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“Don’t go saying things you don’t mean. One day in my pit garage and you’ll be wishing you never have to leave.” Liam suggestively smiles at Sophie. She smacks him on the arm before messing around with her drink again.
“Catch you all later.” Jax tips his glass toward us before he steps away from the conversation. Sophie practically drools on her dress, unprepared for the hotness that seeps out of F1 racers. I tried to warn her earlier.
“Nice chatting with you both. We’re going to be on our way now. Thanks for the drinks, Liam.” I shoot him a grin while grabbing Sophie’s hand and tugging her away.
“The drinks are free. Seriously, Liam, you’re strapped for cash? McCoy not paying you enough?” Noah’s voice carries over the music.
Liam lets out a deep laugh while I run away from Noah because bow ties are my kryptonite.
Not Noah. Nope.
9
Maya
The crowd stirs with enthusiasm as pit mechanics prepare for the Chinese Grand Prix. Team members huddle around the cars, conducting engine checks and ensuring
everything looks good to go. It’s chaotic yet organized all at once. Hundreds of people help run the operation, from feeding drivers to running electrical tests on Bandini cars.
Noah goes through his solitary pre-race ritual. I don’t blame him for his preference, with the immense amount of pressure during every race. Plus, how draining fans and crowds can be. Santi and I hang out while he signs hats and gear for fans. He likes how I keep him company, telling me it eases his pre-race jitters. Whatever works for him.
I enter the suite area, silence welcoming me since most of the crew work in the garage, making sure the cars are in top condition for the race.
On my way to the bathroom, I slam into a firm body, confirming how running into people is becoming my specialty. A hand grabs my arm and steadies me. My eyes land on Noah’s face, his deep blue eyes piercing mine. His hand remains on my arm while goosebumps break out across my skin.
I sigh at the contact, not liking these uncontrollable physiological responses. “I’m so sorry, I should watch where I am going.” First Sophie, now him.
He pulls down his headphones. “No problem. These halls are pretty tight.” His voice rumbles. Why can’t he have a nasally voice that throws me off, something to take away part of his sex appeal? I doubt it’s too much to ask.
My eyes have a mind of their own, taking a quick peek at his body because I lack self-control. His race suit fits snugly against him, emphasizing his muscular form, the vibrant red color flattering his tan skin. My eyes close in a useless effort to try to rid the image of him. I wish Santi had an unattractive teammate because I’d describe this experience as the worst kind of punishment.
“Have to get used to how busy it is around here on race days. What are you up to in there? You always seem quiet.” I point my head in the direction of his door.
He taps his headphones. “I listen to music and get in the mental state for racing. Give myself a pep talk and work out.”
“You need a pep talk? I can’t believe it. I thought the fantastic Noah Slade could do no wrong, with no feat too scary.” I look up at the ceiling wistfully as I place a hand on my heart.
His smirk falls, but he recovers quickly. “Even the best need to get motivated. We drive cars at super speeds, so it can still be intimidating as fuck.”
His arm grabs mine again and pulls me toward the wall. An attendant runs by, hands full of car parts and bags.
“Gotta be careful around here. You’re small enough to be run over by a cart or something.”
I look up into Noah’s eyes and immediately regret it. His shade of blue easily becomes my favorite, reminding me of Barcelona’s coastal waters.
“Good to know. I’ll leave you to it then.” My hand taps on his headphones before I turn toward Santi’s room. I need distance from him, anything to break his arm away from mine.
“Wait.” A calloused hand strokes my arm again, heating my skin where his touch lingers. Noah’s lack of personal space frustrates me. His touchiness overwhelms me and overrides my brain, making me crave him. My body refuses to follow my brain’s memo about Noah being bad news.
“Uh…” I can’t form logical sentences while his hand lingers on my arm.
Not sure where this is going, a feeling of uneasiness flows through me.
Noah speaks up. “Why do you spend time with your brother before races? It’s distracting.”
I blink once, twice. And one more time for good measure. Okay then, who died and made you king?
His fingers trace patterns on my skin like he didn’t say something rude. I doubt he grasps how his words come across to others. Why would he when he always gets what he wants anyway, and is never told the words no or please. Entitled prick.
