Page 22 of Full Throttle

“Jules!” a voice called.

Capulet waved her over. Her brother was hovering by a dartboard. His shirt was untucked, and several blond hairs decorated the sleeves. Either Clyde had been lying on his packing, or Cap had been getting intimately acquainted with one of the waitresses. Hopefully the former.

Juliette nodded at her brother’s sunburned neck. “Mum’s going to kill you.” She frowned. “Are you playing darts by yourself?”

Cap didn’t appear to register this; he was staring at her pink shoes. “You’re wearing cowboy boots.”

“I am.”

“To a party.”

“Well,” she said dryly, “I generally wear shoes outside of the house. No point in getting my carpets dirty.”

A camera flashed, and Juliette stifled the urge to jump. She’d been exposed to paparazzi before—impossible to avoid, really, when your brother was one of the best race car drivers in the world—but not like this. Acid bubbled in her stomach. God. She shouldn’t have had that fizzy water. Cap glanced at the photographers before subtly shifting in front of her.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said.

Juliette eyed him warily. The last time Cap had a “surprise” for her, they’d been ten, and she’d woken up to a fish in her toilet bowl. “What sort of surprise?”

Cap smiled. “You’ll like this one.”

Someone grabbed her.

Juliette bit back a scream. She spun, elbowing her attacker in the stomach. The person let out a pained grunt, accompanied by a string of Spanish curse words. Baz, she realized, with equal parts relief and annoyance; he’d snuck up behind her.

“Dios mío,” Baz muttered, rubbing at his stomach. “Were you trying to take out a rib, Lettie?”

Juliette exhaled. “You’re lucky I wasn’t holding a dart.”

“Where’d you learn to punch like that?”

She crossed her arms. “I grew up with an annoying brother.”

“Benvolio’s not that bad,” Cap offered.

Juliette narrowed her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about Ben.” She turned back to Baz, who was still massaging his stomach. “What are you doing here?” And then, her eyes flicking to the colorful string around his neck that read Sebastian Moreno: “And why are you wearing a Taurus lanyard?”

Baz dropped his hand. “I’m their new reserve driver.”

Juliette stared. “Fuck off.”

Cap had the gall to look amused. “Told you she’d say something offensive.”

“Baz. That’s amazing.”

Juliette pulled him into a hug. Baz ruffled her hair.

“It’s not a big deal,” Baz said. “I might not even drive this season.” He disentangled himself, nodding toward the bar. “You’ve met Von Galen; he’d rather chew glass than succumb to the common cold.”

A waiter paused with a tray of canapés. Well, a single canapé; all the rest were gone. Baz was already shaking his head, holding his hands up like the polite peacemaker that he was. Unsurprisingly, Cap plucked it off the tray. Her brother wrinkled his nose as the waiter disappeared.

“Oh. It’s pizza.”

Cap held the canapé out. Juliette accepted it, handing half to Baz. “I’ll never know what you have against pizza.”

“It’s too bready.”

“But burgers are bready,” Baz pointed out.