Page 3 of Hot Lap
His laugh is an amazing surprise, a warm rumble that makes my lady bits take even more notice. And the smile it ends with? Fucking media worthy.
"I was going to go with ‘a piece of shit’.”
I laugh. “That’ll do too.”
Eddie appears at my elbow. "Better continue this conversation outside, Mai. That dude's making noise about calling management."
Reece's expression gets hard. "Let me guess. He’s claiming his daddy owns half the strip?"
Eddie nods. "Something like that."
"You should go." I jerk my chin toward the door. "I don't want you getting into trouble because of me."
He shrugs. "I'm already in trouble with those guys. Might as well make the bullshit worthwhile, yeah?” That award-winning smile makes an appearance. “Have dinner with me? I know we just met, but I'd like to make things right."
I blink, surprised. I kinda figured he was angling for the same thing his not-buddy wanted, but with a bit more subtlety. "You wanna have dinner? Withme?"
"Unless you have other plans?" There's a cautious hope in his eyes, and I realize he isn’t like the entitled fucker who grabbed me.
Still, I should say no. I’m teaching tomorrow, and guys who look like him always come with complications. But there's something genuine in his expression that makes me wanna hang out with him.
Reece Pritchard seems cool. Plus, he has a story and, dammit, I’m a sucker for guys with tragic backstories. So, yeah, I know where this is going and I’m helpless to resist.
I slip my arm through his. "Tell you what. I know a place where no one will bother us, and they make bitchin’ onion rings."
His smile widens, transforming his face into something truly outstanding. He’s gone from media darling to Prince fucking Charming. "Lead the way, Maiken."
God, am Idead.
Outside, the November night is cool and electric, the Vegas Strip a neon carnival. Reece's hand settles lightly at the small of my back, not possessive but protective, as we navigate the crowded sidewalk.
Curiosity gets the better of me. "That third guy is your brother?"
"Yeah. Wyn." He shoves his hands into his pockets. "He's... look, our relationship is complicated. Has been since we were kids. We're competitive by nature."
"What about the entitled prick? Is he your friend?"
Reece snorts. "Noo. He’s someone I can't escape in my line of work."
"Which is what?"
He looks at me, unease turning to amusement in his eyes. "You really don't know who I am, do you?"
"Should I?"
"No." He chuckles. "No, this is brilliant."
I take it he means that in a good way, not sarcastically.
We walk a few blocks to reach my favorite all-night diner, a place just off the Strip where tourists rarely go, and where I spent my high school afternoons and weekends serving locals. As I push open the door, the familiar scents of coffee and grilled onions hug me.
“Hey, Mai. I’ll be right with ya.” That’s Dini. She’s been the face of D’s All-Nighter for as long as I can remember. D for both Dini and her hubby, Diego.
We slide into a vinyl booth, and I drape my garment bag over the back.
“Okay, if you're not gonna tell me, I'll have to guess. Given the Grand Prix connection... race car driver?"
The smile that spreads across his face is answer enough. “How did you ever guess?” Clearly, he thinks this is obvious.
