“Oh? How?”
Her curious look made my stomach knot. Shit. Careless. The last thing I needed was for her to get suspicious. My throat went dry. “I saw him at the gala, I think.”
Sharon laughed. “Oh, of course. I forgot. He introduced himself to everyone.”
Relief loosened my chest. I licked my lips and refocused on the track. Alejandro alternated between cheering and texting, while Sharon’s eyes never left her son.
The final lap was decisive. My breath stuttered when another rider nearly overtook Asher, but he crossed the finish line first. The instant his wheels grazed it, he fist-pumped the air, then pressed his fingers to his heart before touching his helmeted mouth.
My gesture.
Tears blurred my vision. I ducked my head, pretending to rummage in my purse while I blinked fast, praying no one noticed.
“Este es mi chico,” Alejandro boomed before pushing through the crowd toward Parc Fermé.
Ash slowed for his victory lap, but he’d head there next for inspection and interviews.
Sharon rose. “Well, that was fun. Let’s go find your dad and tell Asher we’re here.”
She led the way to where Dad stood with a group of men in suits. He kissed her cheek, then glanced at me. “Wait a bit. Asher’s answering some questions.”
From afar, I watched Ash. He’d swapped his helmet for a Forward Racing cap and was speaking with a local reporter, looking confident and relaxed. He smiled at something the curly-haired man said, and when the interview ended, Sharon waved. “Asher!”
His head turned. Surprise flashed in his eyes when he spotted his mother—then me. As he came closer, his lips twitched, like he wanted to smile but held back. Heat swept through me, the urge to run into his arms and kiss him almost unbearable.
“Kaia,” he said. “What a nice surprise.”
Sharon draped an arm across my shoulders. “Kaia and I are going shopping in town, but we wanted to watch you race first.”
“I’m glad you came.”
“Congratulations,” Sharon said. “Okay, let me have a word with your dad, Kaia.”
She marched toward Russell. Asher bit his lip and tugged my hand. “Come here.”
“But Ash…”
He squeezed my fingers. “Trust me.”
The crowd had thinned, and no reporters lingered. Ash led me behind his motorhome, out of sight.
“Enhorabuena, campeón,” I whispered, cupping his face.
He kissed me once, then again. I parted my lips, pulling him closer, kissing harder. The brush of his tongue against mine sent heat spiraling low in my stomach. One kiss wasn’t enough—I’d missed him too much. It was like being given a sip of water after hours in the desert. Instead of quenching me, it left me thirstier.
His hands slid over my waist. “One last kiss,” he murmured, brushing his nose against mine. “Then you should go, mi niña. Just say you needed the bathroom.”
He kissed me once more, cupping my face. When we pulled apart, his smile was soft as he skimmed his knuckles over my cheek. “Thank you for being here. You made me happy.”
“I loved watching you race. I’m so proud of you, Ash.”
He tapped my nose. “If you keep saying that, I won’t let you leave—and I still have the podium. Go, before my mother sends a search party.”
“Okay,” I said, backing away. “Don’t miss me too much.”
Ash chuckled. “Go miss me a lot.”
I blew him a kiss and hurried back toward Sharon.
