I flick a switch, and the engine roars to life, low and hungry.Her fingers curl around the seatbelt, and I bite back a grin.
We pull onto the track, the tires humming against the asphalt, and I take it easy at first.The curve of the road familiar beneath my hands, the afternoon light spilling across the windshield.Her tension slowly eases, curiosity replacing fear.
“Not so bad, right?”
She exhales, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips.“I’ll admit, this is… something.”
I glance at her.“Something?”
“Fine.Incredible.Happy?”
“Hell yeah.”
I downshift and hit the straightaway, and the car surges forward, pinning us back in our seats.She lets out a startled laugh—half shock, half exhilaration—and her hand grips my arm, unthinking.Electricity crackles through me.
“Holy—Maddox,” she shouts over the engine.
“Relax, Buchanan.I’ve got you.”
“God, you sound so sure of yourself.”
“I am.”
She turns toward me, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and completely unguarded.“You really loved this, didn’t you?”
My throat tightens.“Yeah.Too much.”
We take another turn, slower this time, the air between us shifting into something thicker and quieter.She’s watching my hands on the wheel, the way I lean into each curve, reading me the way she does, like I’m a language she’s determined to learn.
“Why’d you quit?”
Just when I was letting myself forget she’s here for a reason.
I force a smile that doesn’t reach anything.“You’ll get your quote, Inkslinger.Just not today.”
She studies me a moment, then nods.“Fair enough.”
The sun dips lower, the world washing out in amber and indigo as I bring the car to a stop in the pit lane and cut the engine.Silence settles between us, my pulse still running hot from the thrill of being back in the cockpit—or from her, I’m not entirely sure anymore.
When she reaches for her seatbelt, her fingers brush mine.Neither of us moves.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
“For what?”
“For letting me see this side of you.”
I swallow.“Careful, Buchanan.You might start thinking I’m not the enemy.”
Her lips curve into a slow, devastating smile.“You make it hard to remember that sometimes.”
For just a moment, her gaze dips to my mouth, but then she pushes the door open and steps out.I stay where I am, hands still on the wheel, wondering how a woman I should be keeping at a careful distance keeps finding her way further in.
Blane waves from across the track, shouting something about perfect light and one more shot.I ignore him until he jogs over and makes himself impossible to ignore, insisting on a few more before we lose the light.
I indulge him, though not because he’s growing on me.Grace has shifted into reporter mode, calling direction, laughing at something through the viewfinder, completely in her element.That’s the only reason I’m still standing here.
The ride back home is different.Grace is quiet beside me, arms tucked loosely around herself, hair wind-tangled, cheeks still flushed from the cold air or the adrenaline or both.