The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife (Blair and Grayson) novel Chapter 222

Chapter 222

-CA-

Charlotte did the usual check.

Harness first. The six-point belts that kept a driver in the seat when the car tried to throw him out of it.

She tugged each strap like it would fall apart if her hands were not on it first.

Then the HANS. Head and Neck Support. The collar that clipped to the helmet so a crash would not snap a driver’s neck the way the old days used to. Radio. Visor. The small things she always did before I got in.

Honestly, I believed the car needed her.

And I needed her more than I admitted.

She was the one person who kept me calm.

Today it was different.

Today she was sending my pressure through the roof with that outfit. Short skirt. Crop top with my name on it. Legs I had no right to think about while twenty other cars waited to go out and hunt a lap time.

I was freaking out.

Men were staring.

Everywhere I turned I caught them.

My jaw clenched.

There was no way I could concentrate knowing she was wearing that and they would still be looking when I was gone.

“You’re tight,” she said, tugging a strap.

“I’m fine.”

I was not fine.

“Loosen up,” she muttered. “You have qualifying today. Remember?”

Qualifying. The Saturday session that set the grid for Sunday. Three parts. QI dumped the slowest cars. Q2 cut the field again. Q3 was the shootout for pole.

Start at the front and Sunday was a fight you could win. Start at the back and Sunday was pain. Still a chance to win but so much fucking harder.

My jaw clenched. “I do.”

I got in.

1

14:36 Mon, Sep 28 JM.

The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife

The world shrank to noise.

elmet. Visor down. The engineer on the radio in my ear, calm and clipped.

55

Out lap first. That was the slow lap out of the garage to get heat into the tyres and temperature into the brakes. You did not attack the first corner like you were eager. You built the car underneath you.

I did the job with my hands.

My head stayed in the garage.

QI was clean.

Fast enough.

Through.

The radio said I was safe. I should have felt it. I felt her instead.

Then I remembered everyone staring in the lobby. The man who walked into a luggage cart. The waiter who tripped on a cable. Every pair of eyes that had been on her when I could still stand in front of her like

a wall.

Q2 I was at the top for a minute.

Then I could not concentrate.

Not even for a little.

I kept wanting to look back.

I could not see her. I knew that. The visor showed the track, the wall, the car ahead, the apex I was supposed to hit.

Still I wanted to go back. Make sure no one was close to her. Make sure no man was looking at her. Make sure she was not bending down for no reason and showing off the part of her that had been in my hands nights ago.

“Box this lap if we need a second run,” the radio said.

Box meant pit. Come in. New tyres if we needed another attack.

“Copy.”

I did not box.

I stayed out for another flyer like an idiot who thought speed could outrun my thoughts.

Turn 3 I arrived too deep.

Enough.

Too much speed into the braking zone. The point on the track where you should have already been slowing.

14:36 Mon, Sep 28 JM.

The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife

The rear stepped out. The back of the car slid like it had decided to leave without me. I caught it late. Hands on the wheel. Throttle. The correction that usually saved me.

Not this time.

The barrier came up like it had been waiting all weekend for this opportunity.

Everything happened before I had chance to blink.

“FUCK!”

The impact hit.

Short.

Violent.

་པ།

Not the bad kind that folds a car in half and puts a driver in hospital. The kind that ends a session. Abrupt.

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