“Princess, I’m going to need you to lean out of the car, grab the fuel hose, and refuel as we go.” I grin at her.
Chapter Twenty-One
“LET ME see if I understand you correctly….” Zamara blinks those gorgeous eyes at me while I divide my attention between her and the mountain path without sacrificing speed. The incredulity of what I’m asking of her all over the lines of her beautiful face. Those pouty lips of hers plump up even more when she speaks again. “You want me to lean out of a car that’s going….” She checks the speedometer. “Close to eighty kilometers per hour on an unstable mountain pass, grab wherever the truck’s fuel hose is, and connect it to your GT just so you can refuel on the go and not lose time?”
When she puts it that way…. “Exactly,” I say, not batting an eyelash. “And we’re slowing down to sixty.” She snorts at me as if she doesn’t give a damn about taking our speed down twenty kilometers. “Stopping will mean Ace and the rest break away. We need to make up for my wait at the starting line yesterday.”
“You didn’t have to wait for the air to clear.” She combines crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes. Dear racing gods if she isn’t all kinds of adorable right now. All I want to do is reach out and pinch those pink cheeks of hers.
“Are you even listening to yourself? You know I had to wait for the air to cool for the intake to work properly.”
“Well, tough.”
The urge to pinch her turns into wanting to slap her. Instead of unleashing my rising annoyance, I think of how I can convince her to risk the very life I’m trying to protect for the sake of my own selfishness.
“You need to make up your minds,” Mac reminds. “We’re coming up to the long curve. That’s the only time we have two lanes and smooth driving.”
Gripping the shift stick as I change gears, I try option one. “If you do as I ask, I’ll answer all the questions you wanted to ask me earlier.”
Her eyebrow arches so high up her forehead, I’m scared her expression of disbelief will stay that way forever. “I don’t think I’m interested in those answers anymore. Dying for them isn’t worth it.”
Anticipating her reluctance, I go for the underhanded option judging from the way she looked when she asked earlier. I sigh for effect. “If you help me with the rolling top up, I’ll kiss you when we reach the second checkpoint.”
The eyebrow goes down and the eyes grow wide. Without looking at her directly, I can imagine the cogs in her head working. I’m going to hell for this, but at least I’ll have a chance of winning the Impulse Cup first. She faces the screen when Mac waits. I flick my gaze at him, and he’s gone from white to beet red. In the background Screw is clearing his throat. Men. I return my eyes to the road as Zamara makes up her mind.
“What do I have to do?” she asks Mac, and I suppress the smile fighting to stretch my lips. Zamara showed me her weakness last night, and I’m not ashamed to exploit it. Feel free to judge me.
“It’s simple, really,” Mac says. “I’ll talk you through it.”
Zamara snorts again. “Simple. Yeah, right.” She pushes the button for the window and the glass lowers.
“Screw,” I call.
“Let’s do this,” my mechanic replies.
We enter the curve at the same time. It follows the entire width of Mount Mega, curling upward to the summit. I ease on the brakes until we’re cruising at sixty, as promised.
“You ready?” I ask Zamara.
Her gaze narrows. “You promise to kiss me?”
I nod. Flashes of the boss torturing me to death for willingly putting his daughter’s life in danger don’t change my mind. Maybe the money he’ll make when I win this thing will be more than enough to make up for this momentary lapse in judgment.
“All right, Mac,” she says without looking away from my profile. “Talk me through this.” Then, not only does she lean out, she actually straddles the door’s frame.
“What the hell are you doing?” I blurt out, losing my cool.
She ducks back in to glare at me. “Refueling your damn car. Now shut up before I lose my balance and fall to my death.” She twists back out when Mac begins feeding her instructions. I reach down and unlock the fuel tank, then concentrate 90 percent of my attention on driving straight and steady around the mountain.
“Do you see the panel at the side of the truck?” Mac asks.
“Yeah,” Zamara says, but the one-word response is quickly taken away by the zipping wind.
“Press the blue button.”
“Okay.”
“Now pull out the hose and place the nozzle—”
The GT rolls over a huge rock. Zamara screams. I let go of the wheel and reach for her. My fingers miss her thigh but manage to close around the seam of her jeans. The fabric is like butter against my touch. For a second the irrational fear of her slipping from my grasp punches me in the gut.
“Zamara!” I hiss out, juggling holding on to her and keeping the car on course.
“I’m okay,” she pants. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she repeats. I think it’s more for her sanity than for mine. She repositions herself on the frame. I don’t remove my hand from her jeans. “Let go, RC.”
“No.” I shake my head even if I know she can’t see me. “I can drive one-handed.”
“Yeah, but I can’t reach for the hose if you don’t let me go.”
I can feel her trembling beneath my fist against her knee. Her voice may have calmed, but she’s definitely scared. Suddenly I second-guess my decision. Maybe it’s better if we stop and refuel.
I’m about to say so when Zamara yells, “Mac, I have the hose in the tank. What now?”
So I
