Page 8 of Drive Me Wild (Drive Me #2)

EIGHT

JOSIE

Race weekends are either so hectic that I forget to drink water for extended periods of time, or so calm that I could head back to the hotel for a quick catnap and no one would have any idea.

Today is a shitstorm worthy of a tornado report on the local news.

The morning starts off normally, but quickly devolves after Blake crashes his car during morning practice. Unexpected rain hit while the cars were out and he took a turn too quickly, forcing it into the overrun and barriers. The team has to rebuild it in time for qualifying tomorrow, or he’ll start at the back of the grid.

Then Theo spent thirty minutes during a live interview with SkySports discussing why his spirit animal would be a red fox. Is his assessment accurate? Yes. He makes some good points. Is it necessary? Absolutely not, and now his team is running way behind schedule.

I head to the conference room for some semblance of peace and quiet. I set up a few Instagram and Facebook ads for our newest line of merchandise before typing “must-see landmarks in Le Mans” into Google. The French Grand Prix is still weeks away, but tons of Formula 1 employees and team members extend their stay in France and head to Le Mans to attend the 24 Heures du Mans, the world’s oldest and most well-known endurance race, the next weekend.

Although researching the city of Le Mans as a kid is what initially led to my interest in motorsport, I’ve never actually visited—never felt the need to. I may have been born there, but the only thing French about me is my love of wine and cheese. Other than that, I’m crumpets, tea, and “All Hail the King” through and through.

But according to the internet—and of course, I believe everything I read on the internet like the millennial I am—connecting to my birth city will give me a better sense of self. So I’m going. It’s time for me to explore my French beginnings, outside of my love for charcuterie boards.

I’ve been creating a guide of all the things I want to do once I visit. I’m busy making a reservation at a cocktail bar I discovered on Instagram when Theo appears in the doorframe. The blue shirt he’s wearing makes his eyes pop and hugs the contours of his muscles, highlighting the work he puts in at the gym every day.

“Hey,” Theo greets me, head cocked tentatively. “Can I come in?”

I give him what I pray is a casual and cute smile. “It’s a free country, babes.”

“Bahrain is actually a constitutional, hereditary monarchy,” he says matter-of-factly. “According to Blake.”

I shake my head and smile. Blake knows a little about a lot, thanks to his love for watching documentaries. “Well, it’s a free conference room at least, so you may do as you please.”

The smile on his face widens. “What about whom I please?”

Nope. I can’t let a few orgasms get in the way of my favorite sparring partner. I start singing “Thank u, next” by Ariana Grande, and a low chuckle rumbles out from Theo’s chest. He once told me I’ve got more songs in me than a jukebox.

As he makes his way over, I quickly switch tabs, so it looks like I’m doing actual work. Theo settles into the chair to my right because, of course, in a conference room with ten chairs, he has to pick the one where I can smell the masculine deliciousness of his cologne.

He rests his large hand on my forearm. I hate that my mind automatically thinks of the magic he can do with those fingers. “Are you annoyed with me?”

My brain short-circuits as his hand torches my skin. “I’m annoyed with you quite often. You’re going to have to be more specific, Walker.”

He snorts and sweeps his hand from me, as if the simple touch wasn’t making my heart forget to beat.

“I don’t know. Haven’t seen you much since the last race, and I wanted to make sure you’re not avoiding me after…” he lowers his voice, “you know.”

If I’m avoiding you, it’s probably because every time I look at your lips, I imagine them pressed against mine.

“We’re good,” I reassure him. “No dramas, mate.”

He grins at my use of an Aussie phrase. “Glad you can still joke around with me.”

“Just be glad I found your dick to be more than adequate, or the jokes wouldn’t be merciful.”

The words come straight from my G-spot, up my throat, and out of my mouth before I can stop them. Abort. Mayday. Code red. Phone a friend.

“More than adequate, eh?” He turns his chair to face me, triumph gleaming in his eyes. “Tell me more.”

I nervously giggle because apparently, I’m a teenage girl with a crush on her friend and not a woman who knows she can’t blur the lines of an important friendship, no matter how more- than-adequate his dick is. “Aren’t you supposed to be at a press conference?”

“Nope.” He drums his hands against the table. “Got pushed back an hour thanks to Blakey Blake.”

“What’d he do?” Blake gets extra grumpy when he has back-to-back interviews and, honestly, I don’t blame him. How many times can reporters ask the same question but disguise it as something new? And ask about Ella in an interview? You’re pretty much blackballed from ever asking him anything ever again. “Cuss someone out? Flip a table? Throw a water bottle at a reporter?”

“Goldy had a phone call with a lawyer that Blake wanted to be there for.” Theo scratches the five o’clock shadow that perpetually marks his jaw. “Very nicely asked if we could move some things around.”

I nod in silent understanding. Ella’s testifying in the case against Conner Brixton—the man who assaulted her a year and a half ago—and Blake’s been her rock through the pre-trial hearings and never-ending calls with her lawyer. “Makes sense.”

Theo smiles, a row of white teeth showing. “What’re you working on?”

Before I can answer, he turns my computer so he can see my screen better. Okay, nosy. It’s a good thing I wasn’t stalking his Instagram or anything embarrassing like that.

“Why are you emailing James Avery?” His voice is unusually distant. “Do you work with him closely?”

I take my laptop back to see what he’s looking at. It’s an email I received earlier in the morning. I don’t know if it can be considered an email, considering the message is written in the subject line: Please send report of website traffic from last quarter.

“He sent that to the entire marketing team,” I point out. “It’s not like we’re having a one-on-one email chain about something top-secret.”

“Have you met him?” he asks, a sudden note of contempt creeping into his voice.

“First Grand Prix,” I respond. “He came to a marketing meeting and introduced himself. He’s… interesting.”

Theo’s back straightens immediately, his face suddenly tightening. “What’d you talk about? Did I come up?”

“Yeah, I told him your national security number and blood type,” I tease with an eye roll. “No, you were not a topic of conversation, Walker. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

He nods to himself, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. Cool.”

“Are you okay?” I gently nudge him with my elbow. That’s the only physical contact I’m allowing myself to have with him. “I just told you the world doesn’t revolve around you, and you didn’t fight me on it.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I’m good. Avery is just… well, he’s not good news. Let’s leave it at that.”

“He seems kind of creepy,” I admit.

Theo tilts his head at me, waiting for me to elaborate.

“Wes said he asked for her number so he could ‘text her if he had any immediate questions.’”

Theo leans back in his chair, a frown playing on his lips—the lips I can’t stop staring at. Ugh. “He was like that back in Milan, too. He likes his women legal, but young.”

Wait, what? Theo knew Avery before when he was driving for Ithaca?

I don’t get a chance to press him further because Theo grins at me, making any coherent thoughts I may have fly out the window. “Want to play video games with me tomorrow night? And before you say no, I promise to give myself some sort of a handicap to even the playing field.”

“Is the handicap that you play with your toes instead of fingers while blindfolded?” I ask incredulously. “Because that’s the only way I’d stand a shot of winning.”

He laughs low in his throat and pinches my cheek. It’s a friendly gesture that reminds me that we are indeed friends, which means I have to stop looking at him like he’s a Playgirl pin-up. “C’mon, Jos. Pleeaaseeeeee ? Pretty please with a cherry on top? I don’t want to play by myself.”

I ignore the double entendre. “Can’t you ask Lucas or Blake? Harry? Mateo? Or literally any other human who actually enjoys video games?”

“Aww.” Theo pouts his lip. “That’s so cute that you thought you were my first option. Of course I already asked them. They’re busy.”

I smack his arm. “Rude.”

“What if I throw in the promise of ice cream?”

“Aww,” I mimic him. “That’s cute that you thought ice cream wasn’t already part of the deal.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, exposing the paleness of his neck in comparison to the rest of his bronzed body. “Does this mean you’re in?”

I rest my chin in my hands. Do I want to spend my Saturday night playing video games? No, not particularly. But I do want to re-establish the boundaries of our friendship, and this is the perfect opportunity to do so. Plus, my only other option right now is to third-wheel Ella and Blake. Again.

“Easy games only,” I concede, lifting a brow to show my seriousness. “And no yelling at me if I do something wrong.”

“It’s a date, princess.”

I absolutely hate the feverish rush his words give me. Theo does sex, not dates. There’s nothing wrong with that, except sex between friends is never just sex. I’ve seen Made of Honor . And Friends with Benefits. And 13 Going on 30. Hell, I even went to Katz’s Deli, which is where they filmed the famous orgasm scene in When Harry Met Sally , when I went with Ella to visit her friend Poppy in New York.

“Purely platonic, Walker,” I warn him.

“Or strictly sexual,” he challenges with a playful grin. “Come over around eight?”

“Yeah, I’ll come.” My cheeks heat at the innuendo of my words, so I quickly add, “To your hotel room.”

Theo doesn’t miss a beat. “I thought you said this was purely platonic, Bancroft?”

He winks and my ovaries explode like fireworks. Keep it together, Josie. Leaning back, he flashes me his signature smile, and it immediately feels like I’m burning up in the tropics.

A man with charm is a very dangerous thing…

A few hours before qualifying on Saturday, I meet Wes in McAllister’s motorhome. Albie, McAllister’s head chef, made his famous toasties for lunch and to say I’m excited is an understatement. If I had the metabolism to eat this for every meal, I would.

“Do you want to do dinner tonight?” Wes asks, twirling her platinum blonde hair around her finger. “We can go to that Mediterranean restaurant you were telling me about?”

As a foodie, I essentially moonlight as a Yelp page in every city we visit during the season. “Wish I could, but I promised Theo we’d hang out.”

She doesn’t respond, giving me a look instead. There’s no way she knows we slept together. Right? My breath catches in my throat as I contemplate my options. Deny it? Own up to it? Pretend to faint to get out of the situation? I bit my tongue to stop myself from singing Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me.”

“There’s sort of a bet going on…” Wes finally tells me with a guilty smile. “Whether you and Theo are going to get together.”

My hands smack the table so loudly, people sitting around us turn to see what’s going on. “Between who?”

“Uh, everyone.” Wes laughs. “Wouldn’t be surprised if some of the team principals are in on it.”

I glare at her through my shock. “That is completely absurd!”

Absurdly accurate but absurd, nonetheless.

“Oh, c’mon, Jos! The two of you have always been close,” Wes rationalizes. She shoots me a wide smile, revealing the slight gap in between her teeth and the two dimples at the corners of her mouth. “This would’ve happened ages ago, but you’ve just always had a boyfriend. First there was Jason, and then Andrew… Wait, didn’t you date someone between them? His name started with an R?”

“Robbie,” I grumble. We only dated for a few months, but things got intense way too soon, like they always do. “He was never an official boyfriend, though.”

“My point remains.” Wes rolls her eyes and takes a bite of her sandwich. “You’re always dating someone . You’re a relationship girl.”

Tell me something I don’t know .

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” she clarifies. “But maybe it’s time for you to have a little fun. Go for the guy who doesn’t want to settle down.”

I hate that everything she’s saying makes perfect sense. And if it were anyone but Theo, I’d probably jump on the idea. But adding sex to our friendship would dip us dangerously close to relationship territory when that’s the last thing Theo wants and the last thing I need. Our friendship is more important to me than some temporary sexual desire.

“You just want us to get together because you’ve got money on the line,” I tease, hoping to steer the subject away from Theo. “And I’m not giving you that satisfaction, babes.”

I start singing The Rolling Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” although I’m not sure if I’m telling her or reminding myself.