‘No. Definitely can’t.’
She didn’t want to think about her family let alone talk about them. Like Hearnshawe Racing they worked on cars that weren’t road legal—modifying them to be faster than their intended capability. Street racing had been the start; getaway cars the later purpose.
‘Does the team use you as their poster girl?’ the courier asked. ‘I’m assuming you’re one of the few female mechanics they have.’
‘I’m not the first and I’m definitely not going to be the last. Definitely not on any posters. The number-one mechanic wouldn’t stand for it.’
The cliché of being a hot chick on the shop floor wasn’t her. For one thing, she wasn’t hot and in Lily’s view just surviving—let aloneexcelling—as one of the few women in any male-dominated world required one of two options. She could either embrace and accentuate her feminine differences, or she could hide them. She opted for the latter. Hiding who she was was her go-to. She’d been overlooked and underestimated her entire life, but now she used it as an invisibility cloak she pulled on at will. She always wore her team cap tugged low and the collar of her team polo shirt turned up to expose as little of her pale skin as possible. She couldn’t hide her stature—high heels weren’t exactly a thing on a garage floor—so she was undeniably petite, but she was strong. She needed not to be as good as the guys, butbetter—just to hold her own. Which meant that being alone and away from the scene—well, almost alone—for a few hours now was an immense relief. With no pressure to perform she could completely relax. Given this guy didn’t even like P1 Global, she was safe.
‘So you’re a courier,’ she said idly. ‘Documents?’
‘Paperwork keeps me pretty busy.’ He didn’t expand further.
Yeah, he was definitely in security. He probably had highly sensitive, eyes-only, no-digital-footprint papers in that bag.
Lily relaxed more, ready for some rest except her stomach rumbled loud enough to be heard over the engine hum.Damn.
‘Didn’t you have dinner before boarding?’ he teased.
She hadn’t had the time. She’d been crazy busy with the pack-out then too tired to be bothered grabbing something on her way to the airport. She should have.
‘There’s only coffee on board,’ he said. ‘And you can’t steal the crew dinner. Wouldn’t want to risk our safety with a hangry pilot.’
Yeah, he’d definitely done this before.
‘Fortunately…’ He reached into that satchel and pulled out a packet that he opened then shook it towards her. ‘Please don’t refuse politely. I assure you they’re nice. I’m happy to share mostly because I don’t want to listen to your stomach for the next seven hours.’
‘Fair point.’ She chuckled. ‘Thank you.’ Chocolate-covered almonds. Next-level delicious and Lily was ravenous. ‘These are really good.’
‘Don’t hold back,’ he teased as she reached for more.
‘Don’t offer if you don’t mean it.’
Wordlessly, he handed her the rest of the bag, but then still kept eating them as well. They both chuckled, then snacked in companionable silence. Lily watched the LED on the coffee machine flicker with ominous inconsistency, not that she wanted coffee, she was desperate for sleep, but it was about the only glow in the place and being in complete darkness might be a bit much.
‘They were just what I needed, thanks,’ she murmured when they finished the pack and he put the wrapper away.
‘My pleasure.’
He was just being polite. She was just overreacting—reading intimacy into everything because she’d been without for so long. She removed her cap, uncoiled her hair and lightly massaged her scalp to chill herself out. She’d sleep soon. Hopefully. Once she finally grew accustomed to sitting next to the hot courier—except her awareness of him was only worsening.
‘Your hair is so long. How do you fit it under the cap?’
In that too-tight bun she’d just undone. ‘It needs a trim but I never have time to get to the hairdresser.’
‘Good,’ he muttered bluntly. ‘You shouldn’t cut it.’
His audible appreciation made her flush all over again, but to her disappointment, he didn’t take his cap off. He just tugged it lower over his eyes and sank into the seat. Lily’s disappointment deepened.
‘So you’re not interested in the drivers at all?’ he asked after a moment. ‘Not for their money, of course, but they’ve got skills, right?’
‘Oh please. They’re not my type.’
She liked Conrad well enough. He was a decent family guy. But she kept away from Emiliano—young, connected to the Hearnshawe family, he lived a far too public life for her liking. But he’d asked her about tyre compound earlier today and had been interesting. She didn’t want to garner attention. She just wanted to get on with her job, and eventually truly excel.
‘No?’ The courier sounded typically sceptical.
Lily rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her. ‘They’re extremely arrogant—I get they need bulletproof confidence given they’re putting their lives on the line, but it can be a bit much. And the risk itself—I don’t know how their family even watch the races. They have an insane schedule that leaves little room for fun—it’s all diet and exercise plans. They have millions of fans sliding into their DMs, chasing them for photos every time they step outside. I can’t think of anything worse than trying to compete with the models, dancers and singers or the minor royalty who want to be seen with them. No, thank you.’
