Page 67 of You, Me, and Lucky Number 13

“The hydraulics failure wasn’t your fault,” she says, all business, her voice clipped and efficient. “We’ll need to do a full systems check; figure out what went wrong.”

I nod, following her into the garage, the weight of her unspoken concern a tangible presence beside me. The crewswarms around us, a flurry of concerned voices and frantic activity as they assess the damage to the Viper.

As Lola dives into the data, barking orders and demanding answers, I can’t shake the memory of her face when I climbed out of the wreckage. The fear, the relief… the raw emotion she wasn’t able to hide.

Maybe this crash revealed more than just a mechanical failure. I know I’ve told her how I feel, and she’s done the same, but it seems like something is still holding her back.

“Lola,” I say, catching her arm as she brushes past me, my fingers lingering on her skin, needing to ground myself in something real. “We need to talk.”

She stiffens, her gaze fixed on the data streaming across her tablet screen, avoiding mine. “Not now, Cole. We’ve got work to do.”

“Later, then,” I insist, my voice firm, determined. “Over dinner. My treat.”

For a moment, I think she’ll refuse, retreat behind her wall of professionalism. But then she nods, just once, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, before disappearing back into the throng of engineers.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

COLE

Instead of a fancy restaurant,we find ourselves back where we belong—in my garage, with Eleanor purring between us and classic rock blaring from the speakers.

I’m elbow-deep in the engine block, but my focus keeps snagging on Lola. Even in ratty jeans and a T-shirt smeared with grime, she is a damn vision. The way her fingers dance over the tools, confident and precise, mirrors how she’s been handling my heart lately: with a delicate touch that belies the raw power simmering beneath the surface.

“Earth to Cole. You planning on finishing that up today?” Her voice, tinged with amusement, yanks me back to reality. I catch her eye, those green depths dancing with a challenge. Fuck, she’s going to be the death of me.

“Well, it wouldn’t take me so long if you had taken better care of my baby while I was away,” I shoot back, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “I thought you knew how to handle a wrench.”

“Your baby. That’s cute.” She laughs, wiping a smear of grease from her cheek with the back of her hand. The simple gesture sends a jolt of heat straight to my groin.

“I’ll never relinquish custody.” I grin, unable to look away.

Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” blasts from the speakers, and Lola cranks it up with a returning grin. Her hips sway to the rhythm as she works on the carburetor, and I’m transfixed. My heart pounds in time with the drums, a primal beat I can’t ignore.

Suddenly, I don’t want to be anywhere else. This garage, this moment, this woman who calls me on my bullshit and pushes me to be better—it’s everything. It’s not about trophies or lap times anymore. This is real. Raw. I want this with her, forever.

The realization hits me with more pressure than a g-force. Love. The thought feels foreign, out of place in my world of speed and relentless competition. I knew I was in love with Lola, but I hadn’t really considered what my future looked like, long term, outside of racing. I’ve been so focused on getting back to the top of the podium and getting out of my funk, that I haven’t focused enough on who has pulled me back to the top. The woman who inspired me to change my car number to her lucky number thirteen. The woman I coerced into being my fake girlfriend. The only woman I want in my ear when I race.

I set down my wrench, hands suddenly unsteady. Lola looks up, catching my eye. Something in my expression must give me away because her brow furrows with concern.

“Cole? You okay?”

I swallow hard, torn between running and pulling her into my arms. “Yeah, I just… Lola, I think we need to talk.”

Her eyes widen, a flicker of fear quickly masked by determination. She nods, setting aside her tools. “Okay, hotshot. Let’s talk.”

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. The air between us crackles with tension, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of our shared history.

“Lola,” I start, my voice low and earnest. “I know you’re scared. After what happened with Chad… how that breakupnearly derailed your career. I understand why you’re hesitant to really give us a shot.”

She stiffens, pain flashing across her face at the mention of freaking Chad. But I press on, needing her to understand.

“I’m not Chad,” I say firmly. “I would never, ever use our relationship to hurt your career. Even if… even if something happened between us, I swear to you, I’d never take that away from you. Your talent, your brilliance—that’s yours. No one can take that away from you.”

Lola’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “Cole, you don’t know what you’re promising. Things get messy. People change?—”

I step closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of her shampoo beneath the motor oil. “I know exactly what I’m promising. I love you, Lola Quinn. All of you—the brilliant engineer, the tough-as-nails strategist, the woman who calls me on my bullshit and makes me want to be better. I know I let you down before, but we’ve both learned a lot over the years. I’ve realized what I’m missing is you.”

Her breath catches, a soft gasp that sends my heart racing.

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