Turbulent Desires (Billionaire Aviators 2)

“Yes, he’s a big sponsor. Several of the racers do a lot for the organization.”

“I can see why you like fund-raising. There are a lot of perks,” she told him.

“I don’t do it for the perks,” he said, his face serious. “But I do love to enjoy life. I don’t see a reason not to. I make sure I live each day to the fullest. I try to show that to the people the organization helps, no matter what events I attend. I bring a lot of returning soldiers to these events too.”

“You are just a sucker for us broken people, aren’t you?” she said, trying to make a joke, but it fell flat.

“You’re anything but broken, sug. I’m bringing you out to places I love because I want to spend time with you,” he emphasized.

“I want to spend time with you too.” It was the first time she’d admitted it. His eyes lit up, and she was glad she’d told him.

“You know, you could get just about anything you wanted out of me,” he told her. He was smiling, but the serious light she saw in his eyes scared her a little. She wanted to feel empowered again, but not at his expense.

“How about we don’t try to take anything from the other?” she said with a laugh she hoped eased the more serious tone of their conversation.

He was quiet for a minute and then the sparkle returned to his eyes.

“Deal,” he said before they started walking again. She was grateful when he began speaking on lighter topics. “I like to watch the races on the big screen, but really there’s nothing more exciting than sitting in the grandstand and getting a taste of all the excitement.”

They got inside and took their seats, and Maverick quickly flagged down the vendor for hot dogs and beer.

“I have to admit, I’ve never watched a single race,” she told him.

“You’ve missed out then. I love being the one to pop . . .” He stopped and gave her a wolfish grin. “I mean, I’m glad you’re here for the first time with me. You might just become an addict after this.”

Though she didn’t even know why, her cheeks flushed as she looked at him. Finally, she focused instead on the track, where last-minute preparations were being taken care of before the race started.

“Who are we rooting for?” she asked, wondering how it would be possible to pick out certain cars in the huge lineup.

“Well, there are some great drivers out there for sure. I’m a fan of the Rodney Childers team, and they’ve been doing great, finishing first and second in the last several races. But I do sponsor a car. I’m not going to tell you which one yet, just to see if you become a fan anyway,” he said with a laugh.

“That’s not fair. What if I hate your car and boo it?” she said as she took a bite of her juicy hot dog.

“Then I will have to find a suitable punishment for you,” he told her with a gleam in his eyes.

The hot dog was forgotten when he captured her in his gaze. He might have been talking about punishment, but his expression promised satisfaction. She might just have to boo for every single car out there on the track.

When the race started, though, it was difficult to talk. Restarts happened, and Maverick tried explaining to her about repositioning and how the game could change easily since there were so many laps taken.

When Jeff Gordon and David Ragan easily maneuvered themselves around other cars toward the front of the pack, the entire stand was on its feet, including Lindsey, who didn’t even know any of the players.

“People sure seem to get excited when that number twenty-four car passes,” Lindsey said.

“Yep, that’s Jeff Gordon. He’s a legend. He’s won so many awards, it would take an hour to name them, but he’s going to be broadcasting now. The fans hate to lose him on the track, so they are showing their love.”

“I guess it’s sort of dangerous, not something people would do forever,” she said as the race finished and the fans went crazy.

She didn’t even know who’d won. But the stands had certainly been filled to capacity and the crowd was energetic. Even with the cars no longer speeding past them in unbelievable maneuvers, Lindsey was fascinated by it all.

“Want to meet the winner?” Mav asked, pulling her out of her daze.

“Can we do that?” she asked, then shook her head. “Never mind. Of course you can,” she added with a laugh.

“Yeah, I sponsor number nineteen,” he said with a chuckle. She hadn’t booed that car once, thankfully. Though that meant she wouldn’t be getting her punishment. Darn.

“I’d be surprised if that hadn’t been your car,” she told him with a grin.

Trophies were given and pictures taken, and then it was time for the winner—number nineteen—to take his victory lap.

“Ready, Mav?” the man asked.

“Yep, I’ve got her helmet,” he said with a grin.

When Lindsey realized what they were saying, her face went a little green as she looked back and forth between the grinning men.

“You think I’m getting into that thing?” she gasped.

“You haven’t lived ’til you’ve gone two hundred miles per hour,” Jet said with a laugh.

“How old are you?” she exclaimed. “You don’t even look old enough to have a driver’s license, let alone to be traveling at such high speeds.” That made the guy throw back his head with laughter.

“I’m twenty-five, Lindsey, but if it makes you feel any better, my dad had a mini-track for me and my first racecar when I was five years old. Granted, the thing only went five miles per hour at the time, but she could corner like nobody’s business,” Jet said with a chuckle. o;Yes, he’s a big sponsor. Several of the racers do a lot for the organization.”

“I can see why you like fund-raising. There are a lot of perks,” she told him.

“I don’t do it for the perks,” he said, his face serious. “But I do love to enjoy life. I don’t see a reason not to. I make sure I live each day to the fullest. I try to show that to the people the organization helps, no matter what events I attend. I bring a lot of returning soldiers to these events too.”

“You are just a sucker for us broken people, aren’t you?” she said, trying to make a joke, but it fell flat.

“You’re anything but broken, sug. I’m bringing you out to places I love because I want to spend time with you,” he emphasized.

“I want to spend time with you too.” It was the first time she’d admitted it. His eyes lit up, and she was glad she’d told him.

“You know, you could get just about anything you wanted out of me,” he told her. He was smiling, but the serious light she saw in his eyes scared her a little. She wanted to feel empowered again, but not at his expense.

“How about we don’t try to take anything from the other?” she said with a laugh she hoped eased the more serious tone of their conversation.

He was quiet for a minute and then the sparkle returned to his eyes.

“Deal,” he said before they started walking again. She was grateful when he began speaking on lighter topics. “I like to watch the races on the big screen, but really there’s nothing more exciting than sitting in the grandstand and getting a taste of all the excitement.”

They got inside and took their seats, and Maverick quickly flagged down the vendor for hot dogs and beer.

“I have to admit, I’ve never watched a single race,” she told him.

“You’ve missed out then. I love being the one to pop . . .” He stopped and gave her a wolfish grin. “I mean, I’m glad you’re here for the first time with me. You might just become an addict after this.”

Though she didn’t even know why, her cheeks flushed as she looked at him. Finally, she focused instead on the track, where last-minute preparations were being taken care of before the race started.

“Who are we rooting for?” she asked, wondering how it would be possible to pick out certain cars in the huge lineup.

“Well, there are some great drivers out there for sure. I’m a fan of the Rodney Childers team, and they’ve been doing great, finishing first and second in the last several races. But I do sponsor a car. I’m not going to tell you which one yet, just to see if you become a fan anyway,” he said with a laugh.

“That’s not fair. What if I hate your car and boo it?” she said as she took a bite of her juicy hot dog.

“Then I will have to find a suitable punishment for you,” he told her with a gleam in his eyes.

The hot dog was forgotten when he captured her in his gaze. He might have been talking about punishment, but his expression promised satisfaction. She might just have to boo for every single car out there on the track.

When the race started, though, it was difficult to talk. Restarts happened, and Maverick tried explaining to her about repositioning and how the game could change easily since there were so many laps taken.

When Jeff Gordon and David Ragan easily maneuvered themselves around other cars toward the front of the pack, the entire stand was on its feet, including Lindsey, who didn’t even know any of the players.

“People sure seem to get excited when that number twenty-four car passes,” Lindsey said.

“Yep, that’s Jeff Gordon. He’s a legend. He’s won so many awards, it would take an hour to name them, but he’s going to be broadcasting now. The fans hate to lose him on the track, so they are showing their love.”

“I guess it’s sort of dangerous, not something people would do forever,” she said as the race finished and the fans went crazy.

She didn’t even know who’d won. But the stands had certainly been filled to capacity and the crowd was energetic. Even with the cars no longer speeding past them in unbelievable maneuvers, Lindsey was fascinated by it all.

“Want to meet the winner?” Mav asked, pulling her out of her daze.

“Can we do that?” she asked, then shook her head. “Never mind. Of course you can,” she added with a laugh.

“Yeah, I sponsor number nineteen,” he said with a chuckle. She hadn’t booed that car once, thankfully. Though that meant she wouldn’t be getting her punishment. Darn.

“I’d be surprised if that hadn’t been your car,” she told him with a grin.

Trophies were given and pictures taken, and then it was time for the winner—number nineteen—to take his victory lap.

“Ready, Mav?” the man asked.

“Yep, I’ve got her helmet,” he said with a grin.

When Lindsey realized what they were saying, her face went a little green as she looked back and forth between the grinning men.

“You think I’m getting into that thing?” she gasped.

“You haven’t lived ’til you’ve gone two hundred miles per hour,” Jet said with a laugh.

“How old are you?” she exclaimed. “You don’t even look old enough to have a driver’s license, let alone to be traveling at such high speeds.” That made the guy throw back his head with laughter.

“I’m twenty-five, Lindsey, but if it makes you feel any better, my dad had a mini-track for me and my first racecar when I was five years old. Granted, the thing only went five miles per hour at the time, but she could corner like nobody’s business,” Jet said with a chuckle.