Maya busies herself with Sophie, getting drunk on champagne while I schmooze with minimal booze.
I wrap up chatting with a sponsor, eager to spend time with Maya, when Sophie’s dad pulls me aside. He wears a suit with his graying hair slicked back, a grimace marring his face. Not exactly the best hello.
“Noah, follow me. I need to show you something.” His eyes tell me to not argue.
My brows furrow at his request. I follow him out of the ballroom, curiosity piquing my interest as we walk into another empty room. My lips lift at the memory of Maya and me in this position. Except once my eyes land on the other Alatorre sibling, my smirk turns into a frown. Santi made sure to avoid me at all costs this past week. Nerves make my hands clench as I tamp down the tendency to run a hand through my thick hair.
“All right, you two. I don’t like how tense you both have been. Fans notice, the crew comments on it, and I sure as hell don’t want to deal with it. Get everything out now. I won’t allow any more drama on my team, especially with the final Prix coming up. If I wanted to be waist-deep in shit, I would have worked for McCoy. Santi, I’ll allow you one punch. Make it count because everyone knows Noah can be a smug fucker.”
My eyes bulge. James is giving Santi an all-access pass to take a shot at me? What the fuck.
Santi shares my same surprise, his eyebrows drawn together, making him look like he’s thinking too hard. I’d laugh if I didn’t want to piss him off more.
“I don’t know what to say.” His Spanish accent draws out his words.
A tick in his jaw says differently. I should pass Santi my therapist’s number, give him some help in the emotional expression department.
“Oh, cut the crap. He slept with your sister behind your back. Now he dates her, even loves her—all while competing against you. Of course, you have shit to say. Get it out or hit him. But fix this crap.” James taps his shoe against the floor.
Sophie’s dad stands tall, not backing down from this challenge, commanding respect from us as our team principal. Cue the feels.
“Okay, fine. Noah, it pisses me off how you disrespected me and went behind my back. You have a terrible track record with women, and I don’t want my sister to become another number in your long list. Someone to pass the time with until you get bored. Not to mention the fact that she’s my sister.” Santi crosses his arms, his fears and distaste for my past hanging around us like a third teammate.
“I’m sorry for hiding it, but I’m not sorry for doing it in the first place. Don’t expect Maya to be either. I want to put it past us, because I love her, and I want to be with her. Forever. I can’t help my crappy past and decisions, but I can control my future. And she’s it.”
My confession hangs in the air, willing to admit everything if it stops his moping.
He walks up to me, his clenched fists a warning. Shit. His eyes glare at me. I stand there, ready to take a punch, anything for this to be done with.
“I don’t need to hit you to feel better. I love my sister too much to mess up your pretty face.” He shoves his hand out in front of him, and I take it. His fingers grip mine tightly. I let him pull his man card, not interested in another pissing contest with him. I’ll save that for the track.
“I’m proud of you both, settling this like real men. Now get out of my sight. I don’t want to hear about any more drama from either of you, so help me God, because I didn’t ask for two sons. I deal with my daughter enough.” James’s voice has a hint of pride in it. We look over at him, catching his grin.
Santi and I walk out together, the tension following us from Brazil no longer a problem.
Santi claps me on the shoulder. “Let’s grab a shot? Cheers to the end of the season and to new beginnings?”
“Best idea you’ve had all year.”
39
Maya
“Just so you know, I think I threw up twice in my mouth looking at you two.” My brother barrels over after his practice round. The pit crew went on their lunch break, meaning we have a silent garage to ourselves, perfect timing for my filming.
I smile. “Aw, feel free to use the nearest trash can when you need it.”
“Quit harassing my girlfriend, Santiago.” Noah trails into our conversation. He makes his smug presence known, his palm tapping my ass before sliding into the back pocket of my jeans. Can’t say I hate it, now that I reap the benefits of his wicked smiles and dirty words.
My brother groans. “You’re the one who just smacked her ass right in front of me. Do you have a death wish?”