Page 76 of Midnight Racers

Charlotte took over, ordering everyone around while bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Pussy-whipped,” Jordan said under his breath as he walked past to watch what was happening. The fucker always knew what was happening even when you thought your deeds were hidden from the rest of the world. I swear he had a crystal ball that he sat and stared into when no one was watching.

I slapped his head on my way to my car, but he grinned and winked at me.

Fuck my life. What the fuck was I supposed to do since I never risked my heart?

***

Chapter Twenty-Four

Charlotte

Today was the adult equivalent of Christmas morning. All my dreams had collided as I happily took Flynn’s car apart and started to rebuild it in my vision. Dale had only ever allowed me to change certain aspects of his car, believing he knew more about the mechanics of car design than I did, even though I had a degree and multiple courses and experience under the bonnet.

I’d seen Flynn in action, and he knew the inside of his car as well as he knew how to drive it. Yet, he stood offside with Jordan and allowed me to get my hands dirty, chatting every so often to the mechanics who arrived from the Cosworth team. My entire life I’d wanted a moment like this. For once, I felt as if I was an important part of a team, and not just there because my dad owned it.

Pizzas arrived for lunch, and Megan appeared every so often to ask questions. It was great to have another woman in the team to share today with me. The light was fading outside as we finally finished.

“Wanna take it out for a ride?” Robert asked Flynn.

“Our track is a few miles away,” Flynn replied.

“You have a temporary track outside. I saw it when we arrived.” He nudged Flynn with his elbow, making Flynn smile at his enthusiasm. “I’d love to see how this setup works.”

“We can put the floodlights on,” Jordan added.

“Fine,” Flynn finally agreed, a grin appearing on his handsome face.

The car was moved outside while the team chatted in the background.

“Charlie, why don’t you call shotgun so you can see how the car is running,” Jordan said, pushing me forward. “You can both let us know how the car is running at the end of the test.”

I found myself strapped into the passenger seat beside Flynn.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Nope. I’ve been in a car with you last time you were speeding. My life flashed in front of my eyes.” He poked me in the side and I grinned.

“I’m an excellent driver,” he informed me.

“Shut up and take me for a ride,” I said and he chuckled at my double entendre.

Last night something had changed in our relationship and I couldn’t explain it. Flynn changed from being the man I had sex with into a man I was involved with on an emotional level. That terrified me because he held all the power in our relationship. He was my boss, we lived in his house, we travelled in his car. At any time, he could decide he didn’t want me and I would be devastated on so many levels.

He slid the car into first and ebbed onto the track. His fingers ghosted over mine on my knee before he hit the accelerator and took off around the track surrounding the facility. I screamed as I felt the smooth transition between gears, the way the car effortlessly obeyed Flynn’s commands.

He joined in with whoops of his own as we spun around the tight corner at the top of the track. “This feels fucking amazing!” Flynn shouted over my laughter. “Like a hot knife through butter.”

He accelerated, and the car spun around the next corner at speed, the pressure in my chest exploding into exhilaration. Sheer joy coursed through my veins as Flynn and I raced in the car I’d recreated. I was safe with Flynn behind the wheel, the way he handled the car reminded me of the way he controlled my body. He knew every curve, every area that needed his attention. Those hands gripped the wheel with a dexterity that made my panties tighten.

The car flew around the course, every piece of the mechanics working in perfect harmony. It was better than I could have anticipated, feeling like the car responded to Flynn instinctively.

We finally skidded to a halt in front of all the onlookers, who cheered and whooped, racing forward to open the car doors.

“Looks like everything is in working order. I’ll be putting some money on your car at the next race,” Robert said, winking in conspiracy.

No one knew but our team that we had entirely overhauled what was under the bonnet of the car, and we were such a tight team I doubted news would get out before our first race.

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