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She ran up to the two families, and they recognized her as Franco’s girlfriend. Both moms apologized for not knowing who she was earlier.
Violet grinned their apologies away. She wasn’t anybody but the girlfriend. She’d accepted that as her role with the fans who adored her mate.
She asked the sobbing young one, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
The child rubbed the back of his hand across his tear-stricken cheeks. “I didn’t get to see Fwanco,” he said with sniffles. “All I got is this.” He held out the water container his mom had purchased earlier with the team’s logo.
“Do you have a minute to come with me?” She asked both the moms.
They all shrugged and followed her out to the private parking lot for the racers. She saw Franco leaning against his rental car with a smirk on his face. Yeah, he knew what she was up to. She smiled back at him.
The two older boys gasped. “Look, Mom, it’s Franco himself.”
“Would you like to meet him personally?” Violet asked. All their mouths gaped, and their eyes widened almost comically.
The little one took off running toward her mate, hollering, “Fwanco, Fwanco.” His mother lunged forward to grab him, but Violet stopped her, letting the boy meet his idol.
“He’s okay,” she said with a wink to the mom.
To her surprise, Franco bent down, scooped the child into his arms, and stood with him. The expression on the little boy’s face was something Violet would never forget.
The image of Franco standing there with a little one, gently talking to him, assured her that he would make a great father. One day the child he’d be holding would be theirs. Tears popped into her eyes which she wiped out before they fell.
Franco shook the hands of the others and spoke to them like normal people. He personally signed the shirts and photos the older boys had then the mom thanked them and hurried her crew back toward the public area.
Franco said to the little boy, “You don’t have a shirt or picture for me to sign.” The child shook his head, his lower lip beginning to tremble. Franco set him down, reached into the car, and pulled out his sponsor-labeled jacket. He wrote a message across the back with a marker, signed it, and held it out toward the kid. “How about this for a consolation prize?”
The boy tilted his head back to look up at the racing star, big eyes shiny with tears. “For me?”
“You bet, buddy. Can’t have you going home with nothing to remember me by.”
The mother covered her mouth with her hand, and it was then Violet realized the mother was shedding tears of her own.
“Thank you so much,” the mom said. “Before my husband, his father, died, the one thing they shared was watching you drive around that crazy circle.” She smiled and wiped away the droplets. Apparently, she was into racing as much as Violet was before meeting her mate.
She continued. “Now, my son will always have a connection with you and his father for the rest of his life. I can’t thank you enough.”
Franco slipped the jacket over the boy’s shoulders, the garment completely engulfing the small body.
At that moment, Violet realized what it meant to be a fan of Franco Zellar. Yeah, she’d have to get used to the women throwing themselves at her mate, but many fans, like these two, had a story behind their devotion. Hopefully not as heart-wrenching, but still as important. She would never forget that or look unkindly upon his following.
They waved goodbye, and each couple went their own way, the mom and son back toward the crowd, and she and Franco into the car.
She placed a hand over his on the gear selector. “That was an incredible thing you did.”
For the first time, she saw Franco Zellar’s cheeks blush red. He shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “It’s just a jacket to me. But to him, it will be a treasured moment in his life. Sounds like they could use some good things happening to them.”
And that was the man she’d come to love. Her mate.
* * *
“So,where’s the victory dinner held?” Violet asked once the car was in motion after the emotional moment with the fans.
“Leslie’s,” Franco said. “Their steak is fantastic.”
“Nice.” Violet smiled. “Can’t wait to try it.” Visions of juicy, rare steak drifted across her mind. Her stomach rumbled while imagining a side of baked potato dripping with butter and loaded with sour cream and green beans or maybe sautéed mushrooms. Suddenly she felt hungrier than she was tired and sat up straighter.
Franco laughed. “I see that perked you right up.”
