Page 125 of Hot Lap
When my hubby finally gathers me at the end of the day, I’ve made good progress on the blue velvet dress. He looks like he’s been wrestling gators all day, so a chill evening in our room feels deserved.
The drive back from the track is quiet. It’s just us in the car. Reece has one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift, fingers twitching every so often like he’s still sorting through data and simulations in his head.
I brush the back of his hand. “You’re still in the garage mentally, aren’t you?”
His lips lift slightly. “Just running through tomorrow in my head.”
“And the day after that. And the one after that.”
He sighs and shoots me a look that’s half-apology, half-admiration. “I’m sorry I’ve been leaving you alone so much the last few days. That’s not what I want.”
I shake my head. “You’re forgetting that I know how to be alone, Reece. I haven’t had a man in my life for two years.”
His grip on the wheel tightens. “I haven’t forgotten. I just don’t want you to remember you don’t need me.”
“Well, I don’t. But I’vechosenyou. They’re not the same thing.”
That makes him glance over again, longer this time. The look he gives me could melt a glacier.
Back at the hotel, he walks me up to the room and kisses me like he means it, and considering how he looks at me, I know he does. “Team dinner tonight. No WAGs allowed.”
“I know. Go be a responsible team player. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be back by eleven. Don’t wait up. But if you do, don’t wear anything.”
I laugh and smack his fine ass as he turns toward the door. “Go. I’ll try not to burn the place down.”
He grins and leaves.
I pull up the room service menu and order dinner.
The food arrives on a trolley, all gleaming domes and crisp napkins. I tip the server and thank them as they lay out my meal.
The hotel’s quiet this evening. The team-only dinner is underway in the restaurant downstairs. I’m glad Reece has this time to connect with all the people he works with. Race weekends are frenetic and he explained that the entire team rarely has an opportunity to gather together in one place and relax.
I’ve just settled with my meal — roasted chicken, buttery green beans, and a lemon tart — when there’s a knock at the door.
Did room service forget something?
I check the peephole.
“Oh, ew.”
Graham Pritchard stands in the hallway.
Fabulous. A visit from dear ol’ Dad. What’s this fucker’s game tonight?
I open the door because hiding feels like surrender, and I'm done surrendering to Graham Pritchard and all the other men who think they can intimidate me.
"Evening," he says, like he’s a neighbor borrowing sugar.
"Reece isn’t here."
"I know. I came to see you."
Of course he knows. He's been watching, waiting for the right moment. Reece at dinner, me alone. Isolate your target.
I lift a brow. "Pretty ballsy, considering how things went the last time we talked in your son’s hotel room."
