Page 2 of Handle Me

“Ignore him,” I advised her. “I do.”

“And that’s why your lap time was off by three seconds. Three!” He held up three fingers as if a visual might help me count. Wilkes shook his head with disgust and turned on her again. But this time, he didn’t bite her head off. Hell, he almost sounded shy. “Miss Bishop, don’t walk onto a racetrack when there’s a car on it.”

She offered him a sweet smile that didn’t match the attitude radiating from her. “Noted. Thank you, Richard. And call me Lola.”

I nearly choked when she said his first name. No one had called Wilkes Richard in years. I imagined his own mother didn’t use his first name. But more surprising was the bashful way my grizzly bear of a coach hung his head and grinned back.

“It’s okay. I just wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.” He looked over his shoulder at me and his expression soured. “We need to go over the readings. If you don’t shave that extra time off, you’re going to start losing sponsors.”

“Damn, you think I don’t know that?” I asked through gritted teeth. The last thing I needed was for Miss Bishop to know I was struggling behind the wheel. I was pretty sure that information would be reported straight back to my family. The only thing worse than having my older brother deliver what amounted to a hot babysitter to my door was getting a lecture from him. I barely knew Alexander, but that hadn’t stopped him from sticking his nose in my business at every opportunity in the name of my new family.

I pushed past Wilkes and headed toward the club.

Lola caught up with me before I reached the locker room. “Look, I didn’t come all the way from London to have you ignore me.”

“Sweetheart.” I turned on her.

Her eyes narrowed, revealing only a sliver of blue through her thick, black lashes. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Okay, boss. Look, I didn’t ask you to come here. Now if you don’t mind, I need a shower.” I didn’t wait for her response. Pushing through the door, I stepped inside and began to peel off my tracksuit.

The door burst open behind me, and she stepped inside. It wasn’t going to be easy to shake Lola Bishop. “Actually, I do mind. You seem to be suffering under the delusion that I want to be here, Mr. Stone. ”

“Anders,” I corrected her. “And no, I’m not suffering under any delusions. It’s pretty clear you’re as pissed about this situation as I am.”

“Well, Anderson.” She stretched my name into its full form and batted those fucking eyelashes. I knew better than to trust the innocent face she pulled. “I’m only here to make sure you can keep your nose clean and your ass out of trouble. If you can do that, we’re good.”

Her words were as frosty as her demeanor. What would it take to melt the ice queen? “Is this because I hung up on you, Lola?” I asked. “If I’d known it would get your knickers all bunched up, I wouldn’t have.”

“I can assure you my knickers are not now—and never were—in a bunch.”

“Is that so?” I snorted and locked my eyes with hers. “Tell me more about the state of your knickers.”

“I’m not here to play games with you,” she said coolly, but color bloomed on her cheeks. The first and only sign I’d rattled her. “I just want to talk.”

“And I just want a shower.”

She tilted her chin, her blue eyes sparkling defiantly as she assessed the situation. Then, she shrugged one petite shoulder. “What’s stopping you?”

It was a challenge. I’d been racing long enough to know when a flag had been waved. So this was how the prim, no-nonsense Miss Bishop wanted to play it? I was game. I finished unzipping my tracksuit and shucked it off my shoulders. It fell to my waist, revealing my bare upper body. Today had been hot and all I wore under the suit was a coating of sweat. Her eyes lifted to the ceiling as she pretended not to notice.

“As I was saying,” she continued on with the barest strain in her voice, “if you would cooperate with me, we could get this over with.”

I kicked off my shoes before pulling my suit off entirely. Lola’s eyes flickered down, widening into saucers at the sight of my boxer briefs. She gulped and looked back up.

“I’m cooperating. You wanted me to listen.” I brushed past her to open my locker door. She shuddered slightly at the contact. “I’m listening.”

“Anderson—”

“Anders,” I corrected her again.

“Anders,” she muttered, her jaw clenched. “Can we get your little show over with, so we can get to work? I need to be back in London this weekend.”

“Absolutely.”

Lola thought she’d issued an order, but I saw it as an invitation. With one swift move, I shed my boxers and threw them into my locker. She startled as they sailed past her diverted eyes and she glanced down. Her mouth fell open when she got a look at the entire package she’d been sent to handle. Her tongue slipped out to wet her lower lip, but she didn’t speak. I’d managed to shock her silent. I waited a moment, enjoying the ego boost, before I continued, “You were saying?”

CHAPTER TWO