Page 97 of Overtake
“No,” comes the muffled reply.
Petra motions for Nico to step out of sight of the door, then she opens it just until the security latch catches. She stands behind the door, but Cin has enough view of her shoulder to know she’s naked and to see a rumpled bed.
“You have a flight in four hours, but there’s time for cryotherapy and a swim first.Ifyou get your lazy arse out of bed and get some brekkie with me.”
“No.”
Cin’s sigh is impressive. “Get dressed and get your arse down to the dining room.”
“Fine. Give me twenty minutes.”
“Fifteen.”
“I need a shower.” Petra closes the door and faces Nico. “This’ll be interesting.”
They race each other to get clean and dressed, because of course they do, then head down to the dining room, sneakingglances and kisses and generally acting exactly like two idiots who screwed each other’s brains out last night.
The hotel restaurant,Revue, is sleepier today now that the race weekend is over. Still, heads turn when they enter together, and tongues start wagging, but they’ve both handled worse pressure.
Cin’s chosen a table with decent sight lines to all exits, a habit from years of covering Petra’s retreats when the press or fans get too enthusiastic.
“Very tactical positioning,” Petra teases, settling into her chair as Nico pulls it out for her.
He joins them at the table, and Cin looks from him to Petra, brows practically part of her hair line. “Oh. I see.” She sips her orange juice, then rests her elbow on the table. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were working out all night, Pet?”
Nico nearly snorts his ice water.
Petra matches her cousin’s indolent pose. “Because you’re my physio, not my sexpert.”
Nico puts the water down before he’s wearing it and is saved by the arrival of the waiter with a carafe and a smile. “Coffee?”
Petra turns over two cups and taps one. “Café con leche.” She indicates the other. “Black.” The waiter fills the one, leaves menus, and says, “I’ll be right back with the café con leche.”
Cin’s eyeing her and points at Nico. “How do you know what he drinks?”
Petra’s already blowing steam from the black coffee. “Because he’s been drinking the same shit since he was fifteen.”
Nico’s just as surprised as Jacintha. He’s known Petra takes her coffee black, but he never expected she’s paid any attention to what he drinks twice daily.
“Quite a few Honey Bunnies dining with us and snapping photos,” Petra notes. “The fan club’s dedicated.”
Jacintha closes her menu. “Two drivers are giving them plenty of food for thought this morning.”
Ordering and eating and discussing the next race at Mexico’s Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez feels normal. Nico could get used to this.
When they’re finished, Cin sends Petra back to pack her bags. They’ve decided go to the cryo facility, then the lap pool, then straight to the FBO.
Nico accompanies Petra to her room, pulling her close in the lift after two women step off at the nineteenth floor—race fans judging by the looks they kept throwing at him and Pet.
“So.”
“So.” She tilts back her head and meets his gaze dead-on. “Mexico.”
“Mm.” He kisses her, savoring the feel of her lips, then he shifts his mouth to her ear. “Going to bury you there.”
She gives him a look. “That a threat, Bunny Boy?”
“A promise.” His lips brush her ear. “Going to bury you on track, then bury myself in you after.”
