Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
TESSA
Beck
Looks like your plan worked. No more Ressa.
A photo of Rome and Rebecca comes through with Beck’s text, and a surge of jealousy comes with it.
I quickly swipe it away, irritated at my reaction.
Firstly, I’m not the type of woman who gets jealous of other women. Secondly, they’re not even a thing. And lastly, who am I to get jealous of Rome’s date?
He gave me an orgasm and maybe made the night somewhat bearable after the disaster with Jasper, but that’s it.
I was happy to see that we both acted completely normal the next morning and days following.
Just like when we kissed.
We have a job to do, and there is really no room for anything else. Not even an argument from the faint hickey on my neck that I’ve had to cover up with makeup.
I told Beck it was a mosquito bite, and that’s what I’m sticking with.
Van
Ressa?
I roll my eyes. Get with it, Van.
Beck
Tessa + Rome = Ressa
Graham
This is unimportant. We’re thirty minutes out from the race.
Nervous jitters fill my stomach.
I’m testier for this race than I was for Bahrain, and Rome actually qualified well yesterday.
The need to succeed is stronger than before, and I can’t figure out why.
I’m always eager to please. The competitive nature all Halstons possess has been there since my first breath, but it’s more pressing today.
I search the paddock for Rome. I don’t see many drivers lingering; most are already in their own private tent areas, preparing.
Quinn, tucked behind our pit wall, catches my eye and waves a Styrofoam cup in front of her face.
I point to myself. “For me?”
She nods with a smile.
I rush through the crowd, eager for my Diet Coke, when a golf cart zips past. I come to a sudden halt and grab onto my headset before it falls to the ground.
The golf cart slams on the brakes the same time I send a glare in its direction.
This asshole!
Beau, in his half-zipped red-and-yellow race suit, twists in the passenger seat with a nasty smile on his face. “Watch where you’re going, Halston.”
“You watch where you’re going!” Quinn shouts.
I bite my tongue instead of feeding into it. Having words with anyone on Pierce Racing will do nothing but make my heart race faster, and that’s the last thing I need right now.
Beau snaps his eyes to Quinn, who stands with her hand on her hip. Beck comes up behind her and puts his arm over her shoulder.
The golf cart takes off again, and Quinn flings his arm away.
I finish walking toward them and take the Diet Coke from her hand.
I sigh. “I love you.”
I wrap my lips around the straw and take a huge swig of soda.
Quinn glares at Beck. “I had it under control.”
He grins. “I know. I just wanted to touch you.”
She rolls her eyes and turns back to me. “Are you okay? What a dick.”
“That’s Rome’s stepbrother.” I look down the paddock, and Beau is completely out of sight. “They hated us before, and now that Rome is on our team, they really hate us.”
Quinn raises a brow. “Enough to run you over?”
I wouldn’t put it past them.
My text tone goes off, and I glance at Beck with a flat expression because of course he told the group that Beau almost ran me over.
Beck
That stepbrother of yours is a real piece of shit, Rome. He nearly ran Tessa over with a golf cart.
Graham pops up from below the pit wall. “What?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Van lean forward from Noah’s pit area.
Instead of saying anything, I sip on my Diet Coke and shrug. I click my phone off, ready to silence it for the race, when I get another text.
Except, Beck’s phone doesn't go off.
Only mine does.
Rome
Where are you?
Just seeing his name on my phone, in our own private message thread, speeds up my pulse.
Me
You know where I am.
Rome
Come to my tent.
I move my attention across the paddock, and sure enough, the makeshift Do Not Disturb sign is taped to the front of Rome’s tent.
Me
There’s a Do Not Disturb sign on your tent. Does that no longer apply to me?
“I’ll be back,” I say to Quinn, handing her my drink.
On my way over, I notice that the paper sign is hanging in a different spot. When I get closer, the words become clearer. The Do Not Disturb is still in bold, but beneath it, there is a set of parentheses with slanted, messy handwriting inside.
Do Not Disturb
(Does not apply to Tess)
My lips twitch into a small smile.
“Since when do you call me Tess?” I ask, knowing he can hear me.
His hand cuts through the thin opening of the thick fabric, and he grabs onto the lanyard hanging from my neck. I stumble forward and stop when I hit his chest.
Rome’s eyes bounce back and forth between mine, his hands wrapped around my waist. “Since you gave me a taste.”
My mouth dries, and I try to speak through my tied tongue. “You’re breaking our rule.”
Rome tilts his head with his dark brows knitted together. “What rule?”
“The one where we don’t talk about what happened,” I say quietly.
I’m hyperaware of every move he makes. His firm jaw tightens and then loosens as soon as his eyes drop to my mouth.
Nervous and jittery, I step away from him. “Shouldn’t you be meditating or something? You have to be out there in–”
“Sixteen minutes,” he finishes for me.
My pulse flies. Rome and I are all business when surrounded by the rest of the engineers or on the track, but when we’re alone, something simmers between us. The air crackles, and the tiny hairs on my arms stand upright.
“What did you need?” I ask.
I assume some type of last-minute adjustment, or maybe he had a breakthrough while being alone with his thoughts and needs to discuss a last-minute strategy.
Rome’s chest expands with a heavy inhale. He holds it for several seconds before clenching his eyes shut and exhaling.
Is he nervous for the race?
I take a step toward him. “Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”
He opens his eyes a breath later, the blue so bright I freeze mid-step.
“I just needed to see you,” he mutters, like he doesn't want anyone to hear through the thin walls of his tent. “I wouldn’t have been able to race if I didn’t lay my eyes on you.”
My shoulders slowly loosen. “Is this because of Beck’s text?” I roll my eyes. “He’s dramatic. I’m fine.”
Rome says nothing.
His fists are clenched by his sides, the veins on the tops of his hands pumped full of anger.
The ground feels unsteady beneath me, and I know it’s because we’re alone in this stuffy tent.
“Find your center,” I remind him. “You’re about to be driving two hundred miles per hour, and now I really expect you to beat Beau.” I give him a small smile in an attempt to loosen him a little.
His neck bobs up and down with a slow swallow as I step backward toward the tent opening.
“You’ve got, like, ten minutes to clear your head,” I say.
I’m less than a foot away from the outside when I turn away, my heart pounding inside my ears. My fingers brush against the tent briefly, my stomach tangled with flutters.
But then, there’s a shift in the air, and I’m tugged backward.