Revved (29 page)

I’m going for the kill-her-with kindness theory. It’d be awesome if it actually worked. That was a joke—kind of.

I walk over to Petra, who is currently scowling at Sienna.

“Restroom,” I say with a jerk of my head.

“Let’s go.” She takes hold of my hand. “Back soon, Benny Boy.” She pats his shoulder as we pass.

By the time we make it to the restroom, I am actually in need of going.

When I’m finished, I come out of the stall. Petra is at the sink, applying her lipstick in the mirror above it. I can see her eyeing me carefully as I wash my hands, but she doesn’t say anything.

I appraise my outfit in the mirror. I’m actually wearing a skirt tonight. Cute little floaty black number that I got when I went shopping with Petra the other day. I’ve teamed it with a pretty sparkly strappy black top and some low silver heels. My hair is down in loose waves.

I look nice. Well, not as nice as the pop princess, but whatever.

I blow out a breath.

“You okay?” Petra asks.

“I’m great.” I flash her a smile, and then I get my gloss from my clutch and start applying it to my lips.

I’ve been faking smiles and saying, “I’m great,” a lot lately.

“I didn’t know Carrick and the mega bitch were coming tonight.” She grimaces.

That’s brings me around to face her. “It’s not your fault they’re here. And I didn’t know they were coming either. But it’s not a big deal.” I lift my shoulders in a way that says I don’t care—when we both know I really do. “I’m fine about it.” I turn back to the mirror to finish applying my gloss. “I’m over the whole Carrick-and-Sienna thing anyway.” I press my lips together, making a smacking sound. Then, I fasten my tube of gloss up and drop it in my clutch.

“Sure you are.” She gives me a disbelieving look. “This is me you’re talking to, Andi, not Ben. You don’t have to bullshit me. If you don’t want to spend the night around Carrick and the mega bitch, then we can go somewhere else, no problem. Today has been a tough day for you, and I’m not having the good mood we’ve got you in ruined by that talentless, humongous pain in the arse.”

I snort out a laugh at her candid description of Sienna.

Yesterday, I did succumb, out of morbid curiosity, and listened to one of the most recent songs by The Diamond Babes. Not my thing, but I can see why they’re popular. The main singer is really talented. That being said, Sienna is definitely only there to make up the pretty numbers. Petra insisted on playing me some of their live stuff—you know, just to torture me. It’s fair to say that Sienna can’t sing a note, and that’s not me being a bitch. She really can’t.

“Okay…” I concede on a breath. “But I am fine to stay, I promise. I need to get over my stupid crush or whatever it is that I have going on for Carrick, and the way for that to happen is for me to be around him and her.”

She stares at me for a long moment, her head tilted to the side.

“What?” I shift, uncomfortable.

“It’s not just a crush, is it?”

“What?” I give a nervous laugh. “Of course it is. What else would it be?”

“Love? If not love, then it’s definitely well on its way to being that.”

“I am not in love with Carrick!” I scoff.

Am I?

No…definitely not.

Her hands go to her hips. “Andi, I might not have known you for a long time, but I’m good at reading people, and you might not even realize it yourself, but you’re in love with him.”

I laugh loudly because I really don’t know what else to do.

I’m not in love with Carrick. Definitely not.

I pick up my clutch, tucking it under my arm, as I’m gearing to leave the restroom and put a quick stop to this conversation.

“If Carrick wasn’t a driver, would you be with him?”

I’m jolted back to that moment in Barcelona, dancing with Carrick at the party, when he asked me pretty much the same question, only in a different context.

Sighing, I lean my hip against the sink. “Maybe.”

She mirrors me. “I think it’s a definite yes.”

“Are you a psychic nowadays?” I smile so not to come off as bitchy.

But she doesn’t say anything.

A somber sigh escapes me. “Okay, fine. Yes, maybe I would risk being with Carrick if he were just a normal guy. But he’s not a normal guy. He puts his life at risk every time he climbs in that car and pulls onto those tracks. And that’s not something I can live with. But really, all of this is a moot point because Carrick
is
a driver, and he’s not exactly into me in that way. Sure, he wanted to shag me, and I think he probably would again, given the chance, if he weren’t with Sienna, but he is, and he definitely doesn’t want a relationship with me.”

“Oh my God!” She throws her hands up in the air. “Andi, I adore you. I do. But you are
the
most deluded person I have ever met.”

“Thanks!”

“Seriously, if you went out there and told Carrick to dump the mega bitch and be with you, he would in a heartbeat. A fucking heartbeat. How do you not see that?”

Turning to the mirror, I curl my fingers around the edge of the sink as I try to control my emotions. I look up at her in the mirror.

“Because if he did care about me, then he wouldn’t be here with Sienna. That’s not what you do when you care about someone. And it’s definitely not how you show someone that you care.” I bite off the last word.

“You blew him off, Andi! And Carrick is a man who isn’t used to being blown off. You seriously injured his pride, and this is his way of retaliating. I’m not saying it’s right, but it’s obvious that’s why he brought her here. He’s out there with Sienna, trying to show you that he doesn’t care when it’s as clear as glass that he does.”

Is that true? Is that why Carrick brought Sienna here?

No. And to think it would only be pure vanity on my part. I’m not that important to him.

“I don’t think so, and even if he did bring her here for that reason, it doesn’t matter because—”

“He’s a driver, and you can’t be with him! I got the memo on that one. I just…” She lets out a wistful sigh. “You guys would be amazing together. I just wish you could see that.” Turning to pick her clutch from the counter, she finishes with, “I just wish things were different for you, is all. You deserve to be happy.”

I wish for that, too.

“As do you.” I put my arm around her, giving her a half hug.

“You know what you need to do? Shake it off, like Taylor Swift is always telling us to do. Shake off all the Carrick-and-Sienna crap. It’ll make you feel a million times better.”

I let out a laugh as Petra grabs my hands and starts to shake them around. Then, she’s wiggling her body, and I’m laughing and joining in with her.

“Did it work?”

“Actually, it did.” I grin at her.

“Cool. Well, let’s get our hot arses back out there and take a lay of the land. You can forget all about Carrick. And I’m thinking I need to pull me some fine Frenchman tonight and get laid French-style.”

“Is there a French way of getting laid?”

“Dunno.” She shrugs. “But they invented awesome kissing, so I’m betting they fuck just as well, if not better.”

Laughing, I thread my arm through hers and let her lead me back out into the bar.

“
DRINK
?” Petra says into my ear the moment we’re back in the thick of the crowd.

I nod in response.

We head back to where we left Ben and Carrick. My heart starts to pick up pace as we approach, and I’m a little more than relieved to find them gone.

“I wonder where Ben is,” Petra says.

“He’ll be with the guys.” I squish myself into a small gap at the bar to try to get my drink order in.

Petra stands on her tiptoes, looking around. “Ah, yeah, there he is. He’s outside in the seating area with the rest of them.”

Turning my head, I follow her finger in the direction it’s pointing. I can see the guys, some seated around a small table, some standing.

Sadly, Sienna is there, sitting with her back to us, talking with one of the pit guys. Carrick is standing, facing our way, talking to Ben.

Almost like he hears me think his name, his eyes flicker straight in my direction, so I quickly look away, turning back to face the bar, hoping to get the bartender’s attention.

“Why don’t you go over to them?” I say to Petra over my shoulder. “There’s no point in both of us waiting here. It could be ages. I’ll come over with the drinks in a few. You can go chat with Robbie,” I say teasingly.

I told Petra what I’d said to Robbie and all about our fight. She was fine with it, and I was glad because the last thing I would ever want to do is upset her.

“Maybe I will.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “I might even pass up my plans for a French shag if Robbie acts like a normal person for once.”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “Go on.” I give her a playful shove.

Watching as she weaves her way through the crowd, I turn back to the bar, sighing at the sight of both the barmen down at the other end of the bar.

The DJ must have just turned up the music, and Calvin Harris’s “I Need Your Love” starts to pump through the speakers.

It’s impossible not to dance to this song, so I find myself moving to the beat, singing along with the words.

I feel a body press against my side. Turning my head, I find Leandro Silva standing next to me.

Holy shit!

Leandro Silva drives for one of the best teams in Formula 1. He’s brilliant, and he was considered number one for a long time—until Carrick came along and knocked him off his spot, that is. It’s rumored that they have a mutual dislike for one another.

I’ve admired Leandro’s driving for a long time. He’s one of my favorite drivers, and it helps that he’s Brazilian, not that I’m biased or anything. I’ve wanted to meet him for forever. Of course, I’ve seen him at the track, but I’ve never gotten up the nerve to go over and introduce myself.

I wonder what he’s doing here.

“Hello.” He gives me a panty-dropping smile, a sexy dimple appearing in his cheek.

Oh God.

Did I mention that Leandro is really good-looking? Like
really
good-looking. Not better than Carrick. Just different. To Carrick’s dirty-blond hair, Leandro’s is black. To Carrick’s blues, Leandro’s eyes are as dark as night. And to Carrick’s golden skin, Leandro’s is olive.

Okay, I’m guessing you get the picture.

“Hi.” I try to smile, but it comes off as more of a grin, and it feels awkward on my face. And that’s probably because I’m staring at him like a starstruck idiot.

It’s just…I’ve watched this guy race on the TV since I was sixteen! He’s a hero back home in Brazil.

“You’re Andi Amaro, right?”

He knows my name!

Hang on…he knows my name?

“How do you know my name?” It comes out sounding a little shorter than I intended, so I give a curious tilt of my head to play it off.

He lets out a deep chuckle. “You’re famous. Did you not know?”

“No.” I screw my face up. “Famous for what exactly?”

He angles his body toward mine. We’re suddenly awfully close for two people who have just met. So close that I can see the hint of chocolate brown that centers his eyes, and I can smell his musky aftershave. But then to be fair, there isn’t exactly a lot of spare room here at the bar.

“There aren’t many female mechanics in Formula One—and definitely none as beautiful as you.”

My cheeks redden.

What?
I’m a girl, and Leandro Silva just called me beautiful. He’s a brilliant driver and a hot older guy—well, when I say older, I mean, he’s thirty—so, of course, I’m going to be flattered.

“Sorry, I forgot myself. I expect you to know who I am, but you might not. I’m Leandro Silva.” He holds his hand out to shake mine.

“Of course I know who you are,” I reply, my face flushing, as I slip my hand into his.

His hand is warm and rough. And I feel a spark of something. But nothing like what I feel when Carrick touches me.

Removing my hand from his, I turn back to the bar.

“So, I hear that you are a fellow Brazilian. Well, half-Brazilian. The other half is English, correct?”

I look at him, a smile tugging on my lips. “You know way too much about me.”