Page 10 of Over the Limit

Her throaty voice is as seductive as her smile. As are the full curves of her body. As is her personality.

“Hey,” Rossi says and thankfully interrupts thoughts I shouldn’t be having.

“Hey.” Her attention shifts to him as she walks farther into the garage. “How was testing?”

“Shit.” Rossi sighs and shakes his head as she steps up beside him. “But that’s par for the course, isn’t it?”

“You looked pretty good out there to me,” she says and tucks a piece of auburn hair that’s fallen from her messy bun behind her ear.

I study her much like I did the other night. Maybe even more so. She’s average in height with a full figure that begs for hands to be run over every single curve. Her lips are full, and her cheeks hold a natural pink on the apples of them. Her lashes are thick, highlighting expressive eyes. And lately, I’ve wanted those eyes to look toward me instead of Rossi.

You know this woman, Lach. You’ve interacted with her for several years now. On the track. At her outreach events. In the paddock. You’ve spoken to her casually many times. You know her.

So why does it feel like I actually see her all of a sudden?

“Right?” Those storm-cloud eyes turn my way, her eyebrows lifting with them.

“I’m sorry.” My smile is as automatic. “What did I miss?”

“Lach’s busy trying to figure out ways he can sugarcoat our shit luck,” Rossi says but doesn’t quite pull off the lightheartedness he tries to infuse it with.

Blair shrugs Rossi’s hand off her shoulder and rolls her eyes. “Just like you’re always trying to stir shit up, hmm?”

“Always,” he says and winks.

“The masquerade ball. That’s what I was talking about. I asked if I could count on you to be there.”

“Yep. Why wouldn’t I be there?”

“I knew I could count on you.” She winks and chuckles as she takes a step back.

“What? You can’t count on me?” Rossi asks jokingly.

“Nope. Never,” she teases but there’s a raw hint of something in her answer—a subtle strain of tension. That’s what I saw last Saturday night too.

And of course, Rossi smirks like no harm, no foul.

His attitude toward her irks the fuck out of me. And even if I did, she always comes back. I grit my teeth as his words replay in my mind.

She’s not disposable.

Far fucking from it.

Yet that’s how he treats her.

Or maybe I’m just fucking crazy and overthinking shit that is none of my damn business.

If she weren’t happy, she wouldn’t be with him. Right?

“Talk to you later,” she says to Rossi and pulls me from my thoughts.

“Maybe. I have plans. We’ll see,” Rossi says. Blair winces before taking a step back without looking my way. Almost as if she’s embarrassed that I was witness to this exchange.

Definitely strain between the two of them. I’m not crazy.

We both stare at where she just was, no doubt wondering completely different things.

I wait a beat and then look at my teammate. “Really?”