Chapter 2
LARK
N erves buzzed beneath my skin. I’d already landed the job with Redline Holdings, but today was my first chance to really prove myself. Luckily, the chaos surrounding me helped to hide how out of my depth I felt.
The hum of engines vibrated through the ground beneath my sneakers, a steady undercurrent to the action swirling around me.
Voices shouted over one another, radios crackled with half-finished instructions, and the heavy scent of gasoline wafted in the humid air.
The sun beat down on the track so hard the asphalt seemed to shimmer, and sweat dampened the back of my neck as I hurried across the lot.
I wasn’t used to this kind of heat, but it was worth it to live not too far from the beach.
Even if I hadn’t set foot on the sand once in the three months since I’d moved to Crossbend.
Heck, I’d barely left my crappy apartment since I first arrived in town.
But no more hiding out for me. This job was the first step in building my new life here, and I intended to keep it.
Clipboard in one hand, a walkie cradled between my shoulder and ear, and a stack of lanyards slipping down my other arm, I juggled more than felt possible. But somehow, I made it work.
“Hey, new girl! You know where the VIP guest passes go?” someone yelled over the noise.
I didn’t look up right away, my eyes locked on the names I was highlighting on the top sheet before I glanced up with a quick smile. “Blue bin under the table in the registration tent!”
The guy nodded, already rushing away.
I had only been hired a few days ago, and I already felt like I was chasing a train at full speed. But that was what I’d wanted. A chance to prove myself. And a distraction from the mess that’d been my life over the past two years.
“Credentials! Where are the driver credentials?” a man barked from the next table.
“Right here!” I slid the stack of lanyards off my arm and handed them over. My smile widened, in contrast to the irritation pinching his face.
He grunted, but some of the tension eased from his shoulders as he stalked off.
I let out a quiet breath, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Defusing tempers and keeping the chaos running smoothly—that was the job. And I needed to be good at it if I didn’t want to get fired during my first event.
I headed for the tent where drivers picked up their credentials, swiping at the sweat trickling down my temple. The heat was merciless, the kind that baked from above and reflected right back at you from the asphalt.
“You’re gonna keel over if you don’t hydrate,” a feminine voice called out.
I glanced up, startled, as a woman with red hair pulled into a French braid strolled toward me, helmet tucked under her arm.
The white fireproof suit she wore shouldn’t have been flattering, but she looked great in it.
The top half was unzipped and hanging from her hips, so it took me a moment to notice the red, black, and gray markings of the Redline Precision team.
“Uh—sorry?” I managed, blinking as she jerked her chin toward the water bottle that sat half forgotten on the table, its condensation long gone.
“Drink,” she ordered, though her smile softened the command. “Trust me, nobody needs you passing out before the first heat.”
“Thanks for the reminder. I’ve been too busy to even think about water.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Her gaze flicked over the organized chaos around me. “The girl who had your job before you said it was like herding feral cats.”
That pulled a laugh from me. “Seems pretty accurate to me so far.”
She chuckled, shifting her helmet to her other arm. “I’m Jana Addis, by the way. One of those cats you’ll need to wrangle since I’m a driver. My old man’s with the Kings.”
Recognition clicked—her name was on the roster I’d just reviewed.
“Lark.” I offered my hand before realizing how sweaty it was, pulling it back with an awkward laugh. “Sorry. Frazzled.”
“Understandable, just so long as it doesn’t stop you from drinking your water.” She started to head toward the row of cars waiting to be inspected, then tossed one last comment over her shoulder. “See you later. Don’t let these guys push you around ’cause they’ll try.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I murmured, watching her go before twisting the cap off the bottle.
The water was warm, but the first swallow was still bliss. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed it until now, and I was even more grateful to Jana for the reminder.
I drained the last swallow of lukewarm water, grimacing as I squeezed the empty bottle in my hand. My throat was still parched, and with the sun hours from setting, I figured I’d better grab another before I lost track of time again.
Clutching my clipboard and walkie, I tucked the bottle between my elbow and side before ducking out of the tent and into the crush of bodies streaming past. Someone shouted a name, engines revved, and for half a second, I forgot to watch where I was going.
Which was how I slammed into a solid wall of muscle. The guy didn’t budge an inch, as though I’d just crashed into solid stone, but the same couldn’t be said for me.
The impact jolted me back, my clipboard flying out of my grasp, the walkie bouncing once before skittering across the pavement. The empty water bottle slipped down and rolled away until he stopped it under his boot.
I staggered back, embarrassed, and pressed trembling fingers to my mouth. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry?—”
The words caught in my throat when I looked up.
The man I bumped into was tall, a few inches over six feet.
His blond hair was shoved under a black ball cap, and piercing gray eyes stared out at me from behind black-rimmed glasses.
There was nothing soft about the way he looked at me, his gaze as hard as the line of his jaw, shadowed with scruff.
His shoulders were broad, a rumpled T-shirt pulled taut across them, and his stance rigid.
He didn’t seem happy with me, but the solid breadth of his body had all of my nerve endings sparking to life where we’d collided. Static prickled under my skin, an odd awareness flooding me from head to toe that left my breath caught in my chest. I’d never experienced anything like it before.
My pulse stuttered, then picked up speed. I forced myself to breathe, but it came out shallow.
“I—” My voice broke, and I cleared my throat, trying again. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
His hands flexed once at his sides, fists clenching before he stilled again. For a long moment, he just stared, silent and unblinking. His gaze was heavy enough to pin me in place, as though I’d been caught doing something far worse than dropping a clipboard.
Finally, he muttered, “You’re fine.”
Except he didn’t sound like he meant it. Not even close. The words were clipped, gravelly, and edged with something I couldn’t name.
I ducked down quickly, my fingers fumbling as I snatched up my scattered things. My cheeks burned hotter than the sun, and I tried to will my body back under control. But my hands trembled anyway, refusing to listen.
Even crouched down, I felt the weight of his stare skimming over me, making the fine hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
When I glanced up again, he still hadn’t moved. Didn’t even bother to help. He just continued to watch me with that same unnerving intensity. My breath caught, and my nerves twisted tighter.
Then he shook his head, yanked the brim of his cap lower to shadow his eyes, and turned on his heel without saying anything else. His stride was long and his shoulders tense as he stalked into the crowd.
I stayed where I was for a beat too long, clutching my things against my chest, trying to process what had just happened.
The guy hadn’t touched me—hadn’t even bothered to say more than two words—but the air still seemed to hum from the weight of his presence.
I swallowed hard, then bent to grab the dented water bottle from the ground.
“Smooth, Lark,” I muttered, forcing a shaky laugh as I shoved everything under my arm and straightened.
As I walked past the grandstands, the image of those gray eyes lingered, seared into my brain. But he wasn’t one of the feral cats I was here to herd, so I shoved the thought aside. Not that it did me much good with how often his image popped back into my head while I was supposed to be working.