When the race ends, the real heat begins.Kip Carmichael knows exactly how this is supposed to do the job, keep it professional, don’t get attached. Especially not to someone like Hutch. Tire gunner, menace, walking bad decision. He’s grease-streaked hands and a crooked grin, the kind of guy who says whatever he wants and somehow gets away with it. The kind of guy Kip definitely doesn’t have time for. Until a grounded flight and a spectacular run of bad luck strand them together somewhere in rural Germany with one run-down van, two beds (barely), and way too many hours to kill. Somewhere between missed exits, questionable motels, and songs neither of them will admit to liking, the lines start to blur. What was supposed to be temporary starts to feel … not. Which is a problem. Because the paddock has eyes. Because Kip has rules. Because Hutch doesn’t do careful, and Kip doesn’t do this. But the thing about bad decisions? Sometimes they’re the only ones that feel right.