Last weekend, his godparents, Marcello and Megan, were in town on business, and Matt took them to dinner and invited Iris to join him. It was nice dining with the Saxons, Matt and Deena. Now she could see why Matt thought the world of his godparents. They were good people, and she could tell they simply adored their godson.
This weekend, they would be in Charlotte to attend Bronson Scott Motorsport charity ball that was held the night before the race. Pam and Dillon would be attending, along with other Westmorelands who had become friends of Bronson’s through his friendship with Quade. She’d heard it was to be a star-studded affair and wondered who all would be in attendance.
“You’re awake?”
She smiled and turned toward Matt. He had to shift the leg he’d thrown over her at some point during the night. “Yes, I’m awake. What do you have in mind?”
He smiled. “I’m beginning to think you only want me for my body.”
She smiled back. “I can see how you might think that, but I want you for other reasons, too. Your kindness, your intellect, your laid-back persona, which is the total opposite of my high-strung one, your character and emotional maturity.”
He chuckled. “You make me sound like a super guy.”
“As well as a super stud.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Well, I think we need to get out of bed now before we get into other things. If you recall, we’re playing tennis today, a few practice sessions using my backyard tennis court,” he said, easing out of bed.
She pulled the cover over her head, and he pulled it back down. “Honestly, Matt. Do you expect me to have the strength to play tennis after a night like last night?”
He grinned. “I only gave you what you asked for.”
She laughed. “You’re being nice. I actually begged for it.”
“I wasn’t going to mention that part, Iris,” he said, sliding into his pj’s bottoms.
“Like I said, you’re nice. You’re the kind of guy any woman wouldn’t have a problem cheering for.”
“Are you volunteering to be a flag girl?”
She chuckled. “A flag girl?”
“Yes, a flag girl when I do my two laps around the race track next Sunday.”
She went still. “Flag girl? Race track? What are you talking about?”
Her voice must have alerted him that something was wrong. He came to stand by the bed. “You do recall next weekend, right? We’re flying to Charlotte to attend the Motorsport Charity Ball Saturday night and then on Sunday, the charity car race.”
“Yes, but what does the car race have to do with you?”
“I’m a participant.”
“Participant?”
“Yes. Each year, five of the sponsors race their sponsored car around the field for two laps.”
“But you’re not a race car driver. Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”
“I had special safety training last summer, Iris. I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, pulling herself up in bed, unable to stop the tears welling in her eyes. “I couldn’t handle it, Matt.”
Confusion filled his eyes. “What’s wrong, Iris? What can’t you handle?”
She felt the wetness of tears stream down her face and touched her cheeks. “I couldn’t handle it if another man I love dies in a race car.”
She then pushed past him and rushed to the bathroom and closed the door.
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