“So you two finally got together?” Jared inquired, his words sounding more like a statement than a question.

I arched a brow, turning back to the track and ignoring him.

Ben joined me, taking my lead that I had no intention of indulging a conversation with Jared. Zack announced the next race, and we all watched as he and Jax set up the drivers and sent them off.

The heavy engines shot off, pounding over the screams of the crowd, and I smiled as the cars roared past, the wind sending my hair flying over my shoulder.

Juliet and Fallon chatted, and Madoc hung back, staying quiet. Jared stayed behind me on the bleachers, the heat of his eyes covering my back.

I’d missed that feeling.

“Well,” Jared’s smooth voice floated behind me. “Our little pond certainly has come a long way, hasn’t it? My brother looks like he’s outdone himself with the Loop. Some amazing races, hot new drivers . . .”

I slipped my fingers into the pockets of my tight jeans and tilted my chin up, the corner of my mouth tilting in a grin.

“But it’s still a small pond,” he finished, his hard voice dripping with disdain.

When he tore me down in high school it was to feel better about himself. But now it was to get me to react.

I turned around, meeting his eyes but never giving him what he wanted. He could gloat and wear his self-satisfied smirk, but I didn’t play this game anymore.

But much to my surprise, Jared wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t teasing. His expression was dead cold, and his eyes bored a hole right through me.

There was no anger, no amusement, no threatening tone to his voice . . .

What was he thinking?

“This is Pasha, my assistant.” Jared introduced the goth-looking girl he’d driven in with. He turned to her. “Pasha, this is Tate and Ben.”

Assistant? Yeah, right. Men and women who were attractive and unattached generally weren’t friends. Unless one of them was gay.

“Tate?” Pasha repeated as if she recognized my name, and I saw her shoot a look to me and then back to Jared. “As in . . . ?” she asked him, trailing off as if they shared a hidden understanding.

I narrowed my eyes, noticing that he stayed silent, with his eyes focused out on the race.

And her interested expression turned judgmental as an eyebrow shot up.

She knew something.

I turned back around, just in time to see the racers cross the finish line, and I wondered if Jared had talked about me with her. It would’ve been unlike him. He rarely confided in anyone, so why her?

“Round two!” Zack shouted over the loudspeaker, making me jump.

I looked over the track, my game face lost, and . . .

And now my blood wasn’t dancing under my skin. It was shaking.

Shit.

“On the track!” Zack shouted, and Ben hooked my elbow, pulling me away.

“Shake it off,” he told me, cupping my face. “His being here doesn’t matter.”

I brought his hands down gently, giving him a half smile. I was grateful for what he was trying to do, but I could take care of myself.

I let Ben kiss me on the lips before I turned away and walked to my car, hearing whistles from the guys in the crowd. Even more so this week with Madoc’s little impromptu wardrobe alteration on my shirt catching everyone’s attention. Sometimes I dressed to kill, simply because it was fun to change it up, but I wanted to be noticed for my driving, not shaking my ass.

Climbing in, I pulled my car up to the starting line and sat next to Jaeger, with Chestwick and Kelley behind us. It was another four-car race, which made it interesting, with the narrow track.

I climbed out of the car to go hear instructions.

All three guys, surrounded by their girlfriends and our friends, crowded around the front of the cars as Jax stood up in the tower doing his techie thing and Zack administered the rules.

I steeled my body, determined that in one minute, I’d be in my car, with my music, and everything else forgotten.

“All right, everyone,” Zack rallied us, his bald head shining in the stadium lighting. “It’s a four-loop race. The top finishers from last week get the two front spaces this week. No rubbing, and no shenanigans.” He pointed around to all of us. “You don’t race clean, you won’t be invited back.”

Rules we already knew and rules that were hard not to break. The track was wider than it had been in high school but not wide enough for four cars. Not rubbing was nearly impossible.

Zack eyed all of us for compliance, and the crowd started chanting names.

“I’m ready,” I said, nodding.

Zack peeked over our heads, toward the bleachers.

“Mr. Trent!” He called for Jared, feigning formality. “How about a turn for old time’s sake, Mr. Big Shot?” he joked.

He held out his hands, trying to make a big show and get the crowd riled up as they started cheering.

“Sorry, man,” I heard Jared say in the distance behind me. “There’s only one race I’ll take, but I’m not sure she’s ready to give me what I want.”

“Ohhhh,” the crowd nearly panted, and before I let his words sink in, I did an about-face and got into my car without giving him a look.

Everyone cleared the road, and I glanced into my rearview mirror as the engines roared to life. He leaned back on his elbows, looking my way, and I averted my eyes, rolling up my windows and turning up Shinedown’s “Adrenaline.”

Nothing. I closed my eyes, letting the music sink in. Nothing was weighing me down.