To most, this wouldn’t look suspicious. After all, Reid’s an incredible driver and has been at D’Ambrosi for years, while Dev’s still adjusting to driving a new car and getting to know how Mascort operates. It’s amazing enough that Dev’s achieved a string of second-place finishes after being chosen to sub in for Zaid Yousef with seven races left in the season. It’s not easy to switch to a completely different car after driving for the same terrible team for years. Mistakes can and will be made.
But I know just how good a driver Dev is. He, Reid, Axel,and I were all F1 rookies in the same season, and he beat us all for the title of Rookie of the Year. He consistently scored points at Argonaut, his old team, even though their car was reminiscent of a tractor. He even managed towina race this season in that hunk of carbon fiber. We shouldn’t expect anything less from him than win after win now that he’s driving a car that’s a hundred times better. He’s capable of it.
This race has cemented something for me, though—Dev and Reid are conspiring. Because after all the points Reid has racked up lately, if he wins the last race of the season next week in Abu Dhabi, he’ll win the Drivers’ Championship by the narrowest margin.
I know better than to voice my suspicions, but the whispers are already there without me adding to them.
After the podium celebrations are over, I make my way back to my driver’s room to decompress for a few minutes before I’m expected at the postrace press conference with Dev and Reid. I greet and thank McMorris team members as I pass through the garage, hugging and slapping the shoulders of the people who have been amazing all season. But I pull up short when Finley Clarke steps into my path, grinning. Not sure what our reserve driver is so happy about—he never cares if I end up on the podium—but he’s gleeful tonight.
He claps a hand on my shoulder, though it’s a bit of a reach for him since he’s barely five foot six and I’m six-one. “Not a bad drive,” he commends. “Maybe it’ll convince the bosses to keep you around.”
I squint at him. The hell is that supposed to mean? My contract isn’t up for another year, which means they’d have to pay me a pretty huge sum of money to get me to leave early. After that, who knows what could happen, but he’s acting like I’m already out of a seat.
“Thanks,” I say slowly, waiting for him to remove his hand before I walk on.
I don’t get far, though. I’m stopped by the impact of someone throwing themselves into my arms, their own going around my neck. Stella’s scent hits me even harder, the sweetness of citrus wrapping itself around me and holding tight.
“For our onlookers,” she murmurs against my ear. “They’re going to eat this up.”
Her lips against my skin and the press of her body have me short-circuiting, thrown back into the memory of our first night together, having thoughts that aren’t remotely appropriate for our current setting. Like how soft her inner thighs are, or how her ass felt grinding in my lap, seeking more friction as she moved with my fingers inside her. Even our kiss earlier, wholesome as it was, sneaks into my mind, because that was still a taste of Stella. And every little sample I get makes me wish I could have more. I just want toknow. Maybe then I could get this out of my system and move on.
She pulls back before I can return the embrace. It’s probably for the best. She doesn’t need to feel what she inspires in me.
Even in her signature heels, Stella is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. She’s shed her leather jacket, leaving her arms and shoulders bare, the thin straps of her black silk dress crisscrossing over them, and—fucking hell, she’s definitely not wearing a bra. It’s made extra obvious with every excited move she makes up and down.
“That wasfun,” she says, eyes bright and smile wide, like she’s just discovered the delicious high of a new drug. “Who would have thought watching cars go fast would be so entertaining?”
I force myself to put a hand to her back to guide her to therear of the garage, her skin smooth and warm under my palm. “I’m guessing that means you’re a fan now.”
“You could say that,” she teases. “There was something sexy about watching you drive like that.” She pauses, eyes cutting to me. “I mean the pluralyou. All of you. All the drivers. All y’all, as my people say.”
I huff a laugh at her backtracking. Even with her rules, she can’t help flirting with me. I’m no better since I’m happy to entertain it. I like her banter and the way we play off each other. More than anything, I like how easy it feels.
“I don’t feel particularly sexy after sweating for nearly two hours,” I say as we step out of the garage.
Stella’s eyes are on me again, flicking up and down. My hair’s damp and wrecked from my helmet, plus running my fingers through it a million times afterward, and there’s nothing flattering about the postrace exhaustion on my face.
“You make the look work for you.” She clears her throat, eyes forward again as we cross over to the McMorris motorhome. “Anyway. I…may have done something.”
“Done something?” I ask cautiously, then follow it up with, “Good or bad?”
“Good, I hope,” she says. “I met Reid Coleman’s social media manager, Willow Williams. Turns out she’s a big fan of mine. We had a really great chat, actually. And…I found out from her that Reid has been in contact with his ex-teammate.”
I almost stumble, pulling up short outside the doors to the motorhome. It’s not because of her revelation that Reid and Lorenzo have been talking—that’s not particularly surprising—but that she took the time to find it out in the first place. “Seriously?”
Stella nods, engagement ring glinting under the lights as shesweeps her hair over her shoulder. “Seriously. And not only is she working for a driver, but she’s dating one too. Girl’s living the dream.”
“You do realize you’re married to a driver, correct?”
She drops her voice so as not to be overheard by anyone. “Accidentally and temporarily,” she points out, then returns to a normal volume. “I asked her to see if Reid might talk to you, which will hopefully lead to you speaking with Lorenzo. Maybe then you can clear the air and get an update on how he’s really doing. No promises that’ll happen, but she’s got some sway with Reid.”
Something is working its way through my chest, twisting and squirming, wrapping around my heart. “You did that for me?”
She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but this is massive, especially for someone who hasn’t known me long enough to understand how much this has been hanging over me. “Figured I might as well try.”
“Thank you,” I say. And I really, truly mean it. “I appreciate that.”
I open the door to the hospitality motorhome for her and guide her back to my driver’s room. It’s a small space, but there’s enough room for a love seat, a massage table, and a shelving unit. Stella wastes no time hoisting herself up on the table, hands tucked under her mostly bare thighs as she hooks one ankle behind the other.
