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“Rosie?”
In truth, I don’t know why I asked the question. It popped into my head and I asked, but now, I’m wondering whether my subconscious is trying to steel itself for how things might be between us if we last. And I want that more than I can admit to myself.
“I don’t know.” I brave a quick glance up at him. “Maybe.”
“Maybe you’ll answer my question?”
Shaking my head, I hold his dark gaze. “Maybe I’m trying to get a grip with how things are.”
“If it makes any difference,” Brody lets out a long breath, tightening his grip on my thigh. “I don’t have much longer left.”
There’s a sense of loss in his faraway stare that hits me all wrong. I didn’t mean for my remark to come across in a bad way. The thought of him quitting has never crossed my mind and it would never. He is who he is, and that’s the man I care for. That’s the guy that I like. And I would never want him to change who he is or give up something he loves because of me.
“Brody, I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” he smiles at me. “But it’s the truth. I have another two, maybe three championships left in me. I don’t want to drag it out, I want to call it a day at my peak. My best. I’m a shit loser, Rosie, anything less than first isn’t my best and after a certain point…” Brody shrugs, glancing to the gate before he pulls a fob from the center console.
I watch as the gate rolls open slowly and he tells me, “After a certain point your reflexes aren’t the same and I could never be content with a result off the podium.”
“What happens if you don’t finish the race like some of the other cars didn’t in the ones I watched.”
“That’s different, and it’s not something that’s happened to me in a long time. I have a good engine and the car itself is pretty much the crème de la crème. Not to mention that we spend a lot of time between each Grand Prix looking over stats and tweaking things to improve.”
The passion he speaks with, that he has etched in his being is enamoring. More than that, it’s contagious and consuming. I feel it rumble through me, waking all the butterflies in my belly.
“Besides, it’s not all about me. I have to think of the team, and they deserve to be at the top. Hell, it benefits my dad as the owner and the sponsors we have. Ignite isn’t just a team I drive for, it’s mine. Or it will be some day.”
“Some day,” I whisper. “What does that mean?”
“It means that as much as I love the sport, it’s still a business, and my father spent most of his life working his ass off to get to where he is. Eventually, he’ll retire and although his company has an operational board and people to run it, it would be foolish of me not to take over the team.”
“You have it all figured out.”
“Mostly, but nothing is ever written in stone. Things change, you know?”
“I do,” I nod, resting my hand on top of his when he puts the fob back.
As confident as he sounds, there’s an edge of trepidation in the scrunched smile he gives me that leans itself to a light frown. I’ve seen a lot of sides to Brody, but this is the first time where there is a shadow of a man with a lot of weight on his shoulders.
“Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to bore you with things that don’t really matter right now.”
“You could never bore me.”
“Still,” he shrugs, rolling the car through the open gates.
Although one of my clients, and close friend, lives down the road on one of the bigger estates with her grandma and daughter, the sight takes my breath away. It’s just beginning to get a little dark and the lights are on, giving the place a warm and inviting golden sunset-like glow. I’m mesmerized by all the fully bloomed flowers and thick lawn surrounding the driveway and the path to the house.
Blowing out a deep breath, I ask, “Why are we here?”
“We have a little over half a day together, and I’m not wasting a second telling people to fuck off.” Brody gives me a broad grin as he gets out of the car, rounding to my side to help me down too. “I want you all to myself,” he tells me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his side as we walk up the short path to the house.
It could be a show home because everything about it is immaculate. From the white beachy décor to the placing of the furniture. It’s obvious everything has been set out to look its best rather than for practicality.
“This place is insane,” I whisper as we reach the back of the house where the kitchen is separated from the dining area by a sliding wall.
“Pretty cool, right?” Brody laughs at my wide-eyed reaction to him moving a wall.
Seriously? Who even thinks that they need a sliding wall when their dining room and kitchen alone are bigger than my apartment? It’s crazy and beautiful, and if my purse strings were on whatever league this place is on…Sweet freaking Jesus.
