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He glanced at Tucker, uncertain of how Annie would be important, but not sure how to explain what he didn’t understand himself to his friend. But he wanted Tucker to like Annie. To know her well enough that he didn’t suspect her of trying to sabotage his car in the future.
“Don’t worry, man, I’m not going to blow it for you,” Tucker said with his trademark grin.
“I’m not worried about that.” Hell, if Annie had a problem with Tucker maybe she wasn’t the woman he thought she was. Tucker was like the brother he’d never had.
“Yes, you are.” Unfortunately just like blood brothers, Tucker could read him like a book. Luckily it went both ways so he’d always known what was going on with Tucker, too.
“Where are you meeting her?”
“At the Beverly Wilshire Hotel in Beverly Hills.”
“Let’s go.”
Tucker drove down the interstate toward Beverly Hills without saying much more. Green Day blared from the speakers. They valet-parked the car and entered the lobby of the hotel.
Tucker was waylaid by a few fans and Jared stood back to give him room. He hadn’t figured on Tucker wanting to meet up with Annie.
A part of him wanted to draw his friend to a stop and take five minutes to finalize the different scenarios running through his head. But Tucker was heading toward Annie, who was sitting at the bar.
Annie smiled at them. And Jared knew he was lost. There were no contingency plans he could make that would help him manage this.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHEN ANNIE AWOKE the next morning she didn’t allow herself to analyze the night before. She’d had fun with Tucker and Jared until her male relatives had arrived and made asses out of themselves. Most of her female relatives had sided with her, and they’d all gone home early.
Annie had agreed to have breakfast with Jared this morning at the track. She’d seen a new side of Jared through Tucker. It was obvious the men had known each other for years, and knew each other well.
She tried to tell herself not to read too much into Jared’s interest in her. Not to give the feelings that were developing toward him too much importance. But it was impossible not to.
She made a simple breakfast of fruit salad, cheese and French bread and packed it into the picnic basket. Jared had said he’d bring the coffee, and since that was his business she figured he’d be better at it than she would.
She showered, dressed and headed out the door. She stepped out into the fresh February morning. The breeze was cool, and dawn was just starting to break over the horizon when she arrived at the track. She reached into the picnic basket for her camera, putting the strap around her neck and lifting the Nikon to her eye.
She waited, holding her breath, as the first pink fingers of the sun stretched up in the sky. Then she started clicking, taking pictures until she’d captured the entire sunrise.
She put down the camera as she heard Jared clear his throat, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. She’d been aware of his arrival but hadn’t wanted to lose the sun.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Nice sunrise?”
“The best. I was a little jealous yesterday when Abby was talking about her new project. I miss projects like that. Sports photography is fun and I love it, but it’s not the same as nature.”
He took the picnic basket from her and led her out of the line of RVs toward the grassy area near Turn Two. Since no one was up at this time of the morning, and the infield campers weren’t allowed access to that area, they’d be alone.
“How did you get interested in photography?” he asked as they settled into their picnic spot.
“I knew I wasn’t going to be a race-car driver when I was about nine. So I started researching other jobs I could have when I could still travel with my family.”
He handed her a travel coffee mug with the JM logo on it, along with a packet of sugar and a small container with half-and-half. “I didn’t know how you take it,” he explained.
“Just cream,” she said, adding it to her coffee. The rich aroma filled the air around them.
“How did you get into the coffee business?”
“It started when I was in college. I always had a lot of extra money, but my father wouldn’t let me have control of it until I could prove myself. With my trust fund we purchased a building. My original intent was to make money from the rents, which I did for a while.”
She took a sip of her coffee. “What changed?”
“I went to Colombia for the summer on one of those extreme vacations, and broke my ankle doing a high-altitude climb. I spent the rest of the vacation sitting in the main house of a coffee grower. His son was our guide.” He shrugged. “I learned a lot from him, and one thing led to another and before I knew it, I’d opened a coffeehouse.”
