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“I’m about to kick the great Rocco Passero’s ass in iRacing!” Several heads looked up, and she all but danced back into the room. “Same car. Same specs. May the best racer win?”
She stuck out a hand, and I shook it. Her skin was soft and warm, and maybe I held it just a little longer than necessary. She blinked those big green eyes up at me, and they were alight with happiness. It was a thrill I knew all too well—the chance to show everyone what you were made of.
The mechanic who’d looked like he was going to thump that journalist appeared, along with at least a half a dozen other VANT Racing employees. He walked over and ran a hand down her spine. It was a familiar gesture, one that claimed her subtly, both to me and every other person in the room. Were they dating?
“Are you sharking the Italian, Tally?” he murmured softly, and she looked up at him with big doe eyes. Yeah, they were definitely having sex. I didn’t examine the disappointment in my chest. Was it his baby she was carrying? The journalist had implied some kind of relationship between them.
She shook her head, but she was grinning. “Nope. He made a big claim, and now he has to back it up. Come on, Passero. Let’s do this.”
Shaking my head, I climbed into one of the little pods. I’d been familiarizing myself with the steering wheels for the IndyCars, but this one was different again. More like one you’d find in an average car.
Tally quickly cued up the race, and I did a little practice lap. Once I had a feel for the controls, I was ready. I turned to her, a smirk on my face. “May the best racer win.”
NINETEEN
HAYES
Tally racing really was a thing of beauty, even if it was just on the digital big screen. She was racing Passero, and the guy was a prodigy behind the wheel. When she’d announced she was racing Rocco Passero on a NASCAR sim, I’d immediately come to watch, of course. As they got further and further into the race, more people appeared.
Passero was great, but my girl? She was just as good. She was ruthless, and you could tell that Rocco wasn’t used to the more tactile racing of NASCAR. He swore in Italian when she bumped him, but managed to pull it off the wall. Tally was hyper-focused, and I could see her slipping back into the groove. It was like she was back there, on the track, jostling for position.
Twenty-five laps later, Rocco had gotten the idea, riding the railing around the outside to cut in front of her and take her right at the finish line. There was a smattering of applause around the room, and Tally threw back her head with a laugh. “Good race. Maybe you are worth the hype.”
Passero looked at her with an expression I knew all too well: desire. I wanted to punch him, but managed to restrain my more caveman tendencies. She looked happy, and I wasn’t going to march in there like a jealous boyfriend.
He raised his chin at her. “Double or nothing, but this time, we race IndyCars.”
She smirked. “You’re on.”
They slipped into a different cockpit position and loaded up the Indy tracks and cars. Once they were ready to race, they both looked serious. This time, there was a lot less jovial smack talk.
She held her own, though; running sims had definitely helped her adjust to the style of car and racing. But soon enough, Rocco pulled just a little ahead. Not as much as you’d think, with Tally right there at the back of him, only a fraction of a second behind. They both chose good lines, and it was a close-run race.
By the time the twenty-five laps were up, Tally was sweating lightly, coming in mere seconds behind one of the best drivers in the world. There was applause, and I noticed Antony beside me, an impressed expression on his face. How long had he been watching? He winked in my direction and disappeared from the room.
Tally unbuckled herself and climbed out of the cockpit, taking Rocco’s hand to steady herself. “Looks like you owe me two races now, Palmer.”
She rolled her eyes at him, but she was smiling widely. Man, to see that look on her face again was a gift in itself. I hated that I wasn’t the one to put it there.
“A deal is a deal.”
He nodded. “In good faith, I’ll call Moss today and arrange a couple of mentoring sessions or something.” He grumbled it, like it was the worst thing in the world, but Moss had told me the other day at the party he’d already agreed to at least two weeks of guest mentoring.
What an ass.
Tally spun toward me, grinning. “Did you see me almost kick his ass?” she teased, and I wandered over to her.
I kissed her temple, breathing in the scent of her hair. “I did. You’re still damn good, Tally Palmer.”
Ryclo didn’t know what it had lost. Even just thinking about that fucking team made my blood boil, and I still itched to punch Rupert Ballantyne in the dick. That old fucker needed to retire, and I was happy to force the issue with a broken jaw.
I met Rocco’s eyes, and we had one of those weird, macho silent conversations.
She’s mine.
He inclined his head. Message received. But I didn’t like the shit-eating grin on his face that said, For now.
I wrapped an arm around Tally’s shoulder. “Come on, Speed Racer. You put our driver through his paces right up until home time.”
