Page 46 of Over the Limit

“It’s a life of danger.”

“So very dangerous,” I say. She grants me a genuine smile for the first time since she walked in here.

“Thank you.” She reaches out and squeezes my hand. We both stare at our joined fingers as if that simple touch would ever be enough.

You’re such a dick for even thinking that. The woman just broke up with her boyfriend of how many years and all you can think about is how much you wish she were yours like a damn fucking sap.

Screw your wants, Lach. Hers are what matter right now.

This season. The contract. Next year’s ride. Those should be your focus.

Before I can process it, Blair steps into me and wraps her arms around my waist. I stand, frozen in that middle space between knowing what I should do and what I want to do.

What I should do is pat her gently on the shoulder and not touch her any farther.

What I want to do is wrap my arms around her and notice how perfectly she fits here. The way her head rests under the line of my neck. The soft curves of her body against the hard planes of mine.

“I needed this,” she says softly, almost as if it’s hard for her to admit.

I swallow forcibly and decide on a middle ground. I give her the quickest hug known to man—one that doesn’t memorize the feel of her but sure as fuck hopes I get to. “Glad I could be of service.”

It’s when I step back—create the distance I so desperately need—that I catch the tears pooling in her eyes. That I can sense the brave face she’s putting on instead of letting the quiver of her chin win out.

“I should go pack,” she says.

“You should.” Distance will do me a world of good right now.

But neither of us move. Much like we did in the lounge a few weeks ago after staying up all night, it’s as though we find comfort in simply being with each other. Does she not want to leave me as much as I don’t want to leave her?

I clench my jaw, shove my hands in my pockets, and force myself to take a step back. “Have a safe flight.” The words are strained.

“You too.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Lachlan

“Lachlan? Is that you really calling me?” Zola Chamalet asks and then laughs.

Heiress, sometimes acquaintance, and maybe a woman I went on a date with.

“I am. Hi, Zola. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing good.” I can all but hear her trying to figure out why I’m calling her. “Tough race, huh?”

“It seems like they all are this season.” I glance up to the hotel in front of me like I have been for the past few hours and wonder which room’s light is Blair’s.

“Hmm.” It’s the only sound she makes before she falls silent. Her throaty laugh fills the phone. “And?”

“And I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you.”

“Of course you are.” I can hear the humor laced with curiosity in her voice. She’s about as down-to-earth as she can be but at the same time thinks the world revolves around her. It’s a weird dichotomy that she wears well. “What do you need, Lachlan?” she asks in a singsong voice.

“I need access to Golfpark Plateau tonight.”

She barks out a laugh. “Tonight.” I can hear her snap her fingers. “Do you think I’m a genie? I don’t have a lamp.”

“No, but you have friends in high places.”