Page 73 of Off the Mark
Rowan made a sound of understanding. “What if they’re not the right fit for you?”
I snorted. “Then I bettermake themthe right fit for me.”
He shrugged again. “Just a thought. You think that mind-body thing is busted, but I don’t know. Could be it’s trying to tell you something.”
The icy truth of that smacked into me, but I already knew I wasn’t ready yet to confront it. Bettencourt meantmoney, andmoneywas the only fix for all my current problems.
Still. I found myself searching out Riley, Quinn, and the rest of their team anyway. This time, they spotted me and waved.
“Was there anything different that helped you win second place today?” Rowan asked.
I held my tongue.I knew you’d be watching mefelt too real, especially for two friends faking it.
“Who knows?” I said airily. “Good night’s sleep, and I visited Tina this morning for a scrapple sandwich.”
He winked. “Smart girl.”
I cocked my head toward the track. “Did I see you talking up Steve again before the race? He better shell over some big cash for you guys. I know he’s good for it.”
Rowan hummed amehsound. “Things with Steve went okay last time, potentially slightly better today? Or worse. Only time will tell.”
“At the press event, you mean?”
His jaw clenched. “Steve has a fondness for the drama of a bad sports injury. Referred to my shoulder as being like aGreek tragedy. And today, Dean and I did talk to him about the rec center a bit. But he’s from the Main Line.” Rowan rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, indicatinglots of money. “And enjoyed sharing his uninformed, condescending opinions of my city.”
Anger had me leaning forward again. “What did he say about your shoulder?”
Twin lines deepened around his mouth. His nostrils flared. “It’s not a big deal. He’s one of those sports fans who likes to rehash your public injuries and humiliations like they happened to a character in a movie. Not a human being in real life.”
His focus sharpened over my shoulder, and by the narrowing of his eyes, I guessed he’d spotted Steve nearby. “You know. We’ve got these big dreams, big contracts and then…one false move and it’s all over in an instant. A tragedy.”
I made a strangled sound of frustration, pushing to my knees and whirling off the truck bed. “I’m gonna make that dude’sfacea tragedy.”
Rowan’s hand, looping around my elbow, stopped me mid-step. “Hey, slow down there, killer,” he crooned.
I scowled over my shoulder. “At least let me hit him in the face with my helmet, Rowan. He walks around the motocross circuit like he’s some philanthropicgod, and I made you go talk to that asshole. This is my fault.”
“It’s not, Maddox.”
He tugged, gently, until I stopped, crossing my arms across my chest. His expression was all sweet softness, and it had my heart backflipping in my chest.
“It’s not your fault,” he repeated. “You had no idea he was a dick in disguise. He hides it well, I’m sure. But it’s always nice remembering I’ve got you in my corner.”
I blinked, wondering why my throat was tightening. “I just…the rec center deserves to stay open and, you know, we had…we had a deal. This is a transaction. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you if I fail on my end. If I fail the center.”
“That’s not possible,” he said quietly. “Plus, we’ve got that fancy gala night and the championship left, yeah? That’s at least two more opportunities I’ve got to reel in some big, rich donor. I’m not worried yet.”
But the anxiety that rippled through his gaze told an entirely different story.
He slid off the back of my truck and handed me the keys. The hovering fans had dispersed, and most of the remaining crowd was back down the hill, near the track. Rowan raised a hand, then looked back at me.
“I brought Dean along,” he said, “but he met up with a few of his old boxing friends. I should get back to him soon, get back to the center and tackle some Sunday administrative tasks.”
My eyes tracked over to the tall, broad man with dark brown hair, who even from far away emanated a quiet power. “And Dean’s the one who made all the glitter signs with my name on them?” I teased.
Rowan coughed into his hand. “Uh-huh, yep. The big guy’s always loved a glitter pen, and I was like…sure, yeah, dude. I’ll hold your signs or whatever.”
My lips twitched with the effort to hide my smile. Rowan caught it, slid a hand along the back of his neck with a bashful grin. “Did you…like them?”
