Page 10 of Formula Dreams
I take a step back.“Excuse you.”
Ronan doesn’t budge.His beer is still in hand, half-empty, condensation trailing down the side.“Didn’t realize walking down a hallway qualified as an offense now.”
“Blocking someone’s flying lap during qualifying does,” I snap at him.
His gaze sharpens.“I can’t believe you seriously filed a steward report on that.”
I lift a brow.“I can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t.”
A slow smile pulls at his mouth—not amused, perhaps sardonic.“I wasn’t impeding you.I was setting up for my own flyer.Your engineer should’ve timed your release better.”
Just walk on by, Francesca.Show him he’s not worth your time.
But I’m not the sort of woman who shies away from a fight.Italians can be quite spicy with their emotions.“Oh, so it’s my team’s fault now?”
“Someone has to take responsibility, Accardi.Might as well start where it belongs.”
I fold my arms.“You were crawling through Sector 2 and weaving like you were sightseeing.”
He leans in slightly, enough that I catch the faint scent of cedar, warm and smoky.“If I was sightseeing, it was only because I saw something worth looking at.”
I snort.“Spare me the charm routine.Save it for your fan club.”I nod toward the bar, where the two women are now looking me over with narrowed eyes.
Ronan doesn’t even glance their way.“Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”
“Jealous?”I laugh, incredulous.“Hard pass.”
His smirk deepens.“You sure?Sounded a little bitter when you mentioned them.”
I shrug.“Just surprised you can carry a conversation with women whose only vocabulary is cocktails and compliments.”
That gets a low chuckle from him, and for some reason, I hate that I like the sound of it.
“You’ve got brains, Accardi,” he says.“You applying for the spot?”
I pause.Did he just say that to me?My eyes flick over to the bar and the two women shoot me hateful glares.I try to return a silent message to them that they can have him.
“You’re so full of yourself, you’re not even worth my energy to have this conversation.”
“And yet,” he murmurs, taking a lazy sip of his beer, “you’re still standing here.”
I open my mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but for a beat too long, I stare at him instead—at the way his shirt clings to his shoulders, the sharp edge of his jaw, the undeniable pull of him.I get why women follow him.He’s magnetic in a way that’s hard to ignore.
I get it.I just hate that I do.
Good thing for me, his cockiness dulls the allure.Well, mostly.
I shake my head, stepping around him.“Enjoy your night, Barnes.Try not to obstruct traffic while you’re at it.”
He lets me pass this time, but I sense his gaze chasing me the entire way back to my table.
I shouldn’t care what he thinks.He’s always been like this—superior, smug, convinced the world owes him the inside lane.
But still—
No one who looks like that should be such an insufferable dick.
CHAPTER 4
