Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Hearing him speak so plainly about his mother—about the weight of it—was unexpected. He showed me true vulnerability. It made me want to both hold him still and push him forward, to show him he doesn’t have to carry it all alone.
And the way he talked me off the insecurity ledge meant more than he’ll ever know. He’s my competition and had every right to let me wallow in my doubt. Instead, he offered validation that refilled my confidence reserves, so I’ve got a full tank heading into Silvercrest.
A low, sleep-rough voice breaks through my thoughts. “You always up this early?”
I glance over my shoulder. Ronan’s in the doorway, barefoot, jeans slung low on his hips, chest gloriously bare. His hair looks even more unruly in daylight, and his half smile is pure trouble.
“Occupational hazard,” I say, lifting my mug. “Racers don’t get to sleep in.”
He crosses the room and my heart trips over itself as he leans down to kiss me. It’s slow enough to make my fingers twitch against the ceramic, and I consider giving up my coffee for another round of sex.
When he pulls back, he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, eyes roaming over my face. “What’s on your agenda today?”
I suppress a shiver of yearning from his look and clear my throat. “I’ve got to go into London. Team stuff—media interviews, a few sponsor meetings.” I take another sip, watching his expression shift from mild curiosity to something more assessing. “What about you?”
“HQ all day,” he says, scratching a hand through his hair. “But… I could come into London after. We could grab dinner. Stay at my flat.”
I try to suppress the thrill of the offer. I half expected him to pull away a bit, not only because relationships seem out of his comfort zone, but because we’re both heading into a race in six days. I thought he might want space, and frankly, we should be narrowing our focus on it.
I let my heart have the last say. “I’d love to.”
Ronan’s face lights up with a rare, genuine smile and my stomach does that swooping thing—but it falters when I slap my palm to my forehead.
“Wait… actually, I can’t.” The groan slips out before I can stop it. “I forgot I made plans to have dinner with Carlos tonight.”
His brow lifts a fraction, not enough to look surprised, but enough to signal the change in the air. “Just you and him?”
I narrow my eyes at the faint edge in his voice. “Yes, just us. He’s my friend, Ronan.”
He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms loosely. The posture is casual, but the faint quirk of his mouth is pure skepticism.
I set my coffee cup down, meeting his gaze head-on. “You can’t be mad at me for having dinner with a friend.”
“Not mad,” he says, clipped and quick. “No right to be mad.”
That much is true. But his expression says otherwise. There’s a tension in his jaw and something brewing behind his eyes. “You’re being weird,” I counter.
“Skeptical isn’t being weird,” he asserts.
I tilt my head, letting my hair slide over my shoulder as I study him. “Skeptical of me?” My tone’s lighter than how I feel, but the question hangs between us.
“Of Carlos,” he says flatly.
I blink at him. “But why?”
Ronan rolls his eyes with a slow shake of his head, like the answer is so obvious I should’ve guessed it already. “Because he’s a man, and any man with a heartbeat is at risk of falling hopelessly in love with you if you give him a little attention.” He looks briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “Besides… I don’t trust him.”
For one heartbeat, all I can think about is that first part—the idea that any man could fall hopelessly in love with me. The warmth it stirs is immediate and inconvenient, and I have to push it aside before I express words I can’t take back. “That’s ridiculous. Carlos doesn’t look at me that way.”
Ronan snorts, the sound disbelieving, like he’s humoring a child who’s claimed the sky is green.
I straighten, squaring my shoulders in challenge. “Fine. If you’re going to be weird about it—and you are most certainly being weird—why don’t you join us? You’ll see for yourself it’s nothing to worry about.”
That gives him pause. His brows draw together, his gaze sharpening on me. “Join you?”
“Yeah… have dinner with us.” I put my hands on my hips and let my voice tilt toward a dare. “Or are you too scared?”
The glimmer in his eyes is unmistakable—challenge accepted. He pushes away from the counter, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”
The way he says it—edged with dark promise—sends a shiver through me I’d never admit to. Which is exactly why I push him further. “You don’t have to be jealous.”