“Jace…you did what you had to do. That boy was going to kill your team.”
“I know…I’m a fucking hero.” He lets out a bitter laugh as I continue to hug him. I had no idea what he’s been struggling with, the things he’s been carrying around with him.
After a few minutes, his drunken snores fill the room. I pull the blanket up over him and curl into his warmth. I lie there for a while, listening to him breathe. It hits me right in the chest as I wrap my arms around him, this handsome, enigmatic man—I’m falling for him.
I’m totally fucked.
I have a feeling, no matter how I try to get him out of my head it doesn’t matter. He’s already embedded in my heart.
Chapter Twelve
Charlotte
The alarm on my phone blares, and my sleepy eyes flutter open. I reach out, searching for warmth, only to discover cool sheets and an empty space next to me. I glance over and the door between our rooms is closed.
I’m not sure when Jace slipped out, but the place is silent, and he’s gone. What’s not absent is the scent of his woody spice lingering on the sheets, nor the memory of what transpired last night.
As I fumble around the room getting ready, I can’t get Jace’s heartbreaking story out of my head. I didn’t know the man was a Marine. There’s so much I don’t know about him. So much more I want to know.
I can’t help how attracted I am to Jace. Curled up next to him all night, listening to him pour his heart out, took my desire to another level. Spending time with him these past few weeks, getting to know him, has made me realize I’m developing serious feelings for him. And honestly, I’m getting tired of fighting the sentiment. It’s exhausting.
I don’t have time to overanalyze this right now. I can’t worry about any of it because I need to qualify today in order to race tomorrow. I’m laser focused on why I’m here. That’s why I slip out undetected without alerting Jace and make my way to the track. Alone.
My first two warm-up laps are disappointing, forcing me to leave the staging pit and take a missed attempt for my first qualifying run. After suffering a tire puncture, I’m ranked dead last in the pole, and this is my final shot at putting two consecutive timed laps together, or I’m out.
The team is still in decent shape with Zander Donavan and Will Dixon already qualifying for tomorrow’s race. I need to believe in the team, but dammit, I need this for me.
“Radio check.” My crew chief Becks’s deep voice crackles through the radio into my helmet.
“Copy, loud and clear.”
“Fire her up, Rookie. Need to get her on the track.”
“Got it, Becks.”
“All right, Rookie…let’s make this happen,” Becks says, as I coast my car on to the track.
I force a deep breath into my lungs, attempting to get my emotions under control. “If we got a good car, we’ll be in the mix, Bossman,” I radio back, attempting to sound confident.
I slip into the fast lane, securing my grid position at the end of the pack, waiting for the green flag. I fear my heart is bruising as it pounds against my rib cage. Welcome to bump day.
The green flag waves, and the intense battle is on for the last row shootout. It’s a free-for-all right from the start. Something’s not right. Shit.
“You got a slow start.” Becks voice is taunting in my ear. “How’s she feel?”
Like shit. “She’s loose in the back. There’s a lag in the car.”
“There’s smoke. The back of the car is fucked!” Becks booms into the headset. “Fuck!”
“I’m picking up heavy vibration,” I mutter, watching another car pass me.
“We have an issue. Retire the car.”
“Aaaaaah!” I scream in frustration. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Shut it down, Rook.” The disappointment in his tone is deafening. Not the way I wanted to start.
“Fucking hell!” I bark, removing my helmet and climbing out of the car.
“It’s not over.” Becks paces toward me, and I know he’s going to try and calm me down. “It’s not the only race of the season, Charlie.”
“What the fuck happened?” I growl, wondering if this was my last shot this season.
“We’ll get it right. You’ll get another shot in Barber.” I fucking hope so.
It’s disappointing as hell. I need to get out of here. Knowing I’ll be watching tomorrow’s race from the box is a knife in my chest. I might as well park the car for good and go home. I need to disconnect for a while because I’m starting to question everything, including myself.
I quickly wipe my tears away before I humiliate myself like a little crybaby. I discard my fire suit and grab my backpack. Exiting the track, I glance up and Jace is standing a few feet in front of me, looking like a sugary snack.
Everything melts away when he smiles over at me. Casual navy shorts hang perfectly on his hips—a Donavan Racing T-shirt hugging his torso nicely. He’s sporting a classic pair of Aviators underneath the matching team racing cap hanging low on his head.
He’s beautiful. You’d have to be blind not to see how handsome he is. Suddenly, I know what I need to make this terrible day melt away.
“You part of the team now.” I throw some sass with a wink, strutting past him. Jace follows close behind toward the rental car, without another word.
Time to take this heat off the track and introduce this gorgeous man into team racing.
Chapter Thirteen
Jace
Opening up to Charlotte last night was a rare occurrence and left me feeling embarrassed. I told her things I usually don’t talk about with anyone, not even my brother, Sammy. I trust her. Something about this woman makes me want to open up like a book. I admit; it felt pretty good at the time.
We don’t speak the entire ride back to the hotel. I want to tell her how pissed and worried I was when I discovered she left this morning without me—but the moment I saw her at the track—my guard instantly fell, and all I could do is smile. The woman takes my breath away.
The air between us is superpower-charged electricity on the elevator ride up to our floor. Maybe it’s because Charlotte had a bad day at the track, or perhaps I’m trying to stifle my irritation for her ghosting me this morning. Who am I kidding? You could chop the sexual tension with a machete.
“You coming?” Charlotte holds her door open after she unlocks it with her plastic keycard. I hesitate for a split second in front of my own door before following her into her room and shut the door behind us.
She drops her bag and begins pacing around the small space suddenly confined.
“Wanna talk about it?” I lean against the wooden desk in the corner and fold my arms over my chest.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Do you want to talk about last night?”
“Touché,” I chuckle.
“You still got a lot of racing in you.” I walk over and stand in front of her, rubbing her bicep. “You just had a bad run today. Unless you’re a quitter?”