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“What is it?” Jameson’s voice brings me back.

I didn’t expect this to be so rough on Theo.

“Nothing,” I say finally.

I take him in, his probing expression, the tension in his body. Suddenly I’m not thinking of Theo.

“Come to think of it, I might need your help with something.”

Heat flares in his eyes as he steps closer. “Say less.”

He backs me toward the patio door. My hand slips down the door to the handle. It takes me three tries to push it wide enough for us to trip inside.

Jameson grabs me, keeps me from falling. Through one cracked eye, I glance at the corner of the room. It’s dark and shadowy. Threatening.

“What’s wrong?” Jameson asks as he feels me stiffen.

I don’t answer.

His lips twitch. “Go have your shower. I’ll do a sweep for eight-legged intruders.”

Gratitude rises up that this time, he doesn’t make fun of me. “Thanks.”

I dart for the bathroom. As much as I want him, I can’t keep my head on what we’re doing. Plus, I need the shower.

“And don’t leave,” I call over my shoulder, clutching my towel with one hand.

He’s already crouched in the corner, inspecting the crevice. “I won’t.”

I take a second to admire him before stepping into the bathroom, closing the door most of the way. The shower is modern, the kind that’s level with the floor and doesn’t have a bath, and hot water explodes from the showerhead when I turn it on.

As I drop the towel and step inside, pulling the glass sliding door after me, I still can’t believe Jameson Ashford is in my room.

I stick my head under the spray, the warmth of the water feeling delicious on my body that’s still cold from being outside in my towel.

The rising steam obscures part of the glass, but when I peer out, I can still see my face reflected in the mirror over the sink. The necklace around my neck.

I’ve never been the one with her future laid out in front of her like a bouquet of flowers to choose from. But somehow, I’m in a Miami hotel waiting to race a car I’ve worked on, Jameson Ashford playing white knight in my hotel room a few feet away.

Is this my life?

My dad’s warnings come back at once—about the academy, about ARI. I’m sure he’s just worried it’s too much of a boys’ club, or that I’ll be disappointed when I fall short of attaining my dreams.

The knock on the door makes me jump.

“Yes?”

“All clear.” Jameson’s voice comes through the door.

“Okay.” My throat is tight despite the humid air.

I rinse my hair, squeezing out the ends, and start to wash the rest of my body.

“You good?” He’s still there. I can’t see him, but I hear him at the inch-wide gap. “Townie?”

“Great. Fine.” I say it in a rush.

Suddenly I’m overheating, and I reach for the glass door and slide it open.