Page 28 of Start Your Engines

I hold my hand to my mouth as I debate confronting him. I need to talk it out and get his side of the story before he has to do press interviews and before Antoine gets involved. It will get out of hand if I don’t resolve what happened now.

I count to five. I can do this. I am the boss, and I need him to see me like one if I’m going to get the best out of him this season.

“Dane, come here,” I command. He smirks at me. “And don’t fuck with me.”

He swaggers towards where I sit. I yank my headphones off.

“Yes, boss. Have you got helpful pointers for my driving, or will you accept I did nothing wrong?” His voice may be all attitude, but there’s a sheen of sweat on his pale face, and his eyes are redder than mine.

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

He shrugs. His hair is messy from where he’s run his hands through it. I’m hit by memories of social media comments written by fangirls discussing if his hair is as soft as it looks. I shake them off.

“Dane, are you sleeping?” I try to say gently, but I’m hyped.

He had problems with insomnia as a teenager, but I read in an interview he’d dealt with it.

“I’m fine,” he grunts but avoids eye contact. His hands cup his chest at a weird angle.

“Are you hurt?” My stomach churns. “I need to get you seen by a medic.”

“I don’t need to be seen by anyone. I should get out of here.”

I throw my hands in the air. “That’s not possible. You can’t leave—” The mewing is closer now. It distracts me from the argument. “Did you hear that?”

“I can’t hear anything,” he replies flatly.

There’s movement where his hands hold his chest and more mewing.

“Dane,” I warn. “What is in your racing suit?”

His mouth quirks. “Nine inches of?—”

“I’m not talking about that.” I point at his chest. “What is wriggling and mewing against you?”

He lowers his hands slightly, and the furry face of a tiny kitten peeks out from above the zip of his slightly open suit.

“What the fuck? How did you get that on-site? Where did you find it?”

He gives a slow huff that fills the air between us. “She’s a she.”

He takes the kitten out and holds it against his chest. His hands appear bigger as he embraces the tiny creature. I curse the longing and needy thoughts threatening to brim to the surface as the tabby patterned kitten licks his fingers.

“Good girl,” he huskily tells the kitten.

I scrunch my toes and run my tongue along the top of my mouth to distract from the pulsing between my legs that’s appeared from hearing him say those words. “Dane, explain now.”

“Stop being so argumentative,” he says softly. It’s like he’s sharing a secret, and my body trembles lightly. “You don’t want to scare her.”

“Come here.” I tip my head to the corner of the garage, away from the rest of the crew, and he follows me behind a makeshift wall. No one overhears our chatter above the race cars out on the track. I should focus on the race, but how Connor cares for this kitten makes sweat drip down my back. I want to fan myself as he coos to the adorable ball of fluff. I talk as softly as he does. “Please explain to me what’s going on.”

“I found her in the middle of the night while walking around the city.” I want to ask why he was walking around, but he might tell me he was returning from a hookup. “She’s a stray. When I found her, she was hungry, shivering, and alone. She’s a baby and needs caring for, but I don’t know the city or what to do. I didn’t want her to die.”

“How did you get her on site? If she’d gotten out, she could have caused a crash.”

“I hid her. I put her in a secure box in the back of the garage, and Silas cared for her. There was never a chance she’d get out. She was a very good girl.” I stare at him as he says those words again. My thighs quiver. “But I just got her out because I needed her after that crash.”

“Are we going to talk about your crash?” And why he needed to hold a kitten after it?

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