Page 12 of Over the Limit

Crew.

The holy trinity in my world. The three things I’ve been taught to give the utmost respect. Acting on my attraction would fuck that all up. And Rossi’s right, it is a contract renewal year. The last thing I want to do is cause a scene, other than a podium finish.

Besides, I’m attracted to a lot of women. Being attracted and acting on it are not one and the same.

“Scintillating content today, huh?” Rossi mutters as he rests an elbow on my shoulder like we’re best buds.

I shift away from him as irritation hits.

Irritation? Or is it resentment?

I can feel the weight of his stare while I return my focus to Johann. On what matters. On where my focus needs to be.

To compete with the man beside you for a spot but to have to be his right-hand man and vice versa out on the track.

It’s like dating your enemy in some screwed up way.

“So that’s where we’re at,” Johann says. “We need a podium. We need consistency. And the two of you”—he points to Rossi and then me—“need to start working together to get us there.”

“And we need engines that work,” Rossi says. Every head in the garage turns to look at him.

“He’s right.” I back him up even though this clearly isn’t the way I would have opted to go about this ongoing complaint. “Our skills only get us so far.”

Johann’s expression is impassive. “We all feel the pressure. Believe me. And we’re doing the best we can to remedy the situation. We think we have a few more things dialed in after testing today. But I don’t think I need to remind anyone that the driver lineup for next season is still in flux as does Apex’s continued sponsorship of the team.” He smacks his hands together and rubs them as if to reinforce that we made our point, but his was made too. “We are a team. Us. You. The two of you together. I don’t need to state how important that is to anyone in this garage.”

Drive to survive. Place to continue to race. Work together toward the goal.

The underlying threat still rings loudly when I walk out of the garage a short time later. The momentum Apex had toward the end of last season never carried over to this one. New engine and car regulations have left all the teams scrambling to make adjustments, but for some reason, Team Apex is struggling more than most.

It’s been a maddening first quarter of the season. Blown engines, loss of power, and our cars underperforming in general. There’s only so much lemonade you can make with rotting lemons.

But Johann is right. So right that when I look up to find Rossi talking and laughing with Blair across the paddock, irritation once again fires.

He treats her like shit. How have I never noticed that before? If a woman like that was mine—

What the fuck is wrong with you, Evans?

It’s not like she hasn’t been on the circuit forever. Her job makes her presence at each track a constant. My position as one of only twenty drivers means our interactions are a foregone requirement. She’s not a stranger to me.

Not by any means.

But after this past weekend, after talking to her outside the party, it’s like she’s fucking everywhere I look.

I can’t unsee her.

I can’t unthink her.

And one thought is on repeat as I walk toward the team paddock suite, as I prepare for my telemetric review, and it’s that Rossi is wrong.

Sure his social media is curated by his PR team, but one thing’s for fucking sure: if she were mine? Everybody would fucking know it.

CHAPTER THREE

Blair

I flirted.

I flirted when I don’t normally flirt, and I liked how it made me feel.