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“No. Grandpa is—or rather was—to blame for that one.” His eyes dart away from me and back toward the TV.
“Let me guess, he roped your mother in with alcohol.”
“Welcome to the dark side—we have liquor.” He passes me a full glass.
My chest shakes from laughter. “So what exactly is happening that has you raging at the TV like a toddler.”
“I’m guessing you’ve never seen a race before.”
“No, but that guy makes me want to.” Whoever is being interviewed has my attention. Something about his brown eyes and red race suit has medefinitelyinterested in learning all about Formula 1.
“He’s married.”
“You think he might be interested in polygamy? I’ve always been good at sharing.”
“I’ll be taking this back.” Declan tries to swipe my mimosa from my hand, but I hold it tightly to my chest.
“No!”
“Stop lusting after Alatorre. It’s disgusting.”
“Mm-hmm.” I pull out my phone and searchAlatorre Formula 1. The results are promising.
Very promising.
“You’re googling him, aren’t you?”
I don’t need to look up to know Declan’s amused. I’m certain if I catch him in the act, his smile will disappear before I have a chance to truly acknowledge it.
Santiago Alatorre’s social media accounts are just as enticing as his Google search. “You know what? I think I have a sudden interest to learn everything there is to know about Formula 1.”
Declan rolls his eyes in the most un-Declan-like fashion. “Of course you do.”
* * *
I understood absolutely nothing about the race except the rush of adrenaline that hits me as Santiago Alatorre crosses the finish line first, much to Declan’s disappointment.
“You’re just mad my guy won.”
“Your guyalways wins. It’s boring as shit watching him be so damn perfect all the time.”
“Aw. Better luck next time. Maybe your guy will win if he can actually stay on the track past lap one.” I pat his hand with mock sympathy.
“He better, if only to wipe that stupid smile off your face every time they mention Santi’s name.”
“My, my, Declan Kane. Are you jealous of my little crush?”
“Little? You drooled all over my pillow for two hours straight while cyberstalking him.”
I drop said pillow and assess it for any evidence. “Liar.”
“You disgust me.”
I grin. “Same time next week?”
“No.”
My smile drops. “Oh.”Way to insert yourself into his plans.
