He scoffs. “But you are a genuinely good person, even when no one is looking.”
A few moments later, Ryder pulls into the parking lot of Play It Forward, next to my Bugatti. “Good luck in your race this weekend. I hope you beat my brother.”
Ryder’s eyebrows furrow, and his lips turn downward. “It’s not Teague that I’m worried about. It’s Reggie. That guy really gets under my skin. He’s like a pimple you can’t pop.”
I can’t help but laugh at him. “Why? Reggie hasn’t done anything to you.”
“He caused the crash in the last race and didn’t even bother to apologize. He punched me in the jaw when I attempted to remove his helmet. For the record, he hits like a girl. He disregards his fans and the other drivers. I faced my past and still show my face, so why is he hiding his? He never speaks to anyone, treating the rest of us like we’re dirt beneath his shoe.”
“I’m sure there’s a very good reason for Reggie’s actions. Don’t you find it all a little mysterious and exciting?” I ask. “I know I do.”
“No. I find him annoying and irritating, like a fly that won’t leave you alone at a picnic. I could understand if he felt embarrassed about his appearance or something along those lines, but not shaking hands, saying kind words, or acting like a decent human being is excessive. It’s poor sportsmanship, plain and simple. It drives me bonkers,” Ryder rants.
“I’ll rephrase. Iassureyou there is a very good reason why Reggie hasn’t come forward, and I can promise you that all will be revealed by the end of the season—when the timing is right,” I tell him.
At this, Ryder raises an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
“Really? As tight as you and my brother are, I would have thought he would have told you what company I work for, albeit remotely most of the time.”
Ryder shakes his head adamantly. “No, he hasn’t. Why? What company do you work for?”
Smirking, I say, “Wheelie Good Tires. In order to prove myself capable of running Morrison Motors, I had to take a company from nothing and make it a household name.”
“What?! Does that mean you know who Reggie Buchanon is?” Ryder asks excitedly.
I nod. “Yes, but I can’t say anything due to a nondisclosure agreement. I can’t even tell my father, and he’s been begging me to find out.”
Ryder bounces in his seat. “Can you at least tell me why Reggie hides his face?”
“No can do. But what I can tell you is that it’s for a really good reason. Will you trust me and let it go for now? All will be revealed when the time is right.”
“I’ll let it go if you agree to go out with me next Wednesday. Normally, I visit my Aunt Mabel for dinner and then hang out with some friends before leaving on a race weekend. I’d like you to come,” he says.
I release my seatbelt and turn in my seat so that I’m facing him. “Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Stone?”
“I suppose I am. I don’t like being told I can’t do something, especially when I really want to do it.”
I lean over and kiss his cheek. “I’d love to, but if we’re going to see each other, we’re going to have to keep it a secret for now. I’ll come up with an excuse to miss the family dinner next week.”
Ryder shakes his head. “I can ask Mabel if Tuesday would be all right. It would be suspicious if you suddenly changed your routine. Since my friends are always around, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
I open the car door and get out, then duck my head back inside. “I’ll text you my address.”
“Blake, are you going to be at the race on Saturday?”
“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll certainly try.”
I close the door and then get into my car, heading home to an empty house. As I drive along the two-lane highway, my thoughts turn to my father and the power he believes he has over me. Determined to take control of my life, I grumble, “No one puts Baby in the corner.”
I dial my mother, who picks up on the first ring. “Hey, Sweetie. How’s Texas treating you?”
“It’s much warmer than Maine, but not nearly as pretty in the fall.”
“True, but the winters are much more palatable. We’re forecasted to get snow next week, and I’m betting it’s still swimsuit weather down there,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Have you met anyone special yet?”
“I have.” I spend the next few minutes telling her about finally meeting Ryder and the threat Dad is using to keep him in line. My mom, Deborah, has heard plenty of stories about Ryder from Teague over the years. “I’m tired of keeping secrets from Dad, but he’s forcing my hand.”
“Do you want my advice?” she asks.
