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Wyatt Price is my boss.

My arrogant, egotistical, stubborn boss. My favorite pastime is to see just how far I can push him with my quick wit and sarcastic attitude before he breaks. 

Cameron Hayes is my assistant.

My ridiculous, sarcastic, pain in my side assistant. If she wasn't so good at her job, I would've fired her years ago... 

Main Tropes

  • Workplace Romance
  • He Falls First
  • Nascar Romance


Wyatt Price is my boss.

My arrogant, egotistical, stubborn boss. My favorite pastime is to see just how far I can push him with my quick wit and sarcastic attitude before he breaks. Don't get me wrong, I'm a damn fine employee.

However, pushing him gives me just enough delight to not set the whole place on fire and run screaming.

Cameron Hayes is my assistant.

My ridiculous, sarcastic, pain in my side assistant.If she wasn't so good at her job, I would've fired her years ago... then I would have taken her home and shown her how much I actually liked it. And her.

But... I can't cross that line. Crossing it could mean losing her. And I'd rather suffer in silence then see her walk away.

Intro Into Chapter One







THE HUMMING THAT vibrates under my feet momentarily makes me forget the slight panic of the voice that’s yammering on in my ear. In hindsight, picking up the phone without checking who it was first was a big mistake—huge—but I wasn’t focused on that when I did it. I was relaxed for what felt like the first time in weeks, and I was finally taking advantage of it. 

“Where is he, Cam?” I cringe at the use of the nickname. Who does she think she is, calling me something I reserve for only close friends? Not that she would much care. All she’s ever wanted to do is…well, make everyone miserable, I think—at least that’s what she’s always been very good at.

“I don’t know, Allison. I’m not his keeper.” I smile again when I feel the car whoosh by at breakneck speed. Chet’s going to be thrilled with the car and his times today, which always makes my job just a little bit easier. 

“Look, I have documents that need his signature by four. If he doesn’t get them signed by then, they have to redo all of them.” 

Letting out an impatient sigh, I finally look down at my phone, not seeing anything from our boss—the “he” to whom she’s referring—and mentally think over his schedule. Most days it’s just easier to memorize it. 

Allison huffs in the Bluetooth attached to my ear, but I ignore it, thinking he is probably still at the luncheon for the sponsorship deal with one of the many athletes he manages. Wyatt Price doesn’t care much for being on other people’s time, and I’m not about to call and tell him Allison, of all people, is demanding his attention. 

“He’s probably still at De Leon.” It’s his restaurant of choice. He takes everyone there, the waitstaff already knows his preferences, and frankly, it’s a million times easier than having to constantly berate every person who crosses his path. Mr. Price is a little uptight about those types of things. 

“Well, I need him to—”

“Oh, what?” I interrupt, unable to wipe the smile off my face at the small amount of gratification it gives me to make Allison’s life just a little bit harder. “You—cut—out—” And I tap the screen to hang up on her. 

After all, Chet’s just pulled into the bay, and I’m ready for after-work margaritas and karaoke. It’s tradition, and Allison being unable to fulfill the duties of her job is just not my problem. I know I sound heartless, but really, she brings it on herself with her attitude.

I make my way down to the pit where the boys are helping Chet out of the car, and the smile that lights his face tells me he really is happy with the way things went today.

Chet Michaels is the up-and-coming racecar driver of the year, and at only twenty-seven, it’s a pretty decent feat—although I thought he would have won that thing years ago. It was high time for him to be named. 

He is also, dare I say, my best friend? Okay, that’s definitely a stretch. I started hanging out with him shortly after taking the job as Wyatt Price’s assistant, and we’ve just always hit it off. There’s never been anything more than friendship between us, but I know if I ever need him, I could call and he’d drop everything, just as I would for him. 

Chet is a great person and deserves the recognition he is getting for all the work he’s put in. When I was assigned to be Wyatt’s assistant through the agency he works under, I was told by Wyatt that I needed to be at Chet’s beck and call, and it’s my absolute favorite part of the job. 

“Cammie!” Chet waves me over, and I shuffle his way in the heels I’ve been wearing all day, groaning at the nickname. He loves to ruffle my feathers.

“Chet! You killed it out there!” I exclaim when I reach him and jump into his arms. He twirls me around in his usual fashion and leans back to give me a dimpled grin.

“I know,” he says, looking over the car with adoration. His cars were his babies. He held them in the highest regard and demanded that others did too. His racing team was only the best people in the industry, but as mechanics and kind-hearted people. 

“Hey, Cam.” Jared, Chet’s pit chief, comes up from behind me and throws an arm over my shoulders, breaking me away from Chet. 

“Jared.” I give him a smile and return the hug. “Are you coming out with us tonight?”

It’s basically a given that he will be—everyone loves margs and karaoke. “You know it, just gotta go over a few things with the man here and we’ll see you there.”

I give the boys my goodbyes and make my way to my car in the parking lot. It stands out as the only vehicle not made in the two-thousands here. The little Honda is definitely on its last year or so, but I’m not quite ready to give it up. 

Senior year of high school, I scrimped and saved every last penny working at the local Dairy Queen to get that car so I would have something with me at college. My parents refused to help me with it, which now I know was their version of tough love. I did it on my own, and now I’m reluctant to let it go, even though I definitely make enough money to afford something newer. I just don’t have it in me. So, until I am sure I can’t make it from point A to point B, this baby is stuck with me. 



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