Page 6 of Over the Limit

“Let’s see.” He furrows his brows as he thinks. “A hummingbird is the only bird who can fly backwards.”

I chortle. He really was telling the truth. “Okay. Fine. But how is that random fact going to help you save the day?”

His face lights up. “I was a kid. For all I knew, that fact could have saved the world. I’m a work in progress, Blair.” He winks. “I only get better with time.”

His words settle between us as we stare at each other, our soft smiles remaining in place like we shared the silliest of secrets when we really didn’t at all.

“What about you?” he finally asks, breaking the comfortable silence. “What were you going to do to save the world someday?”

The random memory hits me out of nowhere and pulls my smile wider. “I was going to learn to fly.”

“As in be a pilot?”

“No, as in me. Just me. I was going to learn how to flap my arms and fly like how I could in my dreams.” Normally I’d blush at the peculiarity of my confession, but oddly he doesn’t make me feel ridiculous.

“You get to fly in your dreams? That’s awesome.”

“Not anymore. Only when I was a kid . . . hence, that was a wish of mine.”

“Okay. That’s a solid take. Did you have a destination in mind or . . .” The smile returns, playing at the corners of his mouth. “Or you just wanted to fly around the neighborhood?”

“Hey, don’t knock how I planned to save the world.”

He holds his hands up. “I’m not knocking shit. Just know if you needed to fly backwards for some reason, I was probably the person who’d be able to figure out how to fix that for you . . . so the way I look at it, this conversation was fate.”

Before I can say anything, my phone alerts a text.

Emilio: I’m about to pull up to the entrance.

I see the sweep of headlights just as I finish reading the text. “I—uh—my ride is here,” I say and stand up, confused over why I’m not as eager to leave anymore.

I like Lachlan Evans. I mean, I’ve always liked him—he’s pleasant and great with people—but this conversation made me realize he’s funny and charming and . . . so much more than the intense driver who shares a team with Rossi.

He rises to his feet. “Let me walk you to the car.”

“No. That’s not necessary—”

“Humor me,” he says and places his hand very briefly on the small of my back to usher me in front of him.

“Thank you but—” I stop and turn around. My unexpected action causes Lachlan to run into me. We’re chest to chest.

His cologne.

The peppermint on his breath.

The heat of his solid body against mine.

It’s a split second of time before we jolt apart with startled gasps and apologies on our lips.

“I’m making sure you get in safely,” he states, his eyes flickering away before moving back to my eyes.

Did that shock him like it did me?

His stoicism is as unreadable as his silence, but he motions for me to keep walking. I take one step backward before turning to move toward the driveway.

It might only take a few seconds to get to the turnaround, but I’ve never been more aware of someone behind me in my life. The fall of his footsteps. The accidental brush of his arm against mine.

“Ah, it’s Emilio,” he says as we approach, recognizing one of the Apex crew members in the driver’s seat. Lachlan opens the rear passenger door, and then he bends over so they can chat briefly before he steps out of the way for me to get in. We stare at each other for a beat in that small space. His voice lowers. “Thank you for the conversation, Blair.”