Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Quentin Blackwood’s words nearly made Ivy Sherwood stall the car as she started.

She fumbled for a moment before pulling out, but by then, Julian Grant’s car was already far ahead.

The last time they raced, it was on a proper racetrack—a large loop designed for easy viewing by spectators.

This time was different. It was a road course with off-road elements, and the obstacles were all unfamiliar to Ivy, who had never driven it before.

To be safe, Ivy started off cautiously. With Quentin Blackwood beside her, she felt incredibly tense.

After a little while, Ivy picked up speed. She didn’t want to lose and make Quentin Blackwood wait on Julian Grant.

Julian Grant was probably doing it on purpose. He wasn’t driving very fast, just coasting ahead of Ivy, swerving back and forth to block any chance she had to overtake him.

Quentin Blackwood spoke up. "Julian Grant likes to be flashy with his driving. He especially loves to show off on difficult sections."

"Have you raced against him before?" Ivy asked.

"No," Quentin Blackwood answered flatly. "But that’s just his personality. It’s not hard to predict."

’So Quentin was just guessing!’

Sure enough, just as Quentin had predicted, at the first turn, Julian showed off by drifting wide along the outermost curve. Ivy seized the opportunity and passed him on the inside.

Julian Grant probably hadn’t expected to be passed. He dropped his nonchalant attitude and started to give chase.

’He’s a master at reading people. Just by observing someone’s habits, he can predict their next move.’

’If you applied that to business, you could completely anticipate someone’s next action and secure victory from the start.’

Sometimes, without even realizing it, Ivy learned a great deal from Quentin Blackwood.

"You can weave a little, too. Julian will want to retake the lead, so don’t give him the opening."

"Got it!"

Ivy Sherwood’s lips curled into a smile. ’Quentin Blackwood has a devious streak, doesn’t he?’

Julian Grant loved racing, and his skills were worthy of boasting about throughout Lustre. So, it wasn’t long before he found an opportunity to overtake Ivy.

And now that he was taking it seriously, it wouldn’t be so easy for Ivy to find another chance to pass him.

Graham Sherwood’s car was also ahead of her, but still behind Julian Grant, who had a commanding lead.

A road sign indicated the finish line wasn’t far. The final stretch was a downhill slope, which meant this was Ivy’s only remaining chance.

But Ivy had no confidence she could pull it off. She didn’t have the skills for that incredible overtaking maneuver Quentin had used before. She couldn’t do it.

"I’m sorry. Looks like you’ll have to be Julian Grant’s workhorse after all," Ivy said softly.

"Is this how you always are? You give up before the very last second?"

"We haven’t reached the finish line, but the outcome is already decided, isn’t it?" Ivy knew she couldn’t get past Julian Grant. He was ahead of her, and no matter how hard she tried to close the gap, she just couldn’t overtake him.

"This doesn’t sound like the Ivy I know."

"Then what is the Ivy you know like?" Ivy asked.

She had never really talked about things like this with Quentin Blackwood. She was curious what he really thought of her.

"I thought you were someone who never gave up until the very end. That even when there was no hope, you’d fight to the last second. Wasn’t that what you were like when you broke off your engagement? You knew it was hopeless, but you held on to your belief and persevered. Or is it that this is just a small bet, so you don’t really care?"

"I... That’s different. And it’s not that I don’t care." She didn’t want to lose, but sometimes you had to admit when you were outmatched.

"It just... seems hopeless now." Ivy could see Julian Grant was already approaching the finish line.

"Ever heard of snatching victory from the jaws of defeat?"

Ivy’s eyes widened slightly. ’Snatch victory from the jaws of defeat? Is that even possible here?’

But for some reason, Quentin Blackwood’s voice gave her a surge of resolve. ’How can I give up before it’s over? What if there’s still a chance?’

"In racing, anything is possible, and there are countless ways to overtake. This ramp isn’t huge, but it’s big enough for you to accelerate and gain some momentum."

Quentin began to coach Ivy. "You can give it more gas here. The car will catch some air, and you should land right behind Graham. He and Julian aren’t far apart, but they’re on the left and right. To pass them both, there’s only one way: a blade pass."

"But I’ve never done a blade pass before," Ivy said, worried.

A blade pass meant getting the car up on two wheels, tilting it sideways to squeeze through the narrow gap between two opponents.

Because Graham and Julian were so close, it was the only way to get through the middle of them.

"Give it a try."

Ivy’s palms were slick with sweat. She gripped the steering wheel, and following Quentin’s instructions, she felt like she was becoming one with the car.

They were close to the finish line. Julian Grant glanced at his rearview mirror, checking on Graham, who wasn’t far behind.

’No one’s managed to pass me yet, and they’ll have even less of a chance now. This section is too tricky. You’d have to be a racing god to pull it off.’

He was already getting smug. ’First place is mine for the taking.’

’Honestly, it wouldn’t be hard to slow down and wait for Ivy, but the thought of making Quentin Blackwood his workhorse for a month was just too tempting.’

So, Julian Grant didn’t slow down. In fact, he sped up, preparing for one final sprint.

However, just as he was certain of his victory, a shadow flashed past, blocking the light beside him for a split second.

He didn’t even get a clear look before something flew past him.

By the time Julian Grant could focus, the red race car was already crossing the finish line.

’He couldn’t believe it. He’d been passed just inches from the finish line?’

’Was that really Ivy driving? Or did they switch drivers halfway through?!’

When Ivy crossed the finish line, she couldn’t believe how smoothly it had gone.

That pass had scared her half to death. Her palms were drenched in sweat. Especially when the wheels lifted and the car went vertical—it felt like she was flying. To squeeze between other cars at that speed, passing two at once...

"Well done," came Quentin Blackwood’s voice from beside her. It was rare to hear a word of praise from him.

Ivy felt like she’d nearly died of fright, yet Quentin was completely calm.

"Weren’t you afraid my skills weren’t good enough? That we’d have an accident?"

"There’s nothing to be afraid of. Life is full of unexpected moments."

"Wait a minute." Something suddenly occurred to Ivy. She turned to Quentin. "Didn’t you say you don’t know how to race?"

The corner of Quentin Blackwood’s mouth lifted slightly as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door.

Ivy got out of the car after him. "You lied to me!"

Quentin still didn’t say a word. Ivy walked around to face him. "So, at the racetrack last time... when my car was spinning out of control, the one who risked everything to rush over and help me slow down... that was you, wasn’t it?"

"It was you, wasn’t it! It was you!"