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“You came here to eat?” I ask dumbly.
He sighs heavily and looks around, finding a dish towel on the counter, then grabbing some ice and placing it inside. He wraps the towel up before handing it to me. “You should ice that.”
I take the icepack he threw together and carefully place it to my lip. The contact stings where that fucker’s fist caught me earlier, but I hope I don’t show it.
I don’t show weakness.
“Why are you here?” I ask again, leaving the ice-packed towel against my lip, making it awkward to talk.
“I was hired for a job.”
I snort, finding my way to the counter bar and taking a seat on one of the barstools. “Ah. So you’re here for the first interview.”
He walks around the counter and sits down next to me. I can’t help noticing he smells really good. Probably some sort of cologne, but it’s impressive that he can smell good after spending the day at the track in the heat like that.
What a weird thought.
Today must have been more exhausting than I thought because I’ve never thought a guy smelled good before. But Soren does. That’s not that weird. It’s fine.
“I’m here to find out why you are the way you are,” he says slowly, like it’s some sort of epic statement, and in that moment, I almost pity him because there’s no digging deeper with me.
I know it’s kind of his job, but it isn’t going to happen.
“Good luck with that.”
“Why did you go so damn feral? That kid didn’t mean to hit your car, and you know it. But you looked like you wanted to kill him out there.”
I place the ice-filled towel down on the counter. Then I press my palms into my eye sockets because I’m not in the mood to talk, and damn it, I’m tired.
So damn tired.
“Do yourself a favor and tell Jenny this whole thing is off.”
Not surprisingly, Soren isn’t having that, his back straightening as he eyes me with determination. “Not happening. When I’m hired for a job, I finish it.”
“There is no digging deeper here. He pissed me off. He made me lose the race, and I was mad, so I hit him. The crowd loved it, in case you missed them cheering.”
“I heard plenty of booing too,” he says knowingly.
I hop off the barstool, hellbent on getting away. “Look, I’m tired. Go with a Neanderthal joke or something. Your followers will love it.”
He climbs off his barstool too and stands directly in front of me. “That’s the last thing you need right now. Let me give them something real. Tell me why.”
I swallow hard, hating the concern and pity I see in his eyes. “I’ll be just fine, no matter what you decide to go with.”
“So damn stubborn.”
“Just figuring that out?” I walk to the front door and open it, gesturing for him to get the hell out of my house.
My body sags in relief when he doesn’t fight me. He shakes his head solemnly as he walks out the door, and I shut it behind him.
I can barely fucking breathe as I sink down to the floor and try like hell to get my mind right again.
This sad, broken guy isn’t me.
I’m loud. Arrogant. Certain.
I’m the goddamn hotshot of the racing world.
