Chapter 22 #2
I don’t expect to see her—she said she had to work tonight—but Chloe is there, in the corner of the bar, paperwork, computer, and a ridiculous tall iced cocktail in front of her. Her hair is up in a topknot, some thick clear-rimmed glasses on her nose, head in the books. I can’t resist.
“Hey you,” I say, looking down at her. She looks up, flushed, hand to her chest.
“Oh god, I thought you were someone else,” she says, almost relieved.
“Expecting someone?” I ask.
“No.” She puts her pen down.
“Not a certain charmless snake in a fedora, perchance?”
“Jack?” she says, shaking her head at my tone, disapprovingly. “Well. Maybe. Last time I snuck down for a night-before-the-race drink, he joined me. That night you saw us,in fact.”
“Did you see him in the media circle?” I ask, lip curled as though even talk of him is like sucking on Bigfoot’s toe jam.
“At the press conference too,” she says, pushing her glasses back on her head. “I think I should talk to him. He’s getting jittery. Cutting off his access—”
“No fucking way,” I snap.
“I can handle him,” she replies, eyebrow raised. “He asked me out to dinner. So it’s an ego thing.”
“He what?” My god, the ferocity with which that riles me up is a shock, even to me.
“Listen, buddy,” she interrupts, tapping her finger on the table. “You’re not the boss here. Of the team. Or of me.”
I smile. I think fiery Chloe is my favorite. “Fine.” I hold my hands up, willing myself to calm down. “Can’t a guy who likes a girl get a little possessive from time to time?”
“Shush.” She tries to contain a smile, then looks around the room. “Can you get me another drink?”
She pushes her empty glass toward me and I do as I’m ordered. I head to the bar for another cocktail for Chloe, a large ice water for me, and a plate of rice, beans, and chicken.
“I’m eating,” I say, sliding the drink toward her.
“Can’t you do it in your room?”
“You’re so paranoid, Bug,” I tease.
She flicks her eyes up to meet mine and grins. “How are you feeling?”
I sigh. “I’m okay.” I want to add that I’m thinking too much about Stavros, but I don’t want to worry Chloe just as we’re on a high.
“I see,” she says, glancing at every single person who enters the bar. She’s so jumpy.
“Pass me some papers,” I say, watching the way a lock of hair falls in front of her face.
I fight the urge to pull the rest of her hair down too.
I point, instead, to a stack of paperclipped notes.
“That pile there. Then, Chloe, it looks like we’re having a meeting.
We are allowed to do that. We work together.
” I speak slowly, teasingly, as I keep my eyes on her, watching her every nervous twitch.
She scowls again, her grin widening, despite her attempt to appear fierce. She hands me a stack of paperwork.
“What the hell even is this?” I ask, flicking through the numbers, the charts. I spy the next season in small writing at the top of one of the pages. “Are you planning next year? Did Barry confirm you?”
“Just in case,” she mutters, her cheeks flushing. “Can we talk about something else? Just literally anything but work.”
“Anything?” I raise a single brow, leaning forward, elbows on the table. The music is jaunty—some kind of Brazilian jazz—and the bar is otherwise pretty quiet.
She breaks then, her face lighting up as she laughs hard. “You are relentless. I’m trying my best to keep things discreet, and you’re not helping.”
But the mood has softened, and the conversation finally lightens up. For a moment, it feels like it’s just the two of us in the world, sitting in a bar, sharing a drink.
As the time hits eleven p.m. I try to hide a yawn, and Chloe spots it and yawns in return.
“Bed,” she says, gathering her things. Then she pauses and looks up at me. “Alone.”
“You’ve only got one thing on your mind, Coleman,” I say, standing.
I walk her back to her hotel room, which, as luck would have it, is on the same floor as mine.
But just as I stop to say good night, hoping for a sneaky kiss out of sight in her doorway, we hear the ding of the elevator. Roles reversed from that night in Singapore, I spot Jack Sheppard exiting the lift.
“Hi, Matthew,” he says, eyes darting between us. “Chloe.”
“Matt was just going to bed,” she says, shoving me, but I stand firm against her hands like a tree trunk and don’t move an inch. Jack watches the exchange from twenty feet away.
“Lost your way?” I say, my voice impassive.
Chloe tries to subtly elbow me, but I move slightly in front of her as if trying to hide her. Or protect her. Or I’m just pathetic, alpha-male-ing out in front of this fool because he might fancy Chloe.
“Nah, I’m staying down the hall,” he says, thumbing toward the rooms with a view of the car park. His eyes flick back to me and they are filled with contempt.
I narrow my eyes at him, wanting to make some dig about family money, but I resist.
“Can we catch up tomorrow, Jack?” Chloe asks, her voice light. “Maybe grab a coffee before the race?”
“Yeah, maybe,” he replies, evasively. I watch his eyes drop to the floor as he searches his pockets for his room card.
I hear Chloe tut under her breath. “Can you go, please?” she says to me, before calling out to Jack. “Wait! I have been meaning to catch you.”
I take a step backward. I have to let her do whatever the hell she thinks she needs to do here. Even if it kills me.
“I got a bunch of things to get done,” Jack says, holding up his key card to show us he’s found it, before stepping backward, turning on his heel, and heading down the hall.
“Damn you, Matt,” says Chloe, when his door closes behind him.
“Did he get a room on this floor to be near you?”
“Now you’re being paranoid.”
“He works for a shit rag,” I say, staring at his closed door.
“His parents are loaded,” Chloe counters.
“I hate him.”
“Shhhhh.”
I do hate him. He was just suspiciously off with Chloe too. Is it because I’m here?
“You didn’t have to be so obnoxious,” she’s saying now. “He’s been good to me with the press.”
“He’s shady, Chloe. You should stay away from him.”
“He’s fine. I’ll just call him,” she says, tapping her card against the door and pushing it open. My eyes drop to her ass in her little shorts, but as I reach for her waist she ducks away.
“Not tonight, lover boy,” she says, shaking her head. “Go to bed.”
I nod, sighing heavily to let her know how hard it is to drag myself away.
Chloe places a hand on my arm, her touch warm and fizzy against my skin. “Matt. Get some rest. You’ve got a big race tomorrow.” She then pauses and looks back at me with a newfound intensity. “We’re going to do this, you know. We’re going to build this team from the ground up.”
I grin, and she tips her head, wondering out loud, “What is it?”
I lean my head against the doorframe and just drink her in. “Nothing.”
“Then go.”
“Okay, Bug. Sleep well,” I say, glancing down the empty hallway to make sure it’s clear before I reach in and pull her in for a kiss.
One long, hard kiss on the lips. Her hands move to my chest right away, but she doesn’t push.
Instead, she digs her fingers in and kisses me back, her body slackening against mine.
It’s a different kind of kiss this time.
It feels like a promise. She reaches her hands around my neck and pulls back, smiling once, a flicker of something unsure . . . and so I kiss her again, this time more softly.
For a moment, it feels not like the kiss of mere lovers, but like a deeper connection. Trust. And maybe even . . .
She pulls away and smiles at me, warmly. Tenderly.
“Now. Get the fuck out of here,” she says, pushing me playfully away.
I nod and laugh as I watch her disappear into her room. I stand there for a moment, battling the urge to knock, to say something more. Instead, I turn and walk back to my own room.
Tomorrow is a big day. Race day. And I have to focus. But as I lie in bed, my thoughts keep drifting between Stavros and Chloe, and what I have to do tomorrow on that track.