Page 42 of Throttle

“You have no idea how much,” I tease.

Saint steps closer and brings his lips to my ear. “I wouldn’t mind finding out,” he whispers as my body heats up and not from the temperature. “I’ll be on the headset today listening in.”

I nod as he takes a step back. I pull on my helmet and climb into the car. Saint takes the opportunity to secure my harness, making sure he methodically checks each strap, his knuckles brushing over the curve of my breast.

To anyone else, it looks normal. Checking the harness, tightening it. But the subtle movements, I can feel through my fire suit. A shiver runs through me, and he winks as he confirms to the crew that we’re all set. Bastard.

“Mic check,” my spotter Eric starts.

“Roger,” I reply pushing the com button on my steering wheel.

Bud mumbles something, so we know he’s there.

“Alright, Haisley, three laps at caution speed before racking in starting order for the green flag. You ready?”

“Roger that. Ready as can be. Let’s do this today, guys. I’ll do the driving, you all do the guiding,” I respond, using my father’s saying just to irk Bud a little.

My father and I never had a relationship, not much of one. This is the race I would have liked to have him here at, cheering me on. But unfortunately, that is not in the cards for us.

Elle’s voice rings in my ears, and I realize they gave her a headset today. “Grams says to show them what you got, girl, and she’s expecting a t-shirt.”

I laugh as we pull out of pit road and onto the track. This is one of the only tracks where we pit left, pretty similar to stock cars. I’ve raced on almost every track on the circuit in one fashion or another, but nothing as big as this. This race. This meaning. This is everything I’ve worked for my entire life.

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