Page 41 of Formula Fling

Chicanes are sections of a racetrack consisting of tight turns designed to slow down the cars, usually before a straightaway. They’re good places to test braking since braking is essential going into one.

I hit the pedal, the car responding instantly, and glide through the left corner with precision before coasting through the right turn. “Brakes feel solid. I’m not losing any grip.”

The laps fly by, each one faster than the last as I get more comfortable with the setup. By the time I pull into the garage, my adrenaline is pumping and my mind buzzes with the thrill of the run.

I climb out of the car, pulling off my helmet as I walk over to Posey instead of to the garage where I’ll chat up the engineers. It’s a legitimate move to anyone watching. She is, after all, writing an article about me and the team.

She watches me as I approach, her eyes wide with excitement. I pull off my balaclava, but when I get close, she holds up her hands, taking a step back.

“Keep your distance,” she says, her voice light but firm. “I’m not going to give everyone a show.”

I chuckle, respecting her boundaries as I stop a few feet away. “Fair enough. But I’ll make it up to you when we get home.”

She smiles, and it makes me want to close the distance between us, but I resist.

“What did you think?” I ask.

“I think my heart was in my throat the entire time you were out there,” she gushes. “It was both thrilling and terrifying. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like watching you in qualifying and not sure my nerves will be able to take watching you in a race. It was just…”

She trails off as my smile widens. That’s a whole lot of worries over me, and blimey if it doesn’t feel good. Doesn’t feel like a fling but rather someone who genuinely cares for my well-being.

Posey blushes and ducks her head a moment before saying, “You did great. I was very impressed.”

I want to tease her about her ramble, but instead, I choose to hold it close. I thumb back at the garage. “I’m going to meet with the team and then I’ll be taking the helicopter back. You heading to HQ with Maeve?”

She nods, looking around for the red-haired communications manager. “Yeah… I think she’s around here somewhere. We’re going to grab a drink when we get back to Woking.”

“But dinner with me,” I say. It’s not a request, but a demand.

Posey nods, cheeks pink and pretty. “Okay… see you when you get home.”

CHAPTER 14

Lex

The house isempty and dark when I arrive, but I’m not concerned. I know Posey is with Maeve and our dinner reservations aren’t for another hour.

I sit at the kitchen table and resist the urge to text her. I’ve never before sent the words to a woman, “Where are you?” or “When will you be home?” but fuck if that’s not what I want to do because I simply can’t wait to see her.

Today’s been the first day that we’ve spent mostly separated. I’ve become so used to Posey being my shadow that I’d not realized she’d become a comfort to me throughout the day. Now that she’s become my lover, well… is that why I’ve missed her today?

I fucking loved having her at the track watching me test the car. It made the thrill of speed all the sweeter knowing her eyes were on me.

But we parted ways as I flew back on the helicopter and she rode with Maeve. I didn’t see her the rest of the day as Spencer gave her some time and I had meetings with the engineers and strategists, as well as marketing promotions and interviews Maeve hustled me to.

Late afternoon I broke and asked Maeve, trying to sound casual, “Where’s Posey?”

“Oh, she went to the house. Said she had some work to do on the article before we go out tonight.”

I kept my smile to myself. Article means book and I was actually glad that Posey took time away from me and CrownVelocity to do some writing. Since living with her at the Airbnb the last five days, I’ve seen how she’s been burning the candle at both ends. She works late into the night, not just translating her imagination via her laptop, but she does marketing and administrative work. I asked her about it one night and got quite the education on what it means to be a self-published author.

It frankly means that she does everything, and I’ve come to realize that crafting a story is but one small part of what makes up her business.

There’s a bit of guilt that I kept her occupied in bed last night so yeah, I’m glad she took the rest of the day today to work on her own stuff.

I swivel my head upon the key rattling in the lock and then Posey’s walking through the door, her cheeks reddened by the chilled air and her hair tousled from the wind. She’s got her ugly green coat on, which she shrugs out of, hanging it on the coat rack.

“You’re late,” I say, causing her to jump as she’d not seen me in the kitchen.

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