“Right?” Reese ran her fingers through her hair and gave it a final look.
“Okay,” Sloane said, after a beat. “Then we’ll go.”
Reese searched her face. “You sure?”
Sloane lifted the bag slightly, managing a small smile. “We’ll bring croissants. If we’re about to have a serious debrief with a higher-up, at least we’ll be armed.”
Reese laughed, relief flashing across her features, and leaned in to rest her forehead against Sloane’s. Just for a second.
“I’m really glad you’re coming with me,” she said softly. “And you look really hot in this white zip.”
“Thank you.” Sloane closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Reese and butter and morning all at once, and held onto the delicate, stubborn belief she’d found in that little bakery, that maybe, somehow, everything just might be okay.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a driver bring breakfast before,” Shanelle Laurens said, as she peered into the bag and helped herself to a plain croissant.
“Well, then you’ve been working with the wrong drivers,” Sloane said with a wink. She looked behind her to the office door. “And if you’d rather speak with Reese privately, I can bother Jesse out front. He used to tease me about my hair peeking out of my helmet when I finished a race, and I’d be happy to pick on him a little while you two debrief.”
Shanelle scoffed. “Sloane, you and I go way back, and you’re a bigger help in this room than out of it. We both know that.”
Reese raised a brow from her seat across from Shanelle’s desk.
“Then I guess I’ll stay,” Sloane said, taking a seat in the chair next to Reese’s.
“I think you had a fantastic first race yesterday,” Shanelle said. “Everyone was impressed, from the press to the team of owners to the pit crew cheering you on.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Reese said, lighting up. “It was a day I’ll never forget, and I’m honored that I was given the chance to drive for Laurens.”
Shanelle paused and adjusted her posture before addressing them both. “I don’t know if you saw the comment Marco made online overnight, but I want to make it clear that it doesn’t reflect our team culture and it’s been addressed.”
Reese looked at Sloane and back to Shanelle, uneasy. “I haven’t been online much since the race.”
Sloane frowned. “No, me neither. What did he post?” She already felt her defenses flaring on Reese’s behalf becausethat fucking guy.
Shanelle slid a print capture of a post across the desk. Reese picked up the sheet of paper, stared for a minute, and then passed it to Sloane without saying a word.
@F1poletoflag:
History made. Reese Maddox becomes the first woman in years to score points in Formula 1.
@MarcoFaz:
Amazing what happens when the rules bend for a good storyline. Guess crashing out so the female marketing experiment can cruise to a P9 is just part of the show now.
Sloane shook her head, her anger rising the longer she processed. “Classy guy.”
“I’m going to guess he was having a hard time with the results,” Reese said diplomatically. Big of her.
“He deleted the post ten minutes later,” Shanelle said, “but it was too late. Screenshots are everywhere. Racing fans are weighing in this morning.”
“I’m sure in both directions.” Reese shook her head. “I think that’s my cue to stay off the internet this morning.”
“What happens to Marco?” Sloane asked, hoping for nothing less than being fed to a hungry hippopotamus in a remote jungle.
“Well, it’s been a string of incidents with Marco, and we feel it’s probably time to move on. Which brings me to the real reason we’re here. How would you feel about stepping in, Reese?” Shanelle placed one hand over the other and waited. Sloane blinked. Was she asking what it seemed like she was asking?
“Filling in for Marco? I don’t understand,” Reese said. “How would I fill in for both Ezra and Marco?”
“There were a lot of phone calls this morning. A true flurry, if I’m being honest. But everyone was of the same opinion. We’d like to offer you Marco’s seat for the rest of the season.”
