Page 26 of Formula Chance

“Nice to meet you,” Posey says as they shake.

The small talk flows easily among the four of us, Lex and Nash reminiscing about old races while Posey and I get to know each other. She’s a newbie in this world and is taking it all in with wide eyes, which I find adorable. But I also love how she loves the sport, and I think it’s super cool she writes romances about it.

We’re unfortunately interrupted when a federation official calls Lex and Nash away for a group photo with the other drivers. It’s only when he walks off that I realize we’ve just spent a good fifteen minutes in conversation with another couple, and it was easy and natural, and we acted as if… we’re actually friends.

I’m wondering if that can be a reality for us.

“So… you and Nash?” Posey asks coyly.

I blink, her question taking me by surprise. “What about us?”

“I watched the documentary,” she admits, her voice gentle. “I know you were engaged. But they never said what happened after his crash, so Lex filled me in a little. Is it… weird, working together now? And am I being far too nosy? Because if so, tell me to butt the hell out of your business.”

I like this woman and so I find myself shaking my head with a rueful smile. “Many people know about our past so, no… I don’t mind you asking. It’s… complicated. We have a lot of history, but we’re trying to move past it.”

Posey nods, her expression understanding. “That’s not easy, I’m sure.”

“It’s not,” I admit, my voice soft. “But it’s… nice, in a way. Seeing him again.”

She smiles knowingly. “You still care about him, don’t you?”

I don’t answer immediately, the truth settling heavily in my chest. “I don’t think I ever stopped.”

Posey’s smile widens, her warmth contagious. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you two could be good together again.”

I tilt my head. “Are you saying that because you see something that I don’t, or are you saying that because you’re a romance author?”

She giggles. “Probably because I’m a romance author. I want to see true love win. But I saw the way he looked at you, and well… I’m pretty sure he still has deep feelings too. Maybe this is a second chance for you both.”

I immediately wave off that suggestion. “No way. We couldn’t. It was bad at the end, and we weren’t good for each other. There was a reason we split apart and—”

“And that was a long time ago. You’re different now and so is he. Don’t discount the wisdom and maturity you’ve gained playing a part in a new chapter between you two.”

“No,” I insist, not giving her suggestion an ounce of credence. “That ship has sailed.”

I don’t ever dare hope for something like that because if Nash didn’t feel the same, the heartbreak would be unbearable. I remember all too well what it felt like the first time, and I know falling for him again is too great a risk.

That’s what I do. I analyze data, make reasoned decisions, weigh the risks.

There’s nothing about Nash Sinclair that could be good for me, so it’s imperative we keep things professional.

I’m sure he feels the same way.

CHAPTER 9

Nash

The Jeddah Circuitis lit up like a carnival, the massive floodlights bouncing off the black asphalt and making the Red Sea shimmer in the background. The scream of engines fills the night, sizzling through my chest like a second heartbeat. It’s a sight I didn’t think I’d see again—not from anywhere other than a television.

I’m not on the track tonight but will be next week. For now, I’m happy to sit at the pit wall, the nerve center of the race. Located between the track and pit lane, with the team’s garage just on the other side of that, it’s a long desk with a canopy cover and elevated stools bolted into the flooring. Sleek black consoles crammed with monitors display every piece of data you can imagine. Telemetry streams the tire temperatures, sector times, engine performance, and more in real-time. Each screen flickers with lines of code and graphics I can’t comprehend, and the constant chatter on the headsets is almost a language of its own.

Bex sits to my left, her gaze glued to the monitors and jaw tight as she barks orders to Alex, one of the race engineers who relays messages to the drivers. Luca is beside her, arms crossed, his posture deceptively relaxed, but I can see the tension on his face. Hendrik, our senior engineer, is on the far end, hyperfocused and relaying orders back to the garage.

This fifty-lap race has been a mixed bag so far. Matthieu’s running in seventh place at lap twenty-eight and Bernie’s sitting at twelfth. Up front, it’s a hell of a battle. Lex is leading, his Crown Velocity car flying through the streets of Jeddah like it’s on rails. Carlos is right behind him in P2, with Reid pushing his Matterhorn car hard in P3. Reid’s teammate, Gunner James, also an American, is about three seconds behind, and the fifth position is with Landon Russell, racing for my former team, Bauer FI.

I’ve got a headset on, listening to the chatter between Matthieu and Alex. It’s strange, being here but not out there. My body practically hums with the memory of gripping the wheel, the adrenaline rush of pushing a car to its limits. But tonight, I’m an observer, soaking it all in and learning how the team operates.

And right now, it’s a goddamn mess.

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