Page 5 of Drive Me Wild
I fight the urge to ask if he ate his girlfriend for breakfast. Blake’s sense of humor doesn’t quite allow me to poke fun at him and Goldy.
“Suit yourself,” I say with a shrug.
When the door opens, I expect William to walk in, but what I don’t expect is the man who once threatened to ruin my life to waltz in behind him. A chocolate chip goes down the wrong pipe and I start coughing. The way I’m hacking up a lung sounds like I’ve been smoking for thirty years.
What the hell is James Avery doing here?
“You okay, mate?” Blake questions, half-rising from his seat. I know he’s certified in the Heimlich maneuver, but he’ll crack my ribs if he tries that. Holding up a hand, I wave him off.
“Wrong pipe,” I choke out.“No dramas.”
It takes me another minute before I can actually breathe again. Breathe is a very loose term, considering I’m near hyperventilating. I haven’t seen Avery in a few years. He’ssporting a small beer belly now, but other than that, he looks the same—like a piece of shit with ears and eyes. I absentmindedly touch my left eyebrow. The small scar that runs through it is courtesy of good ‘ol Avery the asshole. A part of my life I’d rather not relive.
“Theo, Blake,” William finally says. “Meet James Avery.”
Hearing his name aloud makes my stomach drop out of my ass, through the floor, and land all the way in the depths of hell. That’s where all my memories of this fucker are kept.
Blake stands up and sticks his hand out. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“You as well, Blake,” James says, pumping Blake’s hand. “Can’t believe it’s taken me this long to meet the Formula 1 legend.”
Does he want Blake to take out his dick so he can suck it, too?
Blake waves off his comment like it’s no big deal that he’s won six World Championship titles. It’s the entire reason his biography is the damn talk of the town—scratch that, theworld.The release party is a few weeks away, and while it hasn’t even come out yet, no one will quit chattering on about it.Blake this. Blake that.McAllister has two drivers but apparently, only one of them warrants attention right now.
“Walker,” he says curtly, his lips pursing together as if my last name makes him nauseous. “It’s been a long time.”
Not long enough.
I nod and mutter, “Avery.”
Blake watches me, trying to gauge what the fuck is going on. Unfortunately, we have an audience and I’d need about six uninterrupted hours to get into that, anyway. William and Avery sit opposite of Blake and me at the table. When William starts talking, it quickly becomes clear what he’s going to tell us. I’m not religious, but I pray to God I’m wrong.
My prayers go unanswered.
Turns out, I should’ve made a deal with the devil.
For the thirdtime in a row, someone bangs on the bathroom door. It sounds like a jackhammer doing the cha-cha-slide against my skull. Can they not hear me emptying the contents of my stomach?Rude.
“It’s Blake,” a familiar voice calls through the door.
As if I wouldn’t recognize who it is after twenty years of friendship.
“I’m a little busy,” I weakly call out. I thought I was done throwing up, but then the realization that I’ve been sittingon a bathroom floorwith my face centimeters away from a toilet seat thathairy arseshave sat on hits me. “Or is that not obvious enough?”
I make an exaggerated gagging noise and will him to leave me alone. I miss the old Blake who would just buy me a beer and let me sulk in silence. Domesticated Blake doesfeelings.
“Open the goddamn door before I kick it down,” he growls.
Okay, well,sometimeshe does feelings.
I shrink at the sound of his voice. It would make any dog’s tail sit snugly in-between its legs. Given the fact that Blake’s single-handedly cost McAllister thousands of dollars in repairs thanks to his hot-headedness, I don’t doubt his threat.
I flush the toilet before standing and opening the bathroom door. Blake squeezes his imposing frame into the small crack I’ve left him. Now I’m nauseous and claustrophobic.Lovely.
“What the hell was that?” he demands, poking me in the chest.
“What was what?”
