Corey checked the figures on his tablet one more time. Everything seemed to be up to standards. Ethan’s practice times looked good, and he’d driven two great qualifying laps. Starting fourth helped keep them in the top twenty in driver’s points for the time being. Ethan’s work during qualifying also looked good for the wandering horde from Taps. At least, the covering on the truck looked awesome. The brewery logo, a full stein and lots of suds with the word Taps in the bubbles, was splashed across the hood.

He whispered a prayer that Ethan would continue to slow down and use his head on the track. “Just a little more patience, and we’ve got these things in the bag.” Corey sighed then opened his eyes. The frustration, the stress all melted away. For a moment, he had peace. “Let’s race.”

Voices caught Corey’s attention. When he glanced out at the midway, his tension returned. Ethan strolled over to the garage bay with the group of employees from Taps in tow. Instead of his normal firesuit, he wore a polo shirt and regular jeans. If Corey didn’t know better, he’d have thought Ethan worked as a publicist, not a driver.

Ethan flashed his winning smile. “This is my crew chief, Corey Blauser. Without him, I’d probably still be wrecking trucks. We have a strange way of understanding each other, even when we aren’t real thrilled with each other.”

Corey tucked the tablet under his arm. “Ethan can be a real handful.”

“Don’t you know it.” Ethan winked then waved to the group. “Let’s check out the hauler.”

As the knot of people wandered away, following Ethan, Loren stepped out of the crowd. “Good time?”

“Always a good time at the track. We race in about two hours. The driver meeting went well, and we’re set to conquer Vegas.” Corey hooked his thumb in his pocket and gripped the table in his free hand. “Ethan seems to be eating up the attention. He’s a ham.”

“He’s doing well for us. Better than Harlan expected.” Loren shrugged. “His attitude up to a few months ago had us worried.”

“He came around.” Corey hated small talk. He strolled to the rear end of the truck and surveyed the people bustling up and down the midway. “And you? Having a good time showing the brewery’s best and brightest around?”

“It’s a living.” Loren stood beside Corey. “I hate promo parties like this.”

“Why?” Corey shifted his gaze to Loren. Did he hate crowds, too? Couldn’t be. “You’re the center of attention. That’s pretty cool.” Not really.

“I hate it. Having people stare at me always churns my stomach. I feel like I’m under the gun to be cool or funny. Then the brass shows up. They expect me to kiss ass and play nice with them. Do as I’m told. I hate ass kissing.”

“Gotta be the dominant? Or are you a rebel?”

Loren crooked one eyebrow. “Sometimes.” He lowered his voice to a gravelly whisper. “I actually prefer to switch up my roles in the bedroom. Top, bottom… I’m good.”

“You were good, yeah.”