Page 79 of Jackrabbit

Colt glanced back at Beau in time to see his face shut down entirely, and he turned back around to hide his grin. Some part of him hoped that Sam showing up and being so familiar would push Beau into another possessive show of dominance that would leave Colt’s legs barely functional.

Okay, all parts of him. Every part of him wanted that.

“Oh, it’sSam!” Liam shouted from inside the cockpit of the car as they approached. “And in full groupie mode, too, our boy must have given him the ride of his life.”

“Well,” Sam said as he set down his things and opened a case. “He is an excellent driver.”

The guys catcalled and shouted like morons, and Colt sought out Beau, who wasn’t looking at them at all. He was over by the hauler on his tablet, already leaning his back against the metal with one foot hooked on a tire. Colt left Sam to the guys and went to stand next to him, mimicking his position and watching other crews running around getting ready.

“So,” he said. “You seem on edge.”

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.” Beau didn’t look up from his tablet at all. “Drink.”

He took a few little sips before crossing his arms with the bottle dangling by its strap from his fingers. “Think he’s gonna ask me to dinner after. What do you think?”

Beau froze for a beat, predator still, before slowly shutting off his tablet and lowering his foot. “I think you—”

“Sorry to interrupt.” Sam didn’t sound sorry in the least as he approached again. “But Vic sent a radio, too. Figured you wouldn’t have one at stock level, and she wants to hear what’s going on while you race. You two okay with being recorded? She said you can keep the setup when I leave.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Colt agreed as he reached out both hands and wiggled his fingers. “Gimme.”

There was no time to talk to Beau after that, because Colt’s qualifier started before Sam could even get him connected to the mic. He was third to last, so the rest of the time before the pace laps was spent with Sam, who got the radio installed, took pictures of every part of the car, and one of Colt after he’d pulled on his suit and left it unzipped.

“Third,” Sam said when the grid places were announced. He put away his camera and hauled his cases and bag back into his arms. “Good qualifier. You have a good race, yeah? I’ll be watching.”

“Thanks.” Colt nudged him with his shoulder. Maybe Sam could never do it for Colt the way Beau could, but he was a nice man. Funny, too. They’d get along. He could feel it. “Make sure you get my good angle.”

Sam glanced behind Colt briefly before his smile widened, and he raised his voice enough to carry. “Easy to do when you’reallgood angles.” Colt felt Beau approach just as Sam said, “But my favorite has to be the one from behind.”

Oh, shit. He’d done that on purpose, hadn’t he? That beautiful, sweet genius. As Sam winked at Colt and walked away, Beau’s hand dropped onto the back of Colt’s neck again. Colt was going to have to send Sam a very nice bottle of alcohol. What a goddamn treasure.

Beau spun him around and zipped up Colt’s suit with tight, controlled movements. His brow was drawn, his lips pressed together, and Colt bit back his smirk. “Little rough there, coach. Big fan. But I’m wondering—something bothering you?”

Fingers pressed against his throat as Beau roughly snapped the collar closed, but he didn’t say anything. The silence was as much of a confession as if he’d said what he was thinking out loud. Which Colt suspected went something like, 'I’m fucking pissed because that guy you slept with is here and I’m a possessive bastard who wants to shove you in this hauler and fuck you until you can’t walk.'

But maybe Colt was just paraphrasing.

“You gonna play the strong, silent type the whole race?” Colt asked as Beau flipped his helmet over and checked the wire and mic Sam must have taped in there. “Is that duct tape?”

“Rush job,” Beau murmured. He peeled off the strip of tape on the mic and moved it so the mic would be closer to Colt’s mouth. “You’ll feel it while you drive. There’s a Push-to-Talk button on your steering wheel. They also put a 360 GoPro in.”

“Sounds serious.” Colt’s heart jumped into his throat. They werewatchingwatching him this race.

Beau let out a breath, and that tension eased out of his eyebrows as he ducked his head and gripped Colt’s shoulder. “It is. And it’s a good thing. That race Saturday made a big impression, and I guarantee with the following you’ve ramped up, they’re not the only ones watching.”

“No pressure.” Colt’s voice sounded strangled even to his own ears.

“Boy, listen here.” Lowering his voice, Beau searched Colt’s face with those warm honey eyes. “This is what you’ve been fighting for. You wanted their attention. You got it. Now go show ‘em why they’re looking.”

There was something about Beau’s confidence in him that never, ever failed to calm Colt’s nerves. Like if this man and no one else believed he could do it, then he could. And he would. He wouldn’t let Beau down. He pressed his palminto the wasp at his chest. He wouldn’t let Connor down, either. Not when he was so close to achieving the dream Connor had helped him build.

He nodded, and let Beau put his helmet on for him. They walked to his car together, all the guys gone to the stands with Camila and her mom. Mateo hadn’t made it, but racing wasn’t really his bag anyway.

He slid into the cockpit, and Beau strapped him in just like he always did. Colt took his breaths, closed his eyes and envisioned driving that perfect lap, that perfect line just like Beau had taught him. By the time Beau was tapping his helmet, he was centered. He clicked the button to turn on his mic as he drove off to get on the grid, and saw Beau watching him through the rear-view.

“How’s my rear looking, Coach?” Colt asked with a feral grin. “I know how you hate to see me leave, but love to—”

“We are being recorded.”Beau sounded very done with Colt’s bullshit, and Colt saw him rubbing the bridge of his nose before Colt hit the track and he was out of view.“Could you please, for five goddamn minutes, pretend to be a professional?”