Chapter 8
ALL YOURS
“Are we taking bets on our winners today?” Veronica asked.
“Who do you have?” Sloane asked.
“Marissa’s going to take it all.” Veronica came to stand next to Sloane at the window. “That is, if her father will give her some room to breathe.”
“I don’t think that’s in his DNA.” Marissa Giovani was a bright light of talent, who Sloane had noticed dimmed considerably when the pressure from her father, who owned part of the team, came down.
“But he’s definitely doing more harm than good.
Marissa’s a good driver who needs more racing hours under her belt to grow. His presence makes her shrink instead.”
“Maybe she needs some extra cheerleading from the academy.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
Veronica turned. “Speaking of growing, Maddox had a solid finish at P3 yesterday. Another podium. Do we have you to thank?”
Sloane laughed. “I don’t know. Reese is hard to reach. She’s not only a people pleaser, which allows her to be pulled in fifteen different directions, but she’s a hardheaded one.”
“Hardheaded? Wow.” Veronica shook her head. “I don’t know anyone like that. Nope. Not a soul.”
“Stop that. If you’re comparing me to Reese, you could not be more off base.” But she was smiling. Probably because the idea was ludicrous. Sloane was steady and methodical. Reese was chaos and fire.
Veronica crossed her arms. “I don’t know what it is, but the more I’m around her, the more I see glimpses of you ten years ago, before you got serious and took us all down.”
“Then maybe there’s hope for her yet.” She took a sip from her paper coffee cup. “Let’s see where she finishes today.”
Veronica turned her body to lean sideways against the railing. “If she makes podium again, we might have something interesting and very unexpected on our hands.”
“I’m all for it,” Sloane said with a shoulder lift.
Her gaze fell to the circuit, where even though the other drivers had recessed back to their respective team garages, Reese was now jogging the track, likely working up a sweat in a little prerace workout.
To say she looked good doing it was an understatement.
Sloane purposefully looked away. Not a show for her.
And probably not at all helpful to her cause.
“Well, it will be up to you to teach her the way. Reese is all yours.”
Veronica’s words, braided together with the dream that had jolted Sloane awake last night, landed like a live wire. All yours. The phrase alone was gasoline.
In the dream, Reese had been close—so close Sloane could feel the warmth of her breath against her thighs, could smell the melon of her shampoo when she’d leaned in, reckless and hungry. It had felt too real: the slide of hands, the low hum of laughter, the sound Reese had made when she—
She stopped the thought dead in its tracks, pulse quickening anyway.
“Lucky me,” she said lightly, hoping Veronica didn’t notice the edge in her voice.
If she did, she didn’t comment. Instead, she gave Sloane a knowing half-smile before turning back toward the pit lane, leaving Sloane to wrestle with the vivid echo of the dream still playing behind her eyes.
Down on the circuit, Reese had finished her jog and was stretching in the morning sun, shirt damp at the collar, her hair falling from the ponytail in wisps. There was an ease to her, so unaware of the effect she had, unbothered by the eyes that followed her.
Sloane swallowed hard, knowing she should drag her gaze away.
Professional. She was supposed to be professional.
But as Reese bent to tie her shoe, sunlight catching the curve of her smile, Sloane couldn’t help the heat that flared low and insistent, whispering that the dream hadn’t been nearly enough.
She turned sharply, too fast, the motion meant to sever the thought.
“I’ll be in data analysis,” she muttered, mostly to herself, and started down the stairs toward the paddock.
The air was cooler there, the space shadowed, full of the metallic scent of fuel and brake dust. They were familiar and grounding smells that usually steadied her.
She pulled her tablet from her bag and forced her focus onto telemetry numbers, anything but the memory of Reese’s mouth on her skin.
Line graphs. Corner speeds. Brake pressures.
Facts. Data. Control. Lions and tigers and bears.
Her brain was full and jumbled with it all.
And when she finally looked up, Reese was crossing the paddock toward her, towel slung around her neck, eyes bright and easy.
Sloane’s fingers tightened around the tablet.
“Morning,” Reese called with that disarming grin.
Sloane’s reply came a beat too late. “Morning,” she said, crisp. “Ready for today?” She set her tablet on a nearby table to give Reese her full attention. “You should have good weather.”
“Yeah, I’m stoked about that. The forecast didn’t look promising as of yesterday. But sun’s out and conditions are great. I also feel like I’m in a good headspace. And hey, you’ll enjoy this part,” Reese said, leaning in.
Sloane folded her arms, holding her ground and trying not to notice their close proximity. “Tell me.”
“When one of my endorsements, this key lime lip balm that’s actually pretty great—”
“You’ll have to give me the name.”
“You got it. Well, they wanted me for an hour to record a reel.”
“Of you applying their product?” Geniuses.
“Exactly that. I told them I couldn’t make that work until tomorrow. After the race.” She straightened, looking incredibly proud of herself. It was actually cute, which is not a word she often applied to Reese. But in this moment, she very much was.
“Well, well,” Sloane said. “Impressive. And what’s been the payoff?”
“Space to get my body and head right before flying around that circuit like a madwoman on a mission to make history.”
Sloane laughed, and something flickered behind Reese’s eyes. She liked it.
“It makes a big difference,” Sloane said.
“You know, Sloane Foster, I’m actually starting to believe you.”
“Thank God.”
Reese took a step closer, and Sloane noticed a droplet of sweat on her collarbone from the workout. She forced her eyes to meet Reese’s. “But don’t tell anyone I said that. I’m known for my ego and want to keep it that way.”
“Your secret is safe.”
“I’m off to start reaction drills.” She turned back as she walked, as if to say, Can you even believe it?
“Who are you?” Sloane called.
“I know!” Reese called back.
Sloane went back to her tablet, but it was only a moment before Veronica walked into the garage and paused. “What has you smiling like that?”
Sloane hadn’t even realized she was. “Oh. Race days still have a way of …”
“Of?”
She searched thoroughly for the end of that sentence. “Getting me all excited. For the drivers.”
Veronica smiled. “Okay, well, lean into that. Because if that’s what this is, it looks good on you.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean it, Sloane. There’s a new energy. It’s like the old you is back.” She raised a shoulder, marveling. “And it’s really nice.”
Reese crossed the line with her hands steady on the wheel, heart hammering hard enough to rattle her ribs, but, for once, her head was clear. No panic or reckless instinct screaming at her to prove something. Just pace and consistency, both of which took a lot of restraint.
“And there’s the checkered flag,” Julie’s voice came through the radio.
Reese whooped, the sound wild and unfiltered inside the cockpit. “Yes! Come on!” She smacked the steering wheel once, breathless and grinning. Yesterday’s P3 sprint finish had felt good, but this? This felt like it belonged to her on a whole different level.
The radio crackled again. “That’s P2, Reese,” Julie said, jubilant. “Brilliant drive. No dive-bombs. No chaos. Just pace and patience. You did it.”
Reese laughed into the mic. “Didn’t even hit anyone this time.”
“Even the wall was safe,” Julie said. “Don’t make me emotional.”
Reese rolled into parc fermé, engine popping as it cooled. The moment she climbed out, the sun hit her face, warm and blinding. She tugged off her helmet, shook out her hair, and turned toward Julie, who was easing her way across the pit lane with her cane, smiling despite herself.
Julie didn’t hug. Reese knew that. So when Julie stopped beside her, eyes bright with pride, Reese didn’t push it—just grinned wide and said, “That felt good, huh?”
Julie nodded once. “That looked different. Last weekend, you were fighting the car. This time, you managed it. You kept your head. The race threw everything at you, and you didn’t blink.”
“Trying something new,” Reese said with a wink. “Still trying to find what works best for me.”
“This,” Julie said way too quickly. “Solved it.”
“Well, okay. Your opinion is noted for the record. Guess I’m growing up,” Reese said, teasing.
Julie smirked. “Don’t get cocky. But yeah … maybe a little.”
“Guess I should get ready to do this thing.” Her stomach fluttered with nervous energy. Reese looked back toward the podium setup in the distance, watching Danielle’s team swarm around her car. “She’s fast,” Reese said quietly. “And ruthless. Her overtake on Marissa today was questionable.”
“Yeah,” Julie replied. “And she has zero regrets about that kind of shady move. But listen to me.” Reese turned and met Julie’s earnest gaze. “Danielle Todd’s been doing this longer. But she’s not as naturally quick as you are. You just needed to prove it to yourself.”
Reese glanced toward the paddock, where Veronica stood a few feet away, sunglasses on, phone in hand, but her attention clearly fixed on Reese. She wasn’t smiling, exactly, but the slight nod she gave was unmistakable. Approval.
Julie noticed, too. “Looks like someone upstairs just started paying real attention.”
Reese followed her gaze and gave a crooked grin. “About damn time.”
Julie tapped her cane lightly on the ground. “You keep driving like that, and they’ll have no choice.”
Reese tilted her head, still flushed from adrenaline, proud of herself, but wanting more. “P2 today. P1 next time.”
Julie’s grin sharpened. “It’s feeling possible now.”
“Yeah,” Reese said with a nod. “A lot of things are.”
The officials were already waving them toward the podium area, where the crew had set up the step and repeat and mics for the press. Reese followed, the crowd noise a low roar beyond the barriers. Julie walked beside her, cane tapping on the asphalt.
“Remember,” Julie said. “Smile. Be gracious. Don’t take the bait. No matter what she says.” She was referencing Danielle Todd and her hobby of trolling her competition.
Reese smirked. “You’re saying that like I might.”
Julie’s look said everything.
Reese laughed under her breath and joined the other two drivers behind the podium. Danielle stood in the center, unzipping her suit halfway to reveal her fireproofs, her expression cool and satisfied. She was everything the British press said she was—razor-edged and unrelenting.
“Nice drive,” Reese offered, genuinely impressed. “You claimed that one.”
Danielle’s gaze slid sideways. “Did I? Or did you just decide to play influencer today instead of driver?” She smiled for a photographer.
Reese blinked and forced a smile for the shot. “Excuse me?”
Danielle relaxed and turned to Reese. “Oh, don’t pout. You’re very good at the whole brand thing, posting selfies like a pro. I suppose that’s its own kind of talent, am I right?”
Before Reese could answer, a marshal gestured them up the stairs. Danielle brushed past her, the faint scent of victory champagne already in the air.
On the podium, Reese forced her shoulders back and her grin wide as the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers.
Marissa passed Reese an encouraging smile and raised her trophy first, then Reese’s turn as the second-place finisher, and finally Danielle lifted hers to a mix of cheers and scattered boos.
Apparently, the crowd hadn’t loved her takeover either. The fans didn’t miss a thing.
Champagne sprayed, cameras flashed, and Reese’s mind barely tracked the moment. Julie was watching from the edge of the paddock, her expression unreadable. Veronica stood a few rows back, sunglasses glinting, arms folded.
When the postrace interviews began, the top three drivers were lined up in front of the cameras. Danielle went first.
“Danielle, that was a dominant drive from lights to flag. What made the difference out there?”
She smiled thinly. “Experience, mostly. You can’t fake that. Some drivers still think it’s all about being seen. But I prefer to do my talking on the track.”
Reese’s jaw tensed, but she kept her expression bright. When it was her turn, she leaned toward the mic.
“I think we all did our talking on the track today,” she said easily. “Danielle drove a great race. Marissa killed it, and as for Ravensport, Delaney Rhodes came in strong with a P5 finish, which is great for us. I’m proud of how far our team’s come this weekend and that’s what matters to me.”
Julie nodded slightly from the sidelines, approving.
Veronica’s lips curved into something like a smile. Interest, confirmed.
And when the cameras swung away, Reese caught Danielle’s eye one last time. She didn’t say a word, but the message was clear.
Keep underestimating me. See how that works out.