“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who got you a VIP pass worth thirty thousand pounds,” said a dry voice.
Scott’s head jerked up. He broke into a crooked grin. “It is a dick move to leave people on read,” he said, his smile widening when Cam rolled his eyes.
“Are you staying here?” Scott asked, eyeing the casual clothes Cam was wearing: a faded gray T-shirt and dark sweatpants. He somehow managed to look good with day-old stubble and wearing clothes Scott wouldn’t be caught dead in. It was deeply unfair how some men could effortlessly pull off that look.
“Yes,” Cam said, eyeing Scott’s clothes too, his expression somewhat pinched, as if there was something deeply offensive about them. Looking away from Scott, he glanced around and gave a strained smile, probably for the benefit of the people in the vestibule gawking at him with hopeful expressions. They hadn’t approached yet, but Scott doubted it would last. People didn’t pay overinflated prices for the Hilton during a race weekend if they weren’t huge Formula One fans.
“Come on,” Cam said, turning around and walking away briskly.
Scott got to his feet and followed him into the elevator. “Where are we going?” he asked, stepping closer and touching Cam’s bicep.
The muscle flexed at his touch, and the other man stepped back a little.
Scott narrowed his eyes. “Are you afraid to catch my gayness or something?” he said lightly, more amused than offended.
Cam shot him a tight look. “Of course not,” he said tersely. “I was just startled.”
“Right,” Scott drawled, not bothering to hide his skepticism. “You’re so jumpy because a racing driver used to driving at 220 miles an hour gets startled so easily.”
“I’m not jumpy,” Cam said, stepping forward into Scott’s personal space as if that proved anything, his dark eyes boring into Scott’s.
Scott swallowed, a little unnerved, if he were being honest. Although they were close in height and build, Cam Richter had an unsettling sort of intensity about him that made it seem as though he were physically much larger. And, well, Scott didn’t delude himself about which of them was stronger. Although he kept himself in shape, he was no match for a professional athlete who had to withstand huge G-forces every race weekend.
The elevator doors opened on the top floor, breaking the odd tension.
“Come on,” Cam said, laying a hand on Scott’s shoulder and steering him forward.
“Are we going to your room?” Scott asked, more than a little surprised. “Aren’t you afraid people might get the wrong idea?”
Cam scoffed, using his keycard to open the room and let him in. “Everyone knows I’m straight. I’m not as insecure about my heterosexuality as you seem to think.” He shut the door behind them. “I can have gay friends.”
“Aww, are you saying we’re friends?” Scott said with a grin.
“Right now you’re an annoyance,” Cam said, but his eyes were smiling. “You can stay in the other bedroom of my suite until they find a room for you.”
Scott’s eyes widened. “Really? You’re a lifesaver, dude!” He slung his arms around the driver and gave him an obnoxiously loud peck on his stubbled cheek.
“Don’t call me dude,” Cam said, his body rigid against him. “And it’s nothing.”
Scott dropped his obnoxious smirk and gave him a more sincere smile. “It’s not nothing,” he said, patting Cam’s chest. “You’re letting a near-stranger into your personal space on a stressful race weekend. I really appreciate it.”
Cam cleared his throat and stepped back. “It’s nothing. Just... don’t be too loud when I’m resting, and I’ll barely notice you’re around.”
“I promise,” Scott said, doing his best to look earnest. He’d never been particularly good at blending into the background or being quiet, but there was a first time for everything, right?
Chapter 5
Cam let himself into the hotel room after Free Practice and stopped, blinking at the unexpected sight.
It wasn’t as though he’d forgotten that he had a guest in his suite—Scott wasn’t exactly the kind of guest who was easy to forget—but Cam hadn’t really expected him to be here. Why would he be holed up in a hotel room when he had a VIP paddock pass to strut around in front of cameras and celebrities?
“What are you doing?” he said, locking the door.
Scott turned his head slightly, but his gaze remained on the large TV opposite the couch he was sprawled on. “Educating myself,” he said, something like amusement in his voice. “Don’t want to be the ignorant American anymore when people discuss iconic Formula One races.”
Cam walked forward and squinted at the TV, taking in the car designs and driver names he could see on the screen. The track he recognized immediately, of course. “And you decided to watch Singapore 2008 for that?”
Scott grinned at him. “Why not? It’s an iconic race, isn’t it?”
