Page 58 of Truck You

“Maybe.” I smile.

I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look at him. There’s something intimate and personal about this moment that I don’t want to spoil with lust-filled looks. And I’m pretty sure that’s what I’ll see if I look at him.

A moment later, he turns his head back to the sky. Then his pinky finger brushes against mine and slowly loops around it until we’re linked.

A warmth washes over me, and my breath catches in my chest. It’s not much, but it’s nice. I might even go as far as to say this is romantic. Unlike the forced romance from earlier today at the restaurant, this feels genuine.

Later that night, when I’m lying alone in bed, I can’t sleep because all I can think about is how nice it was to almost hold Mac’s hand.

* * *

Another yawn stretchesits way out of me, despite how hard I fight it. Chase keeps looking at me with a questioning look. I know he’s trying to figure out if somethingmorehappened between Mac and me.

I don’t blame him for being suspicious. I’m distracted. I’m supposed to be learning from him and Ash, not daydreaming about Mac. Maybe if I slept better last night, I would be able to focus more.

But I slept like shit. If you can even call what I did sleeping. I tossed and turned with my mind on a constant loop, replaying the way Mac made me feel yesterday.

He can go from being Mr. Asshole to being Mr. Nice Guy in sixty seconds flat. But after the ride here, he’s mostly been nice. I like nice. Nice excites those butterflies in my belly that make me feel light and tingly inside. I like light and tingly.

But Chase doesn’t need to know any of that. We have more important things to focus on than the tension linking Mac and me together.

We have a race to monitor. Mac’s behind the wheel of a racecar, going close to two hundred miles per hour. Our job is to keep him safe, call out other drivers’ positions, and give him a heads up on any obstacles that might pop up.

“Please tell me Mac isn’t as tired as you?” Chase finally asks after my thousandth yawn.

I shake my head. “As far as I know, he slept fine. On the couch. Alone.”

Chase smirks with his hand still holding the microphone away from his mouth. His headset is linked to Mac’s, so they can communicate throughout the race. “Good to know. I want him to keep his first-place position. He needs this win.”

I smile as Mac flies past us, completing another lap. “It’s looking good. He’s a full lap ahead of the second-place car.”

But my smile is wiped away by the sound of a loud crash. We rush to the fence to get a better look.

Another driver hits the wall just after the turn Mac is about to make. A second car slams into the first, causing them both to spin out-of-control. Chase’s focus instantly shifts to the track and guiding Mac through it without incident. Thankfully, both wrecked cars can still function and pull off the track, so no other cars join them.

Just when it looks like Mac is in the clear, his tire blows. Blowing a tire at any speed is hard to control, but when you’re racing, it’s one of the scariest things that can happen.

“Shit, Mac!” Chase yells into the headset. “Talk to me.”

I can tell from the look on Chase’s face that Mac is responding. A moment later, he turns to Ash. “He hit some debris. He’s coming in. Get a wheel ready.”

Ash jumps into action, grabbing one of the many spare wheels ready to replace a damaged one. His speed and agility under this stressful moment is impressive. One wrong move could cause a delay that results in Mac losing the race.

“Here.” Chase shoves a water bottle at me. “Take him some water.”

Seconds later, Mac pulls up next to us. Ash is around his car and working on his tire almost before he stops. I hop over the low fencing with the water bottle and am amazed that Ash already has the blown tire off.Damn, he’s fast.

I shove the water bottle at Mac, holding the straw so he can easily reach it. He lifts his visor and takes a long sip. I meet his heated gaze and my insides melt. His expression is intense, and I know his focus is on the race, but the want and need sparking between us is undeniable.

Mac behind the wheel of a racecar is hot, and it’s doing funny things to my lady parts.

Ash tightens the last lug nut in record time. Without a word, Mac closes his visor and hits the gas. He’s gone before Ash and I can even take a single step back.

Okay, that’s even hotter.

He’s back on the track with plenty of time to spare. He’s still at least a quarter of a lap ahead of the second-place car.

“Alright, man. You’ve got this. Only three more laps to go,” Chase says as Mac takes the car back to top speed. “Everything good?”

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