Throttled: Dirty Air (Book 1)(86)
My brother groans. “You’re the one who just smacked her ass right in front of me. Do you have a death wish?”
Noah grins while my cheeks heat. He lives to get under my brother’s skin, despite the number of times I tell him to stop teasing Santi. But at least they both laugh.
“I can’t help our burning love for one another,” Noah purrs with a dramatic clutching of his heart. Beautiful asshole.
Santiago gags. “Did you lose your balls between Brazil and here? Because if so, my chances of winning the Championship just got a whole lot better.”
Noah drops his head back and laughs. “I think Maya found my—”
I rush to cover his mouth, standing on the tips of my toes to reach him. “Nope. Absolutely not. Dirty jokes are off the table forever and ever.”
Noah licks my hand and winks at me. I pull away, not trusting myself around him because he has a way with words and his tongue.
“Seriously, can’t you both make out somewhere in private? Preferably far away from the pit garage where I don’t have to see you pushing my sister up against stacks of tires.”
Santi scared the shit out of us yesterday. The piles of tires fell like dominos, drawing everyone’s attention toward the three of us. My cheeks remained red the whole day after that display.
“We learned our lesson with that one.” Noah shakes his head, fighting a grin.
Unlike him, I let out a laugh, unable to rid the mental image of a fuming Santi pummeled by massive tires.
“I’m sorry. We’ll be better. That means no more funny business.” I give Noah a pointed look.
“Things we do are anything but funny.” Noah waggles his brows.
My brother runs an agitated palm down his face. “I hate to say it, but I may prefer broody Noah versus lovey-dovey Noah. That guy kept to himself during race weekends rather than shoving his tongue down my sister’s throat at every possible opportunity.”
We all know he likes Noah. These two have never been friendlier, with us all eating dinner together each night this week. They even hung out on their own when I went to interview Liam. I came back to the suite to find the two of them playing video games, duking it out with an F1 simulation. I sat between them and spent the night watching TV with the biggest smile on my face.
I situate the two men of my life in chairs facing back to back.
“Okay. Moving along.” I click the record button on my camera. “Hi, everyone. Welcome to my last vlog of this F1 season. We’re in Abu Dhabi where Santi and Noah just completed their practice round. With only two days left before the final Grand Prix, I wanted to take advantage of Bandini’s off-time. Today we are playing the Newlywed Game with our two favorite Bandini boys. The game goes as follows: Noah and Santiago each have two cards. A blue card means Noah, and red means Santi. Every time they both agree on an answer, the team gets a point. After ten months together, let’s see how well these two know each other. The goal is to win as a team, so think of your answers carefully. Three strikes and you’re both done, proving to the world Jax and Liam are the best teammates.” Those two scored thirty points together, surpassing my expectations. I doubt Santi and Noah will make it past ten.
I take up a seat next to the camera, choosing to stay out of the frame.
“Okay, first one. Who has had the least amount of speeding tickets?”
Two red cards go up. Noah and Santiago turn around and smile at getting the answer right.
“American cops pull you over for everything.” Noah rolls his eyes.
My brother faces the camera. “Because only an amateur gets caught.”
I continue because we will never finish at this rate. “Who has the bigger butt?”
My brother holds up a red card while Noah lifts up a blue card.
“Oh, you both disagreed. One X.” I cross out the question.
Noah sighs. “Come on, Santiago. Your ass could never fill out my jeans.”
My brother stands up and shows his butt off to the camera. I laugh to myself while Noah gets up to compare, the two of them not coming to a conclusion. Clearly their bonding has reached new levels because they ask my opinion, but I shrug my head. Not touching that debate.
“Who holds their liquor better?”
Two red cards wave in the air.
“Stick to beer. No one wants to see you taking up shop at the nearest pit trash can again.”
The three of us laugh. Noah’s poor decisions don’t hang around us, not after he admitted the truth about his dad to my brother two days ago. My boyfriend, the same man who acted like the whole world could go fuck itself, gave my brother a hug and told him thank you for punching his dad. A freaking thank you. If I didn’t already love him, I would have offered my heart at that moment.
“Who is the biggest baby when sick?”
Two red cards go up. Glad my brother sees his man-child ways because the stomach flu I got the last time taking care of him was nothing short of terrible.
“Who is more stubborn?”
Two opposite colored cards hang in the air.
“Another strike and a prime example of how stubborn you both are.”
“You do know it took you like eight months to figure out you liked my sister, right?” My brother flicks his blue card for emphasis.
Noah smirks at the camera. “Not as bad as you taking ten months to realize you wanted me as a friend rather than an enemy.”