Page 43 of Away We Go

She fans herself, winking at him with a smile. “I’ll say.”

“I’ll just move some boxes,” Nicky murmurs, turning back to the table behind us.

“Hoo boy, he’s yummy.” Mallory squeezes my arm as we watch him transporting box after box to the truck. With him working here with us, things are going to get done at a much faster rate. “He must really like you to spend a day like today in a dusty old warehouse.”

“Oh no,” I rush to correct her. “We’re just old friends.”

She looks behind me and I follow her gaze. Nicky is talking to someone at the next table, but his eyes are on me.

Sometimes it feels like his eyes are always on me.

“Sure thing, honey. Just friends. Whatever you say.”

She wanders away and I force myself to focus on the box in front of me.What am I doing again?

“You have to fill it,” Nicky whispers in my ear with a smile in his voice.

“Ha, ha, funny man. You’ve got me all distracted.”

“Just returning the favour,” he murmurs so softly, so under his breath, I know I misheard him.

“What was that?”

He shakes his head. “Is that box almost ready?”

I stare at him for several seconds and when he doesn’t look over at me, I get back to work. We fill the next box in almost silenceuntil I have to break the tension that had somehow descended on us.

“Are you nervous about this weekend?” I know this is one of his least favoured tracks; one of the few he’s never won at.

He shrugs. “Not really. It should be fine.”

Huh.This seems like a strange attitude for someone aiming for his fifth world title, but that’s what I’m learning about Nicky this year. His feelings towards F1 and racing are more complicated than I’d ever imagined.

“Tell me more about your time in London,” he prompts.

Ah, London. Staying with Serena had been so much fun. She has a small flat southwest of London in the suburb of Clapham, which I learnt after moving there, is like a hub for ex-pats like me. It was hard to feel too homesick, when every second accent I heard sounded just like mine.

“We had so much fun!” I launch into a story of our day out at Camden Market, complete with Serena getting an impulsive tattoo and me only just resisting chopping all my hair off.

“Why would you want to do that?” He stops working and stares at me. Horrified.

I tug at a strand of my hair. “It’s so boring. And it’s been this long for ages. I felt like I wanted a change. Something so that my outsides match my insides.”

He grabs my hands in his much bigger ones and that zing that was there the last time we held hands zaps me again.

What is that?

“Your hair does match your insides. Both are beautiful.”

Did he just call me beautiful?

“Um.” My brain short-circuits. “Thanks?”

His grin is swift and breathtaking. Talk about beautiful…

“Tell me more aboutthis tattoo…”

I laugh as he lets go of my hands and turns back to the box in front of him. “Let’s just say it’s an impulse she may regret when she’s old and grey.”

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