Page 65 of Start Your Engines

“But what about the antihistamines for Fluffers?” Which he doesn’t need because he’s okay. He’s shouting from the carrier like the house is burning down. He’s a demanding little bastard.“I can’t drive like this, and Jimmy will be devastated if he knows we could have helped his cat more.”

My voice catches in my throat. Doing this to Connor feels cruel, but he needs to get behind the wheel now. It’s what I did after my race, and it’s what the sports psychologist recommended, not to race, but to drive and be in control again. I’m not doing this because I want Connor back on my team. I’m doing it to help him, but still, I feel like a mega bitch.

Guilt slaps me.

“Actually, don’t worry. I can get it for him. I’m sure my ankle is fine.” I get up to prove everything is okay, waggling it around near him. I’ll never be able to manipulate anyone into anything.

Connor’s eyes flit between me and the car keys in my hand. “No. I’ll do it. I’ve always wanted to drive your car, not that you’ve ever let me. And this is for Fluffers, right?”

I nod weakly. I’m a bitch.

As we carry the cat carrier to the car, because there’s no chance Connor is leaving Fluffers alone, he says, “I knew you were faking. Your ankles are hair-free. I noticed your legs when you were on the phone with the Australian dickhead. But if you’d fall like Ronaldo to get me to drive, I guess I can do it.”

I go to speak, and he holds his hand up like I did the day I found out he was a driver on my team. My scowl makes him grin.

“For the record, Coults, I don’t want to drive, and the idea makes me want to throw myself and the car keys into the water. But having you by my side as I do it is the best way for me to give this a go. If you drove after your accident, I can, too. It turns out, your presence can get me to face anything, including what I fear most.”

Connor fucking Dane strikes again, and my heart pulsates like it’s about to explode.

CHAPTER 32

Connor

My hands trembleas I take a corner. Senna sits in the passenger seat, and a mewing Fluffers is safely in his carrier in her footwell. I glance at her legs. Her shorts are denim and teeny, and if I weren’t panicked about crashing into a hedge, I’d let my gaze linger. It’s been a week, and I’ve missed her so much that being this close to her and smelling her floral citrus scent clears my head.

“It took me two months before I drove after my crash. I didn’t want to. The prospect of getting behind a wheel was like willingly consuming a pint of sick.” I blanch at the picture she creates. “But I did it.”

“What made you take the step?”

She gives a mirthless chuckle. “Niki lied and told me you were coming to the house. I needed to get as far away as possible.”

“So you’re saying that, even then, I helped you face your fears.”

Her laugh is genuine. “If that’s how you want to see it.”

Fluffers has quieted down. My knuckles are getting their colour back, and my pulse is less rapid. It has absolutely nothingto do with Senna’s legs, laugh, and general incredibleness—nothing at all.

I clear my throat. “So you didn’t want to visit Mr. Thinks He’s God And Calls You Tiger Vet, then?”

She wriggles her nose at me. “Look at you coming up with new names for him every time. And people say you have no imagination.”

I smile at her and try not to get distracted by her legs. She’s also wearing a team T-shirt that clings to her boobs. Fuck. The crash should have been enough to calm my libido a little.

My gaze flicks back to the road. “That doesn’t answer my question, Coults. What changed your mind about seeing him?”

“Work,” she replies. She stares out the window. I tuck the discussion away for now. “I’m proud of you, Connor, especially as you knew I faked an injury. You didn’t have to drive us.”

Although I suspect her words are partly to avoid a conversation about the vet, I puff out my chest. “Thank you. I’ve always wanted to drive this beast. If crashing and nearly dying is what it took, then fair enough.”

Her voice quiets. “I was petrified when you crashed. I ran through the garage like a woman possessed. I don’t want to lose you again,” she stutters.

I briefly squeeze her hand, which she clenches in her lap.

“You won’t lose me, Senna. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But your resignation?—”

“I’m going to try to stay. I don’t know if I can, but I’ll try.” I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep. All I’ve done is drive a car to the village pharmacy. “But I might need your help.”

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