Page 18

EIGHTEEN

Blake

I’M FUCKING ANGRY, but I’m fine. My ego’s more bruised than I am. The car can be rebuilt; my points can’t be recovered. Harry’s slowly creeping up behind me for the World Championship title this year and that makes my head hurt worse than getting hit with 5.6Gs of force. At least no one got points given the red flag that ended the race. They shouldn’t have let the race happen with the heavy rain and low visibility. The FIA is no doubt scrambling to come up with some sort of statement explaining why the bloody fuck they kept the race going for so long.

I’m usually able to brace for impact to lessen the blow, but Harry knocked the fucking wind out of me. The crash isn’t entirely his fault thanks to the weather, but he’ll still be penalized for it. No one can predict how the rain will affect our cars, no matter how much we try to prepare for anything.

I’m anxious to leave the medical tent next to the circuit, but I know I can’t until the doctor gives me clearance. All drivers who are hit with a certain amount of force are required to come here to ensure they’re okay. I sit on the foot of the stiff medical bed I’m stationed in, answering a text from my sister, when I hear Ella’s voice.

“I am allowed in there too. I have a badge and rights, you know.”

I can’t help chuckling at the scene before me. Ella’s waving her McAllister pass in the face of a young nurse. The guy can’t be older than twenty-three years old and seems confused about whether he should feel threatened or not. He looks around for help, but everyone else is preoccupied. Poor kid. Ella’s McAllister pass doesn’t mean much to him, but she’s putting on an air of importance.

“I’m sorry, miss,” he stammers, the tips of his ears turning as red as his hair. “No visitors until he’s cleared.”

“Visitor my ass,” she fires back. “Do I look like a visitor to you, buddy?”

Oof. Ella means business when she calls somebody “buddy” or “buddy boy.”

“She’s fine to come back,” I call out to where they’re standing.

I shoot Ella as much of a smile as I can manage, but it looks more like a pained grimace. I don’t want her to be here, to see me weak, but I also don’t want to be alone. She pushes past the flustered kid and rushes over to the medical bed I’m in. Throwing her arms around me, she buries her face into the crook of my neck. I’m surprised by her public display of affection.

“Careful, sweetheart,” the doctor warns. “He’s a bit bumped and bruised.”

She quickly releases me, jumping back as if my body’s on fire. It may as well be with her being so close.

“It’s okay. Don’t think she can hurt me much considering she weighs no more than eight stone.”

The doctor gives a short laugh before giving us some space.

A frustrated noise escapes Ella’s lips as she turns her attention back to me. “How much is eight stone in pounds? I don’t know the metric system and it’s rude to talk about a woman’s weight, you know.” tion back to me. “How much is eight stone in pounds? I don’t know the metric system and it’s rude to talk about a woman’s weight, you know.”

She slowly scans my body, looking for any obvious injuries. There’s nothing sexual about the way she’s looking at me, but my body heats under her intense gaze. She looks flustered and stressed, her hair falling out of her scrunchie, and the laces on her trainers (or gym shoes as she calls them) undone.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Her voice is barely audible.

“Hey,” I coax, pulling her toward me, “look at me.”

We’re face-to-face, her body nestled between my legs at the edge of the bed. I revel in the intimacy of having her so close. She bites her lip, avoiding eye contact.

“Don’t worry about me. Stuff like this has happened before and it’ll most likely happen again. Just part of the job. I promise I’m okay.”

Nobody likes crashing, but there’s always a chance of it. It’s a risk we take every time we get into the car, whether it be a practice, test drive, or race. It’s hard to explain, but crashing is a very small price to pay for the chance to get behind the wheel. With all the new safety features the cars have, it usually looks way worse than it is.

“Ever consider a new career path?”

“Ha.” My body starts to relax. “Not a chance in hell, love.” She leans her forehead against mine for a brief second, causing my breath to catch in my chest. It’s intimate and unexpected. Her scent is intoxicating, a mix of vanilla and honey. My hands snake around her waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I pause, staring at her. Is my head more fucked up from the crash than I originally thought?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Did you cry?”

“Of course I cried, you idiot. Your car spun out, like, a million times and then you got fucking body slammed. Did you expect me to laugh?”

She frowns as if I said something offensive.

“Don’t worry, El. Seriously.” I offer up my signature smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Me and your paycheck are AOK.”

“You mean more to me than a paycheck and you know it. So don’t minimize my feelings.”

I mumble an apology, trying to hide how her words affect me. I know she cares, but fuck does it sound good to hear. I’ve never had an Ella before. Someone who waves her badge and goes full-blown Karen at a Ron Weasley looking kid just to make sure I’m okay. And who cries because she’s worried I got hurt. It’s starting to freak me out how much I like being around her.

Before I can think too much about it, Theo barges into the tent. The redhead doesn’t even attempt to stop him.

“Holy fuckin’ hell, mate.” Theo swears loudly as he makes his way over to me. Given his intense fear of hospitals and doctors, I’m surprised he came. “Are you all right?”

Ella immediately takes a step back upon seeing Theo. My arms feel empty as they release her body and fall back to my sides. I wish I could pull her back, but I’m already playing with fire. And she seems embarrassed by her out-of-character display of affection.

“I’m all good,” I promise Theo. “Just going to be sore as hell tomorrow.”

“You just always have to one-up me, don’t ya?”

I roll my eyes. Theo’s crash in Singapore last season was brutal. And naturally, everything is a competition between us, so the only reason I could have possibly gotten hit was to outdo his crash.

Theo turns to Ella and winks. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s a sore loser.”

“Why can’t you guys just one-up each other by seeing who shotguns a beer quicker?” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “You’re both insane.”

“Insanely handsome,” Theo corrects her. “We already know that, Goldy.”

ELLA HASN’T LEFT my side since finding me after the crash. She took up residence in the medical tent, waiting patiently for the doctors to release me. I couldn’t help but chuckle when she told the nurse I requested a small snack and then proceeded to eat the Jell-O and saltines they brought. Her face is etched with worry, giving me glances every few minutes to make sure I’m not going to suddenly keel over and die. There’s no point in reassuring her that I’m fine. I’ve tried and failed numerous times. She even follows me into my hotel room because apparently, I can’t walk through a door without my unlicensed nurse by my side.

I leave Ella and head to the bathroom, turning the shower to the hottest temperature. Shower, eat, sleep. That’s all I want to do. The steam blissfully envelops me as scalding hot water pounds down, massaging the tension out of my body. I don’t realize how long I’ve been standing there until my fingers resemble raisins.

Stepping out of the bathroom, a petite brunette lying comfortably on my side of the bed greets me. Her hair is sprawled out on my pillow, the white case barely visible under her thick hair. She’s sporting an extremely oversized red sweatshirt and what I hope are some type of shorts underneath.

“That may’ve been the world’s longest shower.” She flips through the channels on the TV, not even glancing in my direction. “I found a movie that looked good, but it’s not in English and I can’t figure out how to get the subtitles on.”

I thrust an impatient hand through my hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I swiped your room key and changed when you were in the shower so I could spend the night here.”

Yeah, because that explains everything.

“Like bloody fuckin’ hell you’re sleeping here.” I need a good night’s sleep. Not one where I’m up the whole night hyperaware and painfully turned on knowing her body is in my bed when she may not even be in fucking shorts. I’m getting hard just thinking about it and am momentarily thankful she’s not looking at me as I readjust the towel around my waist. I also don’t want her to see me take my medication. Knowing and seeing are two different things.

“Yes, I am,” she argues.

“Seriously, El,” I growl, my displeasure apparent. “You’re not sleeping here. I’ll carry you out if I have to.”

“And I’ll bite you if I have to.” Her voice carries the same level of annoyance as mine.

I smirk. “I’d rather enjoy that.” “Kinky.”

She finally turns my way and I wish she hadn’t because the look in her eyes is so innocently sultry it unnerves me. She unabashedly rakes over every inch of my body with her gorgeous eyes.

“You kind of look like a cologne model right now.”

“How does someone model cologne?”

The bed bounces as she smacks the empty space next to her. “Settle in and I’ll tell you.”

“I sleep naked, you know.”

“Congrats.” Her eyes focus back on the TV, attempting to figure out where to find closed captioning.

“And I like to cuddle,” I try again.

“Great, there’s an extra pillow right here you can spoon with.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re incredibly exasperating?”

“My parents and therapist in not so many words.” She shrugs, unbothered. “Oh, and Sal. He owns a bagel shop by my apartment building in New York. He says it’s a good thing I’m sweet because I drive him insane. But same thing.”

I bury my face into my hands, groaning loudly.

“I don’t have women sleep over unless we’re fucking.” My voice is once again serious. “I’m not about to change that because you want to have a slumber party, love.”

She pauses at this and I briefly worry she thinks I’m propositioning her for sex. Again. Yeah, I want to fuck her, but none of the circumstances I have imagined that happening in (and there are many) have played out like this.

“And I’m not about to stay up all night worrying if you’re okay. So just let me annoy you for one night. Then I’m back to my own bed and you can bring back as many women as you’d like to fuck and cuddle and sleep naked with.”

Now I feel like a bloody bastard. Fuck. I can tell my aversion to the situation makes her uncomfortable. The clicker lies untouched next to her as she watches TV, although it’s obvious she can’t understand a word of what’s being said. A few moments pass before I break the silence, asking if she wants to order room service.

“Get me my own plate of fries, please,” she requests.

“As if I want you eating all my chips.” The room phone is on the bedside table next to where Ella’s lying. I walk over and pick up the receiver, leaving a healthy amount of space between the two of us. I’m in my towel and still can’t tell if she’s wearing anything under her sweatshirt. I pray to God she is.

Ella spends almost thirty full minutes convincing me to watch an episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit . I ask her why she loves it so much. It’s crime and murder, which is straight up depressing shit. Her answer? She likes when victims get justice. Fuck if that doesn’t rip my heart right in two. It’s cute when she happily hums along to the theme song and yells “bum bum” at the end. We watch a few episodes but end up spending most of the show just talking.

It’s comforting to see Ella cuddled in my bed, clearly at ease, trusting me not to take advantage of her like Brixton probably would. I may come across as an uncaring arsehole in the media, but I’m not a monster. I’d never do anything that wasn’t completely consensual. I care about Ella too much to “hump and dump” her.

We call it a night when Ella can no longer hide her yawns. I honestly can’t think of the last time I had a woman in my bed and we didn’t have sex. There’s usually not much talking that goes on between the sheets besides dirty talk.

She snuggles under the covers, looking at me expectantly. “Okay, do you want me to turn around now or what?”

I stare at her blankly. Turn around for what? The devilish look in her eyes makes my throat dry.

“I’m giving you privacy to get undressed.” She shoots me a sweet smile, testing how far I was going to take my lie. “I thought you slept naked.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She shrugs indifferently. “You’re the one who wants me to know if you’re packing heat or not.”

Insane. This girl is going to drive me insane and yet I can’t get enough of it. I peel my shirt and shorts off, keeping my boxers on. “Don’t even say it.”

She now has the answer to whether I wear boxers or briefs, something she questioned on her podcast episode about Formula 1. Pretending to zip her lips, she nestles into the pillows. I absolutely hate sleeping on the left side of the bed, but she’s fully claimed the right side as her own. Her glasses, water bottle, and phone all rest on the bedside table. I’m not going to sleep much anyway, so I leave it alone.

“Night, Blake. Sleep well.”

“Good night, Ella.”

I’m wide awake and staring at the ceiling an hour later when I suddenly feel a warm body next to me. Lord help me . If Ella wants to screw around right now, it better be over the covers and with the lights on so I can admire every inch of her naked body.

I wait a minute to see where she’s taking this but realize she’s out cold … she’s snuggling me in her sleep. The rhythm of her breathing is steady as she curls up against me, resting her head on my chest. I carefully wrap my arm around her, pulling her closer. She sighs faintly, completely comfortable with the arrangement. I eventually fall asleep to the sound of her soft, shallow breathing.