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A beat.

Then, because she was Serena, “But also—he’s still hot, right?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Unfortunately.”

“How hot are we talking?”

“Annoyingly.”

“Like, distracting?”

“Like, I forgot how to form sentences for a full thirty seconds this morning when I saw him again,” I admitted. “He’s a giant and he’s fit.”

She cackled. “Oh, you’re gone.”

“I am not gone.”

“You are so gone.”

“I’m focused,” I said, pointing back toward the garage. “I have a job. A career. A reputation to build. And maybe a certain childhood crush is haunting me, but I mean, who can blame me? The man grew up into a damn model. It’s annoying as hell. Did you know there are entire pages dedicated to him? Like a concerning amount. He hates the media, but the media is obsessed with him.” I was rambling now but I couldn’t help it. “AND might I mention that he knows he’s hot. Well, that’s not confirmed, but he probably does, the big dumb idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved me off. “Big dumb, hot idiot. Good luck getting that crush to not consume you, you guys are like forced together for work.” Her eyes gleamed. “Oh, this is perfection.”

I snorted. “Distractions are not on the schedule.”

“Sure, sure,” she said before a bunch of noises and voices took over. She started talking to someone off screen then rolled her eyes. “Okay, I have to go, but call me later. Love you, mean it!”

“Love you.” The call ended, and I took a breath before turning back toward the paddock for our next shot. Focused and professional and definitely not thinking about Theo Bauer.

“Stand by—stand by—Maisey, you are live in three…” I was already watching the monitors when the yellow flags lit up.

Sector 2.

Then 3.

A beat⁠—

“Safety car deployed.”

Everything shifted instantly. Radios crackled louder, engineers leaned forward, mechanics already moving before the official confirmation even finished scrolling across the timing screens.

I stepped into position, headset tight against my ear, pulse kicking up.

“And we are under safety car conditions here in Melbourne,” I said as the red light blinked on. “There’s been a crash in Sector 2, and this changes everything.”

I angled slightly toward the graphic as it populated.

“Now, what this does is compress the field entirely—gaps are neutralized, and crucially, the pit lane delta is massively reduced.”

I tapped the screen, highlighting the timing loss.

“Under green flag conditions, a pit stop costs you roughly twenty to twenty-two seconds here. Under safety car? That drops to around twelve.”

I looked straight into the camera.

“That’s effectively a free stop.”

A live camera feed of the race showed Kaz’s garage erupted into motion.