“You watched my interviews?”
“Well, I’m a fan?” Scott said, his lips folding into a wry smile.
Cam tore his gaze away. There was no way the guy hadn’t had some work done on his face. Men didn’t have lips thatpretty. They just didn’t. Too soft and pink and full. Downright feminine. They looked ridiculous on a man’s face.
Cam scoffed, getting out of the car and taking off his helmet. “Are you asking me? You don’t sound sure.”
“I mean, I am a fan,” Scott said, getting out of the car as well. “Like, yeah, I started watching Formula One only last December, but—”
“Let me guess, you came to the title decider in Abu Dhabi with some celebrities and decided that you’re a fan of the guy who won.”
Scott glared at him, but there was amusement in his eyes. Good. At least the guy had some self-awareness. “Hey, it was a great race,” he grumbled, honest-to-godpouting. “You were very impressive.”
Cam snorted. “Did you even understand enough about Formula One at that point to know that I was ‘impressive’?”
Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “Kinda? Your overtake on Beaumont was super cool. I didn’t understand everything that was going on, but everyone in the paddock club was so excited, so it infected me too.” He met Cam’s eyes and smiled. “And then after the race was over, you took off your helmet, and of course I became an instant fan.”
Cam struggled to keep his face neutral.
The guy was flirting with him. Blatantly.
To be fair, Cam was no stranger to fans doing it. Hell, he knew a good portion of his fans were women who supported him largely because of his looks and not his driving skills. He was fine with that. That was how Formula One alwaysworked. Even teams preferred getting handsome drivers over plain ones, because handsome drivers meant more sponsorship, more attention, more fans, more support. Cam didn’t like that it worked that way, but he couldn’t exactly complain, since he was pretty lucky when it came to the looks department. At least he wasn’t the only handsome driver on the grid. Hell, Bastien Beaumont looked like he could givethisguy a run for his money as far as supermodel looks were concerned.
So yeah, fans commenting on his looks or flirting with him was nothing new. But it was different when it was a male fan. And a gay male fan at that.
Scott laughed a little when the silence stretched. “I mean, surely you’ve been told you look like Pierce Brosnan’s Bond, right?”
Cam hummed and lengthened his stride, hoping the guy would take the hint and leave him alone.
He didn’t.
“Obviously Brosnan has blue eyes while yours are dark, but you’re the spitting image otherwise,” Scott said. “You sure your mom didn’t have a secret affair with Brosnan?”
“Are all Americans this tactless or is it just you?”
Scott laughed. “Ohh, theignorant Americancard—I must have really annoyed you. You’re the fifth person who’s called me theAmericanthis morning. Until I got into Formula One, I had no idea how snobbish people in this sport were toward anything American. Which, like, I get, because this sport is primarily popular in Europe, and most drivers are from Europe—”
“There are some from Asia and Australia,” Cam said. Snobbish? Him? That was rich, coming from a guy who wasdressed from head to toe in designer clothes and carried himself in a way that screamed old money and privilege.
“You’re a Brit,” Scott said with a grin. “British snobbery is the worst, I swear. It never seems to matter how much money my family has or how old our money is—you Brits have a way of making me feel about two inches tall.”
“I’m more German than British,” Cam said. “I grew up in Germany.”
Scott cocked his head to the side, studying him from under his absurdly long eyelashes. “I don’t see it. You don’t look German.”
“Didn’t realize all Germans looked the same,” Cam said dryly. “You don’t look American, either.”
Scott grinned. “Yeah, I’m afraid I wasn’t blessed with all-American good looks. Not blond and wholesome enough.”
Cam scoffed. The guy knew perfectly well how good he looked. He was just fishing for compliments. Flirting again.
“You can drop the pretty smiles, mate,” Cam said evenly. “Not interested.”
Scott blinked once, twice, before laughing sharply. “Wow, you have a hell of an ego,mate. I wasn’t coming on to you. I like smiling at people. It’s not flirting.” When Cam shot him a look, Scott shrugged. “I’m serious. You aren’t even my type.” He ran a hand through his wavy hair. “Like, obviously you’re very handsome, and I like looking at pretty things, but personally, I like them smaller and slimmer than me.” He smirked. “So no offense, but you do nothing for me. I like cute twinks.”
Cam looked at him skeptically. The guy was too...
“What?” Scott said, narrowing his eyes. “You thought that just because I dress well and know how to style my hair, I have to like taking it up the ass?”
