Page 62 of Out of Control

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Rossi

“I knew I’d find you here,” Blair says from behind me.

Fuck. Of course she’d know.

“Maybe I came here to be alone.” I take a sip of my coffee and look out at the empty track before me. The morning sky still has hints of that dawn gray that the rising sun is chasing back into hiding. The garages to the far right of me have crew members milling about but nothing chaotic like there will be in the coming hours.

“And maybe you came here because you’re brooding about something and don’t know how to deal with it.”

“That’s a stretch,” I mutter. This is why I don’t let people get close. Close people can read into things when you don’t want them to.

Blair snorts. “Hardly. And no, I’m not asking if I can take a seat because I’ve earned that damn right when it comes to you.”

“God help Lach,” I tease.

“So. Oliver. What’s going on?” She tucks her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. I study her for a second, the familiarity of how many times we’ve talked like this during the years, and feel a little more at ease.

“Nothing much. Just taking it all in and getting a little perspective before hitting the track today like I sometimes do.”

“Hmm,” she says and takes a sip of her coffee. “You forget that I know you. I know you pull away when you don’t know how to deal. That you stomp around the garage when you don’t want to talk. I’m the closest thing you have to a best friend—like me or not.” She hits her shoulder against mine. “I’m here if you want to talk to someone about whatever’s going on with you. Your car was sensational in testing yesterday so it’s not the car.”

“It’s not the car,” I say.

“I think it’s whoever you’re googly-eyed about.”

Fuck. Leave it to Blair to notice.

I blow out a breath as the last few days play through my mind. The confusion. The want. The need. The silence. “She hasn’t said two words to me.”

“She?” Blair prompts.

“Mm.”

“Has she said two words to you like this whole week? This month? Like is this a normal thing or is this a because of the race type of thing?”

I purse my lips and steer my gaze over to the Moretti garages where one of their cars is being pulled onto pit row. “She’s texted only.”

“Were those texts nice or flirty or strictly business or whatever it is between you?”

“They were . . . friendly. Sexy. Flirty.” I pause and realize what they really were. “Cautious.”

Is that what they were? I was so busy tripping over myself from the onslaught of emotions I was feeling while Sofia was wherever she was being . . . cautious when it came to us. Is that what’s bugging me?

“Can you blame her for being cautious when it comes to you?” Blair asks. I level her with a glare. She shrugs. “I mean, can you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re far from perfect, Oliver.”

“No shit.”

“And you don’t exactly have a track record for being anything more than a player.”

“Yep. Got it. Don’t you need to go plant flowers with Lachlan or something about now?”

She laughs. I knew she would. Thank God.