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Rafa narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were just trying to keep Tally happy by letting the guys live with you, but you really do like them. You’re a real little family unit.”
I slapped his shoulder. “I really do. I’m as surprised as you, but they’re like living with your best friends and not having to worry they’ll ghost you when they get a girlfriend,” I said with a laugh. I needed to finish getting ready, so did Rafa. “We’ll meet you in the lobby?” Nodding, he walked back along the balcony to his room, while I stepped through the sliding doors. “Are you almost done?” I shouted into the suite, and Tally’s voice called back from the bedroom.
“Just putting on my shoes!”
I slipped on a white linen shirt that was hanging in the coat closet, and tucked it into my black jeans messily. Or artfully, depending who you asked. It was the first time I’d walk the paddock as a guest and not as a driver, so it was kind of weird. I slipped on a pair of sneakers and ran a hand through my hair. Done.
Tally bounced out of the bedroom, and my breath caught in my throat. She looked effortlessly beautiful, like a golden goddess made of cream and sunshine. “Is this outfit okay? I didn’t want to pretend I was high fashion, but also didn’t want to embarrass you,” she joked, but I could see the nerves in her eyes.
She was wearing wide-leg pants in olive satin that were high-waisted, a thick band with small pearl buttons down the front the only ornamentation. She’d coupled it with a little beige knit top that showed off her milky skin, and a tiny sliver of her upper stomach. She looked classy and effortless.
I stepped toward her, pulling her into my arms. “You look perfect in anything you wear. You couldn’t embarrass me if you went out in a sack.” I kissed her softly, and she pulled back after barely more than a brush of our lips. She was a few inches taller than normal, which probably meant she was wearing heels under those pants. I ran my hands over the silky curve of her ass. Man, I really liked these pants.
She shoved gently at my chest. “If you kiss off my lipstick after I just put it on, we’ll be late.” She ran to get her purse, and Hayes and Jesse appeared in the living room. They were staying home to look after the baby and to give us this moment.
Tally danced over to kiss each of them in turn. “Gorgeous,” Hayes breathed, and did the same thing I did, ran his hand over her ass in those satin pants. “We need to get more of these, I think.”
Laughing, Jesse kissed her too. “Have fun, sweetheart. Remember, you’re a badass, and he loves you, even though he tried not to.”
I chuckled softly, because he was right. I might have been attracted to her, but that was a base urge, a bodily response to an attractive woman. However, falling in love with her was completely involuntary and probably quite inconvenient, given that I’d have to share her forever.
I had zero regrets. Holding out a hand, I tilted my head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
FORTY-THREE
TALLY
We’d hired a car when we arrived in Miami, so we joined the traffic heading toward the race track. In the front, Rocco and his brother talked Formula One, and it was passionate enough for me to know that while Rocco had come to IndyCar, his one true love remained Formula racing. I guess he’d lived and breathed it for so long—probably since he was born—it was insane to think half a year of IndyCar could shift his allegiance.
It was gridlock as we approached the autodrome, but luckily, there was valet parking. Rafa gave us guest passes that got us through the gates and into the paddock, and I tried not to look nervous. It was insane, with people and cameras everywhere. It was like Daytona met Milan Fashion Week or something, with beautiful people walking along toward the garages, and cameramen and press just standing there in the middle of the walkway, doing interviews as people hustled around.
Rocco reached down and gripped my hand. “Are you ready?”
Fuck no. Was it too late to go home and splash around in the pool with Bobbi-June, or maybe snuggle with the guys on the bed?
I didn’t say any of that, though. “Yep, I’m ready!”
He raised an eyebrow as if to call bullshit, but squeezed my hand. Rafa took up my other side, and as soon as one of the cameras spotted us, a buzz rippled through the crowd.
Someone with a long camera stopped in front of us. “Rocco! It’s good to see you. Can I just grab a quick photo?” Rocco merely lifted his chin, wrapping an arm around my waist, his fingers curling possessively on my hip. “Is this the new wife?”
He was talking about me like I wasn’t there. Or like I was a blow-up doll that Rocco was merely preventing from blowing away in the sea breeze.
“This is Tally Palmer-Passero, yes.”
The photographer snapped a few more pictures, but Rocco was already leading me away. We must have stopped and posed at least six more times before we came across a driver giving an interview.
“...the conditions are perfect and we’ll try to—holy shit, it’s Rocco Passero.” The driver grinned, and I realized it was Harry Weiss, one of the British drivers. “How are you doing, man?”
Rocco gave him a genuine smile and a bro-hug. “Good, good.”
Harry turned back to the guy giving the interview. “Only reason I podiumed last race is because this guy defected to the US. We’ll catch up later, yeah?” Harry asked, and Rocco nodded.
We continued down the track, getting closer to the garages. More people came out to talk to Rocco, as well as Rafa, who I’d found out worked for the Teams Association. I was relegated to the background, but Rocco kept me close. If he wasn’t wrapped around me, he was holding my hand tightly. I didn’t know if I was offering him support or if he was offering it to me, but either way, we remained connected, no matter who we spoke to.
It was going fine, until we got to the area around Rocco’s old team. That part was nearly painful, as the mechanics gave sad little waves like children in a messy divorce. These people would’ve been with Rocco through most of their careers, and I could only imagine how awkward it was to have to turn your back on someone you considered a friend. Not everyone was as loyal as Hayes, who’d quit over my former team’s treatment of me.
But on the flipside, Hayes hadn’t been getting paid the insane amount of money these mechanics were raking in every year. I didn’t blame them for their choices really, though I did think it made them chickenshits.
