Page 68 of The Spare
“I’d try tomorrow.” His voice was heartbreakingly vulnerable. “And every day after.”
CHAPTER35
Marcus
We landed in Brussels ninety minutes later.
After we landed, it was mayhem. Sloan was impossible when she wasn’t in control. I hoped she would close her eyes and let me lead her twenty steps so she didn’t spoil it for herself. She, of course, refused.
We stood at the entrance of the Spa-Francorchamps instead of in the McLaren pit, as I had planned. Watching her as the pieces started to fall into place was incredible.
“But this car, on the De Spa-Francorchamps, that's the dream.”
I took her hand and began leading her through the corridors, following one of the engineers. When we walked into the pit, she saw one of the McLaren team cars, suitable for two, being prepared.
“No.” She inhaled sharply. The realization of what was happening slowly poured into her. Her eyes went wide.
“You can’t drive an Artura on this track, but the team was able to spare one of their cars.”
By spare, I meant I bought it. The look on her face was worth it.
She stood in stunned silence for a couple of seconds. “I can drive that,” she pointed to the car, “on the track?”
I nodded.
“What’s all this for?” she squealed.
As if it weren’t already obvious. The look in her eyes was everything I was hoping for.
“Marcus, I can’t believe you did all this.” She wrapped her arms around my torso and rested her head on my chest. “Thank you.”
“Have fun,” I said, remembering the ground rules, just as she turned to run to the car.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her back. She bumped against my chest, and I wrapped my arm around her waist. My chin dropped to rest on her shoulder. “This isn’t without guardrails. If you want to go any faster than one hundred miles per hour, you’re going with him. And he’s driving. Any slower, you can drive the lengths, not the turns.”
I pointed to a man standing next to the quarter-million-dollar car. Since it was during the F1 season, the team couldn’t exactly spare their driver, so one of the backup drivers was persuaded to fly in from Bahrain.
“He’s cute.” She turned around and smiled.
“That’s not funny.” Did I love the idea of another man taking her around her literal fantasy? Hell no. I certainly didn’t love that I was the one who set it all up. But I wasn’t ever going to put her in harm's way. “He’s there for your safety, he so much as touches you—"
“Relax, I prefer my men completely unavailable foryearsfirst.” She grinned, gave me a quick peck, and walked ahead in a hurried excitement.
* * *
About an hour later, the McLaren was back in the pit. When I planned this excursion, I assumed I would use the time to finish some work. But seeing Sloan rip through a racetrack at over a hundred miles an hour was unsettling.
I also realized why Sloan never dragged Xander to anything related to racing. It brought up terrible memories.
The agonizing anxiety finally ceased when the car was parked and Sloan got out of the driver's seat.
She scanned the pit to find me and darted over once she did. “That was amazing! Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Jumping into my arms, she wrapped hers around my neck.
That smile made my heart dip.
I leaned my head against hers, and my arms looped around her waist.
“Are you finished being a gentleman?” Her brown eyes sparkled in the late afternoon light. I wasn’t one of the society types she’d dated in the past, I had every intention of making that difference known.
