Chapter Two

TUESDAY was going on a date with Evan. Kendall stared at her friend and pondered exactly how she felt about that. Glancing over at Evan, she caught his eye. She couldn’t help but pull a face.

She knew that for the past ten years he’d been dating a revolving door of women. Blondes, brunettes, redheads—it didn’t seem to matter. As long as they were beautiful and dumb, with a substantial rack, they had been on his arm. She looked away, unable to deal with the intensity of his stare. It didn’t matter who he dated, and she was pathetic that she still let him get under her skin after all these years.

Hell, she should be grateful he had spent the last decade parading models around in front of the cameras. It only proved he was shallow and that he commodified women, which was why they hadn’t worked out.

She’d been over it almost from the beginning of the end. There were no feelings there other than disdain.

But that didn’t mean she wanted her best friend grabbing a beer with him.

“Why did you just ask Evan out?” She paused while a car went around the track behind them, drowning out any words she might have spoken. “I thought you said he would be lousy in bed.”

Tuesday shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to find out for myself.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m like the girl that has to touch the fire even after I’ve been warned it’s hot.” Tuesday pushed up her sunglasses. “It’s a terrible personality flaw.”

“It sounds like a waste of time.”

“Besides, why would one date equate with sleeping with him?”

Because that’s what Kendall would do. Did. Only with Evan Monroe. It had been something about their chemistry together. One date and she’d been gone. Falling hard for him and naked.

Feeling the urge to sigh, she said, “You’re right, it doesn’t. But it still seems like a waste of time to me.”

“Some of us like to date,” Tuesday said pointedly. “Some of us like to go for a drink or to dinner or the movies with some male company. Some of us don’t think that going years with the only flirtation in our lives being romantic comedies from Netflix is acceptable.”

You know, Kendall had to say she resented that. “I’ve been building a career. There hasn’t been a whole lot of time to date. I travel all over the country.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I date,” she insisted.

“When? When was the last time you dated?”

“Uh . . . like two years ago.” Damn. That was kind of a long time when she was forced to say it out loud. “But I could date if I wanted to. I just don’t want to.”

“But the real question is, do you want to date Evan Monroe?”

“What?” Caught totally off guard, Kendall felt her cheeks burning again.

Twice in fifteen minutes. A new personal best, and not one she was proud of. “Why the hell would you ask that?”

“Because normally you don’t pay any attention to the other drivers. And normally you would never question my asking one of them out for a date.”

Was that true? Probably. “That does not mean I want to date Evan.

Because I don’t.”

Now Tuesday stared hard at her, so intently Kendall had to break eye contact.

“What does it mean?”

Damn it. She was going to have to come clean. “I just don’t think you’re going to enjoy yourself with Evan, because the truth is, I dated him myself a long time ago, and it was miserable.”

Which wasn’t entirely true. Most of their relationship had been pure moony-eyed bliss, until they had crashed and burned. That had definitely been miserable.

“What?” Tuesday threw her hands up in the air. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me before? Great, I’m scum. I hit on my best friend’s ex-boyfriend.”

“One, you’re not scum. You didn’t know. Two, you didn’t know because I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know you were going to ask him out.” If any of that made any sense at all. “It’s no big deal. It was a long time ago.”

“Well, I’m going to have to cancel the date.” Tuesday looked around the track. “Where did he go? I’d better find him and cancel now since I don’t have his number.”

Kendall panicked, grabbing Tuesday’s arm. “No! You can’t cancel. If you cancel he’ll think it’s because we talked and I admitted to you that he and I used to date.”

Tuesday’s eyebrows shot up over the top of her sunglasses’ rim. “That is what just happened.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want him to know that because he’ll think that means I care that you’re going out with him, which I don’t. I totally don’t care. I mean, he and I, that was a hundred thousand years ago and totally irrelevant to now or to the future. If you want to date him and get married and have children, and think that makes any kind of sense given the kind of man he is, well, that’s your business and I support you.”

What she was doing was over-talking and incriminating herself.

At the end of her ridiculous speech Kendall sucked in a breath and tried not to wince.

There was a pause, then Tuesday said, “Fine. I won’t cancel the date because you don’t want me to, and I see the logic in the first part of what you were saying. The second half was just nuts. But there won’t be a second date. I don’t date my friend’s ex-boyfriends, under any circumstances.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“If you say ‘it doesn’t matter, he meant nothing to me’ one more time, I’m going to write in my blog that you’re a hermaphrodite.”

Kendall felt all the blood drain out of her face. “You wouldn’t.”

“Of course I wouldn’t, but what the hell, Kendall, be honest with me.

This was clearly more than a couple of dates ten years ago.”

Because she was superstitious and she was testing her car again the next day and didn’t want any slipups, Kendall crossed her fingers behind her back before she lied through her teeth. “That’s all it was. I swear.”

“Pinky swear?” Tuesday’s finger came out.

Damn it. “No.” Kendall gave up the good fight. “Okay, he sort of kind of broke my heart. But I was eighteen and naïve. Everyone gets their heart broken at eighteen.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing. That’s what happened. One minute we were together, then we weren’t. It’s no big—”

“Deal. Yes, so you’ve said. Are you sure you don’t want me to cancel?”

“No! I really don’t.” The last thing in the world Kendall wanted was Evan thinking she was still carrying a torch for him. The very thought of how humiliating that would feel made her break out in a sweat under her driver’s jumpsuit.

Though she had to admit, she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Evan flirting with her best friend. Not because she had feelings for him still. But because he was a jerk and Tuesday shouldn’t have to suffer through that. No other reason than that.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make out with him or anything, I promise.”

The feeling that rose up in Kendall was small and green, hot and tight, but she refused to acknowledge in any way that it might be jealousy.

Swallowing hard, she managed to force out, “It doesn’t matter if you do.”

TUESDAY stared at her best friend with a fair amount of speculation. In the five years she’d known Kendall, there had been only one serious boyfriend, and Kendall had been thoroughly calm and content in that relationship, and equally calm when they had broken up. Emotion was something Kendall reserved for driving, and even then that was off the track, not on. To see her normally determined and in control friend blushing and blustering and panicking was bizarre. Unnerving.

She knew that Kendall had some deep-seeded insecurities, but she always covered them with that steel determination. This wasn’t like her at all.

And it was something Tuesday was going to get to the bottom of. She’d go out on this date with Evan Monroe. And use her journalism skills to get a full confession of what had gone down between him and Kendall.

“I’m not going to make out with him,” she repeated. “I’ll just talk to him.

It’s no big deal. It doesn’t matter.”

She intentionally echoed the words Kendall had been spouting repeatedly for the last ten minutes, to see if it would get a reaction. It did.

Kendall made a face. “I’m done for the day. Are you leaving, too?”

“Yep. Last chance to tell me to cancel or explain to me what really happened between the two of you.”

“There’s no story, Tuesday, so save your digging for something newsworthy.”

“Sure thing.” Tuesday glanced at her cell phone. Digging would commence at the wine bar at seven o’clock.

EVAN should have canceled his date with Tuesday Jones. If he had her number, he would have. But he didn’t, and he wasn’t going to stand her up, so he was sitting in the wine bar waiting for her, halfway to drunk already.

His day sucked. His career sucked. His life sucked.

And how in the hell he was supposed to make small talk with a total stranger was beyond him.

This was all Kendall Holbrook’s fault. He wouldn’t even have agreed to meet with Tuesday if he hadn’t been pleased with the idea of annoying Kendall. Which he wouldn’t have been if she hadn’t dumped him on his ass all those years ago.

That might be screwed-up logic, but it was his, and he was going to back it. Sitting at the bar, Evan tugged at his shirtsleeve. He’d gone the striped button-up shirt with jeans route, and he felt underdressed in the chichi place. He was definitely a jeans and a beer kind of guy, and this place was trendy, the patrons were dressed expensive, and the wine list was about seventeen pages long.

He’d ordered a rum and coke instead of the beer he’d really wanted so he wouldn’t really stand out like a sore thumb, and now he was just feeling stupid sitting there by himself. The day had made him feel inadequate enough, he didn’t need some damn pretentious wine bar adding to his insecurities.

What the hell was he going to do about his career?

Eve had been freaking out, and rightly so. It was bad. Losing a sponsorship meant he was seen in the industry as a poor performer. It meant his fan base was dwindling. It meant his team owners were going to be scrutinizing him and wondering if he was worth their financial investment.

He had to drive better. Plain and simple.

But the real question was why he was sucking so bad out there on the track.

He didn’t know the answer to that.

Which was a problem.

“Can I get another drink?” he asked the bartender.

“Sure, no problem.”

“I see you started without me. Am I late?”

Evan turned to see Tuesday slip onto the bar stool beside him, setting her purse down on the bar. She gave him a casual smile before shrugging her trench coat off.

“I was early,” he assured her. “It’s good to see you. Can I get you a drink?”

“Absolutely.” She plucked the giant binder menu off the counter and started perusing. “Hallelujah for the return of the cocktail. I never was a beer drinker.”

Figured. Just looking at her, beautiful and thin and bordering on exotic, her jewelry all expensive-looking and her shoes spiky heels with very pointy toes, Evan knew this was not his kind of woman. Not that he really knew what woman was his type. While he had dated a series of party girls in his twenties, he hadn’t really had a serious relationship since . . . that person. Damn it.

“I’m a beer guy,” he told her.

“Then why are you drinking . . .” She picked his drink up and sipped it, making a face. “Rum and Coke?”

“It seemed like a faster way to get drunk,” he told her honestly.

Tuesday laughed. “Meeting me requires reduced sobriety?”

He hadn’t meant that to sound quite the way it did. “Of course not. No, it’s just been one of those days that has kicked me in the teeth, you know?”

“I think everyone has had those. But generally speaking getting drunk doesn’t help the situation.”

Everyone knew that. He knew that. Didn’t make it any less appealing.

“So you followed in your father’s footsteps with sports reporting,” he commented. “Guess I did the same.”

“Yeah.”

He waited, but she didn’t elaborate. “So . . . how did you get into the blogging?” From what he’d heard, her website was always accurate, but

focused on the gossip in their sport instead of stats.

“It seemed like a void I could fill.”

Well, that was helpful. Evan took a sip of his drink. “Yeah?” He tried to think of something else to say, but he was running on empty.

“Which is it, business or personal, that has you reaching for the glass?”

Tuesday flagged the bartender down. “Can I have a lemon drop, please?”

Evan thought about that. “Mostly business. But maybe some personal.”

Like why the hell Kendall still got under his skin. And why did everyone else around him seem to have some sort of secret to happiness with a woman that he had no knowledge of. His brother was happy. Ryder was happy. Even Ty, who he would have thought was a confirmed bachelor for life, was following Imogen around with a stupid grin on his face. Hell, those guys were carrying their women’s handbags and getting couples massages.

He had yet to find any woman who even came close to inspiring him to that kind of dorkiness.

Kendall wasn’t the massage type.

Damn it. “No, not personal. Never mind that. It’s just that my career isn’t going exactly stellar at the moment.”

Tuesday waved her hand. “Oh, we all know your driving sucks this year, so what? Everyone has a bad year. The fact that you’re in the cup series means you are technically at the pinnacle of your career. So quit whining.”

Evan turned and stared at her. She was one ballsy chick. He kind of liked and hated her all at the same time. “Well, thanks for the sympathy.”

“I mean, seriously. You know how many guys would kill to be in your flame retardant shoes? I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you at all. I think it’s personal.”

Would it be totally tacky if he paid for her drink and got the hell out of there? “It doesn’t matter.”

“Who is she?”

“No one!”

“There has to be someone.”

He was starting to get irritated. This was a shitty date. Shitty day, shitty date. He felt like he was being grilled on a witness stand by the prosecutor.

“There is no one. I’m not dating anyone.”

“But it’s someone you used to date, right? Maybe someone you thought you were over but who has suddenly popped back into your life?”

No. Maybe. He didn’t think so. “This is totally not first-date get-to-know-you chatter.”

“You’re right.” She took her drink right out of the bartender’s hand and took a healthy sip. “I’m just going to be straight up with you here. I asked you to meet me for a drink before I realized that you and Kendall have a history. She says it’s cool with her, but I can’t fathom dating my best friend’s ex, no matter how long ago it was.”

“Well, I can respect that.” And maybe he could leave now and go sulk in private. “I probably should have declined your invite, but it was over a long time ago with Kendall and me.”

“When did you two date?”

“About ten years ago. I was nineteen.” And stupid. Evan shifted on the bar stool, a headache starting behind his eyes. God, he didn’t want to talk about any of this.

“Was it serious?”

He could have lied. Could have blown off the question. But he was tired of pretending like it was no big deal. It wasn’t anymore, but it had been at the time. She had broken his goddamn nineteen-year-old heart. “It was to me. It was very serious.” He stopped just short of admitting he had loved her. “I can’t speak for her feelings though.”

“How long did you date?”

“About three months. It wasn’t that long, but we spent a lot of time together. Damn near every day.”

“What was your favorite thing about her?”

Evan was just buzzed enough to actually contemplate the question. He let his mind drift back a decade to when he and Kendall had been sharing most of their time and affection with each other. What had it been about her?

“It was her smile. When she smiled, it went all the way to her eyes, and I felt so proud that I’d made her happy.” Evan caught himself. “Man, how stupid does that sound? I think I need to chill on the rum.”

“You don’t need to chill on the rum. What you need to chill on is this idea that you have to be a big man driver who can’t show any emotion other than cockiness.”

He shrugged. It was what it was. It wasn’t a career for crybabies. And he wasn’t sure cockiness actually qualified as an emotion.

“So why did you and Kendall break up?”

“Beats me. One day she just stopped returning my calls. One minute we were hot and heavy, the next she totally shut me out. I never understood what happened.”

“Really?” Tuesday looked at him thoughtfully. “Did you have a fight or something?”

“Nope. We’d spent the night together and I snuck out of her room like I did a lot of nights because she was still living at home. We were supposed to go to the movies the next day. But she wasn’t at home when I went to pick her up and she wouldn’t answer my calls. I must have called her like a hundred times that week. Nothing.”

Evan wasn’t exactly sure why he was spilling his guts to Tuesday, considering he’d spent ten years trying to pretend he hadn’t been humiliated quite so thoroughly. Maybe it was needing someone to know that he’d been wronged. Maybe it was needing Tuesday to go home and report to Kendall that he had no clue what he’d done wrong. Maybe it was needing to just say that he hadn’t done anything wrong at all, and that it wasn’t cool for Kendall to have dumped him without a word.

“Really? That’s interesting.” Tuesday frowned at her lemon drop.

“Maybe it was just a miscommunication or something. Do you think you would have stayed with her if that hadn’t happened?”

“Well, I can’t guarantee it would have been forever, but that was my plan.” Evan tossed back the rest of his drink, the ice clinking against his teeth violently enough to jar him into realizing he just might be drunker than he’d thought. “I was set to ask her to marry me.”

Tuesday choked on her drink. “Holy crap, are you kidding me?”

“No.” He sort of wished he were.

“And you’ve never gotten married?”

“Nope.”

“Huh. That really is very interesting.”

He wasn’t sure it was as interesting as it was just sucky.

“Can I step down off the witness stand now?” he asked. “I think I need to go home and pass out.”

He wanted to sleep for the next twelve hours and forget this day ever happened.

“Sure, but I reserve the right to call you back to the stand for further questioning.” She grinned at him. “And don’t leave the country.”

“I can’t afford it,” he told her, taking a moment to indulge in self-pity.

“Oh, my God,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Give me a ginormous break.

There is no way you’re hurting for cash unless you’ve spent your substantial earnings on hookers and blow.”

No. He hadn’t really spent much of his money, to be honest. He’d been saving it for a dream house. A big, empty dream house that he would have to live in alone. Solo. By himself.

Definitely less disgusting than sex for hire, but decidedly more lonely.

“Can I get another drink?” he asked the bartender.

Tuesday excused herself to go to the restroom, but Evan barely heard her over the deafening volume of his own pity party.

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