Autumn placed a hand on her hip and leaned in. “Because I’m a woman obsessed with my craft.”
“It’s true.” Sloane grinned and sat back. “I’ve traveled the world and never found anywhere as good.”
“I wouldn’t mind a second one of these to go,” Veronica said with a hopeful look. “It’s a lavender latte.”
“My specialty. Coming right up.” Autumn headed to the front of the shop and, once she was safely past their table, gestured to Veronica, added a saucy look, then raised her palms in silent question.Oh. She wanted to know if Sloane and Veronica were a thing. A romance. A couple. A forbidden tryst. Sloane shook her head emphatically, prompting Veronica to frown and flip around in curiosity. The idea of romancing Veronica Vance, the strongest-willed woman in the world, was laughable. She’d eat Sloane alive. Not that Sloane didn’t love her type A, highly driven friend.
“Was that charades?” Veronica asked. “Am I the subject of a silent TED talk?”
“Yes,” Sloane said without hesitation as Autumn, wide-eyed, scurried away, caught and convicted in the romance-themed pantomime act. “But as an act of penance, I’ll put that second coffee on my tab.” She stood. “Thanks for making the trip. I’m sorry to disappoint you about the academy. But here’s the thing. I know it’s going to be revolutionary in your hands, and I will be cheering you on every step of the way.” She meant it, too.
Veronica didn’t flinch. “Look at the file, Sloane. For me.”
She sighed, crumbling like a sandcastle in high tide. “I’ll give it a glance, but only because you once bought my dinner when I left my wallet in that cab that smelled like seaweed.”
“Well, thank God for seaweed cabs. And just take a little glance through. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Will do.”
Sloane left Veronica at the Cat’s Pajamas, still shocked by her visit and the ripple it left in its wake. Her morning had just been tossed into the air with pieces of herself and memories raining down all around her. She attempted to pick them up, each one a reminder of the past she’d been forced to move on from. Her racing days had meant everything to her, but she had no intention of returning to them. It was a powder keg that was best not to disrupt.
Later that night, after a Zoom call with Honda to go over their new engine upgrades, Sloane poured herself a glass of the Bordeaux she’d picked up last week in France. She could unwind with that new medical drama everyone was talking about or maybe start a new book. She’d been on a biography kick lately, with the most recent from Michelle Obama having energized her for more. Then she remembered her promise to Veronica and the email she’d seen sneak into her inbox a few hours earlier. She could take a few moments to check that box and officially let Veronica know she wasn’t interested in working with the academy’s slate of drivers.
Settling in on her ridiculously comfortable cream-colored sofa and careful not to spill her wine, Sloane flipped open her laptop and started to read. Not only had Veronica included the offer, but she had also taken it a step further and attached the schedules, goals, rankings, and dossiers for each driver. Before Sloane realized it, over an hour had passed as she pored through the material, lost down the rabbit hole into a world that used to be her one true love.The pull was still there and just as potentas ever.Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck.She ran a hand through her blond hair, half aware of the dangerous game she was playing but too hyped up to rein herself in. She scrolled back to the schedule and, just for fun, compared it to her own. Only a couple of actual conflicts because she refused to book herself too far out. She liked keeping her options open, going where the water was warm. She’d had no idea she’d be in France earlier this month until days before. Just how she liked it.
But, wait. Was she actually considering Veronica’s offer?
She took a fortifying breath, did something she’d never done, and let herself go there. Sloane closed her eyes and let herself drift back to her F1 days. The roar of engines pressed against her chest like a living thing, vibrating through her bones. The smell of burning rubber and hot oil clung to the air, mingling with the faint tang of sweat. Her hands flexed as she remembered the feel of the steering wheel, slick and warm from countless laps, fingers tightening instinctively around the worn grip. The tires screamed over asphalt, a high-pitched wail that was both terrifying and intoxicating. Wind whipped against her helmet, carrying with it the taste of dust and adrenaline, and she could almost feel the centrifugal pull of corners, her body leaning into the curves as if the car and she were one. For a moment, every worry melted away, leaving only the pure, unfiltered thrill of speed and control. For a brief moment, she lost herself in the sensory overload. Dizzying. Wonderful. That is, until she remembered how it all ended and shut the laptop as if it were on fire.
“What are you doing right now?” she asked herself and took a quick lap around her kitchen, needing to burn off this extra energy. “This is a bad idea, and you know it.” Sometimes hearing her voice out loud served as a wake-up call. But not tonight because it was already too late. Somehow, the mixture ofVeronica’s words and the lure of the world she used to know had worked their way beneath her skin.
Two days later, she called Veronica.
“I wondered when I might hear from you,” Ronnie said instead of hello.
“Yeah, yeah.” Sloane paused but only briefly. “So, when do you want me there?”
Reese scanned the beige and blue living room of the junior suite she’d been housed in for Formula Next’s opening weekend in Miami. She’d arrived well in advance of race weekend to meet the other drivers in the academy and attend the various events Veronica Vance had arranged. There was a reception on the schedule, a few presentations, some press junkets, and some meet and greets with fans to get everyone excited for the upcoming season.
She pulled her dark hair into a ponytail as she moved through the small space. While the academy felt like a step down from F2, she was also grateful she’d landed anywhere at all after the disastrous end to her season.
While Ravensport wasn’t offering her seat back to her for the upcoming F2 season, they were still investing in her. They had agreed to put her on the team for the academy, likely at the urging of Veronica Vance, who’d walked into the paddock that rainy day in England after she’d put the car into the wall.
There’d been a knock on the open door to the driver’s room. Reese had been aiming for a little privacy to lick her wounds. “Have a minute?”
Annoyed, Reese had turned at the sound of the voice. Still in her race suit and livid from having to retire from the race,she wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone. But she went still when she sawVeronica Vancestanding in the doorway. She’d seen her many times at qualifying or on race days, usually with an assistant by her side or a TV camera trained on her face. Everyone knew who she was, a formidable driver from years back, but now a personality that everyone respected. She was a businessperson and a spokeswoman for the sport.
Reese straightened. “Hi.” At any other moment, she would have turned up the wattage on her smile and led with her God-given charm. Today wasn’t that day. Hi was all she had in her.
“Tough break out there.”
“You could say that.” Reese paused, unsure what Veronica could possibly want from her in this moment.
“In fact, you’ve had a string of those. Has Ravensport offered you a seat for next season?”
They hadn’t, and today would make the prospect even less likely. She had a feeling Veronica already knew all of that. She shook her head.
“Well, I have one.”
