Page 48 of Knot So Fast
I curse creatively.
"Are my parents legit calling around?"
"They already called Rory, but she covered and said you're enjoying a lovely bonding sleepover at my place," Wren explains. "So now they're calling me, but I wanted to make sure you were alive first before I commit to this alibi."
"I'm alive," I groan, "and out of the rain, thankfully. But I kind of almost killed a guy."
I hear what sounds suspiciously like Wren pinching the bridge of her nose through the phone.
"I'm not surprised about the killing part 'cause you're always seemingly trying to murder someone, but please tell me you ain't sleeping with them as a reward."
"I would never sleep with my enemy!" I gasp indignantly, but my protest rings hollow as I catch sight of Lachlan approaching with what appears to be clothing and a towel in his hands.
He's smirking at my declaration, his eyes twinkling with amusement in a way that makes heat rush to my cheeks. The expression transforms his face from merely handsome to devastatingly attractive, and I have to physically turn away to maintain any semblance of composure.
"Stop smiling like a jock," I hiss at him, which only makes his smirk widen.
"Are you with the dude you almost killed?" Wren asks, clearly picking up on the interaction.
"Yeah," I admit reluctantly. "He invited me to his place on top of the cliff. You know, the place I love to relax and oversee the city?"
The silence that follows is so long I pull the phone away from my ear to check if the call dropped. But no, Wren's stillthere, just apparently processing this information with the kind of intensity that makes me nervous.
"Are you with Lachlan?" she finally asks, her voice carefully neutral in a way that sets off all my alarm bells.
I frown, realizing with embarrassment that I've been in this man's house, kissed him in the rain, and still haven't actually confirmed his identity.
Oops?
"Uh... I actually didn't ask his name."
"C'mon, Auren," Wren groans. "Stranger danger, for fuck's sake."
"Well, he hasn't killed me yet," I argue weakly, "so I guess that means I'm valuable?"
Lachlan chuckles at that, a low rumble that does things to my insides I'm not prepared to examine.
I shush him aggressively before turning to face him properly.
"Wait. What's your name?"
His smirk transforms into a full smile that's somehow both charming and infuriating. He executes a formal half-bow that would be ridiculous if he didn't pull it off with such confidence.
"Lachlan Wolfe, at your service."
I stare at him as the name penetrates through my confusion, pieces clicking into place with almost audible snaps.
Lachlan Wolfe.
TheLachlan Wolfe.
Formula One champion four years running.
The man whose races I've watched religiously even when I couldn't remember why I cared so much about the sport. The driver whose precision and calculated risks have made him a legend in motorsports.
The phone slips from my suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering onto the marble countertop as I gawk at him.
"Fuck!" I scramble to pick it up, my hands shaking for entirely different reasons now. "WHAT? You're the Formula One champion four years in a row and I almost ran you off the road?"
