Salou — Wednesday, after shakedown Rallye Catalunya, 7:21pm

Jude sees her leave the hotel alone. Since her father bought the team a month ago and handed it to her older brother, she’s been around occasionally. ‘Another spoiled heiress’, he’d thought. Yet the longer she lingers, the less that version holds. It unsettles him, or perhaps draws him instead.

She stops at a stall selling grilled sardines and orders, smoke clinging to her smooth skin.

He scoffs softly at the contrast, runs a hand through his hair, and steps beside her. “You’re making it rather difficult to maintain my original theory about you.”