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“Is that so?” Keir’s eyes met mine, a challenge in their blue depths that made my heart rate pick up. “Let’s see if I can break it.”

As Keir settled onto the couch beside me—closer than strictly necessary—I couldn’t help noticing how Sophia and Mia exchanged disappointed glances before drifting away. The satisfaction I felt was petty and completely unjustified, but I couldn’t seem to help it.

“You’re going down, Sinclair,” I said, focusing on the screen rather than the warmth of his thigh pressed against mine.

Keir’s low chuckle sent a shiver down my spine. “We’ll see about that, little fox.”

For the first time in a month, I didn’t immediately run from the nickname or the feelings it stirred. Instead, I tightened my grip on the controller and prepared to defend my title—even if my concentration was severely compromised by the alpha at my side.

The race started, and I leaned forward, gripping the controller like it might try to escape. My character—a sleek red sports car with ridiculous cartoon flames—shot off the starting line. Keir’s midnight-blue racer stayed irritatingly close to my bumper, shadowing my every move with a precision that shouldn’t have been possible for someone who claimed business calls were more important than maintaining his racing skills.

“Not bad for someone who probably learned to drive on a Model T,” I taunted as my car pulled ahead on a particularly treacherous hairpin turn.

“A Model T?” Keir’s laugh rumbled through me like bass at a concert I was standing too close to. “I’m twenty-five, not a fossil exhibit.”

“In gaming years, that’s practically prehistoric,” I shot back, swerving to avoid a power-up trap he’d cunningly placed in my path. “You probably still think Pong is cutting-edge technology.”

Drew snorted from his spot on the floor. “He’s got you there, bro.”

“Bold words from someone about to eat my digital dust,” Keir replied, his car suddenly surging forward to challenge mine.

I was vaguely aware of movement at the doorway—the Blackwood cousins had drifted back, their perfect smiles in place as they settled on the love seat across the room. Mia gave me an encouraging thumbs-up while Sophia cheered for a particularly impressive maneuver I managed around a virtual oil slick.

“How about we make this interesting?” Keir suggested as we started the final lap, his thigh pressing more firmly against mine in a way that sent electricity up my spine.

“Define interesting,” I replied, trying to focus on the screen and not the fact that I could feel his body heat through two layers of denim.

“A wager,” he said, his voice dropping to that low register that always made my insides perform acrobatics. “If I win, you sleep in my room tonight.”

I nearly drove off a cliff. “What?”

“Just sleep,” he clarified, though the gleam in his eyes suggested otherwise. “I’m tired of you avoiding us.”

“And if I win?” I managed to ask, my heart doing its best hummingbird impression.

Keir’s smile was slow and calculated, like a chess player seeing checkmate five moves ahead. “Name your price, little fox.”

My mind raced faster than our virtual cars. What did I want? Freedom? Space? The application fees for art schools that kept mysteriously disappearing from my online cart? No—something specific, something I’d been eyeing forever.

“Your car,” I blurted. “For a weekend. No tracking, no following, no overprotective alpha nonsense.”

Keir’s vintage convertible was his baby, a sleek silver beast he polished with more care than most people gave their firstborn. The freedom it represented—even temporarily—made my fox ears want to pop out in excitement.

His eyebrows shot up. “You drive a hard bargain for someone whose driving instructor quit in tears.”

“That was one mailbox,” I protested, executing a perfect drift around a corner. “And it jumped out of nowhere.”

“Mailboxes are notorious for their ambush tactics,” he deadpanned. “Deal.”

Drew whistled low. “This just got serious. Five bucks says Finn crashes in the next thirty seconds.”

“Your faith is overwhelming,” I muttered, taking a corner so sharply my knuckles went white on the controller.

Jake and Tyler exchanged glances, clearly entertained by the alpha being challenged so directly. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sophia lean forward, her perfect features arranged in an expression of delighted interest.

“You’ve got this, Finn!” Mia called, though her eyes kept drifting to Keir’s profile with unmistakable appreciation.

The final stretch was intense, both of us hunched forward like old men reading fine print, controllers gripped with white-knuckle determination. I was ahead by a whisker, victory tantalizingly close, when Keir unleashed a power-up I hadn’tseen coming. My car spun wildly, tires smoking, while his sleek racer slipped past me to claim first place.