CHAPTER 9 #2
Behind them, and closing, came the rest of the spread-out field—riding three times as fast as the leaders, with Xavi in front of the chasing pack.
Even on rain tires, Luka Catala slid out of contention in turn two when he misjudged a corner.
Then another rider went down. Conditions were nightmarish.
Anna wiped her hands on her skirt as the three at the front inched their way around the track on their final lap. Would they finish top three or be caught and swallowed up by those charging on rain tires?
The racers turned onto the home stretch—Vince, Austin Spencer, and then Isaac. Behind them, the others gained with every passing second.
Spencer hydroplaned through a large puddle of standing water, losing ground, and Isaac passed him in a spray of water.
Vince crossed the line first. Isaac, second.
Then the first pack of riders on rain tires sped past, leaving Spencer limping across in ninth.
He’d rolled the dice on slicks and lost. Xavi finished third for the final podium position.
Anna let out a huge breath as everyone on the team jumped up and down in excitement.
“Take his hat and go meet him,” said Angel, a wide smile on his creased face. He nudged her toward the exit.
Anna met a race official beside parc ferme and collected the bright yellow finishers hat, with “second” embroidered on the side.
She brought it to Isaac, who was taking off his helmet.
He grinned as he took it. The rain continued with a whooshing sound where it poured off the overhang, but parc ferme was covered.
She took the helmet and set it down beside the bike and the marker with the big number two.
Second position was a fabulous result, tying his best finishes ever. He must be proud.
Isaac launched himself at his brother, and they shared an enthusiastic hug, slapping each other’s backs as they jumped up and down, celebrating their hard-won finish.
The rain stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving the ground steaming and wet.
Anna couldn’t hear Vince when the brothers stood face to face, but whatever he said made Isaac grin.
He stepped back, tugged on his hat, and then threw himself at the waiting team over the thin divider separating parc ferme from pit lane.
Anna stood back and let him celebrate with the pit crew.
The fanfare in parc ferme was boisterous, and she had difficulty making out individual words and phrases—it was just noise.
She drifted to the side as the finishers celebrated.
Xavi was crying, tears running down his already wet cheeks.
The emotional rider seldom finished on the podium.
It was some time before he settled enough for his post-race interview.
He must be excited about finishing third.
Her job finished, she turned to leave when Isaac came to her.
He lifted an eyebrow, perhaps questioning if she was okay.
She nodded, and he picked her up and swung her in a circle.
She gasped in surprise that he still had so much energy after the grueling race.
Setting her down, he kissed her hungrily.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said at last.
“Congratulations.” To her left, she caught a flash of Vince’s frown and she blanched at the anger on his face. Was that directed at her?
Isaac kissed her again. “How do I look?”
“Fabulous.” She handed him his cap, which had fallen off in his team celebration. He always looked great to her.
Xavi finished his interview with the British Racing Network, which meant Isaac would be next. He smiled and adjusted the hat in preparation.
She stood to one side with Angel as the reporter asked Isaac about his race and his decision to stay out on slicks.
“It was just a fluke that I didn’t go down.
I got lucky.” He turned to face her, and the intended double meaning in his words sunk in.
Warmth filled her, and she couldn’t wait to be alone with him, though it could be hours before they left the team, and he completed his media duties.
She would relish the slow burn of anticipation.
During the celebrations, she sipped champagne from the enormous bottle the team passed around, left over from the podium celebration.
Her handling was a little awkward, and she dumped champagne on her shirt.
Excusing herself to wash up, she slipped out the back and crashed into Austin Spencer, coming from a garage farther down the row.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, stepping back. “I didn’t see you.”
He swayed on his feet then grabbed her arm. Was he drunk? He held her in place when she would have continued to Isaac’s trailer. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Just to wash up.” She tugged her arm but couldn’t break loose. “You were having a great race. Too bad about the rain.”
He ignored her comment. “I notice you and little Vasquez have something going on.”
She froze. His normal smirk was gone and in its place was a sneer. His grip on her arm hurt. It became hard to think or breathe. “Let me go.”
“When you get tired of playing with Junior, give me a shout. I can offer more than a quick fuck in the trailer between sessions. I’ve had a lot of experience pleasing women.”
Had he listened to them yesterday? The creep.
His free hand slid under her skirt and cupped her ass and she pulled farther away. Her skin crawled.
Tugging her arm free at last, she fled up the stairs.
Her cheeks flaming, she opened the trailer and stumbled inside, not looking back until the door was locked.
She collapsed on the bench seat and took deep breaths, trying to calm herself.
When her stomach stopped churning, and Spencer was gone, she unlocked the door.
A few minutes later, Isaac joined her, his hair tousled and his grin wide. She didn’t want to ruin his celebration so remained quiet. She would forget what had happened with Spencer. He hadn’t hurt her, and she would stay away from him. He wouldn’t touch her again—he wouldn’t get another chance.
She smiled as Isaac came closer and pulled her against him. He bent down for a long, lingering kiss that chased everything else from her head. “I can’t wait to be back in the hotel,” he said. “I’m sorry if the celebration got too loud.” His eyes showed his concern, but she waved it off.
“It was okay. I just spilled champagne and didn’t want to be sticky.” She looked down at her damp shirt. It wasn’t quite a lie.
He laughed and tossed her one of his team t-shirts to change into. It was a little too big, but it smelled like him and was an improvement over her soaked one.
He changed into street clothes and hung up his riding leathers.
One of his crew would pack and prepare everything for the next race.
Coming out of the back room, he said, “Let’s go say our goodbyes and organize a ride back to the hotel.
Time for more private celebrations.” His voice became deeper, and his pupils dilated as he pulled her against him with a gentle tug.
She couldn’t resist him, nor did she want to.
He kissed her slow and sweet, unfurling desire in her again as she shoved the remnants of unwelcome thoughts about Austin Spencer from her mind. He had nothing to do with tonight’s celebration.