Page 21 of Battle Scars

“As in all of us,” Rowan fills in.

“Dark Horse is pretty exciting,” I reply with a proud smile.

“No,” Erin says. “Just the girls. They want to do a Rosie the Riveter style shoot on the three of us. All about the women of racing.”

“Now that is cool,” I reply before looking at Rowan. Her past isn’t my story to tell, but she does have one. “Are you cool with this?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “It’s not me they really want. I’m just hot-as-fuck background material.”

“You’re more than background material,” I murmur to her.

“Not yet,” she says with a hesitant smile. “But soon.”

“What else is on tap today?” I ask, clapping my hands once to change the subject.

“I’d like to run some tests on the B car,” Erin says. “I think we’ve fixed the drag issue.”

“Awesome. Let’s get her on the track,” I reply. “Let me just go suit up really fast.”

I make my way to the locker room and open my locker. I kick off my sneakers and pull on my fire suit. I have it halfway up, not completely covering my ass, when I catch movement out the corner of my eye. I jolt and straighten immediately, letting free a scream.

“Jesus,” Gabe bites out as he covers my mouth with a meaty palm that I push away. “You’re fucking loud.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” I pant, out of breath.

“I told you if you can’t see me, I can’t see you,” he says like he’s explaining something to a child.

“I was changing.”

“You think a killer will take the time to wait while you make yourself decent?”

He has me there, but I’m not ready to admit defeat just yet. I’m a girl who can hold a grudge no matter how tingly a guy makes my bits and I’m not ready to let go of how mad he’s already made me in the last twenty-four hours.

“You could have told me you were here.”

“It’s not my job to hold your hand,” he says coldly.

I look away, swallowing against the nervousness that creeps up my throat, and nod. God, he’s a jackass. I wonder, not for the first time, if he was born with the stick lodged up his spectacular ass.

“Good. Now get ready.”

I let go of my fire suit where I’m clutching it to my chest, slip my arms in, and do up the pulls. I slide my feet into my boots and pull my gloves, stocking cap, and helmet out of the locker before stuffing my sneakers in the bottom and closing it up.

With Gabe on my heels, I make my way out to the track. Erin has just pulled my B car around to the test track, and I tug on my stocking cap.

“Let’s see what she can do now,” Erin says as she moves out of the way so I can climb in.

“It’s my favorite part of the day,” I say with a smile on my face, the first genuine one in what feels like days.

I raise my leg to climb up, and for the second time today, Gabe grabs me by the back of my clothes to stop my progression. This is not a habit I want to get into.

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Gabe?”

“Yep.”

“What are you doing?” I ask, doing my level best to keep my tone neutral and non-threatening.

“Not a big fan of repeating myself, babe,” he says with an edge that says I’m an idiot. That I definitely do not like. My frustrations with him is pushing to the foreground.