Page 76 of Downforce

“It’s not, but I’m asking anyway,” he says. “I wanted to ask how the meeting with Liam and Randy went Thursday morning but haven’t had time between all of the racing events. I stopped by your room around dinner time but there was no answer.”

My first train of thought is to remind him how rude it is to drop by someone’s place without giving a heads-up. But he and Tristan would definitely figure out I’m stalling if I did that.

That would pique their curiosity in a way I’m just not interested in at the moment.

“What time was this?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral.

“I don’t know. Dinner time I guess.”

“I went out for a walk. It was a busy day, so I went out to have dinner and for a walk to decompress.”

There.

That’s essentially the truth. I had dinner, and after leaving Max’s hotel room, I went out for a walk because my mind was racing way too much to go back to my room.

“A walk,” Tristan repeats in a questioning tone.

I stop myself just short of rolling my eyes. I hate the worry in his tone, but I know it’s because he cares.

“Just a walk,” I tell him. “Had a little extra energy to burn off.”

Tristan knows that for me, a walk wasn’t always just a walk. It was more of me indulging one or more of my compulsions. The amount of time and hours I lost due to my weird brain is incalculable.

“Anyway, the meeting with Liam and Randy went well,” I tell Travis. “Except, um …” I sigh.

“What?”

“They want to alter the contract a little.”

He narrows his brows. “How so?”

“They want to include Max on the sponsorship deal. They want a sort of joint marketing deal.”

“What the f—” Stopping himself, he looks down at Lucky who’s watching him intently. “Why for all of the tread on my tires would they want to include him on this sponsorship deal?”

I clear my throat. “He was there. The morning of the meeting. I don’t know. He happened by, or something. Anyway, Liam is a big fan, and after speaking with Max for a few minutes he thought you and him would have great chemistry in ads together.”

“I don’t even like that motherfu—” Another glance at his son. “Did you tell them I refuse to do it if he’s a part of the deal?”

“No, I didn’t,” I reply. “Because that would’ve been unprofessional. It would’ve made it seem like you can’t work with your own teammate.”

“I can’t,” Travis shoots back.

My shoulders slump.

“You don’t want to garner a reputation of being difficult to work with, do you? We know some of the biggest names in sports have a hard time with representation and sponsors because of their reputations.”

“That’s not me and you know it,” Travis replies.

“It could be.”

“Then you think I should take this deal?” he asks. “Even if they want to have me smiling and posing with that asshole?”

I flinch. “He’s not an asshole.”

By the time I realize what I’ve said, it’s too late to call the words back. Travis’ eyebrows raise slightly.

“He’s not?” His voice has dropped an octave. “You do remember he’s the same son of a bitch that made me crash so hard that I broke my arm, right? The same guy who, only a few weeks ago in Japan, caused another race-ending crash?