For half a second, the air shifts, and my jaw tightens.Cover-ups?The last thing I need is her sniffing anywhere near the truth about my exit from racing.One thread pulled in the wrong direction, and everything I’ve tried to bury—everything I gave up—will unspool.
Forcing a slow breath, I loosen my shoulders.She can’t see that hit.She can’t even suspect it.
“Sounds a hell of a lot more interesting than me.”I take another slow drink, watching her over the rim.
“It can be rewarding…” She stares down into her coffee, something on her mind, and I get the sense it has nothing to do with me.“But things aren’t always black and white, you know.”
As her head pops up, our gazes collide.“Even when there’s wrongdoing or something horrific has happened, there isn’t always a villain.And if someone’s done something wrong, there can be reasons behind it that make it more understandable—even if still devastating.”
I nod, not sure what to say to that.It’s weightier than anything I expected her to say.
When the silence stretches too long, I clear my throat and move us back on track.“So, why are you stuck writing about a racer who quit?”
She purses her lips.Okay, now look who doesn’t want to talk?
I press on—my turn to uncover some truths.“Who did you piss off?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because of the way you’re acting.This assignment smells like penance.”
For a beat, her eyes flash—prickly, defensive, maybe even impressed I figured it out.Then her expression shutters back into that measured reporter’s mask she hides behind.
“You’ve got it all wrong.The reporter who usually handles these profiles had a personal matter come up.I was asked to step in.That’s it.”
Her fingers tap against her thigh, long and lean, wrapped in black pants that look too good on her.The rhythm betrays her nerves.
“Fine.”My tone drops, warm and suggestive on purpose.“If you want to play it like that.”
She sighs, shaking her head, a smile toying with her mouth like she both hates and likes this game.
“So, let’s do this.”I take another sip, not wanting to relent, but we’re both treading in dangerous territory, and I need to remind myself she’s the enemy.
Time to face the music.
“Yes, let’s.”Her voice carries less edge.More… something else.
Something that makes my pulse kick.Something that says the interview isn’t the only thing she’s steeling herself against.
Chapter12
Maddox
Across the room, a couple players wave, and I call them over.Grace and I have been at it for over an hour, and my head is pounding.I want this interview over for many reasons, but mostly because it’s only a matter of time before she hits on the buried stuff.
Kevin saunters up to the table.“Thanks again for Friday night, Coach.”
“Mrs.Kerr says we’re legends now,” adds Jimmy, and the two of them laugh.
“It was a great game.”I smile before asking them about basketball and their classes.
She watches our exchange with a careful expression, cataloguing every smile, every shoulder clap, every nod thrown my way.
When the boys leave, her gaze has warmed.“They really like you.”
“They like winning.And pizza after practice on occasion.”
Something in her gaze lingers, not tender… observant.Like she’s recalibrating how she sees me.