Chapter 136
Chapter 136:
Austin blinked, clearly caught off guard by Brinley’s question. After a beat, a wider grin spread across his face. “I’m more invested in the woman sitting here with me than in any racer hidden behind a helmet p>
His eyes lingered on her with disarming sincerity. “You get to eat my cooking. The one in the helmet doesn’t get that privilege p>
Heat crept into Brinley’s cheeks, and she let out a sharp little scoff. “You really are a shameless sweet-talker p>
“I’m only stating facts,” Austin countered lightly, his tone threaded with amusement. “Tomorrow I’ll have Miguel drop off a set of racing documentaries—deep dives into classic events. Since you’re working on that interview segment, they could prove useful p>
The suggestion sounded casual, yet it was deliberate—a seamless blend of generosity and another gentle nudge toward racing. Brinley recognized it instantly as one of his subtle probes, but no excuse came to mind strong enough to turn him down.
“Thanks,” she murmured, spearing a bite of food. Then her voice softened. “But watching documentaries only gives you theories. Maybe… when you have a chance, you could explain it to me in person? You clearly know cars, and nothing beats firsthand knowledge p>
As she spoke, she tilted her head and offered him a faint, sly smile.
If there was no escaping his game, she might as well take the lead and see where it carried them.
𝘞𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝖽𝗮𝘵е е𝘷𝗲𝘳у 𝘸е𝘦𝘬 𝘰𝗻
Austin caught the spark of defiance dancing in her eyes and let out a low chuckle. “I’d be glad to p>
He slid another rib onto her plate with casual ease. “Go on. Eat before they cool off—it doesn’t taste the same once it loses the heat p>
Dinner carried a quiet undercurrent, balanced between comfort and tension.
Their talk drifted from updates on work projects to the occasional detour into racing.
As the conversation stretched on, Brinley became aware that Austin’s manner wasn’t intrusive.
He wasn’t prying or stripping away her defenses. Instead, it felt like a subtle game played in silence—one where both of them knew the rules without ever spelling them out.
Every so often, he lobbed a question her way, gauging her reaction with sharp eyes, then effortlessly pivoted to a different subject.
A strange tingle ran through her chest. Logic told her to be wary, but instead of resistance, a quiet spark of anticipation stirred in her veins.
Brinley gave her head a sharp shake, dismissing the absurd thought, and lowered her gaze to the rib waiting on her plate.
The sweet-and-sour glaze coated her tongue, its layered flavors echoing her own mood—tangled, bittersweet, impossible to name.
Across town, Milly reclined on a cushioned spa bed, a cool mud mask spread evenly over her face.
The beautician’s hands kneaded her shoulders with practiced ease, working slow, steady circles along her tense neck.
Though the treatment should have felt indulgent, a crease remained etched between Milly’s brows, her troubled thoughts refusing to loosen their grip. Her phone buzzed with a curt text from Colin: “Dinner party tonight. Won’t be back p>
Milly’s chest tightened as she stared at the screen, emotions knotting inside her.
Since Brinley launched her flashy racing-themed real estate project, Colin’s visits home had dwindled. On the rare nights he did appear, he sat glued to his laptop, the glow of the monitor often reflecting Brinley’s company page.
Unease clung to Milly like a shadow. Brinley’s name seemed to linger everywhere—on Colin’s lips, in his work, in his thoughts.