Read Online Declare (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #4) by Michelle Irwin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michelle Irwin
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“bring ’er in” so Hunter could do his thing was proof of the pecking order—the reminder I didn’t need that I was bottom of the heap. Lowest of the fucking low.
“Seriously, Doc, why would you even bring that shit up?” I asked.
“Because I don’t know if you see it as the positive that it is yet. I think one day you will see that it is a step in the right direction.”
I shook my head.
“I know you don’t believe me. But will you at least trust me?”
“It’s a tin can on wheels,” I snapped. “There are no positives in that. And before you say it—I know, I know ‘at least I’m racing again’.” I mimicked his accent and made a mocking face at him.
He chuckled. “You know, Declan, if nothing else, you bring me amusement.”
I covered my face with my hands. “If nothing else I bring you a pile of money, you mean.” Once I’d lost the more lucrative paycheque of being a driver, he’d dropped his billing rate and bulk billed as many sessions as he could to ensure I could continue to get the help I needed. But now that it was back on Danny’s dime, he was earning a small fortune every week.
He was silent for a while, and I peeked out from between my fingers. He was smiling when I glanced at him.
“There’s that too,” he said with a laugh.
I chuckled and shook my head.
We moved swiftly onto other topics. I had to hand it to the doc; no matter how unorthodox he might have been, he could read my moods and respond accordingly. Overall, I did actually feel better after each session.
Between the counselling sessions and having Alyssa and Phoebe living their lives with me, things seemed to get better day by day. Even work was pretty decent. The only stain on my first weeks as an apprentice grease monkey was the same as my first day: Hunter.
Fucking Hunter.
Somehow, our team drew the short straw, and we ended up being allocated as the primary crew for Hunter’s car. No one else on my crew seemed to mind too much, but I hated that jumped-up fucking prick and his bullshit ideas. Memories of the way he’d disrespected his pit crew at Wood Racing were stuck in my head at every turn.
Not to mention the fact that his head was so far up his arse he’d need a map and a flashlight to ever find his way back out again. Although, he would probably refuse the torch considering he thought the sun shone from there anyway.
It seemed as if his day wasn’t quite complete until he had found me and given me shit about something. At first, it was about my apparent inability to drive, even though I had driven circles around him when we were both on the racetrack the previous few years.
The article in Woman’s Idea was also a source of fun for him, with him quoting my own words about Phoebe and Alyssa back at me with a voice filled with derision. He’d also taken to asking me about my “gold-digging” girlfriend. It got to the point at one stage where I stalked up to Danny’s office near the end of January and barged in, not even waiting for an answer after knocking on the door.
“You have to get rid of that lunatic,” I said, waving my arms as if Hunter-the-fucker was right behind me.
Danny looked up at me and sighed. “What is the problem now, Declan?”
“It’s that psycho, Hunter!”
“Hunter is a valued driver with this team, Declan,” Danny said, his tone patient even if that patience seemed to be wearing thin.
“No, he’s a fucking disaster. He’s arrogant. He doesn’t have any regard for what anyone else thinks. He’s hit on or slept with every female in a hundred-mile radius of this building—”
Danny cut me off with a quiet chuckle.
“What?” I demanded.
“You could be describing someone who is standing not very far from me right now, you know.”
I realised he meant me. “I am nothing like that fucker.”
“Maybe not now,” Danny answered diplomatically. “But it wasn’t that long ago that almost those exact words were used in complaint about you.”
To say
“Seriously, Doc, why would you even bring that shit up?” I asked.
“Because I don’t know if you see it as the positive that it is yet. I think one day you will see that it is a step in the right direction.”
I shook my head.
“I know you don’t believe me. But will you at least trust me?”
“It’s a tin can on wheels,” I snapped. “There are no positives in that. And before you say it—I know, I know ‘at least I’m racing again’.” I mimicked his accent and made a mocking face at him.
He chuckled. “You know, Declan, if nothing else, you bring me amusement.”
I covered my face with my hands. “If nothing else I bring you a pile of money, you mean.” Once I’d lost the more lucrative paycheque of being a driver, he’d dropped his billing rate and bulk billed as many sessions as he could to ensure I could continue to get the help I needed. But now that it was back on Danny’s dime, he was earning a small fortune every week.
He was silent for a while, and I peeked out from between my fingers. He was smiling when I glanced at him.
“There’s that too,” he said with a laugh.
I chuckled and shook my head.
We moved swiftly onto other topics. I had to hand it to the doc; no matter how unorthodox he might have been, he could read my moods and respond accordingly. Overall, I did actually feel better after each session.
Between the counselling sessions and having Alyssa and Phoebe living their lives with me, things seemed to get better day by day. Even work was pretty decent. The only stain on my first weeks as an apprentice grease monkey was the same as my first day: Hunter.
Fucking Hunter.
Somehow, our team drew the short straw, and we ended up being allocated as the primary crew for Hunter’s car. No one else on my crew seemed to mind too much, but I hated that jumped-up fucking prick and his bullshit ideas. Memories of the way he’d disrespected his pit crew at Wood Racing were stuck in my head at every turn.
Not to mention the fact that his head was so far up his arse he’d need a map and a flashlight to ever find his way back out again. Although, he would probably refuse the torch considering he thought the sun shone from there anyway.
It seemed as if his day wasn’t quite complete until he had found me and given me shit about something. At first, it was about my apparent inability to drive, even though I had driven circles around him when we were both on the racetrack the previous few years.
The article in Woman’s Idea was also a source of fun for him, with him quoting my own words about Phoebe and Alyssa back at me with a voice filled with derision. He’d also taken to asking me about my “gold-digging” girlfriend. It got to the point at one stage where I stalked up to Danny’s office near the end of January and barged in, not even waiting for an answer after knocking on the door.
“You have to get rid of that lunatic,” I said, waving my arms as if Hunter-the-fucker was right behind me.
Danny looked up at me and sighed. “What is the problem now, Declan?”
“It’s that psycho, Hunter!”
“Hunter is a valued driver with this team, Declan,” Danny said, his tone patient even if that patience seemed to be wearing thin.
“No, he’s a fucking disaster. He’s arrogant. He doesn’t have any regard for what anyone else thinks. He’s hit on or slept with every female in a hundred-mile radius of this building—”
Danny cut me off with a quiet chuckle.
“What?” I demanded.
“You could be describing someone who is standing not very far from me right now, you know.”
I realised he meant me. “I am nothing like that fucker.”
“Maybe not now,” Danny answered diplomatically. “But it wasn’t that long ago that almost those exact words were used in complaint about you.”
To say
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