Page 75 of Cross the Line
He shakes his head, fighting a grin and losing. ‘There she is. The menace I remember.’
I laugh. ‘You’re probably going to regret telling me to go after Dev. That means you’re stuck with me too.’
‘How terrible,’ he deadpans.
Before this conversation, I might have believed he meant that. But as it turns out, Mark’s not my enemy. If anything, he’s the best wingman in the world.
I let him torture me for another ten minutes before I tap out and allow him to help me sit up slowly. But before I can hop down from the massage table, he clamps a hand down on my shoulder and looks me hard in the eyes.
‘Talk to your brother,’ he insists. ‘After the Jeremy fiasco, I don’t know how open he’ll be. He knows Dev would never hurt you on purpose, but he might need time to work through his feelings about it all.’
I take a deep breath and blow it out. ‘I’ll talk to him,’ I promise. ‘But it’s got to be face to face.’
Mark nods and lifts his hand from my shoulder, offering to help me climb down from the table. Once I’m standing, I give his fingers a tight squeeze.
‘Thank you, Mark,’ I say, glad to have this newfound camaraderie. ‘For both therapy sessions. You should charge me double.’
That drags the loudest laugh from him I’ve ever heard. It’s still relatively quiet in the grand scheme of things, but I’ll take it.
‘This one’s on the house,’ he teases. ‘But next time, you’re paying full price.’
——
On Monday afternoon, I sit with Chava on the plane to Belgium, headed to the last race before F1’s summer break – and the last race I’ll be joining the team on the road for. The flight is less than two hours, but it’s still too much time to be stuck sitting next to Dev.
On Tuesday and Wednesday, I wander around Spa and Francorchamps, snapping photos to post to both my own social media and Dev’s.
On Thursday, I watch from the back of the crowd as Dev charms his way through interviews and meet and greets, then slip away before he can seek me out.
On Friday and Saturday, I hide behind Mark and Chava in the garage, doing my best to keep my interactions with Dev to a minimum. He constantly tries to catch my eye, but he seems to know better than to engage me.
Staying away from him has been torture, but I need the space so I can determine how I want us to move forward from here. My head goes fuzzy when he’s too close, and all reasonable thoughts disappear when the familiar warmth of his cologne hits me. God forbid he brush my hand or sweep my curls over my shoulder; I’m an immediate goner. Nothing but a pile of goo on the floor.
I’d be disgusted with myself if I didn’t know that my feelings were reciprocated. Honestly, I might be the slightly less obsessed party here – though not by much.
I want to be with him. That much I’ve already settled. But it’showandwhenwe make that happen that I’m working on. It would probably be best if we held off until my contract with him and Argonaut is up at the end of August. I don’t think we could go public until a few months after that, or at least until I landed a job on my own merit.
But that feels like an excruciatingly long timeline. Though if it’s the safest way for us to be together, then maybe it’s how things have to be. Still, it’s going to be torturous to hold out.
I’m hoping my resolve will stick around as I take the stairs up to Dev’s driver room. We have a couple of hours before the race, and I need to snap a few photos of him getting ready, since those always perform well. People really like seeing him in his tight fireproofs for some reason . . .
Chava and Mark disappeared while I was still sipping my latte, so they should be up there already. At least they can act as an intermediary. It’s worked okay so far, especially after my chat with Mark. He wants me to be sure of my decision, so if he can help, he will. Even if it means keeping Dev and me apart for the time being.
But the boys are nowhere to be found when I step into Dev’s room and shut the door behind me. He and I are completely alone – and he’s half naked.
‘Oh,’ I hear myself say, cringing when I do. But that doesn’t stop me from staring at him in those incredibly tight pants that leave nothing to the imagination. ‘Sorry, I can—’
‘Good, you’re here.’ He snags the fireproof shirt hanging up on the rail he’s standing next to. ‘You want to get some photos? It looks like people are digging my helmet for this weekend.’
I couldn’t care less about his new helmet design and how much people like it when I’m staring at his rippling back muscles.
‘Uh-huh.’ God, I need to snap out of it. I clear my throat as he finally tugs his shirt on. ‘Where are Chava and Mark?’
When Dev’s head pops out of his shirt, his hair is sticking up in every direction. ‘Mark had to grab something and Chava had a call to make.’ He sweeps his hair back. ‘They should be back in a little while.’ He turns to inspect me, a brow raised in challenge. ‘You done avoiding me?’
I wasn’t trying to be sly, but it warms me that he knows exactly what I was doing. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I say lightly, making sure he can see my smile.
He chuckles as he reaches for his race suit next. ‘I’d be offended if I hadn’t told you to take time to figure things out.’
