Page 79 of Hot Lap
“I see you got the flowers.”
I turn. “I see you got my message.”
“Mm. Right. Pretend I’m dense and explain exactly what it means and who it’s for.”
Ooh, so he’s gonna play games? Tsk-tsk. Checkmark in the minus column.
“Reece Pritchard, I didn’t fly to the other side of the world just to hide in a hotel room like I’m your dirty little secret.”
He scoffs. “You’re hardly a secret, Mai.”
I gape at him. Is he being funny or an asshole? I honestly can’t tell, sooo well played. Checkmark in the plus column.
He continues. “The vultures are still circling, and I wanted to give you a place that’s safe from them.”
“Christ. Reece, thatsoundsthoughtful, but I don’t need your protection.” One for the minus column.
“I’m not?—”
“The hell you aren’t. It clearly didn’t occur to you that keeping me behind closed doors would look like you’re embarrassed by me."
He scowls. "I'm not bloody embarrassed by you. The race paddock is a proper madhouse and you'll get mobbed. I justdidn't want to dump all of F1 on you in one week. That's it, Maiken."
I nod. Minus one. “Okay. So why did you end up P7?”
He flinches. Just a little. “I made mistakes. Small ones.”
“Riiight.” I cross my arms. “You never make small mistakes. That’s your whole thing, according to the race commentators,on TV.”
He exhales. “I wasn’t focused.”
I tilt my head. “Why not?” I’m not giving him an inch.
“You know why.”
“Say it.”
He runs a hand through his hair and paces two slow steps away and back. “I left without waking you. I didn’t want to muck with your head. Or mine. I thought it would be easier.”
Ah, the truth. That earns him another checkmark for the plus column.
I consider him for a long moment. “Was it?”
“No.” He meets my gaze and he doesn’t flinch this time. Another plus. “It was fucking rubbish.”
Silence swells between us, heavy and alive. It’s like last night again, only so much more intense.
I hold his gaze, my heart hammering like it’s trying to punch out of my chest. “This thing between us, it’s not gonna fit in a box, Reece. You either carry it in public or don’t carry it at all.”
His jaw tightens. “I didn’t know how.”
“You could’ve asked.”
He nods. “Okay. I’m asking now.” Reece steps forward. Close. Closer. He reaches out and hesitates at the edge of my waist, fingers not quite touching me. “And for the record,” he says, voice rough, “you’re not a distraction, not even close.”
He leans in, breath ghosting over my cheek, lips near my ear. “You’re the only thing that makes sense, Maiken.”
That’s all it takes.
