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So why were my dreams that night about Blake Carlton?
ChapterTwenty-One
Luna
The annual Fairbanks golf tournament broke up three weeks before the race in Austria. Devin had a few days off to attend the tournament and to find some time for relaxation. Russo had him on a tight schedule that included stops in Africa to try to give more exposure to racing.
“And right after the golf tournament, I have to be in Saudi Arabia to meet some distant relative of the crown prince. Can you believe that! Of course, Riedl can’t go; he has afamily,” Devin said sarcastically as we drove to Fairbanks, just outside London.
“I’ve never been to Saudi Arabia,” I said.
He looked at me through his brand-new sunglasses. Fortunately, they were too dark, and I couldn’t see him roll his eyes even though I knew he was doing just that. I hadn’t visited all the countries he had, and I wasn’t sure why he expected that I had.
The car driving alongside Devin blew its horn. Devin turned to see Nigel Webb driving the car. He rolled down the window and gave Webb the finger.
“Flynn, I’ll race you to Fairbanks,” he screamed from his car.
“I beat you every Sunday, and now I’ve got to beat you on my holidays too?”
“Fifty pounds you don’t beat me there.”
“You’re on!”
Devin’s Ferrari was off like a bullet. I was thrown back against my seat as he tore through traffic in an effort to catch Webb. Other motorists raised a middle finger in protest, and I held my breath as Devin’s car closed in on Webb’s. There were only inches between the back of Webb’s car and the font of Devin’s and I’d had enough.
“Stop this,” I said angrily. Devin ignored me, swerved into the opposite lane, and blew past Webb. Devin’s car was way more powerful, and we quickly left Webb in the distance.
“You are a real asshole, do you know that?” I said, glaring at him.
“It was just some fun,” he said, laughing.
He’d already put a damper on the day. I’d wanted a nice day without competition, and as soon as we arrived at Fairbanks, I got out of the car, slamming the door behind me. I stormed off toward the clubhouse with Devin running to catch up to me. I discovered that most of the participants were already there, and I went to register myself. Devin stood beside me, waving and mouthing hellos to people he knew.
“Your name?” the man asked. It was the same person from the previous year.
“Luna Perez.”
He searched and scanned the list. “Ah, Ms. Perez, your tee time is nine fourteen. You will be golfing with Blake Carlton.”
“What?” Devin screeched.
The attendant was startled. “And you are, sir?”
“Devin Flynn, you little bugger. I’m golfing with Luna.”
“Well, sir,” the attendant said, adjusting his collar, “according to your golfing skills, you and Ms. Perez are not the same caliber. We try to match skills to keep the play moving.”
“This is a fucking joke.”
“No joke, sir. You will be golfing with Geoffrey Mathers, and your tee time is in five minutes.”
I smiled with satisfaction. Geoffrey Mathers was a well-known Shakespearean actor with absolutely nothing in common with Devin. Part of me wished I could golf with them, to be a fly on the wall as Devin slowly lost his mind.
“Too bad,” I said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I guess I’ll see you in about four hours.”
I took the clubs that had been provided to me and went in search of Blake. He was having coffee with Jane and rose when he saw me. I had to admit that I got a little heart flutter when I saw him, but it was totally harmless. The man was hot, and anyone could see that.
He kissed me on the cheek and motioned for me to sit down.
