Page 2 of When I Had You

Her eyes stay trained on the phone in her hand. As if I didn’t just prove that this team is a real contender. As if I’m not the star of this show. As if I don’t even exist.

What the fuck?

People pay thousands of dollars for this opportunity, to have this proximity to greatness, and she’s going to stand there and look at her phone? Fuck that.

I swerve left, the device slipping from her hand just as I pass. Oops.

“What the hell?” Her voice is just a distant memory as I walk away, grinning like the bastard I am.

Wanting to relish the fact she’s now paying attention like she should have been, I slow my pace and glance back. I’m met with blazing blues, lips pursed, hands fisted at the sides of her wound-up little body I wouldn’t mind unraveling. The anger flushing her cheeks gives a hint of innocence that’s tempting to destroy with a good fucking. Though when she cocks her eyebrow and narrows her eyes at me, I know the fire she exudes will burn.

Two layers of a racing kit won’t hide my body’s reaction that she pulls to the surface. The tinted visor doesn’t protect my eyes from her piercing glare either. I keep walking, turning my back to her.

I have a bad habit of finding trouble when I should be steering clear, and that sexy vixen is not only a distraction but a problem I don’t need.

Entering the shop, I pull off my helmet. I barely get it tucked under my arm when I’m shoved from behind. Although it’s too weak to send me forward, it’s the point that someone has the balls to push me at all. “What the—?”

Whipping around, I’m ready to lay into whoever has the nerve to touch me but am stopped when our eyes latch together. I should have known it would be the firecracker with the phone. One hand is clasped around the curve of her waist and the other holding that phone like it’s a lifeline. I smirk. She’s hot. I’ll give her that. She’s also amusing.

Images of sinking into her, feeling the tips of her nails digging into my shoulders, those pink lips begging me to let her take me deeper. Fuck, and I bet those tits would look great pressed against a bathroom mirror. “You want my attention, babe. I’m all yours.”

Holding the phone up to my face, she says, “You owe me a phone.”

I step back, my gaze darting to the shattered screen and then to her. She’s prettier up close, even if the devil has taken over the details of her expression. “Accidents happen.”

“It wasn’t an accident.”

I turn to leave. “Bill the team.”

“The team didn’t do it, asshole.” Her voice stops me, and I shoot her a look over my shoulder. She adds, “You did. On purpose. I saw you.” Of course, she did. She hasn’t taken her eyes off me since. I grin. “So you owe me a new phone.”

Taking my time, I take her in, my gaze hanging on her perky tits just long enough for it to be noted. By her, of course. I know how to push a button or two myself.

“Eyes up here.” She crosses her arms over her chest with such authority as if the simple act has solved the world’s problems.

Closing the gap again, I leave a small space between us, close enough to get a hint of her floral perfume but far enough just in case she comes out swinging physically like she has verbally. “I don’t take orders from anyone except those who sign my paycheck. So run along and find another driver to harass. I have no patience for an intolerable fangirl.”

I’ve never found fury as fascinating as when it consumes her, shifting her body into a tension that I’m fairly certain is not doctor-recommended. “Fangirl?” Her mouth falls open as her eyes widen farther. “Me harass you?” The fire returns, an inferno burning her up as a storm brews in her eyes, darkening her blue skies. “You have some nerve, ass—”

“Marina?” The voice is firm but calm, the exact opposite of this little spitfire in front of me.

Good. Noah Westcott enters the paddock, rushing toward us. As an owner and the marketing director, he’ll be able handle her better than I will. Then I see Loch and Harbor as well, flanking him. Fuck, let’s just make it an owner’s party, shall we?

They’re all good guys. Noah is as close to a friend as I’ll ever let anyone. But having all three of them at the track isn’t typical operating procedure and puts me on edge.

I wait, giving a small nod to signal toward the woman who appears justified in her stance as she grins in their direction. Her confidence is impressive, considering she’s about to be escorted off the property and probably banned for life from Principle One Racing as soon as security arrives.

“Marina,” Noah starts again. “I see you’ve met one of our drivers.”

Did they call her Marina? As in the youngest of the Westcott siblings, Marina?

As in, the little sister gifted a share of the team last year for her birthday? The same sister who’s an actress?

Shit . . .

“Cash,” Noah says, “I see you’ve met my sister Marina.”

“I sure did.” I glare ahead, refusing to give her the pleasure of my eyes on her again. One fucking shot and I’m about to blow it because the owners’ little sister decided to go on a rampage. “Fuck me,” I mutter under my breath.

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