Page 127 of Jackrabbit

She offered her hand to Beau first, which gave her instant points in Colt’s book.

“Thank you for the opportunity.” Colt grinned at her and waved to Vic, who saluted him and dropped her loafered feet on the table.

“Let's get down to it.” Hoyt remained seated, and Colt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He'd followed Hoyt's career tangentially. Never liked how rigid he was, though he really was talented.

“Give ‘em a second to breathe, Mark, geez.” Vic flicked a paper triangle at him, and he swatted it away.

“If I have to tell you not to call me Mark one more time—”

“You'll what?” Smirking, Vic laced her fingers behind her head. “You're that poor sucker's Crew Chief, not mine.”

“Not yet.” Hoyt raised an eyebrow at Colt and gestured to the chair in front of them.

The single chair.

Colt raised both eyebrows. “Oh, looks like you forgot a chair, actually.” He spotted the extras lined along the back wall. “No worries, man. I'll go get it.”

“That's not necessary, Mr. Rourke,” Hoyt said as he folded his hands on top of the table. “Theo is already prepared to give Mr. Moore a tour of the facilities while we discuss the schedule for the next few days.”

“Oh, that's nice.” Colt nodded and turned toward the row of chairs. “But, you know, should probably have my coach here. You get it.”

“Mr. Rourke—”

“Colt.”

Colt froze, one hand on the back of a rolling chair, that rumbling single syllable something his body obeyed on instinct at this point. Beau was watching Hoyt. Blank, if you didn't know him. Assessing if you did. Like he was sizing the other man up, or seeing him clearly.

“Sit down.”

Fuck that and fuck Hoyt and fuck—

“Colt.” Beau turned to him then, not blank anymore, but soft, maybe. “Sit.”

Walters and Navarro were watching the exchange like a tennis match, and Colt didn't want Beau to go. But Beau was just trying to keep the peace, and he didn't want Colt’s temper to fuck things up day one. So Colt gritted his teethand went back to the table like he hadn't just tried to put Hoyt directly in his place. The chair squealed in the silence of the room as it took his weight.

Theo, standing in the doorway through it all, cleared his throat. “If you'll follow me, Mr. Moore.”

Beau’s eyes settled on Hoyt one more time before he nodded at Colt and left, Theo smiling at the room at large before he snicked the door shut behind them. And for the first time since Colt had gotten that phone call, he was alone in this. He turned back to the Liberty crew, and Vic caught his eye before subtly rubbing the tip of her nose with her middle finger.

Chapter 54

Beau stood behind the pit wall with his arms crossed over it and watching the crew in the pit stall scramble to get everything right. All dressed in charcoal, electric blue, and sulfur yellow. The car was plain charcoal with the number fifteen slapped on the sides and roof in orange tape. Test mule car with mismatched rims and paint pen marks in neon green over every nut and bolt on the wheels so they could see if anything was vibrating loose.

Next to the car stood Colt, his hair extra wild in the humidity, pink-cheeked and nodding as Hoyt talked at him. His arms were crossed, and he was trying to hide his fingers tapping against his ribs. Buzzing again. Trying to hide it because these people didn’t know him yet. He was wearing his own race suit, zipped up and buttoned tight.

Hoyt reached out and adjusted the shoulders, and Beau clenched his teeth.

“Here you go, Merc.” A slender hand with blue-painted nails appeared in front of his face, holding a paper coffee cup. Beau looked up at Theo, who smiled at him. “Figured you were probably a black coffee kinda guy.”

“Thank you.” Beau took the cup.

He liked Theo, who hadn’t treated him at all like an interloper during their tour. He’d taken Beau right down to the chassis shop and shown him the car Colt was driving. Sent the crew on a fifteen-minute break and didn’t say a word as Beau got under the hood. They’d eaten lunch together in the diner down the street, and Theo had gushed about his husband, Jake, who did Dolly Parton drag.

Beau’s eyes slid back to the pit stall.

The pit crew was scattering as Hoyt put Colt’s helmet on for him. Like he couldn’t do it for his own damn self.

Fuckin’ hypocrite, Moore.