Page 18 of Start Your Engines

“I look forward to it,” I reply. “Macca, he’s all yours.”

Jacs stares at me from across the garage with an eyebrow raised. Shit, I’m smirking. I force my face into a blank look as Connor overtakes a driver from Force Brazil. He doesn’t do it as smoothly as he would have in the past, but there’s hints of Dane the Pain.

I lean back in my chair. I want to support and celebrate him, but the knowledge that he made me crash still sits deep in my stomach. My head and heart battle. When I avoided him, I could pretend he risked everything to be the best, including forcing me off the track so I never raced again. But I haven’t thought about the race a year earlier, when he got the nickname Dane the Pain, for years.

After that race, he checked in with me to ensure I was okay. Although he drove like a demon, he wanted to be certain that our friendship was safe and explain I wasn’t in danger at any point.

I sink my teeth into my lower lip as Connor nears another driver at a corner. My emotions spiral as I remember the moment he hit me, and I have to look away.

I pull my headphones off and toss them onto the desk beside the screen, sighing with relief. A couple of race engineers pat me on the back, and Jacs pumps her fist in my eyeline.

We did it.

The first race under my charge is over. We weren’t podium-worthy but came in eighth and tenth, which is impressive for our first race. I’m proud of my team.

My cuticles bleed from me gnawing on them. My hair hangs limply around my face, and my poor-fitting polyester trousers have probably left red marks all over my legs from where they scratched me up.

One of the models—I expect a guest of one of my drivers—sashays past, drawing stares from some of my garage team.

I blanch. I should be celebrating. I need to up my outfit game, not to get that reaction from the drivers, but so I don’t focus on my lacklustre appearance. I consider the other team bosses,all men. Some of them are dishevelled messes. Some insist on wearing racing suits, though they spend the whole race staring at screens, but others dress impeccably. The boss of Vessa is the pinnacle of style. He never sweats, and in recent years, as team boss, he’s never had a hair out of place. His clothes don’t crease because he doesn’t allow it. I need to be taken more seriously, which means dressing like a winner and not a teenage intern.

The model walks to the cars.Please don’t be here for Connor. Please be here for Antoine.I cross my arms and purse my lips as I track her. She steps between the cars. Connor gets out first, high-fiving his trainer, Silas.

I hold my breath.

But Connor barely notices the beauty with full lips, legs that go on for miles, perfect features, and wavy blond hair spun from gold. Instead, he catches my eye. His brow furrows as he sees my eyes flicker in her direction.

My jealousy must be like a banner across my face. Antoine gets out of his car, pulls off his helmet, and swaggers to the model, who jumps and squeals. He tips his head, and she wraps her arms around his neck. Antoine winks at me over her shoulder.

Connor sees that wink and me blinking before looking away as if caught out.

Shit. I’m not staring or even happy because Antoine winks at me. I’m dealing with my secret, shameful relief that she wasn’t here for Connor.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” Connor grunts. “She’s too good for you. Stop playing games with her.”

Antoine laughs. So Connordoeswant the model. My emotions somersault so fast I don’t understand how everything goes from celebration to chaos in seconds. I shouldn’t care if Connor desires the model.

“If you want Claudia here, you can have her. She likes drivers, don’t you, baby?” Antoine teases. The blond buries her face in his shoulder before whispering something in his ear and walking to where her designer handbag sits.

“I don’t mean her,” Connor snaps as he rounds on Antoine. “You know who I mean.”

Antoine winks at me again.

My mouth dries up, and my palms sweat. A crumb of hope stabs my heart, but I dismiss it quickly. Connor can’t be jealous because of me.

I hold my breath. I wouldn’t want that anyway.

I see the flush of adrenaline on Connor’s cheeks. He’s amped up because of the race. He steps closer to Antoine, and I hold my breath. He’s always looked sexy when he came off the track, but now he’s a man. My gaze slides down at how his racing suit grips him. His biceps flex as he stands toe-to-toe with Antoine.

I shake my head, but my attraction lingers even as the men eyeball each other.

Antoine whispers something that only Connor hears. With wide eyes, Connor grabs the collar of Antoine’s driving suit, but Antoine tips his head and smiles.

My dad’s voice tells me that having them fight might make them better drivers. But this isn’t the kind of team I want. I rub my scar as I debate between my management style and my dad’s.

“Come on, pretty boy. You know how she feels, how she’s always felt. She loved racing against me.”

“That’s enough,” I bellow before clearing the garage of everyone but Connor and Antoine.

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