Page 56 of First in Line

“Unless… I give you that blowjob instead?”

“Are you negotiating?”

“Maybe.”

He shakes his head with a broad smile, eyes still on the road. Without answering, he releases my hand to unbuckle his seatbelt. Then, he unbuttons his jeans, and I get the message.

A tingle of excitement awakens between my legs at the prospect. Jackson is extremely selfless when it comes to sex, and I know that for every blowjob I give him on this ride, he will repay me tenfold tonight at whatever motel we’ll stay at.

I hope it will have thick walls.

“This will cheer you up, girl,” Cynthia says, putting down a cocktail in front of me. I thank her with a smile and return my eyes to the screen.

Of course, the news of my broken engagement has triggered a lot of sympathy from my friends. They’re all very sorry to hearthat Nathan and I won’t be moving further with our relationship. I’ve explained we realized we weren’t compatible in the long run and preferred to go our separate ways. It’s something he and I have talked about, and I’m thankful he’s allowing me to save face. I’m not sure I deserve that much grace, but I appreciate it.

The thing is, I’m not feeling that terrible about what happened between us. But I can’t exactly let anyone know that my mopey mood has very little to do with Nathan and is mostly because of my estranged husband. The very man we’re about to watch race in Miami.

It’s Sunday, and we’re gathered again at the sports bar. Because the race is at lunchtime here, there are even more of us this time. Most of our friends even came with their kids. The place is full to the brim, like the whole town knows one of the drivers comes from around here, and everyone wants their share of the glory. My party isn’t into F1 enough to gather for the qualifying sessions, but yesterday, I caught up on the practice sessions from Friday and watched qualifying live.

“Do we think he’ll win again?” someone at our table asks.

“Five in a row? That would be insane, right?”

“He won the sprint yesterday. By a huge margin,” I can’t help but say.

“The sprint?”

I nod. “Some race weekends have sprints on Saturdays. It’s not as long as the main event, only a hundred kilometers. And he won by like, eleven seconds, which is actually insane on a race this short. It’s a safe bet to assume he won’t disappoint us this time either.”

“I didn’t know you were that much into Formula One,” someone points out with amusement.

“Or maybe she’s just really into Jackson Reyes, like everyone who has a pulse.”

I smile so I don’t look too suspicious, but she pretty much summed it up. And when Jax appears on the screen, and I can’t stop myself from watching, I think it’s obvious why I know so much about his stats. But everyone’s as absorbed as I am, so it’s unlikely someone even notices.

“Why is he always the first in line?” someone wonders.

“It’s called pole position. They had a three-part qualifying session yesterday, where they determined who gets to race and then who starts in which position. The driver who completes the quickest lap gets pole,” I mindlessly explain.

It matters to some extent, but I’m fairly certain Jax would win even if he started from the back of the grid. He’s done it in the past, just to prove to the world that he could do anything.

Cynthia squints at me, surprised yet again by how well I know the world of Formula One. “Did you watch yesterday’s sprint?” she asks.

“I put it on in the background as I reworked the Carters’ floor plans. Same for practice and qualifying.”

“Again, I’m trying to understand why you never mentioned that you were into Formula One. It’s been five years, Evie.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. It just never really felt relevant to mention it. And I’m not that big of a fan. I just know stuff.”

“Sure …”

Because I made the mistake of sharing some of my knowledge, I’m now the designated explainer, along with Cynthia. None of our friends are truly familiar with the sport, so aside from watching those cars go round and round until one of them finishes first, they aren’t aware of the more subtle technicalities.

To no one’s surprise, Jackson wins for the fifth time this season in five races. He might actually be on his way to set a new world record. The bar is full of joy and celebration, and Ican’t help the pride that swells within me. I married that man. Someone as extraordinary as Jax wantedmeas his wife.

“It’s sweltering here in Miami, but I don’t think the crowd minds,” the host expresses with excitement from the TV’s speakers. “After yesterday’s sprint, it’s a surprise to no one to see Reyes win here in Miami, his twelfth victory in the US. He is a true American hero.”

Jax is done with his cooldown lap, so he pulls into the narrow lane beside the pit straight and stops in front of the board marked 1. Once the engine is off, he hauls himself out of the cockpit and walks toward his team. They smack his helmet, wrapping him in tight, excited hugs over the railing, and exchange high fives.