Chapter 13
EVANGELINE
It’s late, the rest of the building quiet, but I’m still at my desk.
Today’s practice sessions were delayed by more than two hours. I can guarantee all my friends are wiped. They’re probably all staying in tonight, resting up for tomorrow’s qualifying session. It’s one of the reasons I’m still at the office.
So far, working for Granata has been different from what I expected.
Maybe that’s because it’s the first grand prix of the year and everything is so overwhelming and new.
Or maybe it’s because I’m trying to balance two full-time jobs, one of which is brand new, while staying in an unfamiliar hotel room.
Regardless, I’m grateful for this job and more than happy to work late hours and give it my all.
I paused shop orders for A-Tizket A-Tasket this week, but I’ll reopen once I’m settled in Japan.
I haven’t had a single second to explore Melbourne.
Eventually, I need to get out of the paddock more, but that’s not realistic for the next few months.
I’ve scheduled additional live streams this month so I can make extra credit card payments.
My salary is good, but I really would like to knock out a good chunk of debt before it starts accumulating interest.
With my arms stretched overhead, I savor the way my back pops and releases.
When I bring my water bottle to my mouth, I realize it’s empty. Again. So I stand and head toward the bathrooms and bottle refill station.
I might as well pee while I’m up. Especially if I’m going to chug another twenty-four ounces.
Headquarters is quiet, but light glows beneath the closed doors of a few offices, so it looks like I’m not the only one working late.
As I step up to the bathroom, I grasp the door handle and push. The door moves too easily, and I nearly trip over the threshold. Then Alaric appears before me. A sexy, disheveled version of Alaric.
“Sorry,” I squeak out, righting myself and shifting back slightly to give him space to vacate the bathroom.
“Evangeline. What are you doing here?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind him that he’s the one who hired me.
But as I take him in, I stop myself.
His hair is standing up at odd angles, and the whites of his eyes are slightly bloodshot. The man is exhausted. It makes sense, I suppose. He’s probably been here since early this morning. Then he was out in the garage and on the pit wall for hours this afternoon.
“What are you still doing here?” he repeats, the question sharp.
“I’m working,” I tell him, resisting the urge to duck and break eye contact. “What are you still doing here?” I mimic.
The second the words leave my mouth, I regret the sass infused in them.
Thankfully, rather than give me a disapproving look, he fights back a smile.
Internally, I high-five myself. Look at that. I’ve provided him a bit of levity when he’s visibly stressed.
“I’m also working.” With that, his disapproving scowl slips back into place. “It’s late. You’re already expected to work long, unconventional hours on race days. You shouldn’t still be here tonight.”
I plant one hand on my hip, examining his soft brown eyes. “I’m still here because I want to be. I like the quiet, and the work is interesting.”
There’s no point mentioning that I’d rather be here, distracted and busy, than back in my hotel, acutely aware of my own loneliness. For as exhausting as “live” nights are, at least they’re not isolating.
A ripple of gratitude flows through me. Being here, in Australia, working for this team and being among all my friends means so much more to me than I’ve really allowed myself to acknowledge until now.
Swallowing down the lump of emotion in my throat, I lick my lips, gathering the words to vocalize this to him. “Alaric—”
“You can call me Ric,” he says softly.
Ric. That’s how Luca refers to his dad, which I always thought was odd.
I scrunch my nose. “I like Alaric.”
“Very well.” He offers me a kind smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Thank you. For earlier,” I tell him. “With the head chef? You didn’t have to—”
“I did,” he says, his tone sharp but not unkind. “And I wanted to. You deserve to be fully considered, Evangeline.”
His words slam into me, the sincerity behind them nearly taking my breath away. I’m not sure anyone has ever fully considered me before. Maybe it’s pathetic, but it’s a simple truth.
Desperate to protect my ego and refrain from melting down in front of this man, again, I ignore his kindness completely.
“You can call me Evan,” I say.
He smiles then. It’s real, genuine, making the skin around his eyes crinkle slightly.
“I like Evangeline.”
A thrill skitters down my spine. I like the sound of my name on his lips, too.
“Mick came up with acceptable options for you?” he presses.
“He did, thank you.” I nod. “I still think it’s unnecessary—”
Angling closer, he brings two fingers to my chin and lifts so I’m forced to look at him. He gives me a slow, stern shake of his head.
He holds my gaze, the intensity of his stare extinguishing any further argument from me.
And just like every other time he’s touched me, the contact is electric.
Except now, it’s not just a jolt of awareness that registers in my brain.
Now I’m a live wire, and he’s the current.
I tilt my face higher in subtle invitation.
I crave so much more from this man. My hunger for his attention is deeply rooted, and I find myself hastily hoping he’ll bow down and kiss me right here, right now.
As soon as that thought enters my mind, I jump back.
No way, Evan. You cannot be lusting after this man. Not only is he your much older boss, but he’s your ex-boyfriend’s dad.
Sighing and shaking his head, he steps back.
Good to know I’m not the only one affected here.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” he tells me, his professionalism and poise firmly locked down once more. “Please, go home and get some rest,” he urges. “I’ll see you around, Evangeline.”