Beyond The Checkered Flag by Wylde J.D

Author:Wylde, J.D. [Wylde, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J.D. Wylde
Published: 2013-09-24T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

One week turned into two. They talked. They hashed out old grievances. Made new memories, too. Hand in hand they walked the grounds of the estate, enraptured by the everlasting beauty of Jane’s garden and the solemnness of the Harrington family plots. They’d slogged through the mundane chores of everyday life, passionately soared to new heights of ecstasy at night in the makeshift bedroom he’d created in the study, and Lauren was happier than she’d ever been in her life. Neither talked of what their future would bring and that was okay with Lauren. Now was what mattered.

And now was pretty damn near perfect.

The Foster-Forsythe name carried a lot of weight in getting the house quickly renovated and restored back to its pre-Bimbo Barbie state. Bobby Wayne’s checkbook and the promise of a big, fat bonus had the crews working long shifts; and in the two weeks’ time, the front doors were refinished and the front entry floor restored. The master bedroom had been put near to rights, as well as most of the main staircase, which was almost finished.

Although Bobby Wayne had visited the doctor, he’d made no trips to the garage. As a result, there had been a steady stream of Forsythe Racing Team employees who’d traipsed across the entryway to the library, which had somehow become his off-track racing office. Lauren avoided the inquisitive looks from his pit crew, the appreciative looks from his substitute driver, and the narrow-eyed glares from his ex-wives who were still a major part of his racing organization.

Ex-wife number one and ex-wife number two, that is.

Barbara Jean had defected, resigning whatever position she’d held after the divorce what with her now dating a rival racecar driver, which was a good thing in Lauren’s opinion. She didn’t know what she’d do if she’d run into the woman. She still fostered a lot of anger and yes, jealousy.

“You ready, sugar?” Bobby Wayne walked into the study.

Lauren nearly stumbled over her tongue. “Oh my god,” she whispered.

“What?”

The man had to ask? Was he serious? “Have you not looked in the mirror?” He was eye candy at its very best. The snap-button shirt he wore hugged broad shoulders and was tucked into a well-worn pair of faded Levi’s that molded to his thighs and cupped his crotch. The black cowboy hat she’d gifted him to disguise them in their outing was pulled down low. She’d seen her share of racecar drivers who’d won in Texas. And she’d seen her fair share of country music singers who’d donned the hat, too, in their acts.

None of them wore one quite like Bobby Wayne did, or looked as good in it as he did.

“What?” he asked again, his brows pinching together.

“You look hot.”

His responding smile told her he liked her comment. And the air shifted as his hot blue gaze slid slowly down over her. The tiny lines radiating out from his eyes crinkled. “You’re the one who looks hot, sugar.”

“I’m naked.”

“I know.”

He slowly walked toward her. It

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