Scott: Full Throttle Series Page 5

  “So this is the most private place you could think of?” I asked him incredulously as he opened the back door with a code and we went inside a narrow hallway.

  He flashed me a grin. “Free food. Good food. I’m hungry. Come on.”

  The hallway opened to the side entrance of the kitchen, where everything was dim. But I could hear some clanking inside. Then we were at the long bar, where Scott greeted the bartender and chatted him up for a while. It was the same as how he treated the pit crew members, reminding me of when we had a quick dinner after catching up to them on tower day—yeah, I referred to it as tower day. Scott had been very casual with them, not treating them as his crew but rather as his friends, and I bonded with the guys over the span of a few beers and chips.

  We passed by someone cleaning the floors, and Scott asked about the man’s wife, who apparently had just given birth. Then we passed by a woman he introduced as the assistant manager, and she gave me him a bright smile and me a curious look. Finally, we headed up the familiar stairs, where he took me inside the office and closed the door.

  “Barry will just have the cook deliver the food.”

  “What did you get?” I asked.

  “Whatever’s the special for tonight. Anton is a great cook, and he does something new every day. You’ll love his cooking.”

  He sat on the long couch then patted the space beside him. I raised a brow and sat on the opposite end—something he noted in amusement.

  But he didn’t make any comment about it. Instead, he studied me.

  I studied him back.

  “Well? The tips?”

  He kept studying me, his eyes trailing down as he took in my outfit.

  “If this was a date with Doug, would that be what you’d wear?”

  I looked down at my outfit, thinking it over. “Probably a skirt instead of jeans.”

  “Then that’s where you’re making a mistake.”

  I waited for him to elaborate, but Scott merely took two glasses from a cabinet. He poured some scotch on it and handed me one, and I stared at it warily.

  “Drink,” he ordered.

  “Why?”

  “I need you loosened up.”

  “For?”

  He gave me an almost scathing look. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not hitting on you?”

  It was the only trigger I needed. I snatched the glass and downed the scotch, coughing as it slid down my throat. I wasn’t a fan of hard drinks, but I could hold them down…so long as it was only a few glasses.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said.

  I shrugged. “I like cars. I like books. You already know that. I also like food. Pizza and pasta.”

  “Wrong.”

  I blinked. “Huh?”

  He watched me as I kept sipping. “The correct answer should be…what do you want to know?”

  A flirty tone entered his voice, completely changing the meaning of the question. I froze as I initially assumed he was trying to flirt with me. But his earlier words penetrated, and I realized he was only demonstrating.

  “Oh.”

  Scott grinned. “You just gave the guy his opening to flirt back.”

  I tossed back the drink and handed the glass to him, suddenly feeling excited. “Hit me with more.”

  He smiled ruefully. Then he refilled the glass and handed it back. “What can I do to get you to have dinner with me?”

  My mind came blank. “…Where do you want to go?”

  “Wrong.”

  I looked at him incredulously. “I just followed what you said. The non-specifics.”

  “Jules, there’s a time to be coy and a time to be specific. When a guy asks you out to dinner, the answer should be: there’s this new Italian place in town. The food’s…pleasurable.”

  Again, the flirty voice. I noted it down, then the answer, which spoke a lot of what I wanted, but still put the ball in his court. It was pretty clever—and pretty impressive.

  I downed the scotch in a huge gulp and almost choked.

  “Jesus, Jules, you sip, not gulp,” he warned, patting my back. Before I could respond, a knock on the door sounded and a tall, lanky man came in bearing a tray filled with plates. The smell permeated the air, a mixture of something fried and saucy, and my mouth watered.

  Scott brightened. “Let’s take a break. The food’s here.”

  *****

  We ate. The food was fantastic, which made me re-think my opinion of the club. Perhaps people didn’t come here just for the drinks. I interrogated Scott about that and was surprised to find out that he was only part owner, and it was only mostly because he wanted to invest his racing earnings in something substantial.

  We then continued tossing lines back and forth until I got myself familiarized with what was suggestive without being overtly flirty and what suited my personality best. Scott didn’t spoon-feed me, rather throwing questions and having me scramble for the answer at the last second. Oddly enough, I found myself enjoying the challenge, though I knew it had a lot to do with how comfortable I’d gotten with him. I didn’t think I could have the same confidence when it was Doug in front of me.

  As if he read my mind, a wicked gleam came into Scott’s eyes, which had mine narrowing.

  “What are you planning, McCall?”

  He glanced at the clock, then finished his calamari. A shadow of a smile played on his lips, pulling my attention there. “You’ll see. I want you to do your moves on the next person who walks in.”

  I blinked. “Seriously?”

  “Practice, Jules. Do as I say.”

  Bossy man.

  A few seconds later, the door opened. My attention disrupted, I turned to look, my eyes widening as I watched a very fine specimen walk in.

  He was brown-haired, tall, and muscular—not as broad-shouldered as Scott, but still muscular enough in his own right. He had the darkest green eyes I’d seen.

  The man stopped and then stared at me. I gulped.

  Scott elbowed me, then muttered under his breath. “Practice.” Then, louder, “Hey, Jay. This is Julie, a member of my crew. Julie, this is my business partner.”

  I froze. Then I took a deep, inward breath and focused, keeping my gaze on the man but changing my expression to one of admiration. “Hey, there.”

  He eyed me as I stood up and sidled over to him. “Hey.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said, fluttering my lashes. “Have you been the owner for a long time?”

  “Nice to meet you, too. A few years.”

  “Oh, my. And you manage the club?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow,” I said feelingly. I placed my palm on his arm. “I always find it admirable that men still have time to work out despite their busy schedule. It just shows so much…dedication.”

  My voice dropped at the last word—and to my surprise and delight, his gaze dropped to my lips.

  Dropping the pretense, I turned to Scott. “It worked!”

  Scott chuckled, holding his glass up for a toast.

  Jay’s brows rose. “What’s going on?”

  I smiled warmly at him, riding on my own high. “Nothing. It’s great to meet you, Jay.”

  Perhaps this wasn’t as hard as I thought.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SCOTT

  Julie had to be the most stubborn woman I’d ever met.

  “But why can’t I just stick to skirts and be myself?”

  I stared at her until she stopped talking. She’d been talking since we left the club to drive to Jay’s car, protesting that this next step wasn’t needed

  But I wasn’t having it. When she finally gave me the floor, I spoke the words that I knew would have the most impact.

  “Because Doug is a man with sophisticated tastes, and I’ve never seen him date anyone who wore flannel skirts on dates before. Now, do you really want to date him or do you want to be his best bud?”

  She glared at me. I smirked.

  Finally, she sighed. “Fine. But I don’
t want anything too elaborate or risqué.”

  “Trust me. You’ll look like a more feminine version of yourself.”

  We arrived at a boutique where we were welcomed by the hostess. It was the place where I usually ordered my party outfits and such, mostly because I didn’t like going around and wasting time fitting and refitting. But I did like looking at women as they tried on outfits, and I was genuinely curious to see how Julie would fare.

  She was shorter than most women I dated, but she had a pretty good body with generous curves in all the right places. I did my best not to notice those curves in her tank top and jeans, although there was no denying that she filled her clothes nicely. The salesperson asked what we needed, and I explained in detail that we needed something flirty, something sparkly, something girly, and something classy and elegant. Julie and I sat down as the salesperson got busy looking for items for Julie.

  A few minutes later, she was back with her arms full of clothes, and directed Julie to the dressing room and got her started with the casual ones. Her first outfit was a simple black dress, similar to the one she wore during our encounter at the club—but with more glimmer in it. When she came out of the dressing room, I gave a low whistle as I watched the way the dress hugged her curves.

  “We’ll get that.” I tossed the next outfit at her. She stared at it. “Don’t say a word. Just get dressed.”

  She went back inside. A few minutes later, she came out.

  While I was prepared for the black dress because I already knew what she’d look like in one, I wasn’t quite prepared for how good she would look in a red one. It was fire-hot and fit her perfectly, stopping at her thighs and showing off surprisingly lovely legs. I gobbled up the sight, trailing my gaze up at the tight fit on her chest area. The dress squeezed her breasts together and made them rounder, and a surge of interest went through me.

  Down, boy.

  “We’ll get that,” I said.

  “I don’t want it,” she said at the same time.

  We had a staring battle for a few seconds before the salesperson came back and exclaimed how pretty she looked. Julie looked like she wanted to protest and roll her eyes, but the hostess charmed her until she reluctantly said she’d take it. I winked at the hostess, who giggled and winked back.

  Julie watched the whole exchange. This time, she did roll her eyes.

  Before she could say another word, I tossed the next outfit at her. She brightened at the black jeans.

  “Keep it going,” I said cheerfully.

  She shot me a happy look before walking back inside.

  *****

  My next racing contest was another minor one. I liked minor ones because it allowed me to prepare for the Daytona 500, which I planned to win again this year. I’d already won two years in a row and wanted to make it a third time, cementing my status as one of the best. There was also the Monster Energy NASCAR Cup Series Championship, but I was reserving my energy for that one for next year.

  My biggest competition had to be Gray Denton, who was younger than me by a few years and had been the one on a winning streak before I beat him. I knew he was planning to come back stronger this year, and I didn’t want him to gain the upper hand yet.

  He had plenty of time for that in the future, when I retired.

  Another one who had his eye on the prize—and was more than good—was James Kinnick, who was ten years older than me and had already won three times, though not consecutive. Despite being past forty, he still had a lot of wicked skill in him.

  And of course, there was Doug, who was just starting to make a name for himself and was eager to prove his worth. He hadn’t joined the major contests yet, but I had a feeling he wasn’t going to skip the ones this year.

  “Get it ready faster,” Henry was ordering the crew by the time I got to the garage. I eyed as everyone worked together efficiently, and then turned my attention to Henry as he asked the same question. “Think we’ll win today?”

  “Hope so,” I said. “Where’s Jules?”

  “Here,” a voice popped up behind me. She zoomed past me with tools in her hand and got in the grind, and I found myself studying her as she concentrated on the front wheel.

  A few minutes later, Anthony drove the car to the starting line—something that the members took turns doing. It was fun for them. I studied Julie once more, noting down the light lip gloss on her mouth. It looked…well, kissable. Almost sensual. An answering heat shot in my stomach, and it was confirmation that whatever she was doing was working.

  After deliberation, I shot out a hand and removed her ponytail.

  “Hey!” she protested, her hand going up to her falling hair. Her eyes widened when I arranged her hair around her face until it was prettily framed, then began to undo her blue uniform’s top two buttons. She was wearing a black top underneath, one that pushed up a tasteful amount of cleavage and highlighted her eyes.

  Shit. She really was pretty.

  “Now you look entirely distracting,” I said approvingly.

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “Trust me, it is.”

  She beamed at me. I blinked as the jolt in my stomach increased, sinking down below and making me harden a bit. Okay, a lot. With an inward curse, I quickly dismissed it and hid the erection, deducing that I probably just needed to find some woman to slake my lust. It had been a while since I’d had sex with someone—actual sex, not counting my fooling around with that woman when Julie had been hiding under the club office desk.

  Wow, that seemed like a long time ago.

  Definitely need a woman.

  I watched as Julie raced after the others, her butt swaying. I reminded myself that she was young, naïve, and my friend’s daughter. But yes, pretty and feisty and too smart for her own good.

  Doug had better damn well appreciate what was coming his way.

  *****

  James won the race, and I placed second. I didn’t mind, because to be honest, my attention wasn’t even on the winning much—not that that was the cause of me not winning, mind you.

  I was paying more attention to Julie in action.

  She didn’t do anything during the race itself, focusing on her tasks in her usual efficient manner. But after the race and the crew members got the car back in the garage, she didn’t come to congratulate me as she usually did.

  Instead, she went for Doug.

  I was still congratulating James on his win when Doug and Julie began talking. They were a few meters away, and I couldn’t hear what they were saying. At first, it looked like Doug was concentrating on Julie’s face, with just a friendly expression on his. Then Julie shifted on her feet and smiled up at him so brightly, fluttering her lashes.

  Doug blinked and looked at her lips as the smile disappeared and she kept talking.

  Then Doug’s gaze trailed down to her cleavage. Even from this angle, I could see his eyes darken with interest before he quickly looked back up and answered whatever she was asking. He smiled again—but it was different now. It was flirty.

  Smooth.

  They kept talking, their heads coming closer together. Julie used all the techniques I’d taught her, and Doug?

  He was a goner.

  I smirked, feeling like the proudest mentor in the world. Doug kept looking at her cleavage, and when she glanced in another direction for a while, I watched as he practically salivated all over them.

  For some reason, that bothered me.

  Tone it down, man.

  She wasn’t all about the tits—although they were spectacular.

  But this was what I had been thinking prior to my voluntary help, anyway. Would Julie be able to handle Doug in the long run? Should I tell her about the guy’s tendency to love them and leave them?

  None of your business.

  I shook my head. Yeah, not my business.

  My part was done, and Julie was a big girl.

  She’d handle this fine all by herself.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JU
LIE

  It wasn’t working.

  It had been a week since I started lightly flirting with Doug—and to my surprise, he was responding more warmly as the days went on. I had been beyond myself trying to contain my giddiness at our interaction finally progressing, and I could definitely see the interest from him now more than from when he merely thought of me as a crew member.

  As the week ended, I waited for the invitation for lunch or dinner or just going out, ready to try out some flirty lines and see which one would be the most effective. I donned the prettiest blouse beneath my pit crew uniform, one that even made Ulysses blink as he told me how good I looked.

  But no invitation came from Doug that day.

  Or the next.

  Or the next.

  The second week passed. He still conversed warmly with me, still visited the garage often to cozy up with the guys.

  But there was no. Darn. Invitation.

  My hope dwindled to frustration. My frustration dwindled to sadness as I became a ball of gloom, trying to think and re-think in my mind what I could have done differently. My feelings for him only deepened, if that was even possible. How was it that I already cared for the man’s well-being even if we had only ever interacted in a racing track?

  But maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Maybe he already liked someone else and I’d already come too late. He’d always come off as a commitment guy, and I was happy to find out that a search online didn’t produce any incriminating pictures with women and one-night-stands and—

  “Hey, Jules.”

  My head snapped up. Perhaps it shouldn’t have done so quickly, considering I was under the hood of Scott’s car. I banged into something, making pain radiate on my forehead. Inwardly cursing, I rubbed at it then scrambled to unbutton the top part of my uniform again to reveal my cream-colored top beneath.

  Then I was sliding out from the car and greeting Doug with the warmest smile I could muster.

  “Hey, Doug.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. “Did you bang your head?”

  “No, no.” I shook my head. The action only made me dizzy, so I stopped doing it and held steady. “How are you?”