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“My feet are killing me.”
“Then why did you wear those shoes?”
“To look professional,” she grumbled, slipping them off. “And quit hogging the chips.”
She snatched the bag from him, giving him a scowl. “Eat the sandwich I made you.”
He smirked at her, leaning into her hair. Her tiger stirred, wanting more of him. He inhaled, his voice dropping into a low growl. “Maybe I want to eat something else.”
Her eyes widened, and she looked at him. She swallowed, feeling her mouth go dry. This was dangerous territory.
“Franco,” she growled back at him. “We don’t have time for that.”
“We can make time,” he cooed at her, his nose brushing against her neck. “There is always time.”
She wanted to just give in to him. But she knew better. She pulled herself off the couch and turned to him.
She grabbed his shirt, pulled him closer, and narrowed her eyes. “You will behave for the rest of the day, understand?”
He grinned at her.
“No more of this.” She waved her hand. “Because we have plenty of things on the schedule to do, and we don’t have time. And I can’t make time for that. So, keep it in your pants and wait until tonight.”
He smirked at her. “That was very bossy of you.”
“I know.” She let go of his shirt. “Now shut up and eat your sandwich so we can get back downstairs.”
After eating, they headed down for Franco to line up for the race. She pulled on headphones and stood with the crew. She turned her mic on, hearing Franco talking.
“Should we place a bet on my time?” he asked, giving them a side glance from his car.
“How about not!” she said, shaking her head at him.
He chuckled at her, and it was music to her ears. All the guys looked at her with a grin. Everyone had grown used to her hardass attitude when she was his manager.
The cars all lined up, and her hands tensed around her daily journal. She was already nervous when the race started. While the Koss company was gone, there would likely be other people who wanted him gone. She just hoped nothing ever happened.
The flag went up, and everyone grew quiet. The air around them was thick, and the flag flipped down. The cars shot forward, and the race began.
“All right, keep your pace,” Cornel said into the mic. “Keep that pace.”
“Roger,” Franco said.
She watched as he went around the track. He grew closer to first each lap, and by the eighth lap, he was in first place, but they were on his tail. She felt her stomach tighten.
“He’s doing good,” Cornel said to her. “He’s doing good.”
She watched the time creep up, and he was running out of laps. Her nails bit into the journal. She held her breath as he started his last lap.
Everything was moving but frozen all at the same time. Her heart stopped beating, and her mind faltered. But his vehicle kept moving.
He turned the last corner, zooming forward and over the finish line. She exhaled as screams filled the air.
“Franco!”
“He won!”
She looked up, seeing him on the big monitor smiling brightly. His eyes look deep into her soul, making her heart flutter.
