Page 7 of You, Me, and Lucky Number 13

He nods like he understands how easy it is to slip into a rage when it comes to Chad.

“Don’t worry, though,” I assure him. “I won’t be seeing Chad or Monica anytime soon.”

Brian’s brows furrow, and I shrug like what I’m about to say is no big deal. “Word has spread through the garages; I’ll be lucky if I ever work in racing again.”

My chest tightens at the thought of never again being able to do what I love.

“You could always call you know who,” Brian suggests carefully.

“No.” Calling him is out of the question.

“I hear his team has high turnover.”

“With good reason.” I scoff. “He’s a demon. I’d have to be crazy to work for him.”

Brian cuts me a knowing look.

“Don’t start. I’m notthatcrazy.”

CHAPTER THREE

COLE

“I quit!”

Thank fuck.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, Lyle, I support your decision.”

My disgruntled employee’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “My name isKyle, you asshole.”

I’m pretty sure I heard that at some point. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

It’s 8:30 in the morning, and I have a steaming cup of coffee clutched in my hand—long day is probably a bit of a stretch. “Regardless”—I wave my free hand between us—“I’ll walk you out.”

Maybe he won’t call human resources on his way home. I don’t need another complaint against me. Simon or Samuel really made a stink the last time, and I ended up in front of a bunch of suits, making promises and apologies that I wouldn’t hurt any more delicate feelings this season.

Lyle needs to believe I’m his coworker who gives a shit about him and his emotional state. “Do you want to grab a drink later?”

Lyle blinks several times, seemingly dazed.

“Or dinner,” I suggest, in case it’ll take more than a mojito to smooth things over. Dinner isn’t ideal, but I could go for a steaktonight. I need the protein if I want to add five pounds of muscle by the next race.

“Uh…” Lyle’s mouth closes, and he shakes off whatever he is about to say. “You know what…” He pauses and blinks again. “Never mind. Have a good day, Mr. Lawson.”

Without another word, he turns around and walks off the track.

I’m thinking that was a no for dinner, which, let’s be honest, dinner with Lyle would have been a real bore. Not only is he a shitty race engineer, but he’s proved to be an even worse conversationalist.

“Motherfucker, Cole. Not another one!”

“He quit.” I frown at Gene, my team manager as he walks up with a distinct frown on his face. “What would you have me do? Beg him to stay? Clearly, he had better opportunities available.”

Besides, he is a giant-sized pussy who can’t handle a little yelling.

“I offered him dinner to smooth things over.” I shrug. “He declined.”

“Cole.” He says my name in that fatherly voice I find annoying. “You didn’t really expect that to work, did you?”

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