At Full Sprint (A BBW Shifter Romance) (Last of the Shapeshifters) by A.E. Grace Page B

because I’m an intern doesn’t mean I’m unprofessional.”
    “No,” Miles said. He lifted his hand off the steering wheel, and to Circe it looked like he had meant to reach over and touch her hand, or perhaps reassure her by patting her on the thigh, but he didn’t. It was a strange movement, and a viscous awkwardness filled the space between them.
    She had to admit… the day had been comfortable, though oddly tense. They got along… quite well, in fact, but he had kept himself at arm’s reach. She knew that she had, too. Were they both just being protective? Guarded? He had laughed easily, but she felt it was a cover, or just a way he shielded himself. She needed to break past that. His ‘attraction’ to her – and she was still trying to decide if he was just messing around and teasing her, or if it was genuine – seemed the most real in that small movement his hand had just made.
    “I meant that your boss might have an agenda and be forcing your hand.”
    “Well, how would my coming out with you today mean I’m serious?”
    “Because it means you’re interested. You didn’t have to. None of this was in the agreement.”
    “You know, Miles, you’re a bit strange.”
    “You think so?”
    “Yeah. Especially for a racer. I mean, when you’re at the pits, teasing your competitors and full of swagger… that’s what I expect. But today, you’re different. Interview-mode again, but tell me: Is it all an act?”
    “Isn’t everybody always acting?” he deflected. “I mean, aren’t you?”
    Circe didn’t know what to make of that. Did he know what Ms. Jennings had said to her? Impossible!
    “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
    “No, it’s not an act. But you’re not my competitor.”
    “Did you always know you wanted to race?”
    “Yes. Well, I mean, not always. It was probably the first time I actually saw a race.”
    “Oh?” Circe said, perking up. “When was that?”
    “Let’s not do this now.”
    She sighed. “Why? Why is it whenever I ask about your past, you sidestep? I thought this was all-access.”
    He tilted his head the side. “Fair enough. The first race I ever saw was just a drag race on the street outside my house. Two men who had two cars wanted to race, and since we lived on a bit of straight road, they did it there.”
    “Oh,” Circe said. “I thought you meant professional race.”
    “Disappointed?”
    “No. But how thrilling can watching two blokes go head to head on a bit of road? I mean, what were they racing?”
    “It wasn’t the competition. I don’t do it for that. It’s the speed. The control. The limits.”
    “So, in other words, the thrill?”
    “You could say that.”
    “Do you thrill-seek in other ways?”
    “Like what?”
    “Skydiving? Rollercoasters?”
    “God, no.”
    “Why so specific, then?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know. But talking about all of this is starting to give me ideas. Want to really hear the engine roar?”
    Circe looked down, remembering the engine was in the middle of the car, pretty much right beneath them.
    “We’re at the limit, aren’t we?”
    “So what?”
    He sped up, and though she wanted to chide him because it was dangerous, found that she embraced the thrill instead. Holding on tight, her stomach was taking turns between rising up into her chest, barging aside her lungs, before sinking into her guts. She heard the engine indeed, but paid more attention to Miles. He regained some of his energy, and his smile became easy again as they weaved down the winding road at thirty above the speed limit.
     
    *
     
    “Night cap?” Miles offered as they walked up the stairs to the first-floor landing. “My treat.”
    “Isn’t everything your treat?” Circe asked him, looking around. “It’s on your tab.”
    “So that’s a no?” He watched as she pondered the question, before finally shaking her head.
    “Sorry, it’s late, and I need to check in with Ms. Jennings.”
    He nodded. “No worries.