Page 91 of Handle Me

ANDERS

“This is awkward,” Lola announced.

“What?” I asked as we turned onto my street, even though I suspected she meant coming home with me. To my house. To stay overnight. We hadn’t really discussed it.

“I thought I’d be able to drive myself to my hotel,” she admitted with a laugh.

“Oh.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “I just assumed you would crash here. I should have asked.”

“No, I should have told you,” she said quickly.

Well, she was right about the awkward part.

“I can take you over there and pick you up in the morning,” I offered. “If you want another lesson.”

She scrunched her nose. “I think I need a couple more lessons if I’m being honest.”

She had managed to circle the car park at the track a couple of times, but she was far from being ready to take it out on her own.

“Maybe,” I agreed. “As many as you need.”

“Okay, just as long as I’m not a distraction.”

“It’s probably a lot safer to spend time with you at the track than with my team,” I admitted to her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, placing her hand on my arm.

My gaze fell on it for a split second, and she pulled back. “Sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”

“No,” I stopped her before she got the wrong idea. “It’s not that. I just haven’t really talked about it. Brex is the closest thing I have to a friend, but that’s more bodyguard privilege, I think.”

“Where is Brex?” she asked. “I thought he would be around.”

“I don’t know,” I realized. I’d been so distracted by Lola’s unexpected arrival I’d forgotten about my bodyguard. I’d even managed to spend a day at the track, if not exactly on it, without thinking about sponsors or expectations or Wilkes’ daily disappointment. “He’s usually my shadow. Maybe I should call him. Mind if I grab my phone charger?”

“Sure.” She settled against her seat as we reached my house.

But the driveway wasn’t empty. “Shit.”

Lola sat up and peered out the window. “Whose car is that? Is it Brex? Did I get you in trouble?”

“No, boss.” I laughed as I shook my head. “Brex wouldn’t drive a Peugeot.”

“New girlfriend?”

Was that a catch in her voice, or was I imagining things?

Not that it mattered. “My mum.”

“Your mum,” she repeated, her eyes widening.

“I know. I’m embarrassed that she drives a Peugeot, too, but I can’t talk her into letting me buy her a car.” I turned off the engine. “I’ll just be a second.”

“Maybe I should come in.” Lola chewed on her lower lip. Had she always done that, or was I just obsessing over her mouth? “I don’t want to be rude.”

I hesitated. My mother had asked to meet Lola before. When things hadn’t worked out, I hadn’t expected to ever have the chance to introduce them.

“Or not,” she blurted out. “I don’t want it to be weird.”