Page 74 of Downforce

“And I have dinner with my family on Saturday night,” she cuts me off before I can ask. “Sunday I fly home right after the race.”

Home.

A slow grin makes its way to my face.

We live in the same building. Until now, I haven’t spent much time in the condo because between all of my travel for work, it took a while for my interior designer and I to come to an agreement on the right look for each room.

“Home it is,” I say.

Her eyes widen. “No, that wasn’t an invitation to ask me for dinner at home. This,” she waves a hand between our bodies, “was only a one-time thing.”

“I thought you weren’t a liar,” I say right before lowering my mouth to hers.

My kiss replaced her reply which she doesn’t shy away from. This kiss is just as good as the one we shared earlier. And miles better than that encounter in Japan.

A sneaking suspicion enters the back of my mind, the moment Annalise’s hands wrap around my shoulders and find their way to the back of my head.

This is just the first of many dinners and stolen kisses that I plan to share with her.

CHAPTER 21

Annalise

“You drive like my grandma,” Tristan tells Travis on our three-way video call.

It’s the day after the Miami Grand Prix. Travis and I got back late last night. Though our parents and Chloe were able to make it to the race, Tristan had to work.

This is the first video call we’ve been able to have together in almost three weeks.

“Fuck you,” Travis counters, but there’s no heat in it. “Your grandmother is my grandmother, and I know for a fact that her driving would put a lot of my competition to shame.”

Tristan snorts, and I laugh.

“She almost killed me when she tried to teach me to drive,” he says.

Out of the three of us, Tristan was the worst when it came to driving. Mom already doesn’t like driving, so she left the teaching to Dad. Trist and Dad butted heads to the point that Tristan gave up. At that point, our grandmother volunteered to teach him. He reluctantly agreed, unaware that our grandmother was, what our grandfather called, a speed demon.

“You’re so dramatic,” I tell him. “You made it out alive.”

“Barely,” he says, frowning.

“Anyway,” Travis drawls, “you should’ve had your ass there this weekend.”

“I’m preparing for my dissertation defense in a few months. Some of us don’t have time to fly around the world,” he chides.

“Excuses, excuses,” Travis drones.

“Calm down you two,” I interject. “Besides, Tristan will be here for a few of your European races,” I remind him.

“That’s right. I’ve had enough of your whining,” Tristan says. “Where’s my handsome nephew?” His voice noticeably perks up. “He’s not still sleeping, is he?”

“I shouldn’t let you see him after insulting me.” Travis says this even as he moves through his apartment toward Lucky’s nursery.

“There he is,” Tristan exclaims, ignoring Travis.

I watch as my grumpy ass brother turns into the softest, cooing pile of love for Lucky. When he makes silly faces into the screen, Lucky squeals in delight and claps as Tristan starts singing the ‘I love you, you love me’ song we learned as kids.

I recall back to the first phone call we had where Travis told Tristan he was going to be a father. Tristan’s reply was a combination of disbelief and irate confusion.