Page 63 of Drive Me Wild
“Well, the other day, Ri?—”
“No Richard. I want to hear aboutyou.”
Theo sighs deeply. “Fine, fine. Your wish is my command, princess.”
I close my eyes as he recaps the adventures he’s gone on while home. Dune-buggying across muddy hills. Playing rugby with childhood friends. Checking out a few microbreweries. I’m lulled into a deep sleep by the steady warmth of his voice.
TWENTY-THREE
THEO
I’m dying slow,painful death caused by one too many push-ups. One month without Russell whooping my arse, and it’s like I’ve never worked out in my life. I went on a lot of runs in Australia—anything to excuse myself from being in Richard’s presence over break—but nothing like the intensity of Russell’s workout regimen.
“Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven…” Russell counts like a drill sergeant. “Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty.”
I lie face-down on the mat and let out a muffled groan. My arms feel like uncooked spaghetti. If Jos were here, she’d sing the opening lines of Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.” We’re only thirty minutes into our session, and I’m ready to tap out.
“Can we be done?” I whine from the floor. “Please?”
“Nope. Not even close, bud,” he says. “Are you ready to focus now?”
“I am focused,” I argue, rolling onto my back. “Laser-focused.”
“On staring at the wall, maybe. But you’re definitely not focused on this.”
How am I supposed to concentrate when McAllister responded to our counter-offer two hours ago? They onlycompromised a little bit, so now personal sponsorships can remain in place, but they can’t overlap with specific products or services. So, if a McAllister sponsor wants us to promote shoes, I can no longer work on a shoe collaboration with Pegasus. The worst part is that they won’t back down on the Number One car—a.k.a Blake—finishing every race first. No exceptions.
“What’s next?” I sigh, standing up. “Can it be something less torturous? Maybe something that doesn’t make me want to jump in front of a moving car?”
“It’s not my job to watch you half-arse things, Walker. So do it right, and we won’t have to spend the rest of the morning arguing over how much training you still have to do.”
I grumble to myself as I start doing kettlebell squats. Russell reaches over and adjusts my body, so my shoulders get pushed back a bit. “Ten more reps. Then we’ll get started on chest flys.”
Fucking hell.I try to stand straight so I can argue with him, but he smacks the back of my head. I’m immediately back in position.
“I could sue you for damages, you know,” I complain as I bend my knees. “Emotional and physical harm or whatever.”
He snorts loudly. “You’re more than capable of harming yourself, mate. You’re going to pull something if you don’t keep your shoulders back. Let’s go.”
An hour later, I’m lying flat on my back on the floor once again, forcing my lungs to fill with oxygen, when a ball of fur pounces on my face. I’m momentarily suffocated until it moves off me and I get a leathery paw on my cheek instead.
What the fuck?
Sitting up, I find Blake grinning at me with undisguised amusement. He lets out a quick whistle and the fluff in question hops over to him with a wagging tail and flopping tongue. He looks like a tiny UGG boot with his curly caramel-colored fur.
“Uh… is that a dog?”
“As opposed to what? A peach pie?” Blake rolls his dark eyes. “Yes. Obviously, it’s a dog, Walker.”
“Whose dog is it?”
He stares at me like I’m an idiot. “Mine.”
“Let me rephrase.” I cough into the crook of my arm to clear my throat for dramatic effect. “Why do you have a dog?”
“Because it’s my dog,” he says with a frown. “I’m not sure what you’re not understanding. Ella and I got a dog. This is that dog. The dog is now ours. We are the owners of this dog.”
“Holy shit.” Blake Hollis has a dog. Two years ago, he couldn’t even take care of himself, and now he’s taking care of a living, breathing ball of… fluff. I look at the pup stationed at his feet and tap the floor to coax him to come back over.
