HALLIE

S econd place. It’s still five thousand. Enough to pay Lily back.

And the thrill? That was priceless.

I cut the engine and climb out, breath catching as the high starts to wear off. I need to find Pete. Cash first, consequences later.

But the second the door shuts, the hairs on my arms rise.

“Hallie. What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?”

That voice. That accent.

Oh, shit.

I turn slowly, hands protectively cradling my stomach like they’ll shield me from the storm stomping straight toward me.

Conan.

He’s furious, his jaw locked, eyes burning. Rage radiates off him like heat from asphalt.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, unable to meet his eyes.

He stops in front of me, towering, and I brace for the explosion.

“Sorry? You nearly gave me a damn heart attack on that last fucking corner. A McLaren handles way smoother than your Shelby. Remember that for next time.”

Next time?

My head jerks up. He’s grinning.

“You’re not mad at me? For using your car?”

He shakes his head, stepping in closer.

“I’m mad you didn’t invite me to join.”

His fingers brush my hair over my shoulder, knuckles grazing my neck. I shiver.

“The fact you took my car to illegally race it is one hell of a turn-on. And you would have won if you didn’t understeer that corner at the end. Fuck, if you’d have won, I probably would’ve made a mess in my boxers.”

I squint, trying to gauge if he’s joking. He isn’t.

“So just to clarify. You don’t care about me racing? I’m not about to get a spiel on how dangerous and illegal it is? And you’re not going to demand I stop?”

His hands settle heavily on my shoulders.

“I’m far from an angel. You’ve got skill. It clearly makes you happy. That’s what matters. That beautiful smile of yours is worth the mini heart attacks you give me.”

My whole face warms. I smile so wide it hurts.

“So I can keep the McLaren? Do a swap?”

I bat my lashes, pushing my luck. His smile falters.

“No.”

That catches me. He’s not mad about the car. It’s something else.

“So why are you in such a grump? Worried I might’ve smashed up your car?”

He steps back and runs both hands down his face, pacing a second before turning on me again.

“What the fuck? No! I couldn’t give a shit about a bit of metal. You, Hallie. I’m worried about you.”

“Really?”

He exhales like it costs him, then pulls me against his chest. My tension drains as I settle into his embrace.

“I’d give up every single car I own in a heartbeat if it was a choice between you and them. Hell, I’d give up everything. You just need more practice in the McLaren before you race again. And I would never dream of taking your Shelby from you in return.”

Tears well in my eyes, and I wrap my arms tighter around him.

“You did good, trouble. I’m proud of you.”

Those words crack something open. I haven’t heard them in two years. Not from someone who meant it.

A sob punches out of me.

“Baby, please don’t cry. I promise I’m not upset,” he murmurs.

I tip my head up. His brows pinch, like he doesn’t know what to do with the mess I’ve become.

“I’m not sad.” I sniff. “I’m happy, I think.”

He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“You want me to drive you home? I’ll have my men follow behind and drop the McLaren off?”

Pete clears his throat behind us. I flinch, but Conan doesn’t let go.

“Well done, Hallie. Here.” Pete hands me the wad of cash, eyes darting nervously between us.

Conan glares at him like he wants to rearrange his face.

“Conan. Good to see you.” Pete backs away slowly into the crowd.

“He’s scared of you,” I whisper.

“Fucking right.”

He takes my hand and guides me to his Range Rover. Two men, who are absolute giants, wait beside it like they were built in the same lab.

Conan tosses the keys to one. The other groans.

They nod silently and disappear with the McLaren. Conan opens the passenger door for me, but I don’t move. I have something on my mind, and I have to blurt it out.

“Are you hiding who you really are from me, beastie?”

His jaw twitches. One second later, he’s right in front of me, my back pressed against cool metal.

“Fine one to talk, Ms. Adrenaline Junkie.”

Okay, fair.

“There are a lot of parts to me, trouble. You gotta stick around to see them all.”

He leans in, green eyes wildfire hot.

“Should I be scared of you?” I whisper. “Everyone makes it out like I should be. Like I’ll end up dead with you.”

He doesn’t answer. Just grabs my throat and pins me against the door.

My breath stops.

His eyes darken.

“Are you scared of me?” he growls. “Or scared of what you feel for me? Because you know damn well I’d never hurt you. Does it matter who they think I am? The only version of me that matters, is the one I am with you.”

His grip loosens. My lips part on a shaky breath.

God help me, I believe him.

“I-I didn’t say I’m scared of you. I asked if I should be.”

He lets go, and I miss his touch instantly.

“Get in the car, trouble.”

He grabs my ass and helps lift me into the seat.

I don’t know what this thing is between us. But I know one thing—being just friends isn’t going to cut it.

We ride home in a comfortable silence, with his hand on my thigh the entire time.

“Are you coming in?” I ask when we pull up at mine.

The McLaren’s already there. The twins waiting beside it like statues.

“I can’t, trouble. I gotta get those assholes home. But your Shelby’ll be ready tomorrow. I’ll see you then?”

A lump lodges in my throat. Disappointment swallows me whole. Something has shifted between us.

“Okay. Fine. Thanks for the ride home.”

As I reach for the handle, his hand clamps around my shoulder.

“What’s the attitude for, darlin’?”

“Nothing.”

“You going to lie to me? Hmm?”

“No. I’m just tired, let’s leave it at that.”

I shrug him off and step out.

Maybe I read too much into this. Maybe I’m just a hormonal mess disappointed he doesn’t want to rail me.

“Night, trouble.” He blows me a kiss.

“Night, Conan.”

Inside, I barely make it three steps before I hear footsteps behind me again.

“Hey, you need the key.”

I turn to one of Conan’s men; I don’t look at him, just grab the keys.

“Thanks.”

I run inside, slam the door, and lock it.

The cash spills across the counter when I dump my purse.

I definitely rattled him. He’s hiding something. And he’s scared, maybe not of me, but of what he feels.

Same.

Bertie barrels down the stairs and jumps on me.

“Hey, baby boy,” I coo, petting him.

I let him out into the garden and step out after him, the sky wide and black and full of stars.

I miss you, Dad.

I blink the tears back, go inside, and pour myself one of his favorite whiskeys. I can’t help thinking that even that is a strange twist of fate. Of all the distilleries, all the whiskeys, my dad was obsessed with the one Conan’s father created.

Grabbing my phone, I debate texting Conan to apologize. But, before I can do that, his name pops up.

I answer. Of course I do.

“Hallie…”

I’m already smiling.

“Conan…”

“I can’t go to bed knowing you’re upset with me. Can we talk?”

“I’m not mad, I promise. I was just disappointed you didn’t want to…” I trail off. I sound like a ho.

“Didn’t want to?”

“Come into my house. Kinda felt like you were brushing me off after I asked if I should be scared of you.”

He sighs. Long. Heavy.

“I didn’t mean to do that, baby. I’m sorry. I’ve… not ever had this kind of friendship with a woman.”

Friendship. That stings.

I toss back the rest of the whiskey.

“If you want to just be my friend, maybe don’t call me baby. Or darlin’. Or trouble.”

He chuckles low.

“Darlin’, you have no idea. But I think we’re on the same page about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That being friends ain’t enough.”

I blow out a long breath, feeling the heat start to rise.

“I-I think you might be right, beastie.”

I twirl my hair through my fingers, waiting anxiously for his answer.

“Tomorrow? Let’s talk about it then? Yeah?”

He seems a bit nervous, and that just makes me fall harder.

“Let’s do that. Thank you for calling, checking in on me. I appreciate that. I’ll come to the garage after my shift.”

It makes me feel secure and validated.

“I don’t want you to be angry with me. Get some rest, my racing queen, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I giggle at that. I’d love to race him.

“Night, night, Conan.”