“Think we’re running too rich?” one of the crew members asked her, gesturing toward the open hood of a late-model Camaro.
Riley leaned over the engine bay, studying the setup for a few seconds before answering. “Maybe a little, but I’d check the data before touching the fuel map. If the air temperature dropped since your last run, it might just be compensating.”
The driver standing nearby nodded. “That’s exactly what we were seeing.”
“Then don’t go changing six things at once,” Riley replied. “You’ll never know which one actually fixed the problem.”
The driver laughed. “You sound like my crew chief.”
“Then your crew chief is smarter than most racers.”
That earned a round of laughter from everybody standing nearby, including the driver himself.
I found myself grinning as I watched the exchange. She could walk into a group of men she’d never met and have them listening within minutes because competence spoke louder than ego ever could. Every racer there respected skill above almost everything else, and Riley had plenty of it.
The more time she spent talking, the larger the crowd around her became. A couple of crew chiefs joined the conversation. Then another driver. Somebody from a bike team wandered over and started asking questions about suspension geometry. Riley handled all of it effortlessly, her attention shifting from person to person while she broke down technical issues in a way that made sense without talking down to anyone.
Damn, she was beautiful.
I dragged a hand over my jaw and looked away for a second, trying to regain some control before I did something stupid in front of half the racing community.
“Gauge.”
I glanced over to find one of the racers smirking at me.
“What?”
The bastard nodded toward Riley. “You know you’ve been just standing there staring at her for like ten minutes, right?”
I didn’t even bother denying it. “Mind your business, jackass.”
His grin widened. “She’s good people.”
“Yeah.”
“Smart too.”
I shot him a look.
He held both hands up immediately. “Relax. Just making conversation.”
The conversation died there, but not before I noticed something that instantly soured my mood. A driver from another team had stepped a little too close. Probably not enough for anyone else to think twice, but it sure as fuck was enough for me.
He was leaning toward Riley while she talked, finding reasons to keep the conversation going long after he’d gotten the answer to whatever question he’d originally asked. Riley didn’t seem to notice. She kept talking, focused on the discussion, while the guy’s eyes roamed and he looked increasingly interested in things that had nothing to do with racing. Things that belonged to me.
My jaw tightened, but I told myself to let it go. The guy hadn’t touched her, said anything inappropriate, or even done a damn thing wrong. The mental lecture lasted maybe thirty seconds before I got tired of listening to it.
The driver laughed at something Riley said and leaned in even closer. Jealousy tightened my chest, and my self-control snapped so abruptly that it shocked even me.
Fuck waiting.I was done.
I started walking before I consciously made the decision.
The crowd parted automatically when they saw me coming, and by the time Riley noticed me, I was already there. She looked up at me in surprise as I stepped between her and the racer who’d crossed an invisible line. My hand wrapped possessively around hers, my fingers closing tight enough to tell anyone watching exactly what the fuck was happening.
The driver immediately took a step back.
Guess the man has some smart in there somewhere.
