Page 17 of Burn
I’ll be Lily’s friend, her team confidante. I’m not going to seduce her, not going to flirt, and I’m definitely not going to apologize or bring up our past. There’s no point in dredging up those feelings.
“You were driving and lost acceleration all of a sudden? No other warnings?” She looks up from her notebook and tilts her head. Good god, she’s stunning. I’ve always thought she looked like the women in those Greek frescoes, with flowing curly dark hair and a dreamy expression in those hazel eyes. Age has made her look more delicate and vulnerable somehow, or maybe that’s what life has done to her.
The glasses are different, more angular and modern than she used to wear, and they give her a sexy, serious look. I’d love to see her completely without clothes, wearing only those black-rimmed glasses. A vision of us on a bed, naked, with her wearing her old glasses flits into my mind.
My pants feel uncomfortably tight, and I shift in my seat. “None. I was coming down the straightaway, bringing it in for a win, and it was like the entire engine shut off. I slammed my foot on the gas, and nothing.”
She purses her plump, glossy lips and a dissatisfied sigh leaks out of her. “I’m sure you’ve talked with Jack and the other engineers, right?”
“Not yet. Everyone was too upset about your father. We have a debrief call tomorrow. From the diagnostics I was able to look at on the computer, it looks like a component in the power unit.”
She takes notes, all business. Clearly she’s not remotely interested in me, not the way she once was. That’s evident by the way she’s taking notes, talking in a clipped tone—and by the way she rebuffed my lame attempt at flirtation when I told her she looked beautiful.
“We’ve got a week until Austin. My plan is to visit my father as soon as I possibly can tomorrow, arrange his care in New York, and land in Texas by the afternoon. When I get back to the hotel room tonight, I’ll get an email chain going with everyone, because we need to figure out if this engine issue was a one-off or could affect both cars going forward. I also want to be on the debrief call.”
“Esteban’s car performed well. He told me that it seemed to even get stronger as the race went on.” I wonder if she knows that fact about Esteban’s car cuts to my core.
“We’ll get it sorted out. Tell me, how’s Esteban as a teammate? I don’t know him well.”
“He’s young, he’s talented, he’s a good kid. You know this new crop of drivers. They’re—”
“I don’t, actually. They’re what?” She waits for me to respond.
“They’re all, I don’t know. Good. They don’t party, they’re serious, kind of mercenary.”
For the first time tonight, Lily laughs. Hard. Oh Christ, I missed that laugh, and it makes me grin. “What?”
“That’s what everyone said about you when you first started.”
I let out a snort. “Hell, no.”
“Yeah, they did, when you were with your first team. Remember? They called you all business, no fun.”
“I quickly disabused the press of that.” I smirk, and her face falls. Now I feel bad for acting arrogantly, but I’m sure she knows that I worked out my feelings about our breakup in the beds of other women.
“You certainly did.”
“What?” I lean in, curious to know why she’s suddenly somber.
“Your reputation in the tabloids. It’s virtually impossible to go anywhere on this planet without seeing your exploits.”
“Don’t believe everything you read. You should know thatMausbär.” Maybe calling her by an old nickname will get us out of this conversation.
She rolls her eyes. “Please. I know you well enough to understand that a lot of it’s true.”
“What do you mean by that?” I demand.
She takes a deep breath, almost like she’s steeling herself for what she’s about to say. “Look, let’s get it all out on the table. This is awkward, us working together.”
“Not for me. Not at all.” I lie. Like a rug.
Her eyes narrow, obviously not believing me. “You don’t have any problem working for me after we . . . since we . . .”
“After we, what, Lily?” I want her to say it. I need her to acknowledge what happened between us, since we’d been too immature to have a detailed conversation about our breakup back then.
“Since we slept together,” she hisses.
I pause to clear my throat. That’s what she thinks? It was only sex between us? Because I remember something quite different. I sit up a little straighter. “Yes, that. And no, I’m an adult. I can work with you despite our past. The question is, can you?”