and see a pair of chocolate eyes devouring me. The appreciative sweep he does of my body has me pulling away and straightening my shirt.
“I always enjoy sweeping a girl off her feet,” my savior says in a flirtatious tone.
My eyes roll of their own accord at his comment while I put my hands on my hips, eyeing up the Formula 1 champ that Rowan was fawning over earlier. Up close he’s even more attractive, with his dark hair mussed up from the baseball cap and his five o’clock shadow neatly trimmed. His brown eyes are full of mirth and intrigue as he studies me, slipping a hand into the pocket of his snug fitting Levi’s.
“Really? Your lines need some work, Hotshot.” Moving to the side, I attempt to sidestep him. No need to thank him when he was the reason I almost ended up on my ass in the first place.
