“I’m all for it,” Sloane said with a shoulder lift. Her gaze fell to the circuit, where even though the other drivers had recessed back to their respective team garages, Reese was now jogging the track, likely working up a sweat in a little prerace workout. To say she looked good doing it was an understatement. Sloanepurposefully looked away. Not a show for her. And probably not at all helpful to her cause.
“Well, it will be up to you to teach her the way. Reese is all yours.”
Veronica’s words, braided together with the dream that had jolted Sloane awake last night, landed like a live wire. All yours. The phrase alone was gasoline.
In the dream, Reese had been close—so close Sloane could feel the warmth of her breath against her thighs, could smell the melon of her shampoo when she’d leaned in, reckless and hungry. It had felt too real: the slide of hands, the low hum of laughter, the sound Reese had made when she?—
She stopped the thought dead in its tracks, pulse quickening anyway.
“Lucky me,” she said lightly, hoping Veronica didn’t notice the edge in her voice.
If she did, she didn’t comment. Instead, she gave Sloane a knowing half-smile before turning back toward the pit lane, leaving Sloane to wrestle with the vivid echo of the dream still playing behind her eyes.
Down on the circuit, Reese had finished her jog and was stretching in the morning sun, shirt damp at the collar, her hair falling from the ponytail in wisps. There was an ease to her, so unaware of the effect she had, unbothered by the eyes that followed her.
Sloane swallowed hard, knowing she should drag her gaze away. Professional. She was supposed to beprofessional.But as Reese bent to tie her shoe, sunlight catching the curve of her smile, Sloane couldn’t help the heat that flared low and insistent, whispering that the dream hadn’t been nearly enough.
She turned sharply, too fast, the motion meant to sever the thought. “I’ll be in data analysis,” she muttered, mostly to herself, and started down the stairs toward the paddock. The airwas cooler there, the space shadowed, full of the metallic scent of fuel and brake dust. They were familiar and grounding smells that usually steadied her.
She pulled her tablet from her bag and forced her focus onto telemetry numbers, anything but the memory of Reese’s mouth on her skin. Line graphs. Corner speeds. Brake pressures. Facts. Data. Control. Lions and tigers and bears. Her brain was full and jumbled with it all. And when she finally looked up, Reese was crossing the paddock toward her, towel slung around her neck, eyes bright and easy.
Sloane’s fingers tightened around the tablet.
“Morning,” Reese called with that disarming grin.
Sloane’s reply came a beat too late. “Morning,” she said, crisp. “Ready for today?” She set her tablet on a nearby table to give Reese her full attention. “You should have good weather.”
“Yeah, I’m stoked about that. The forecast didn’t look promising as of yesterday. But sun’s out and conditions are great. I also feel like I’m in a good headspace. And hey, you’ll enjoy this part,” Reese said, leaning in.
Sloane folded her arms, holding her ground and trying not to notice their close proximity. “Tell me.”
“When one of my endorsements, this key lime lip balm that’s actually pretty great?—”
“You’ll have to give me the name.”
“You got it. Well, they wanted me for an hour to record a reel.”
“Of you applying their product?” Geniuses.
“Exactly that. I told them I couldn’t make that work until tomorrow.Afterthe race.” She straightened, looking incredibly proud of herself. It was actually cute, which is not a word she often applied to Reese. But in this moment, she very much was.
“Well, well,” Sloane said. “Impressive. And what’s been the payoff?”
“Space to get my body and head right before flying around that circuit like a madwoman on a mission to make history.”
Sloane laughed, and something flickered behind Reese’s eyes. She liked it.
“It makes a big difference,” Sloane said.
“You know, Sloane Foster, I’m actually starting to believe you.”
“Thank God.”
Reese took a step closer, and Sloane noticed a droplet of sweat on her collarbone from the workout. She forced her eyes to meet Reese’s. “But don’t tell anyone I said that. I’m known for my ego and want to keep it that way.”
“Your secret is safe.”
“I’m off to start reaction drills.” She turned back as she walked, as if to say, Can you even believe it?
