Page 30 of Drive Me Crazy
“Bonjour.” He couldn’t be more obviously checking her out. “I’m Jean-François. You’re quite the beauty, Ella.”
Hell fucking no.Is he kidding? If I didn’t want to knock him out before, I definitely do now. I don’t like how he’s eyeing her one bit. When Ella holds out her hand to shake his, he presses it to his lips for an uncomfortably long amount of time. She shoots me a grossed-out look and I stifle a laugh. The moment he releases her hand, she tucks it into the crook of my arm. The action both calms me and sends a bolt of desire straight to my dick.
“Blake here was just telling me about last season.”
I work to unclench my jaw.This fucking bloke.
“Amazing, right? Not only does he have the highest winning percentage the sport’s ever seen, but he holds the record for most wins of any Formula 1 driver. Did you know heaverages eighteen points per race? It’s no wonder he has the all-time most career points.”
Ella goes on and on, listing my achievements, going into detail about my most impressive wins. She even talks about some of my races from last year, focusing on what I did right, rather than how I fucked up. Undercutting to bring myself up to P3 from P8 at the Australian Grand Prix. Insisting on finishing the Hungarian Grand Prix on wet tires versus changing back to slick tires, securing a podium win.
“Sorry about rambling on.” Her smile is as sweet as the candy bars she loves so much. I know she’s not one bit sorry. “Blake’s just so impressive! Don’t you think?”
Her hand squeezes my arm as she waits expectantly for Jean-François to respond, which he does with a quick nod.
“Anyway. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She’s an awful liar, but he’s not a pro at reading her face like I’ve come to be. “But I just wanted to let Blake know that the CEO of Puma was looking for him. Something about a campaign for their new activewear line. I’m not really sure, but I said I’d pass along the message if I found you.”
This catches his attention. Fuck, I wish I could kiss her. Not only has she stupefied Jean-François with a brief rundown of my career highlights, but she’s also planted the seed that his competitor is trying to poach me. There’s no one from Puma even at this party.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Jean-Paul,” Ella says with doe-eyed innocence.
“Jean-François,” I correct, although she knows damn well what his name is.
“So sorry! Of course. Jean-François.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” he purrs, giving her another once-over.
Ella shoots me a “good luck” smile before walking away, her hips swaying in a way that hypnotizes me. Thankfully, theconversation doesn’t last much longer than that. After Keith praises me for impressing Jean-François, who said I was “exactly the type of person they want to partner with,” I search for Ella. I have her to thank for the endorsement not falling apart at the seams.
She’s chatting with Josie and Harry at the bar, the three of them laughing at something. I suck up the fact that I’m going to have to socialize with Harry and head over to them. I may respect him on the track, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend time with him off of it.
“I owe you big time.” I lightly bump Ella’s hip against mine. “How’d you know my arse needed saving?”
“You were giving him the same look you gave me when we first met.”
Josie’s subsequent giggle makes me realize that she’s aware of my outburst in Bahrain. Lovely. Ella shoots me an apologetic look, but I deserve it. I’d gone in hard on Ella without giving her a chance. Harry doesn’t say much; no doubt because he thinks I’m going to rip into him if he opens his mouth.
“I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” She waves off my thanks. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
If one friend constantly thinks about the other friend, then sure, that’s exactly what friends are for.
“As your friend,” I inform her in a serious tone, “I’m obligated to tell you that I know the best steak and frites place in town. Any interest in going after the race? My treat to thank you for your service.”
Ella doesn’t speak a lick of French, but she damn well knows the translation for French fries. The smile she shines on me is sultry and sweet. I like being the one to put a smile on her face because for those few seconds, I know I’ve made her happy … and fuck if that doesn’t make me happy, too.
ACCORDING TO THEO, I’ve broken “bro code” by not going out with him and Lucas after the race. He’s acting as if I’ve committed a crime against humanity. I try to tune him out, but he’s seated next to me at the post-race press conference; he placed third behind me in first and Lucas in second. Reporters are still setting up their cameras, but Theo’s keeping his voice low, so our mics don’t pick up his words.
“Mate,” he whispers solemnly from next to me. “You’re pussy-whipped and you’re not even getting any pussy.”
Lucas overhears his comment and chokes on his water. A slew of people look to see what the commotion is, but the stares don’t faze Theo, who continues his one-sided conversation. “Your actions are forcing Luc to waterboard himself. Is this what you want, Hollis?”
My lips twitch up. His dramatization never gets old. He’s been this way since we met when I was eight.
“We can’t just be lettuce and tomato,” he whines, switching tactics. Sticking out his lower lip, he slugs me in the arm. “We need our bacon.”
Ever since Ella pointed out that our initials are BLT, like the sandwich, Theo won’t stop referring to us as such. He’s seriously tried catching my attention by calling out, “Bacon!” I’m not sure if I dislike that or Blakey Blake more.
