Veronica sat forward, elbows on her desk. “Speaking of, I don’t know what you said to Reese, but she’s been putting in the time since the last race, and now look. Two wins?”
Sloane leaned a hip against the desk. “Say more.”
“Helmut, the assistant team principal over at Ravensport, says she’s been the first one in and the last one out. Living in the simulator, hitting the gym, doing climate conditioning. Putting in real hours. Not show. Not optics. Not smiling for selfies with the fans. Work.”
A tug of pride surprised Sloane, hitting her low and warm.
Reese was trying. Really trying.
And tonight, she’d have to look her in the eye and somehow discuss racing, professionalism, boundaries, while pretending her pulse didn’t trip every time Reese so much as looked at her.
Sloane exhaled slowly.
“Where did you go just now?”
“I was just thinking about Reese and the progress you mentioned. We saw it on the track today.”
“No. Uh-uh.” Veronica sat back in her chair. “That faraway look was anything but work-related. Did you almost bite your lip? I think you almost bit your fucking lip.”
“You’re imagining things,” Sloane said. She tossed in a laugh, but it sounded manufactured and only hurt her cause.
“You’re seeing someone.”
“No. I’m absolutely not.” Sloane headed for the door before she spilled one detail too many.
“Then you’re lusting after someone, and it’s good. It’s soap opera good. I can tell. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex?”
Sloane’s hand went still on the doorknob. “I don’t. Are you gonna tell me?”
“Too damn long, Sloane, and if you’re getting some, then I need to hear the sexy stories that will surely give me hope that good old-fashioned lust in a handbasket is waiting to carry me away to Smutville. So, can we do the girl talk thing now?”
Sloane wanted to say yes because this was her friend, but the subject of her R-rated thoughts these days was the very reasonshe couldn’t. What would Veronica say if she knew it was one of their drivers? And not only that, it was the overly hot one. I mean, how cliché could Sloane be? Not that there wasn’t more to Reese. She’d seen it.
Sloane hesitated, searching for a diplomatic exit. “You know what? I can’t. Not today.”
The brightness in Veronica’s eyes dimmed a fraction, quick, almost invisible, but Sloane caught it. A flicker of something like disappointment slid through the space between them before Veronica straightened, smoothing it over with practiced ease.
“Right,” she said lightly. “Of course. You’re busy. We’re all busy.”
It was meant to sound breezy. It didn’t.
“I just have a lot on my plate,” Sloane tried, but it came out stiff. Defensive, even.Dammit.
Veronica lifted one shoulder, a half-shrug that didn’t match the sharpness suddenly settling into her posture. “No explanation needed, Sloane. I get it. Boundaries and all that.” She reached for her glasses, turning them in her hands instead of putting them on. “Go. Do your … work thing.”
The pause before "work" was small but unmistakable.
Sloane’s chest tightened. She wanted to fix it, bridge the gap she’d just created, but doing that meant opening a door she absolutely could not open. She just wasn’t equipped yet.
“I’ll see you after the race,” she said instead. “Or maybe even in the morning. I might turn in early after I finish my last meeting.” The meeting.
Veronica nodded without looking at her. “Sure. I hope it’s a good one. See you then.”
Sloane slipped out, pulling the door closed behind her. The click sounded too final, too loaded for what should have been an ordinary conversation.
But the air in the hallway felt heavier, confirming what she already suspected: Veronica didn’t buy the brush-off.
And she wasn’t thrilled about being shut out. Ronnie wasn’t one to hold long-term grudges, but it was clear her feelings had been hurt, and Sloane hated that she made her feel unimportant.
