Chapter 2
FALSE START
Sloane preferred sitting at the bar over anywhere else in the restaurant.
From there, she had the best view in the house — the chefs moving in practiced choreography, the bartender’s easy charm with customers, the front door swinging open to let in the night air and new faces.
Drinks arrived faster, the food felt more casual, and she never had to crane her neck to flag someone down.
Plus, people-watching was a sport on race weekend, and the bar was the front row.
She checked her watch. The academy’s kickoff reception was set to start in half an hour, but she didn’t feel the need to be there at six on the dot.
Her role that evening was small, which she took comfort in, seizing the chance to ease herself into the world she’d been on the outskirts of for so long.
Veronica would introduce her during her welcome speech, and Sloane would then be free to enjoy the reception and get to know the drivers and their teams with whom she’d be working.
After that, she planned to slip away at the earliest possible point, having fulfilled her responsibility.
Hopefully, this brief pregame would help ease her nerves.
“You’re okay. What can I do for you?” She tacked on a smile, knowing they’d be working together soon. Perhaps Reese wanted to introduce herself.
“I’m not from around here and was hoping to get a restaurant recommendation.”
“Oh.” Reese apparently hadn’t recognized Sloane, which was entirely okay.
“I don’t know the area all that well, unfortunately.
” She turned back to her martini. There would be time for small talk at the reception.
After all, this was supposed to be Sloane’s quiet recharge time, and she planned to claim it.
Polite and short usually did the trick. Reese picked up her drink and slid down two chairs until she was seated next to Sloane.
She smelled unexpectedly of vanilla and sandalwood.
Sloane would have appreciated the combination if she’d wanted any company at all.
“Are you staying at this hotel?”
“That’s kind of a personal question, don’t you think?” Sloane said. Where was that engineer to wrangle her?
“Fair enough.” Reese tapped her rocks glass with the tips of her fingers, her manicured nails clear with polish. “We don’t know each other. Why would you want to share that information? Easy fix. I’m Reese.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“I’m in town for the week for the Grand Prix.” She gestured with her head out the large picture window that overlooked the Miami International Autodrome. “Race weekend.”
“Ah.”
“I’m a driver.” Reese met her eyes and waited, surely expecting a more pronounced reaction. Sloane had a feeling that the line probably opened up a lot of doors when it came to picking up women. She just hadn’t expected to be one of them coming into tonight.
She decided to play along and widened her eyes. “Are you kidding? As in professionally?”
“Yes,” Reese said, looking very serious now. “It’s what I do for a living. I am a professional race car driver.”
“Wow. That’s really impressive.”
“You should come out and catch a race. The weather’s supposed to be beautiful this weekend.”
Sloane sipped her drink. “You know, I just might.”
“I’d be happy to teach you a few things about racing to, you know, give the experience context.”
“Oh yeah? What would you teach me?” This was getting good.
Reese turned sideways on her stool so she faced Sloane. “Well, first of all, the cars all line up on the grid.”
“The grid. Got it.”
“Then five red lights come on one at a time. Then, when they all go out? That means go. Not before, not after.”
“I can imagine that’s a big moment.”
“Huge. It’s all about your reaction time. You jump the start, you get penalized. You’re too slow, you’re immediately overtaken.”
“Well,” Sloane said, sitting taller. “I’m glad I have you to guide me. I thought it was all just about going really, really fast.”
“There’s actually a lot to the sport. Tire management. Strategically timing pit stops. Overtake maneuvers.”
“I’m gathering.”
Reese opened her mouth, likely to continue her lesson, only to be interrupted by the woman Reese had arrived with. Sloane recognized her as an engineer from the dossiers Veronica had sent over. She was always one to do her homework, and in this case, it had served her well.
“Oh, wow. Hello,” the woman said, coming behind their stools with her cane, her eyes glued to Sloane, her face turning red.
“I’m a little caught off guard right now.
Forgive me. This is an immense honor.” She looked to Reese as if to say, Can you believe this?
before swiveling back to Sloane. “Ms. Foster, my name is Julie Rennick. I’m Reese’s engineer and someone who’s meticulously followed every aspect of your impressive career. You’ve paved the way for all of us.”
Reese froze, eyes flicking between Julie and Sloane as if the lights at the club had just been turned on at closing.
Her swagger from moments ago faltered, and a bright flush crept across her cheeks.
“Wait. You’re Sloane Foster?” she said, and the recognition hit her all at once, and it seemed to mortify her in the process.
Sloane had to admit that this was wholly satisfying.
She couldn’t help sending Reese a small, private smile in response.
The same driver who had been flirting like a pro and giving her basic racing pointers just minutes ago was now reduced to a flustered, self-conscious mess.
Even someone as magnetic as Reese could stumble, and Sloane had a front-row seat.
She decided to be gracious because, other than acting like a show-off, Reese had committed no real crime.
“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you officially, Reese. That was a helpful lesson.” She faced forward and gestured to the bartender for her check, but Julie was quick to step in.
“Oh, I’ll take that,” she told the bartender, her brow furrowed in earnest as if this was a mission she simply could not fail. Julie seemed kind and grounded in a way her driver was not. “I’d love to buy your drink. Honestly, it’s on my bucket list, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind, if you’re sure.”
“More than. You’re kind of a big, huge deal to me. I hope that’s okay to say. I ramble when I’m nervous.”
“It is, and thank you,” Sloane said, appreciative but ready to get out of there.
“Find me at the reception, and we can talk,” she told Julie.
“I’d love to hear about your career so far.
” That part was true. Sloane loved talking to engineers, mechanics, and pretty much anyone who interacted with the car.
Drivers were a unique breed, but those who comprised the team were always generous and selfless, and their love for the sport was contagious.
“I will definitely do that.”
Well, it was time to take a deep breath and head into the fire.
The experience at the restaurant had been an unexpected one, and if nothing else, she’d learned that Reese Maddox’s arrogance was something to take note of as she worked with the drivers.
Tenacity went a long way in racing, but an overarching ego hindered clear decision-making.
She stood and, with her crossbody on her shoulder, turned to Reese.
“I’ll see you at the reception. This was fun …
and enlightening.” Reese seemed to be struggling for words, another new development, but with Sloane on the way out, she wouldn’t need any. “Take care.”
Sloane walked out of the bar and into the hotel lobby, realizing that they were going to have their hands full with that one.
Reese was confident, charismatic, and undeniably beautiful in person—sharp features, bright green eyes, and a presence that made it obvious why sponsors swarmed.
Sloane had seen the stares and second glances Reese had pulled from practically everyone in the bar.
No wonder Veronica had brought her here.
She wasn’t just a driver. She was a spotlight that would illuminate the academy when it needed it most. But could she back up all that swagger on race day?
Only time would tell. Sloane was intrigued and knew one thing for sure.
Reese Maddox was a definite wild card, but could she pull off a win when it mattered?
“Just kill me now,” Reese said, staring at the door Sloane Fucking Foster had just walked through.
Reese placed her palms flat on the bar, attempting to ground herself and will this awful moment away.
“I don’t deserve to move forward in life.
I’m merely a shell of a human who should never race again.
I could maybe work in a bakery. I used to be good at helping my mom bake cookies and frost cakes.
Why not revisit those tasks?” She took a long swallow of her drink because she now needed it.
“You’re going to have to catch me up,” Julie said as she signed the sales slip. She turned around and waited for Reese’s delayed response because Reese was so far into the land of mortification that she was going to have to build a house there. Maybe a gingerbread one, since she was a baker now.
“I tried to impress her,” she said and closed her eyes for a moment. “Flirt a little.”
“You flirted with who?” Julie looked around the bar.
“Sloane Foster. And not only did I hit on her, but I did it in this overly confident, very basic, cringe-for-days manner.”
Julie blinked about eight times, as if the information had short-circuited her system. “No.”
She stared into Julie’s overly widened eyes. “Yes. Jules, I offered to teach her the rules of racing and then proceeded to do just that.”
Jules winced like a horrified child in the midst of a nightmare. “No.”
“Yes, again. I’m going to have to keep saying yes.” She shook her head slowly. “I explained to her what lights out meant.”
“Please tell me you did not do that.” Julie squeezed Reese’s wrist, imploring. “Not to Sloane Foster of all people on the entire planet. She’s an icon.”
“Except I did.”
They stared at each other as the realization—no—humiliation swirled and settled on Reese’s shoulders, a boulder she’d now be forced to carry around for life. Then she did what she always did when something didn’t go her way: she deflected. “Maybe she thought it was sweet.”
“Sure. One of the most badass drivers this sport has ever seen, a woman who was on her way to winning the world championship if it hadn’t been for a crash that never should have happened, thought you not having a clue who she was, and schooling her was sweet.
I don’t know what the statistical likelihood of that scenario works out to be, but let me tell you, it’s not in your favor. ”
Reese sobered. “Point taken.” She shrugged. “I’ll find a way to win her over. She’s probably only here for tonight anyway, a show of support.”
“Maybe.”
“If I can just make it through this event without bursting into flames, there’s a chance I can look myself in the mirror again.”
“Just have to survive an hour then. Two tops.” Julie nodded, seeming to take comfort in that lifeline. “Let’s get through tonight without any more missteps, okay? You have got to be on your best behavior.”
“Yes. You’re right, and I will be.”
“Excuse me, are you Reese Maddox?” a twenty-something in a decidedly low-cut top asked as she slid a strand of blond hair over her ear.
Reese eased into a polite smile and turned to the girl with full attention. She wanted her fans to feel seen, a choice she’d made after drivers she’d idolized had brushed her off when she was a kid. She vowed never to do that to anyone once she’d established a career. “I am. Hi. What’s your name?”
“Sophie.”
“It’s really nice to meet you.”
“Would you mind signing a hat for me?” Sophie came prepared and pushed forward a Ravensport team hat and pen, which Reese happily took and used to sign the bill.
“Come on,” Julie said, tugging her wrist. “We have a reception to get to. Sorry, Sophie.”
“That’s okay. So awesome meeting you!” Sophie called.
As she was being dragged away, Reese waved at the soft-eyed woman and held her gaze for a few seconds, watching as she melted and blushed.
Sophie had been friendly and sweet, and the fan interaction had been just what Reese needed, helping her forget about the most embarrassing moment of her life. At least, for all of two minutes.