I feel a pang in my heart, a painful ache for things long gone.
Dragging myself from the past to the present, I see Carrick climbing out of his car. Removing his helmet and fireproof balaclava, his hair is all stuck to his head, but he still looks amazing, beautiful.
He’s being congratulated by all our team, his dad, Uncle John, and Pierce. Carrick’s grinning and laughing.
Just watching him makes my heart swell, my chest filling with happiness.
Then, Carrick’s face tilts my way, his stare finding mine, and the look he gives me—the depth in his eyes, the smile on his face—leaves me feeling breathlessly staggered, and exhilarated.
In this moment, I realize that I’m massively screwed.
Because I fancy him. Big time.
And now, I have to find a way to deal with that.
Trust me to get a crush on the one man I can’t have.
Pulling in a deep breath, covering my feelings for him, I smile and make my way over to congratulate him.
“I’M BORED.” Carrick drops down into the chair in front of me.
He’s looking as gorgeous as ever, dressed in khaki shorts and a white polo shirt, which shows off the deep golden tan of his skin.
I’m trying really hard not to stare at his arms. They’re just really good arms. Unblemished smooth skin, muscular, sexy veins running along them—they’re the kind of arms you want to lick.
As you can see, my crush is going extremely well. The stopping-it part? Not so well.
We’re in Kuala Lumpur for the second leg of the season. It’s my first time in this country, and I’ve got to say, it’s amazing.
“How can you be bored? It’s only nine thirty in the morning.” I take a bite of my toast.
I’m eating breakfast alone as Petra is still in bed, sleeping off last night’s hangover. Surprisingly, I’m feeling bright this morning, considering how much I drank last night. Carrick came out last night, but he didn’t stay long as he had an early morning training session.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been up since six. Feels like half the day’s gone already.”
“You just left the gym?”
“Your new trainer kicking your butt?”
Carrick was complaining last night about his dad hiring a trainer for him while he’s here.
Because he’s taller than the average driver, he naturally weighs more, so he has to be careful not to tip the scales.
Carrick might win his races, but he likes to drink, and his diet isn’t exactly healthy. If he’s not careful, he’ll gain weight, putting him at a disadvantage on the tracks—hence, the new diet and training regime.
“The guy is a fucking drill sergeant. I’m bloody starving as well. Muesli was what I was allowed to eat for breakfast. Fucking muesli,” he grumbles.
“Poor baby,” I tease.
That earns me a grunt.
My phone alerts a text from Mum.
Good night, darling.
The time zones are really starting to mess with her.
Chuckling to myself, I text her back.
Mum, I’m ten hours ahead of you, so it’s nine thirty in the morning here. I’ll call you tonight, so it’ll be morning your time.
She messages back straight away.
I love you.
Then, I look up from my phone to see Carrick eyeing my bacon with what can only be described as longing.
“You all right?” I laugh.
“No, I’m dying of starvation.” He looks up at me. “Are you going to eat that bacon?”
Our hotel is one of the only places in Kuala Lumpur that serves proper bacon. I was looking forward to eating it, and I kind of don’t want to share it with him. I’m greedy like that.
Leaning back in my chair, I pick up my coffee cup. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for you to eat bacon? You’re on this health kick for a reason.”
He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Jesus, I’m not exactly overweight, am I?”
He flexes the muscles in his arms, and I have to resist the urge to stroke them—or lick them.
“And one piece of bacon isn’t gonna turn me into Jabba the fucking Hutt.”
“I’m pretty sure when Lucas created him, it was just Jabba the Hutt. Not Jabba the fucking Hutt. And if your dad sees me giving you bacon, he’ll have my job.”
“No, he won’t. Come on…just one piece of bacon.”
“No.” I move my plate toward me and away from him.
“Aw, come on, baby. You know you wanna give me some.”
I feel that word wash through me like an erotic cleansing.
Pressing my thighs and lips together, I shake my head. “Nope. Your smooth Irish charm won’t work on me.”
Grinning, he gives me a look straight from the sex devil. “Aw, Andressa, baby, if you give me some…I’ll make it worth your while. It can be our little secret. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
“How do you manage to make a conversation about bacon sound dirty?”
“I’d say it’s a talent…but maybe it’s not me who’s dirty. Maybe it’s you. After all, you are the one interpreting it that way.” He lifts a brow.
And my face goes bright red.
His fingers creep over the table toward my plate. “So, am I getting that bacon?” He flutters his eyelashes at me.
Bastard knows how good-looking he is.
“Fine.” I give in. “One piece, and that’s your lot.”