Of course he was voted one of F1’s sexiest drivers multiple years in a row.
“Yes.Good to see you too,” I say, forcing myself back into the moment.
Matt takes me in with a subtle eye drop to my feet andscans all the way back up to meet my eyes.Part of me wants to make a joke about how now that I’m a team principal, I have sensible pants instead of baggy jeans.But instead, I blush under his overfamiliar gaze with the speed and intensity of a thermonuclear blast.
Because it’s the way Matt is looking at me, right now, that used to upend me all those years ago.The way his gaze intensifies, with a barely there smile that seems to radiate mostly from those hazel eyes.It’s like he’s waiting for me to catch on to some mysterious joke and I am not sure I ever will.
I clear my throat.“Welcome to...”I wave a hand around the garage.
“Hell?”he says, with a sideways tilt of the head, finishing my exact thought for me.Although his pointing it out so sneeringly only serves to irritate me.This may be hell, but it’smyhell.
“Welcome to...your new team, I was going to say.”
“Sure you were,Bug,” he quips back, a knowing grin creeping across his face.
“Chloe,” I snap back at him.“NotBug.”
“Still got those big eyes, though,” he says.
“Stop,” I say firmly, imagining the dark red of my cheeks deepening to a nice purple.
Matt frowns.Point taken.“Sorry.Where can we talk,boss?”
I look pointedly at the clock.
One hour and fifty-five minutes to go.
“We don’t have time.I have a hundred things to do.I have the FIA breathing down my neck about the changes to the team, I need to get to the paddock presser, and Noah’s race engineer is sick....Butafter, definitely,” I promise,sensing Barry’s attention shift from his phone.I’d like to at least talk to Barry before I speak to Matt.“I promise.”
“Matt!”Barry bellows delightedly.“How’s my golden guy?”
Matt turns to Barry, readying himself to protest about something, probablyeverything, but Barry never seems to wait for the toss of the ball before he’s on defense.He takes one look at Matt Warner’s face and lifts both his palms as if he’s been on the run for some misdemeanor and is finally handing himself in to the police.
“Look.I’m sure you’re feeling a little blindsided—”
Matt and I scoff in the same petulant, teenage way, at precisely the same time.He cocks his head in my direction, raising both his brows in surprise, like he’s the only one who is allowed to feel outraged by all this.The big main-character energy.The arrogance.There it is.Thereheis.
“Everyoneis feeling a little blindsided,” I explain.
“You didn’t know?”Matt raises one eyebrow at me.
“Nope,” I shoot back at him.
Oh, he looks deliciously surprised.
“Whose idea was it?”Matt pulls back, confused.
“His,” I say, thumbing in Barry’s direction.
Barry is watching us like a spectator at a particularly stressful tennis match, eyes darting side to side.
“Allmyidea,” he finally says, puffing his chest up with ill-placed pride.If I were Barry, I’d be bracing myself for Matt’s next shot.
Matt wastes no time.“What kind of fucking hack hires a driver without a phone call first?”
“Would you have picked up?”
“I might have.”
