Page 20 of Cross the Line
A sneaky search on my phone while we’re waiting for our coffee order tells me that Argonaut prides itself on hiring only US-based employees, from the factories all the way to the drivers. The team’s owner and chairman, Buck Decker, is a Texas oil-money billionaire who took over the team two years ago and implemented theall-Americanrule – along with putting his son, Nathaniel, in the second race seat alongside Dev. Before that, the team was a little more international, but they’ve always been an American constructor.
I slip my phone back into my purse as Oakley hands me a steaming vanilla-heavy latte, my preferred coffee order. At least I won’t have to worry about getting a solid caffeine fix while on the road with Dev. Honestly, this hospitality motorhome looks like the lobby of a luxury hotel rather than a structure that’s put up and taken down weekend after weekend in locations around the world.
A sleek rectangular bar takes up the centre of the space, with high-top tables dotted around it, and there are TVs mounted on the walls every few feet. There are mini vending machines stocked with bottles from the beverage company that sponsors the team, grab-and-go snack stations, and what looks like a photo booth. There are even hanging plants to give the space a little greenery.
The uniforms are the only eyesore. Even Dev, who looks good in everything, comes off a little foolish. Like a kid forced to wear an outfit his mom picked out for a Fourth of July parade. Not thathismom would ever do that; Neha Aunty would never stand for such tackiness.
And yet, even though he looks silly, Dev pulls it off better than anyone else here. The sleeves of the polo stretch tight around his thick biceps, and the buttons at the collar are undone just enough to show off a peek of his skin underneath. If the shorts were any shorter, they’d be borderline obscene, but as it stands, they show off solid thighs and, for an instant, what I swear is the swirl of black ink peeking out from the hem. But then he moves, and it’s gone.
I don’t mean for our eyes to meet when I look back up, but when they do, he watches me for a second too long. Like maybe he could hear me mentally thirsting over him and he’s trying to figure out how to tell me to stop. But when I look closer, all I see is awe, as if he can’t believe I’m here. That this is actually happening. I feel the same.
Finally glancing away, he nods in the direction of a back hallway. ‘Follow me.’
I breathe a sigh of relief when he turns and navigates through the crowd like he owns the place. He greets people as we pass by, truly in his element. It’s far more attractive than it should be.
‘Before we do anything, we need to meet with the absolute light of my life,’ Dev says over his shoulder. ‘Patsy Beedle, Argonaut’s head of communications.’
Oakley and I trail behind him, and Chava falls into step with us as we head toward the offices at the rear of the motorhome. He’s also wearing the hideous uniform, which doesn’t bode well for me. It’s beginning to look like everyone associated with the team and its drivers has to wear it.
‘I hear you’ve joined Team Dev.’ Chava shoots me a crooked grin. ‘I’ll help you get set up with everything you need, including hotel and travel bookings while we’re on the road.’
I shoot him a grateful smile, glad I have another ally here. ‘Thank you,’ I exhale. ‘This is all pretty . . . sudden. I wasn’t exactly expecting a job offer last night.’
‘We weren’t expecting it either,’ someone else cuts in.
I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of Mark coming up behind us. Even though he’s wearing a smile, it’s not the authentic one I’ve seen him flash thousands of times. I’ve never had a problem with him, but he’s never cared for me all that much. And I don’t blame him. If I hadn’t gotten involved with Jeremy, he wouldn’t have been forced to choose sides, and he wouldn’t have lost a handful of friends in the process.
I return his smile, hoping mine comes off a little more genuine. As Dev’s performance coach, Mark is always with him, and if I have to maintain Dev’s social media, that means I’m going to be constantly underfoot as well. There will be no avoiding each other, so for both our sakes and Dev’s, I hope we can be civil.
Ahead of me, Dev comes to an abrupt stop. I peer around him to see what the roadblock is and catch sight of a petite middle-aged redhead wearing Argonaut’s team uniform, though hers is modified with a navy pencil skirt and a star-printed accent scarf. Her smile says she’d offer up a slice of homemade apple pie in a heartbeat, but her eyes say it might just be laced with arsenic.
‘There you are,’ Dev says to her, bright and beaming. He wastes no time looping an arm around her narrow shoulders and turning to Oakley and me. ‘This is Patsy. She follows me around to make sure I don’t say anything slanderous to the press and get the team into trouble.’
The woman heaves a beleaguered breath. ‘That is not my job, Mr Anderson.’ Her long vowels and honeyed drawl tell me she’s from somewhere in the deep south. She could insult my entire bloodline and make it sound sweet.
Dev shrugs. ‘It’s close enough, right?’
Patsy opens her mouth like she wants to protest but closes it again and nods. ‘Honestly, yes,’ she admits, shaking her head before looking up at him and frowning. ‘What are you doing here so early? I usually have to send someone to drag you in on Thursdays.’
‘That’s not true at all,’ Dev says to Oakley and me, wearing a shit-eating grin.
Yeah, right.
‘I’m nothing if not punctual.’ He clears his throat to dislodge the lie. ‘Anyway. Patsy, I’d like to introduce you to my new social media manager, Willow Williams.’
I stick my hand out. She wraps her own around it and squeezes firmly, but there’s a confused crease to her brow.
‘Nice to meet you,’ she says before dropping my hand and looking back at Dev. ‘It’s just her?’
‘Just her,’ he confirms, the note in his voice daring her to challenge him on it.
I’ve known the woman for less than a minute, but I already know she’ll do exactly that. ‘Dev, we’ve talked about this. You need to hire a whole—’
‘I know what I need, Patsy, and it’s for you to take a beautiful vacation with your husband in the Tuscan countryside,’ he cuts in smoothly, smiling wide as if he’s offering to send her on that holiday out of the goodness of his heart, not because he wants her to stop nagging him. ‘I promise, Willow is the best of the best. She’ll have everything fixed likethat.’ He snaps his fingers.
There’s no way Patsy’s buying what he’s selling, but she has the courtesy to turn back to me. ‘Well, Ms Williams, I’m pleased to have you on board with us. You and I will be working closely to make sure this troublemaker doesn’t have any more . . . slip-ups.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ I tell her earnestly. Women are in the minority around here – in most of motorsport, really – so it will be nice to work alongside another driven female who clearly doesn’t put up with Dev’s crap.
