Page 72 of Hot Lap
Petra turns her head. “You okay?”
He shrugs. “Just one of those days.”
“Uh-huh.” She folds her arms. “This got anything to do with the wife who hasn’t been seen around the paddock today?”
His silence is answer enough.
Petra doesn’t poke deeper. She just tilts her head. “You didn’t look this edgy after Monza, and that was a barrier and an actual engine fire.”
He grins faintly. “Wasn’t planning to make a habit ofthat.”
“You better not. I’m finally ahead in the season points, and I don’t need you tripping over your dick and taking me out of contention.”
There’s a beat, then they both crack up.
She grabs her helmet and stands. “Get your balls on straight, RP. I like beating you, but not when you’re half-asleep.” As she walks away, she tosses back, “Also, I saw the press chatter. Bring her tomorrow, or they’ll keep making up shit.”
Zara Devi walks toward him, tablet under one arm, phone in the other hand. She slows and holds her phone out toward him, screen lit with some garish motorsport gossip headline.
The wordsPRITCHARD BRIDE A NO-SHOW: Trouble in Paradise?are splashed across a photo of Maiken from Vegas, half-cropped to make her look wild-eyed and drunk.
Zara stops. “They’re calling your wife a distraction. Saying you’re ‘off form’ because she’s not here.” She tucks the phone away, expression cool. “Which is ridiculous, but you know how this works. If you don’t control the story?—”
“They will.”
She nods, already walking again. “Bingo.” After two steps, she turns around. “If you don’t bring Maiken tomorrow, the entire garage will line up to punch you in the nuts.”
Reece blinks, then laughs. “Duly noted.”
“Glad we understand each other.”
She disappears around the corner, leaving him to stare at the floor.
Yeah. He really fucking should’ve woken Mai.
Reece stands and returns to his driver’s room. He retrieves his phone and pulls up the hotel’s concierge.
Maybe doing something smart will cancel out this morning’s stupidity.
He types:
Three dozen blush-colored roses. Maybe some of those little yellow ones she likes.
To: Maiken Pritchard, Room 2418
Message: You married a plonker. -- RP11
Regret makes a fist in his chest even as he hits SEND.
It’s too late for apologies. But maybe not too late for honesty.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Friday morningI wake feeling brave and good about myself, which is a nice change from the emotional whiplash of the past week.
Last night was soft and strange and maybe the most honest, not-alcohol-fueled connection I've had in years. Reece didn't push. I didn't run. And by the end of the night I understood why Drunk Maiken said, “Yes,” when Drunk Reece asked her to marry him.
Sober Reece is breathtaking.
