Page 33 of Start Your Engines

I raise an eyebrow in his direction as I rest against the back of my chair. “Well, some of us weren’t pretending to like Drake while secretly dancing to Katy Perry.”

Connor’s grin escalates the heat in my cheeks until my face burns. It’s the grin I remember from our teenage years when we teased, competed, and spent all our time together. I switch Taylor Swift off and attempt to erase the past.

My gaze flicks back to him, and my stomach churns. “What are you doing here anyway? Haven’t you got a woman to seduce? They’ll think you’re playing hard to get if you keep letting them down.”

His face drops. “I told you in Australia I haven’t had sex in a long time. I’m not seducing anyone. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.” His gaze runs the length of my legs, still propped on my desk. What is his problem with my legs? I’ve caught him glaring at them a couple of times. I drop my feet to the floor. “I’m here because, as I was leaving, I saw your car in the car park. I presumed you hadn’t eaten, so I got dinner for us.”

“Us?” That’s when the smell of pizza hits me hard—melted cheese, tomato sauce, and pepperoni. I hide my mouth with my hand as drool collects in the corners of my lips. We used to eat this together as teenagers in our down seasons. “Don’t you avoid food like this during race season because you need to fit into your car?”

“Are you asking as my boss or my…friend?” He stutters the last word, and I raise an eyebrow. “Are we friends?”

I shrug. “Depends how much of that pizza you’re sharing with me.”

He steps closer, looming above me. He’s wearing the same hoodie as me, although he’s combined it with jeans. He’s dressed like he was when we were teenagers, and my heart tightens. Goosebumps cover my legs at his proximity. “I’d give you all of it if you’d let me.”

He clears a space on my desk while resting the box on his hip to prove his point. When I quirk an eyebrow, he glares at me. “To avoid getting grease on your important papers.”

Then, he puts down a paper towel before resting the pizza box on it. I jump up to help, but before I can speak, he side-eyes me and says, “Stop trying to manage everything. Let me do this one thing for you.” He slaps my hands away before flipping the lid and taking out a piece.

I swallow excess saliva as the scent of fresh pizza dough fills my nostrils. He offers a slice to me, and as I move to take it, he whips it away and takes a bite from it. He laughs as he chews.

“I stand by my opinion that boys suck. I hope you choke on it,” I reply, jumping up, ripping the piece out of his hand, and shoving what’s left in my mouth. I beam proudly, and he laughs.

“The edge of that was in my mouth. It’s like we kissed.”

I freeze. That was what I used to say to Niki when one of his fangirls ate half a cookie and offered him the rest. Sitting with Connor in the quiet office brings back too many memories, and every time it does, I’m reminded how my pulse rose at his proximity and how I’d steal his hoodies to smell him close.

I shove him away, and he winks, readjusting his cap. It does nothing to stop how my tongue tickles my lips at the idea of kissing him. I huff loudly. “Sit, Dane, before I kick you out of my office.”

He sits on the other side of my desk.

“So tell me, are you still listening to ‘Love Story’ on repeat like you did when you cooked me pancakes when I came over before karting?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I press my lips together to avoid smiling at the memory.

“That would be more believable if your lips weren’t doing that dancing thing.” He stares at my lips, and his chuckle dies.

“You okay? I expected a funny comeback.”

He chucks a serviette at me. “You’ve got a bit of sauce.” His hands are in fists as he directs me.

“You’re so fucking weird, Dane.”

“I learned from the best, Coults.” His wink nearly floors me. He’s all grown up but no less sexy than he was as an eighteen-year-old.

“Whatever.” I shrug to hide the tingles in my belly. “So if you’re not listening to Katy Perry, who are you listening to these days?”

“Various. I heard this one song you’d like. It has your big boss energy. Have you heard ‘Femininomenon’?”

I shake my head. He eats in that laddish way that’s always fascinated me. It’s like a race to the finish, even when he’s the only one eating. Everything is a competition to him.

“You should. I’ll send you a link. You’d love it,” he says, chatting like we’re two people who haven’t defined who they are to each other. “What is the worst thing you’ve had on a pizza, like ever?”

He stares at me as I sit back in my chair, folding my legs under me. “I went out with Jacs once, and they put lobster on a pizza.”

He leans forward. “You know that’s not weird, right?”

I wiggle my nose. “It is when they make you choose this big-eyed beautiful animal and then kill it in front of you. Never again.”

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