Page 76 of Drive Me Wild
“The Dutch Grand Prix is next weekend.”
“Bloody hell.” Closing her eyes, she runs her hands over her face. “I didn’t even think about the race.”
I could never forget a race… it’s what my life revolves around. It’s what hers does, too.
A deep sigh comes from her chest. “I have a lot of time off I haven’t used.”
“Isn’t it a little last minute?”
That’s what she told me when we went to Le Mans. McAllister asks for at least two weeks’ advance notice.
“I’m sure I can convince Rhys to make an exception,” she says, almost to herself. “Plus, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, you know? When else am I going to be invited to a menu tasting with aMasterChefcontestant? And it’ll be good for me to be there. Bars are all about the experience and the food is obviously a big part of that. I want to make sure the dishes are unique enough to make us stand out but also not too fancy that it’ll turn the average bloke away. We have to toe the line of being good food, but not four-course sit-down meal good.”
Us? We?
“So, you’d be missing work for other work? Isn’t that, like, against the rules or something?”
Her shoulders lift into a shrug. “It’s not like I’m missing the race to help Catalyst or something, babes. And how I spend my time off is none of McAllister’s business.”
But it’smybusiness.
I look down so she can’t see the way my lips have settled into a petulant pout that refuses to leave. Everything she’s saying makes sense, but that doesn’t mean I like her missing a race. Josie’s not only my girlfriend; she’s my support system. She’s the final person to wish me luck before I hop into my car, the only person whose laugh can make me feel better after a shitty practice, and the person who cheers the loudest when I win. Blake may be the fan favorite, but I’ve always been Josie’s favorite.
“Hey,” she says, cupping my cheek and forcing me to look at her. She thinks her brown eyes are dull and boring, but they’re not. They’re the color of my favorite hot cocoa topped with cinnamon. They drive me wild. “Are you upset?”
I shrug. “I’m going to miss you, is all.”
“I’ll miss you, too, baby. But it’s justonerace,” she tells me. “You’ll be so busy, you’ll hardly notice I’m gone!”
Not likely.“Will you still watch?”
“Don’t be silly. I haven’tnotwatched a race in years. It’ll just be from my television instead of from the pit garage.”
That last part is the part I don’t like. “And you’ll be at the next race, right?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
The same reason you won’t be at this one. Your priorities are elsewhere.
She looks at me with a fraught plea in her eyes.Fuck.I know she wants me to be okay with her missing the race, and I am. Well, I’m trying to be. This is important to her. And I’m not like Josie’s exes.
“Just making sure.” I shoot her an understanding smile to ease her nerves. “The tasting will be amazing. I’m jealous.”
“Don’t worry,” she promises. “I’ll send youlotsof photos.”
I’m not sure which Grand Prix will be worse; tomorrow with my family mad at me or next weekend’s with Josie not in attendance.
The clackingand grinding as engineers with tools in hand work on my car pounds in my head.Thump, crank, whoosh.I take a small sip of the coffee Blake brought me, but immediately spit it back into the cup. When I do drink coffee, I like the taste disguised by milk and artificial sugar. I thought drinking it black would jolt my system awake, but no such luck.
“Stop acting like it’s motor oil,” Blake scoffs. He takes a sip of his twin coffee, not even flinching as he swallows.Gross.
“Don’t disrespect motor oil. That tastes way better thanthis.”
Blake rolls his eyes before nodding at the entrance of the garage. “You know she was coming?”
I shake my head. My mum’s wearing an old McAllister shirt—from my dad’s racing days—but the number and last name stillwork. She steps over kidney-shaped oil stains on the concrete as she makes her way over.
“Hey, Mrs. Walker,” Blake greets my mum as she pulls him into a hug. “How’re you?”
