“Thanks for the ride,” I mutter, when he pulls into a spot in front of the restaurant. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
“Whatever,” he mumbles.
“What is your problem?”
“Nothing.” His curt, one word, caveman answers are grating on my nerves.
“I could have driven myself, you know. In fact, why don’t you go, and I’ll have Mason take me home after dinner.” I unfold my arms from my chest and place my hand on the door handle.
“I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
“What? Are you fucking jealous? Because if I remember correctly, you’re the one who said we needed to remain professional.”
“I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Well, news flash, I’m a big girl, and I don’t need some Neanderthal brute to protect me, so you should leave.” I offer him a smug smile before I exit the truck, making sure to slam the door shut.
Mason is leaning against the worn brick wall in front of the restaurant; his hands shoved into his jean pockets. He catches sight of me and smiles when I exit the truck. We say an awkward hello, and he opens the door, immediately ushering me inside the air-conditioned establishment. I don’t miss Mason glaring back at the truck, eyeing Jace curiously.
Mason leans in to kiss me on the cheek, stunning me when his dry lips land on my mine. He ignores my reaction and quickly speaks to the woman at the counter. “Reservation for Shaw,” Mason tells the tall hostess with short dark hair. She barely looks up from her podium before making a red checkmark on her list.
Hearing the last name, I was supposed to have by now makes me sad. The hostess shoots us a comforting smile and grabs two menus before leading us to our table. Her nude heels clack along the marble tile as I search around the quiet room with warm colors, admiring the rustic artwork on the textured walls. The low lighting, along with the flickering candles on the table, gives it a romantic atmosphere.
I breathe in the savory aroma of roasted garlic, and my stomach grumbles, alerting me how hungry I am. I sink right down into the booth’s soft cushioning, and Mason takes his place across from me.
“Can I get you something to drink?” A young, attentive waiter with kind and gentle eyes stands at our table. His boyish smiles barely make him look older than eighteen.
“I’ll have a Jack and Coke,” Mason grumbles before turning his attention to me.
“I’ll have a glass of Riesling, please.”
“Coming right up. I’ll give you two a few minutes to look at the menu before I return to take your order.”
A thick tension looms between us as we quietly scour the menu, making me question why I agreed to have dinner with him in the first place. Maybe I thought it would help me feel closer to Zach in some way. I need closure.
We spend the first few minutes catching up, reminiscing about the old days when we used to race dirt track. A different waiter comes over and pours fresh water in our glasses.
“Know what you want yet?” Mason mutters after taking a long swig from his tumbler, the moment the guy drops our drinks on the table.
“I think I’m going to have the spaghetti carbonara.”
“Sounds good. I’ll order the same.” He peers at me with a dull expression. “So who’s the hulk sitting in the truck. He’s the same guy I saw you with at the track, right?”
I nod with a nervous chuckle, feeling embarrassed about the whole situation. “Jace is my security.”
“You have security? Why?”
“I have some disgruntled fans, I guess.”
“We all do, but we don’t need to walk around with a bodyguard.”
“I had some threats, and Donavan took them seriously.”
“What kind of threats?”
I hesitate for a moment. “Someone messed with my car.”
He grimaces. “I’d say that’s serious. I remember when someone messed with Zach’s car the week before he…” His voice trails off, and he shakes his head.
“What are you talking about? Someone messed with Zach’s car? When?”
“Someone went crazy with a screwdriver on the hoses.” He shrugs. “Just some idiot, trying to fuck with him.” He swallows down the last of his whiskey. “It was a few days before the accident. Boy, was he pissed.”
“I didn’t know someone messed with his car.” Mason intently eyes me as I twist the ring hanging from my neck between my fingers. I don’t like the coincidence that someone tried to sabotage both our cars in the same fashion. I should mention it to Jace later.
“I guess he didn’t tell you everything.” He gives a bitter laugh. Ouch. Okay, still the same resentful Mason. There’s the guy I know.
“You guys ready to order?” The waiter comes back, interrupting our conversation. I order my pasta and a side salad with my meal, and Mason orders the same, adding on another Jack and Coke for himself.
“Thanks for coming tonight. I didn’t think you’d say yes,” Mason says after the waiter leaves. Neither did I.
“I wasn’t sure I should.” I inspect my fingernails, noticing a spot of grease underneath one of them I missed in the shower. “Let’s be honest. You never liked me.”
“Of course, I did. I was young and dumb…maybe a little jealous.” He takes another healthy sip as soon as the waiter drops his new drink on the table. “Look, Charlie…I should apologize for the way I treated you. I’m not that guy anymore, and I’d like to be friends. You’re the only tie I have left to Zach, and lately, the guilt has been eating at me. Zach loved two things…racing and you. The least I can do in his memory is be friends with his girl. So friends?” He holds up his drink, and I hesitate before I raise my wine glass with a nod before taking a sip. “I was kind of a dick back then.”
“Sometimes, you went a little too far.” I pick an imaginary piece of lint from the white tablecloth.
“Remember that time we raced dirt, and I poured oil in the idiot’s windshield wiper compartment for teasing Zach about how his girlfriend drove better than him?”
“Jimmy Dunn,” I chuckle. “That was so mean.”
“He deserved it. The guy was a douchebag. A preppy, rich kid, racing on daddy’s money. Plus, he couldn’t drive for shit. We all knew you were better than all of us. I can’t wait to see what you got in St. Petersburg.” He quietly drains the rest of his glass before summoning the waiter for another. I sure hope he didn’t drive here.
The rest of the meal is more relaxing, and the food is delicious. We reminisce some more about the old days, telling funny stories about Zach that have me cracking up.
“Zach would be proud of you.” I shoot him a thin smile, his words slurred at this point. “Still have the ring.” He nods toward the small promise ring clinging to my chest.
“Of course, I do,” I say, unsure if it’s a question or a statement.
He holds up his empty glass and jiggles it toward the waiter passing by. “I’m sorry for all the bullshit I put you guys through.”
I nod, not knowing what to say at first. “I know you didn’t want us to be together from the beginning. You were pretty fucking mean to me.”