Page 25 of Drive Me Wild
“Enjoying the party,” Theo says, talking loud enough so I can hear him over the live band. His eyes roam up and down mybody as if there’s no one standing next to us. I’ll positively die if he can see my nipples hardening under his gaze. “New dress?”
I glower at him. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy tonight.”
“It’s not like I’m skydiving, Bancroft. I’m simply enjoying a drink,” a smile pulls his mouth to one side, “in the company of a beautiful woman.”
Although my insides turn to mush at his words, my face stays stoic.
Theo sighs. “Gentleman, do you mind if we finish this conversation later? It appears I’m in trouble.”
The drivers slowly disappear into the crowd. One of them accidentally bumps into Theo as they walk away, causing him to shut his eyes and grit his teeth. The pink liquid in his martini glass sloshes out of the glass and onto the floor. Rolling his shoulder back, he grimaces. His whole “I’m fine” routine is being poorly executed.
I touch his arm gently, my exasperation dissolving into concern. “Theo? Are you okay?”
“Hmm?” He opens his eyes and stares at me as if he had no idea I was there. “Oh, yeah. I’m good, angel. No dramas.”
“I’m going to find Russell,” I decide, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. “You need to see a doctor.”
“Don’t, Jos.” He grabs my arm as I walk away. The pleading tone of his voice makes me pause. “Please.”
Theo’s eyes search mine in a silent petition to just let it go. Leaning against the bar, I release a deep breath. He could have a torn ligament, a strained shoulder, a minor concussion, a stress fracture.
“Jos, please.” His hand moves down my arm until his fingers are intertwined with mine. “He’ll want me to get scans and I can’t do that. Iwon’tdo that.”
Fireworks glow inside me from the feeling of our hands clasped. How can a simple touch extort such reactions from me?Reactions Andrew didn’t even come close to eliciting.I don’t know what to make of it.
“I haven’t been to a hospital since my dad passed.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “And I don’t want to go to one now.”
A desire to wrap him in my arms overwhelms me, but I’m not sure I can handle that type of intimacy with Theo anymore, so I squeeze his hand, hoping he knows I’m here for him. He absentmindedly strokes his thumb against my palm. I feel a fluttering in my throat and press my free hand against it.Maybe I should pick up yoga to learn how to control my breathing better.
“My dad always joked that when he wasn’t at the track with me, he was in the hospital, wishing he was at the track with me,” Theo says, his lips turning up a fraction of a centimeter.
“I’m sure you had tons of stories to let him live vicariously through you.” My voice is gentle because Theo rarely talks about his dad unless someone asks him a direct question. When he does bring him up on his own, it’s shrouded in pain so deep, I don’t even think he realizes it’s there.
“He was the one who travelled with me to every competition, every meeting, every practice. Every time I wanted to go karting to practice more. Then his MS progressed, and he couldn’t anymore… too susceptible to infections.”
Words bubble up in my throat but fail to come out. My heart breaks for him.
“McAllister was his dream for me,” Theo says quietly. “I had a red racecar bed growing up and everything. Went to the Australian Grand Prix each year, decked out in our colors.”
I’ve seen the photos—they’re hung up in one of the hallways at McAllister’s headquarters—of a young Theo and his dad, wearing matching McAllister hats and grins in front of the track.They took the same photo every year until Theo’s dad passed away.
“He said besides marrying my mum and having his kids, McAllister signing me was the happiest day of his life.”
I squeeze his hand. “He’d be proud of you, Theo.”
His formally calm face is disrupted by the hard tightening of his jaw. “What if I wasn’t at McAllister?”
Um, what?
Before I can ask him what he’s talking about, his familiar lopsided grin appears. “It’s cute how worried you are about me, Jos. I wouldn’t mind seeing you dressed up in a sexy little nurse costume for some role play.”
I’m equally impressed and confused at how quickly he switches topics. He has skillfully mastered the art of saying something serious, but following it up with a wisecrack to deflect.
“Of course, I worry,” I say, dutifully ignoring the nurse remark. “I’d be a pretty shitty friend if I didn’t.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not a shitty friend; you’re thebestfriend.”
The liquid in my stomach swirls. I’ve only taken a few sips, but I can already feel the burn. Right now, I’d prefer that burn over the one on my face. The way Theo’s looking at me, appraising my body like I’m a piece of art, is making my cheeks redder than the lipstick I want him to kiss right off me. “Yep. Key word beingfriend.”
