CHAPTER FIVE #2
I wouldn’t admit it, but I already knew. I’d never missed a headline about his career. “Why agree to come here?” I asked. “Dad’s team hasn’t qualified for the world championship in at least ten years. He must see potential—he wouldn’t have bought it otherwise, but…”
Articles had called Asher the young promise of racing. As much as I loved that he was here, Stetbourg didn’t make sense.
“Does it bother you that I’m here?” His tone shifted, serious, and regret pricked my chest. I hadn’t meant to sound unwelcoming.
“No, not at all,” I rushed out. “I just thought you’d stay in Spain. You never liked it here.”
“I’m still not sure I do.” Disappointment rippled through me as he edged away, like he’d suddenly realized how close we sat.
“But I didn’t get picked by a team when I turned eighteen.
For two years, I paid for everything with the money Dad left me, but that couldn’t last. Racing’s expensive.
Forward Racing made an offer when they were changing owners.
Your father probably would’ve objected if he’d been in charge then. ”
I wasn’t so sure. Dad loved to brag about his business instincts. He knew Asher was an asset, even if they clashed.
“Also,” Asher added, “it was my dad’s first team. I think he would’ve been proud.”
I hadn’t expected him to be so straightforward. No bragging about endless offers, no pretending he chose this team for fun. Most guys would’ve dressed up the truth. He wasn’t like most guys—and I liked that.
A lot.
Probably too much.
“You miss him, huh?” Sergio Williams had been a legend. Asher had a lot to live up to, but I believed he could surpass it.
Asher leaned his head back. “All the time. Guess you miss your mom too.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Everything would’ve been easier if she were still alive.”
“I could use my father’s advice,” he said. “He taught me to race, but it wasn’t enough. Sometimes I try to imagine what he’d do, and it’s frustrating not knowing.”
I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “Mom tried to give me all the advice she could once she got sick. I wrote it in my diary so I wouldn’t forget, but…” My voice wavered.
A warm palm landed on my knee. Shock jolted through me as my gaze flew to his. Heat spread under his touch, even through denim. Then, just as quickly, he withdrew and straightened. “How many people live in Stetbourg?”
I was grateful for the shift. Crying in front of him would’ve been humiliating.
“About two hundred thousand,” I said. “We had to look it up for an econ project once, so it stuck.”
He chuckled. “Wow. Almost as many as Madrid.”
Not even close. He’d just proven he could be an ass when he wanted to. Madrid’s population was much larger.
I nudged his leg with my knuckles. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”
An innocent smile curved his lips. “Sorry, peque. So—do you want to go to college here? Does Stetbourg even have one?”
“We do. But not the degree I want.”
My chest tightened. Asher wanted to race for his dad’s team, and I wanted to go to my mom’s dream college.
It had been her wish before she died—that I study, build a career, and be independent.
She couldn’t have known her daughter would fall behind after losing her, repeat a year, and struggle ever since.
Asher studied me. “What’s the degree?”
Heat crept up my neck, blooming across my cheeks. “Spanish. But I’ll have to convince my father. He thinks it’s a whim, like dancing. I’ve been at the academy since I was six.”
“Dancing, work, Spanish… Do you ever rest?”
Therapy too—but that wasn’t something I’d share. “Sometimes,” I said.
A cold droplet landed on my cheek. Asher glanced at the sky and groaned. “Shit. We need to head home, peque. Looks like rain.”
I’d never hated rain so much.
***
By the time Asher parked the bike in the garage, the sky opened, sheets of water drenching everything—a miserable ending to a beautiful evening.
“Listen,” I said as we ran toward the house, shoes splashing through rising puddles. “About the tip—you’re getting the money back. It’s too much.”
Asher rolled his eyes, digging in his pocket.
Rain streamed down his face, and he licked a drop from his lip.
The casual gesture had no business looking that hot.
“Good luck with that. I’m not taking it.
” He pulled out the key, jammed it into the lock, and stepped aside.
“Hurry, peque. You’re gonna get soaked.”
I entered the house first. We’d barely hung our dripping jackets on the brass stand by the door when my father appeared in the foyer.
“Do you see the time, Kaia?”
My stomach sank. Shit. It couldn’t be that late. I shifted my weight. “No.”
Dad scoffed. “That’s time you could’ve spent studying.”
Seriously? Didn’t I already stay up half the night cramming? I bit my lip to keep from firing back.
“And Asher,” he went on, “next time you volunteer to pick Kaia up after work, make sure she’s home before curfew. You’re an adult.” His gaze pinned Asher. “She isn’t—not while she’s under my roof.”
Asher’s jaw flexed, his expression caught between irritation and restraint. He didn’t argue, but the flicker in his eyes made it clear he wanted to.