Page 12 of Start Your Engines

“You’ve let me stand here since the leak, getting more and more anx—annoyed.”

I turn and catch him pursing his lips and shaking his head.

“You’re anxious?”

He glares at me and steps closer. “Of course not. I’m annoyed because you’re wasting my time.”

I tilt my head as I take in the sweat beading his brow and how he wrings his hands. I soften my voice. “What is wrong, Dane?”

“I’m standing here while you chat up Antoine and leave me to wait like a fucking idiot.” He fixes me with his stare. “What is your problem with me, Senna?”

“Aw, is pretty boy jealous of me driving the car?” Antoine says from the radio. He can hear what’s happening from my mouthpiece. The last thing I need is for Antoine picking up on whatever is going on with Connor before I can work it out for myself.

I step away from Dane, but he steps closer. The heat from his body infiltrates my bubble, and I remind myself I can’t back down from these moments. I round on him so he has to deal with me getting in his space. But the proximity doesn’t deter him. His mouth curls up, although the action is so brief that it’s gone before I can comment.

He leans down, and for one ridiculous moment, I imagine his lips brushing mine.My fucking head.It must be stress. The last thing I want is a kiss from him, yet I imagine it, licking my lips in expectation.

Dane grabs the mouthpiece of the radio and holds it still. His skin touches my cheek, and I barely hold onto a gasp. “Antoine, I will fuck you up before the start of the season if you keep pissing me off. I’m a better driver, teammate, and person than you’ll ever be. You’re the real liability and a selfish bastard, too.” His words are aggressive, yet his eyes are gentle as he stares at me.

His eyelashes brush my face, and I hold my breath.

“But are you a better lover? I can handle a woman’s curves as well as I can drive. Do one of the many women you seduce sleep with you twice? No. You’re a playboy without skills.”

Dane’s eyes blaze, anger coming off him in waves.

“When you get back here, I’m going to rearrange your face,” Dane shouts down the microphone.

I step back at the volume, but his hand sinks into my hip to keep me close. I flinch at his heat. It gives me an unexpected snap in my belly, and he recoils.

“I didn’t mean—” he says, his emotions jumping from rage to panic.

“Press,” Jacs says as she fakes a cough behind me.

A photographer lifts his camera to get an incriminating shot of Dane and me to accompany whatever they intend to write about the team’s mess. If the investors catch me at war with my drivers, it won’t matter that the car is doing well after the initial water issue.

“Antoine, we’re done. Come back in,” I say with faux calm. I nod at our chief race engineer, Macca, who talks Antoine back to the garage.

“After that debacle, you owe me, Dane. You’re giving the press five minutes to ask whatever questions they want, or they’ll run a story about the team that will ruin us before we start.”

“Not before I get in the car.”

Connor pierces me with his glare. His lips are too plump for my liking, and just like that, I’m back to imagining us kissing again. I slam my hand down on the nearest desk.

Antoine parks outside the garage. Dane makes a beeline for him, his shoulders tight and hands curled into fists.

I stare at the new comms manager, imploring him for support. The press can’t watch these two fight.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” my press guy calls, “please follow me. We’ve laid out a spread of champagne and canapes. We wanted to give you a taste of what will be a winning season for the Coulter Racing team. This won’t be the only champagne flowing this year. We’ve got goodie bags, too.”

I let out a puff of air as he leads them from the garage. Dane rounds on a smirking Antoine, who’s removing his helmet. Dane’s pointy finger presses into Antoine’s shoulder.

“Hey!” I holler. Silence descends inside the garage, and every engineer and mechanic stops as I storm over to the men. The only movement is Antoine pushing Dane’s finger away with a hand flip.

“Ma bell—” Antoine says with open hands and a lazy smile.

“No ‘belle.’ No terms of endearment at all. All I want from either of you is ‘yes, boss.’ If you two carry on like this, I will terminate both of you. I’m not with this team for a season; I’m here for life, so if we have one crap season just so we can ditch two of the most petulant, childish, and arrogant drivers I’ve ever met, then so be it. There’s drivers who’d jump into your suits before you’d finished removing them. Neither of you are irreplaceable.”

“You wouldn’t.” It’s the first time Antoine hasn’t been smug.

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