[**ON HIATUS**]
Noah Wood is a Mercedes driver. Scrappy, charming, and far too handsome, Noah is one of the best drivers on the grid. But a newcomer is threatening to steal his seat, and Noah must win this year's Grand Prix - or risk being booted ou...
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This, Noah thought, had to be one of the worst moments of his life. And that was really saying something.
He looked at his younger brother Levi, who was lounging on his bed, a Gameboy propped on one knee. His mother, who had a hand over her mouth. And then to Amelia, who was hovering near the door, bearing a strong resemblance to a deer about to bolt across a road. Possibly in front of a car. On purpose.
Fuck.
"Er, hi." Noah cleared his throat. "I wasn't... expecting you."
Obviously.
He rocked back on his heels, trying desperately to redirect the blood flow. And to look anywhere but at Amelia's mussed hair, or the red welts on her chest where he'd kissed her. Something stirred in his chest, and he shut it down immediately.
No.
Not thinking about that.
"The porter let us in," his mother said. "Such a kind young man."
"Brilliant," Noah said mildly, thinking he was going to have words with the porter, some of which would include disappointed, timing, and policy violation.
"And this is...?"
His mother trailed off, looking at Amelia expectantly. Amelia held out a hand.
"Amelia," she said.
"Cartwell," Levi supplied. "She races for Alpine."
Noah raised an eyebrow. If his younger brother looked surprised to find the world's first female F1 driver in Noah's bedroom, he was doing an exceptional job of hiding it; explosion noises emanated from his Gameboy, accompanied by a dramatic swell of music.
"Would you like to join us for dinner?" Catherine asked.
Amelia's face was blank. "Dinner?"
"There's a nice Italian place," Catherine continued. "Just down the road. I figured Noah wouldn't have had a chance to eat yet."
Catherine Wood smiled. It was a shame, Noah reflected, that his mother was so friendly; she was the sort of woman who put birdseed in the garden, and baked fairy bread for the children next door, and could tell you the name of every person in their local supermarket. He'd inherited the signature Wood charm from her.
Now, it was going to bite him in the ass.
"Oh, that's so kind," Amelia said. "But I've already eaten."
Catherine raised an eyebrow. "When?"
"Er. An hour ago."
"What did you have?"
Amelia looked sheepish. "A power bar."
Catherine clucked her tongue in the way that only mothers could manage. "That's hardly a full meal, darling. What would your parents say?"
