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“They’ll make a lot of money,” I growled, then stomped toward my booth.
“Uh-huh,” he said, trailing after me.
Fuck, how did he make me feel so stupid?
“Hey, Judah!” Bill Wylan slapped me on the back as I stopped next to my booth. He was about a hundred, if he was a day, and his jowls wobbled. “This is something else.” He laughed, a husky brittle sound.
“Thanks! We have some test tires. Do you think your son would like to try them out?”
He wheezed, which became a dry cough that had me wincing. “You know it. Your dad loaned me the cash to start my dealership forty years ago. Did you know that?”
My stomach fell. Nepotism wasn’t what I wanted to use to sell these tires because they were a good new product, but I nodded and smiled. “He always had faith in you.”
“And we’ll always sell the Dailey brands. Don’t work so hard, son,” he said, giving me another slap. “Have a drink.” He pointed to a booth nearby selling beer. “Enjoy the day.”
He wandered off, and when I turned, Tav was staring at his feet, but I knew he’d probably heard all that. My ears were burning by the time April and Tascha, the two models we’d hired to be our saleswomen today, noticed me and gave me small waves. Clark, who led the sales team, looked like he was in heaven surrounded by rubber and beautiful women. There were some interns lingering around to run errands who inched toward the back of the booth when I stepped closer. It was a dirty trick—hiring models at what was normally a man-heavy event—but Dad had suggested it, and damned if we weren’t getting a larger crowd than anyone else.
Despite the foot traffic, the morning dragged past at a snail’s pace. We had a fully staffed and well-informed sales team, which meant I’d done my job perfectly—and I probably could’ve stayed home instead of hovering nearby. Occasionally someone recognized me and came to talk, usually men who’d been financed at one point or another by my father.
At noon someone from each booth took one of their best tires out onto the track for the tire race, which was always ridiculous. You had to roll the tire all the way around the track once without letting it fall, and the first person back usually got free beer for the rest of the day—along with bragging rights for the year. We sent out April and Tascha, and the crowd lined up around the track went crazy. I saw cell phones raised. Dailey Tires was slapped across their back and front, so the attention, wherever it was aimed, was perfect.
It occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Tav in a while, and my stomach shriveled until I spotted him nearby drinking a Sprite. Then, anger boiled in my gut as he leaned over to say something to a man standing beside him. I had never seen the guy in my life, but he was younger than us, with curly brown hair and big brown eyes. His smile was the kind that made people linger and look at his pretty lips. Tav said something that had him grinning from ear to ear.
The kapow of a starter pistol made me flinch. Resentment slithered through me, and I stomped over to Tav, ignoring the laughter and hooting and whistles as everyone from all the different booths took off, balancing the tires. The joyful atmosphere didn’t mellow my mood.
“Take me back to the office,” I snapped in Tav’s direction.
“Yeah, sure. Bye, Brian!”
The kid gave him a shy smile and waved.
Brian. Of course he’d gotten a name. I started to feel dumb by the time I reached my car and threw myself into the back seat. This wasn’t me. I didn’t get worked up about people—even when I should. I ran a hand down my face as Tav slid in behind the steering wheel.
“Let’s go. To the office.”
“What crawled up your arse?” Tav asked, starting the car. He immediately eased out of the parking spot and back toward the road.
“Do not talk to me that way,” I muttered.
He hummed. “Fine. What crawled up your butt?” He smiled over his shoulder at me, and I glared right back.
“Nothing, but that guy wanted in yours,” I snarked. “Brian sure was tasty.”
He snorted, then chuckled, giving me another look, as if checking to see if I was joking or not. “No, he didn’t.”
Tav pulled over to the side of the road, causing whoever had been directly behind us to beep their horn, but he didn’t pay attention—he simply swiveled in his seat to stare at me. “Why don’t you just say what you want to say, and we can cut through all the bullshite.” He set his jaw and stared directly into my fucking soul. Damn it, how did he do that?
Shaking my head, I crossed my arms. “Just take me to my office before you break a record and end up jobless two days in a row.”
“Not much of a record. Been jobless two days in a row plenty of times,” he mumbled, and fuck me, but I wanted to laugh—just a little.
Instead of working, I opened my laptop and stewed. By the time the car stopped, I hadn’t accomplished much of anything. I probably should’ve stayed the hell home and slept—it would’ve done about the same amount of good. When I glanced out the window, I was shocked because I was staring at Tav’s dilapidated truck.
“Why did you bring me home?” I asked, stunned.
He shrugged and turned around to rest his chin on the seat, which put his mouth way too close to me. Fuck, his lips looked as kissable as they ever did. “You were busy having your temper tantrum and didn’t tell me where you work.”
Fury ate at me again—this time at myself—and I got out, slamming the door hard. The crack was satisfying, but then I was left staring at Tav once more as he emerged to stand near me.
