Page 4 of Hot Lap (Speed Dating #1)

“Dead serious.” I tumble out of the car, almost undone by too much gin. “You game?”

"Haven't touched this since I was a gobby little Yank." He grins and takes my arm. "Born for this, though, no question." His smirk says maybe he’s not nearly as shit-faced as I am.

Inside, the place is mostly empty. A couple of teens hunch over a claw machine, a man sleeps on a racing bike game, and the unmistakable whir of air hockey bounces off the stained ceiling tiles. The Mario Kart cabinets glow in the far corner.

We slide into the side-by-side units. Reece settles into the seat, all ease and confidence and immediately picks Yoshi like it’s a strategic decision. I choose Princess Peach, obviously (gemstones and vengeance, always).

“I should warn you.” I look for a non-existent cup holder, then settle for putting my drink on the floor. “I’m basically terrible at video games, and I don’t have a competitive bone in my body.”

“Whoa. Head games already?” His gaze rolls toward mine as he tilts his head. “I’ll brace for humiliation.”

He shouldn’t.

I was not lying, and the moment the race starts, it’s clear he’s obscenely good. Tight corners, perfect drifts, well-timed shells — all while sipping his soda like he’s casually driving a rental. Which, I guess, he kind of is.

By the third race, he’s wiped the floor with me every time.

I gape at him. “You said you haven’t played in years!”

“I haven’t.” What a smug bastard Reece Pritchard is. "But I've been racing professionally since I was fourteen." He shrugs, all false modesty. "Transferable skills."

“That’s cheating.” I slap the wheel as Peach spins out on a banana peel.

He laughs, and the sound of it totally turns me on.

“Here.” He gets up and steps around to stand behind my seat. Before I can ask what he’s doing, Reece leans over from behind me, one arm braced on either side of me, his cheek brushing mine. He grips my hands on the wheel, and his fingers are warm, steady, and annoyingly confident.

“Ease into the turn,” he murmurs, voice low and breath brushing my skin. “Drift... now… hit it.”

I do. My kart rockets forward. I dodge three shells and cross the finish line in second place.

“I did it!” I throw my hands up and smack him in the face.

He catches my wrist, laughing. “Victory is violent with you, huh?”

I twist to look at him, breathless and giddy and way too aware of how close we are. His hand is still around my wrist, his face just inches from mine. His gaze drops to my mouth, then lifts back to my eyes.

For a second, the arcade noise vanishes. It’s just lights and breath and his smile hovering over mine.

Then I tilt my head and nearly fall out of the seat.

“Whoa.” He grabs my other arm to steady me, as I giggle. "Maybe we should chill for a few minutes."

He escorts me to a small lounge area with a few tables.

We collapse into the plastic chairs, and Reece digs in his jeans pocket — that odd little coin one nobody uses.

He pulls out something small that catches the light.

A ring. It’s platinum with a bunch of diamonds, including a sizable square one in the middle.

"What's that?" Curiosity and alcohol push aside tact.

“Engagement ring.” He holds it up, squinting at it. "I bought it for my ex, then found her shagging another guy in our bed in Monaco." He sounds more resigned than bitter.

“Cripes. What a bitch.”

His expression goes really dark for a minute, then he shakes his head. “Yeah. I should’ve seen it coming.”

“Why?”

He hesitates, then says, “I’m traveling nine months out of the year.”

“No excuses. She shoulda said she couldn’t hack it. She was just lazy and spoiled.”

He stares at the ring, turning it this way and that. The diamond is huge and really sparkly.

"Why d’you still carry it around?"

"To prove a point.”

“To who?”

"Dunno anymore." He lowers his hand. "It's bloody ridiculous. I should probably return it. Bad luck charm at this point."

I shake my head. "No it's not.” I put one hand on my heart and the other on his arm. “You loved her."

"Maybe." He looks up at the blinking lights of the nearest game, some third-person alien shooter shit, then glances toward the front windows where Hector’s SUV is parked. "You know what? I’ve just figured it out."

"What?" I'm so drunk, I don't even remember what we're talking about.

He looks back at me and there’s more intensity in his green eyes now. "The ring. I kept it so when I met you I'd have it." He captures my hand and slides the ring onto my finger. He stares at it, and this amazing smile lights his face.

Honestly? I don’t think I’ve seen a more handsome man in my life.

Reece’s gaze comes up to meet mine. "See? It fits.” There's wonder in his voice. “You're supposed to be my wife, Maiken."

I stare at him, then the ring on my hand. "Yeah. Sparkly. I love sparkles." I wiggle my fingers, watching the diamond catch the light. “Okay, Reece.” I give him a huge, lazy smile. “I'll marry you.”

“Yeah?” He looks so happy.

“Sure.” For some insane reason, this all makes sense. I look at him and smile again. "That would be the most wonderful thing, Reece Pritchard. What woman wouldn't love to be your wife?"

“Right, but is this mental?”

I giggle. “Yeah.”

We both dissolve into laughter.

"We should finish our game." I stand, but the room tilts like it wants to throw me off.

"Whoa." Reece steadies me. "Or we could call it a night. It’s after three. One of us will be a pumpkin soon."

Outside, Hector is dozing in his car. He wakes when Reece taps on the window, and looks amused at our disheveled state. "Where to, lovebirds?"

Reece answers him while I slump into the seat. He sits back and I snuggle against him, the exhaustion of a full day of dancing followed by a night of drinking and madcap adventure finally catching up with me. His arm goes around me, and I sigh, comfortable and warm.

"You smell nice," I mumble, already half asleep.

"So do you. Like gingerbread."

“Gingersnap.”

The ride passes in a haze. I vaguely register a stop and getting out, talking with some people.

Hector is there, too, laughing his ass off while someone sings off-key.

Then we’re arriving at the Wynn. Reece helps me from the car and there’s a bellhop’s surprised face.

The elevator ride is a blur, then we're in his suite. It’s spacious and elegant, with floor-to-ceiling windows that show the sky turning from black to blue as night creeps toward day.

"You should sleep." He guides me toward the bed. "I'll take the couch."

"Don't be silly." I kick off my boots and almost bust my ass. Laughing, I add, "You’re my husband, remember?"

“Whoops.” He saves me from meeting the floor with my face. "Bed for you, wife. Then I’ll bring you some water. We'll regret all that booze in the morning."

I hardly notice him returning with water bottles, setting one on the nightstand beside me. I'm already drifting off, still fully clothed on top of the covers. The last thing I remember is the gentle press of his lips against my forehead and his whispered, "Sweet dreams, Maiken."

The ring, I realize with my last conscious thought, is still on my finger.