“We do. But not the degree I want.”
My chest tightened. Asher wanted to race for his dad’s team, and I wanted to go to my mom’s dream college. It had been her wish before she died—that I study, build a career, and be independent. She couldn’t have known her daughter would fall behind after losing her, repeat a year, and struggle ever since.
Asher studied me. “What’s the degree?”
Heat crept up my neck, blooming across my cheeks. “Spanish. But I’ll have to convince my father. He thinks it’s a whim, like dancing. I’ve been at the academy since I was six.”
“Dancing, work, Spanish… Do you ever rest?”
Therapy too—but that wasn’t something I’d share. “Sometimes,” I said.
A cold droplet landed on my cheek. Asher glanced at the sky and groaned. “Shit. We need to head home, peque. Looks like rain.”
I’d never hated rain so much.
***
By the time Asher parked the bike in the garage, the sky opened, sheets of water drenching everything—a miserable ending to a beautiful evening.
“Listen,” I said as we ran toward the house, shoes splashing through rising puddles. “About the tip—you’re getting the money back. It’s too much.”
Asher rolled his eyes, digging in his pocket. Rain streamed down his face, and he licked a drop from his lip. The casual gesture had no business looking that hot. “Good luck with that. I’m not taking it.” He pulled out the key, jammed it into the lock, and stepped aside. “Hurry, peque. You’re gonna get soaked.”
I entered the house first. We’d barely hung our dripping jackets on the brass stand by the door when my father appeared in the foyer.
“Do you see the time, Kaia?”
My stomach sank. Shit. It couldn’t be that late. I shifted my weight. “No.”
Dad scoffed. “That’s time you could’ve spent studying.”
Seriously? Didn’t I already stay up half the night cramming? I bit my lip to keep from firing back.
“And Asher,” he went on, “next time you volunteer to pick Kaia up after work, make sure she’s home before curfew. You’re an adult.” His gaze pinned Asher. “She isn’t—not while she’s under my roof.”
Asher’s jaw flexed, his expression caught between irritation and restraint. He didn’t argue, but the flicker in his eyes made it clear he wanted to.
CHAPTER SIX
Asher
Iditched my racing gear and wiped sweat from my forehead. As I reached for my shirt, Dawson stepped into the garage, running a hand through his short hair. “Great job out there. Safe to say you already know the track.”
“Yeah?” I glanced at him, shoving my arms through the sleeves. “Still feels like my timing on the corners sucks.”
“Hm.” He rubbed the gray stubble on his chin. “It’s a tough track. Takes some getting used to. Let’s see how you do tomorrow and compare.”
The races wouldn’t start until March, but there was no time to slack. Today I ran training laps at the Emerport International Race Complex—one of the best circuits around and the closest I could get to my favorite track in Jerez.
I buttoned my jeans, nodding. “I’m glad Russell hired you as my crew chief. Honestly, I’d be lost without you.”
Dawson shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’d manage. But I’m not ready to retire yet. Pretty sure this’ll be my last job, though.”
“Who knows?” I said. “You might change your mind later.”
I headed for the exit with Dawson close behind. We were meeting Ale for lunch before I drove back to Stetbourg.
At the marina, Dawson parked, and we chose a quiet European restaurant with a terrace facing the water. Ale joined us just as we were about to order drinks.
