Page 84 of Handle Me

I gave up trying to look cheerful. “I get it. I need McKinnons. Don’t worry. I got this.”

“You do?” He lifted his eyebrows. “Because whatever it is you’re doing, it’s not racing.”

His words hit me in the gut, and I sucked in a breath. He was right. “I know, but I’m fighting.”

Wilkes studied me for a moment, his eyes unreadable. Even after all our years together, I never knew what he was thinking. Mostly because he was usually concocting some deep, life-changing insight that might help if I could see past my annoyance.

Finally, he shook his head. “You aren’t fighting. You’re surviving. And that’s a whole different thing.”

“Profound,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Is that a fortune cookie or Yoda?”

“You aren’t going to fix this thing by pretending it’s not happening.”

“We won’t know until we try, right?” I was getting sick of this, but I didn’t have a choice but to listen to him. Not if I wanted to keep what was left of my career. Before he could respond, I walked away.

Brex was waiting in the parking lot, leaning against the side of the Range Rover parked next to my bike. Despite refusing to speak with Alexander or any other royal representative since I’d left over a month ago, I couldn’t shake Brex. I’d given up trying and just gotten used to it. He wasn’t so bad. Probably because he stayed out of my business, unlike everyone else I knew. And he didn’t care that I drove my motorcycle as long as I let him follow me in the SUV.

He shot me a wide grin as I approached and grabbed my helmet.

“Don’t ask,” I said before he could ask me how things had gone today.

“Got it.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted his head. “I assume we’re going to the pub then.”

“You assume correctly.” I put my helmet on and straddled the bike, reconsidering. “You know, you don’t have to go with me. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“But I enjoy your company,” he said dryly. “It always cheers me up.”

“Prick,” I called as he climbed behind the wheel.

He shrugged. “Bastard.”

Touché.

The ride to the Dark Horse went too quickly. There was something about being on the back of a bike that cleared my head. Or, at least, it gave me a break from thinking about the laundry list of fuck-ups I was racking up day after day. I didn’t bother to wait for Brex to pull in before I headed inside the bar.

There were three or four regulars inside. For a Tuesday, that was practically a record. Brex came in behind me, his mobile pressed to his ear and his face stony.

“Got it,” he said in a clipped tone. Then his face softened a little. “You too, Poor Boy.”

Great. He was talking to Alexander. With any luck, my older brother would also find a way to show up and tell me off. That would really take this day from bad to shit.

I sat down on my usual stool, and two beers appeared before me.

“Thanks, Joy.” Brex flashed a winning smile at the barkeep as he took the stool next to mine.

Picking up my glass, I took a long drink before turning to him. “What was that about?”

“The call?” he asked, and I nodded. “Going over some reports. Nothing to worry about.”

“As long as Alexander isn’t planning to chain me to the wall in Buckingham,” I said miserably.

“At least you’d be in London,” he said, taking a sip.

“Not you, too,” I groaned. “Look, Lola and I are ancient history.”

He grinned at me. “Who said anything about Lola? I didn’t. Is she on your mind?”

“Nope.” I held up a hand. “Keep your Jedi mind tricks to yourself.”