Praise for Karen Booth

“Reid and Willow are grappling with real, adult problems, the kind we don’t often see in the pages of romance novels… [Swap and Smell the Roses is] a poignant tale of reinvention with a delicious enemies-to-lovers vibe.”

—Jenny Holiday, USA TODAY bestselling author of Canadian Boyfriend

“Fans of opposites-attract romances, especially those with small-town charm, won’t want to miss [this].”

—Library Journal on Swap and Smell the Roses

“Karen Booth is always a guaranteed winner for me. I loved the real feel to this spicy grumpy/sunshine romance!”

—Louise Bay, USA TODAY bestselling author

“I loved this book. Full of cozy cottage-core vibes and amped up spiciness with an emotional punch.”

—Katherine Garbera, USA TODAY bestselling author of The Bookbinder’s Guide to Love, on Swap and Smell the Roses

“Karen Booth works romance magic in this…realistic spin on the grumpy/sunshine storyline.”

—Joanne Rock, USA TODAY bestselling author

“Heart, heat and more heart. I didn’t want it to end. Also, am madly in love with Reid.”

—Joss Wood, author of Love in Translation, on Swap and Smell the Roses

“Sweet and sexy…[with] witty banter and great characters… Willow and Reid are imperfect perfection.”

—Naima Simone, USA TODAY bestselling author, on Swap and Smell the Roses

Also by Karen Booth

Swap and Smell the Roses

Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

Not So Fast

Karen Booth

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Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9781335574985

For Ems.

Only you are brilliant enough to help me invent some of the details in this book, and I will gladly brainstorm fictional Formula One drivers with you forever.

I love you always.

One

Today, I feel…

Effusive. Optimistic. Ebullient, even. I know it’s not like me to be so endlessly upbeat, but things are looking up. Plus, it’s Margarita Monday so I’m guaranteed to end the day with my best friend, drinking tequila and consuming large amounts of cheese.

Mia Neal was too smart for her own good. Literally too smart. She’d missed two questions—two—on the SAT, and instead of rejoicing in her near-perfect achievement, she got mad. The instant she saw her score, she knew exactly which questions she’d missed, and precisely who was at fault. Those answers were subject to interpretation, based entirely on the test’s poor wording, and I shouldn’t be penalized for the mistakes of a business entity that makes millions off students and their families while perpetuating the idea that a four-year education is the only path after high school. This was what she’d wanted to scream at the powers that be.

As it turned out, there was no avenue for students to express grievances about test questions, and she was left to live with what had been deemed her shortcoming. Even now, an entire decade later, it still annoyed the hell out of her if she took the time to think about it, something she could admit happened a little too often.

Overthinking? It was her superpower. She turned everything over in her head, scrutinizing it from all angles and zeroing in on every flaw until she knew precisely where she’d come up short. Then she fixated on that. Forever.

“It was the closing segment. That’s where I went wrong with my last episode,” Mia said to her best friend, Jasmine Ramos, gesturing with a tortilla chip then dunking it into house-made salsa from Lenta, Mia’s and Jasmine’s favorite Mexican restaurant in Austin, Texas. It was the site of their regular Monday dinner date and had some of the best food in town.

“You’re too hard on yourself.” Jasmine took a sip of her margarita then carefully licked salt from the rim. “Who has the patience to listen to an entire podcast episode, anyway?”

Mia resented the implication on a number of levels. “If I do it right, it will require zero patience. I never want my listeners to get bored.”

“Yeah, but—”

“According to the data, I lost people right after the twenty-three-minute mark.”

Mia had spent hours that afternoon looking over the latest numbers in her podcast dashboard. What had started as a hobby a year ago had become a full-time obsession and was even bringing in some money, which was a very good thing because Mia was out of a job and living off her savings. Again.

“Maybe I should stop talking about things like Ayrton Senna’s win in Brazil in 1991. Although it was so emotional. His home country. A hard-fought battle. A race he’d longed to win, but never had. He was so caught up in the moment… But I worry my listeners might not be interested in the finer points of the history of Formula One.”

“And I worry that I created a monster by suggesting you do this,” Jasmine said.

“Well, you did. And now I can’t stop.”

Mia would never forget that night in her living room, when she and Jasmine had a brainstorming session about Mia’s possible career paths after she’d taken yet another job that paid a pittance—working in admissions at her alma mater, UT Austin.

“Everybody has a side hustle,” Jasmine had offered that night, three beers in. “I think you should stay where you are and add something extra.”

“Every side hustle I’ve tried has never paid off. Plus, people should be able to make a living in this country with only one job. There are too many systemic forces making it hard to get ahead.”

“Okay. But maybe focus on simply doing something so you can keep your apartment and not have the power turned off?”

“I refuse to drive all over town delivering takeout. All that wasted gas. And don’t get me started on plastic knives and forks. People should be cooking at home more. Maybe I could teach a class.”

“What about a podcast? Some people are making bank.”

“What am I going to do a podcast about? Welcome to Too Many Advanced Degrees with Mia Neal, the podcast where I tell you how to waste several years of your life earning diplomas that will not equip you to earn an adequate income.”

Jasmine cast Mia a look that night that said she was being ridiculous. Which wasn’t entirely inaccurate. “Do it about something you love.”

“Oh, sure. A podcast about hunting for typos on Wikipedia.”

“What about Formula One? You’ve been sulking for an entire week about the season ending.”

Sulking had been an understatement. The end of the season was always such a letdown. Formula One had been Mia’s sport of choice since she was a little girl and her aunt Judy introduced her to it. Of course Mia loved the speed and the elite nature of the competition—twenty drivers in the entire world. But she also loved the psychological gauntlet of having only two drivers on a team, automatically creating an intense rivalry since it was guaranteed that one driver would finish ahead of their teammate every single race.

She was equally in awe of the physical demands of the racing and in turn, she loved arguing with strangers on the internet about how the drivers were conditioned athletes who built up their bodies to withstand incredible G-forces, not simply guys who knew how to punch the throttle. And of course, who could ignore the clown car of impossibly sexy men behind the wheel? Frankly, it raised the question—what was in the water served at European go-kart tracks? Some magical beauty elixir?

Now that Formula One had exploded in the US, Mia no longer had to use a VPN to watch every race weekend, and there was an embarrassment of videos about the teams and drivers on YouTube, which only fueled her love for the sport.

“I don’t know. Formula One is such a male-dominated space. The trolls will come out and I’ll spend all my time arguing with them.”

“And destroying them with your logic. When have you ever passed up a chance to obliterate someone with your brain?”

“Never. The answer to that question is never.”

Jasmine had given Mia quite a bit to think about. And since thinking was Mia’s not-so-hidden talent, as soon as Jasmine had gone home that night, Mia stayed up too late reading articles about podcasting. The next day, bleary-eyed but determined, she borrowed books about it from the library. Then she spent hours scouring the internet for the best deals on equipment. And thus began her journey with podcasting.

It was drudgery for the first year, trying to figure out what she was doing. But her love for F1 kept her going, and she’d always been energized by the challenge of learning a new skill. With each episode, she got a more solid footing, all while following one of her greatest passions. But the second year? Well, she was only a few weeks into the new F1 season, but she was already kicking ass. Turned out Not So Fast with Mia Neal was kind of blowing up.

Although she owed some success to the careful building of an audience, the thing that was really putting her over the top was her sometimes hilarious criticism of her favorite driver, Xander Bishop. Xander began his season with his new team, Mega Racing, by driving like an absolute dipshit. Putting the car in the wall at preseason testing. Out in Q1 of qualifying in Bahrain. Getting completely schooled by his teammate in Australia. And Mia had pulled exactly zero punches.

“Whoa, Xander. Not so fast. Dude, keep it in your pants,” she’d said with the sarcasm it deserved.

The day after that episode came out, her numbers on social began ticking upward. Then her subscriber numbers and downloads started a similar climb. So she doubled down after Xander started in fifteenth and finished in nineteenth in Saudi Arabia.

“What is going on with Xander Bishop? He’s so much better than this. He signed a gazillion-dollar contract, they put him in a rocket of a car, and he’s puttering around Jeddah like he has his dick in his hand.”

That was when her social media ex-plo-ded. She was over 200k followers on her two primary platforms overnight. And sponsors were contacting her now. Real sponsors. With money.

“A number four and a number seven?” The waiter arrived with their entrées. “Careful. The plates are hot.” He slid them onto the table while eyeing Jasmine and ignoring Mia, such a common occurrence Mia couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed. Jasmine had always been an effortless beauty, with a flawless olive complexion and naturally long lashes. Mia was accustomed to feeling invisible. It was part of what made her appreciate podcasting so much. In that space, it was acceptable to remain in the background. She could hide behind a microphone and be perfectly happy, which was no small thing.

“Thank you,” Jasmine said sweetly, making no effort to disguise her flirtation as he took a beat before sidling off.

“Speaking of monsters, you’re terrible.”

Jasmine shrugged. “Flirting is my only form of fun. Work is a nightmare right now.” She was a receptionist and scheduler at a high-end salon. “And I hate my boss.”

“I’m sorry.” It was one thing for Mia to struggle with her work. She didn’t want anyone else to be in the same boat. “If I could hire you, I would.”

“That’s sweet, but let’s focus on you staying on an even keel. If you could go a whole year without blowing up your life, that would be great.” Jasmine dug into her chicken enchiladas.

Yeah, Mia had a habit of radically changing course, but she was done with that. Not So Fast was her baby and she was going to nurture it until it built her some real security. This glimmer of success was only the start. She knew it.

“Like I was saying, now that it’s doing well, I need to refine things. Work on keeping my listeners engaged.” Mia took a generous bite of her smothered carnitas burrito. It was cheesy and comforting, like a big pork-stuffed hug.

Jasmine wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I say you just keep insulting that one driver. The hot one.”

“All the drivers are objectively hot. I could create a pitch deck on the subject, complete with charts, empirical evidence and an entire photo gallery. Even better, I’d construct it from memory.” She tapped her temple. “It’s all up here.”

“You know who I’m talking about. The Brit. The tall one.” Jasmine looped her fork in the air and bounced her eyebrows. “With the hair. And the eyes. And the chin.”

Just like that, Xander Bishop sauntered into Mia’s mind, with all the head-above-the-crowd superiority that came with being him. Tall and trim, muscular but not overbuilt, with a perfectly imperfect head of thick, messy, light brown hair, complicated deep blue eyes that made Caribbean waters pale by comparison and a jawline that could slice paper. But well beyond his physical attributes, Xander had been Mia’s favorite driver from the moment he came into Formula One. He had swagger. He’d seemed hungry, exceeding all expectations his first two seasons. He was highly intelligent, often questioning the team’s strategy during the race, a tactic that had led him to exciting finishes. And he was known for digging deep into data and telemetry—what was hotter than that? His mountain of attributes landed him at Mega Racing, one of the most high-profile teams on the grid. And that was where, inexplicably, his performance on track went sideways. Mia hated that he was struggling, but she did not feel sorry for him. After all, he was beautiful and made a fortune as a race-car driver. Plus, his poor showing had given her a level of success she’d always dreamed of, but never thought would actually happen.

“Xander. Bishop.” Mia gulped the rest of her margarita. The tequila made her face flush. It was definitely the tequila. There was no other explanation.

“That’s the one. He’s your meal ticket, isn’t he?”

Mia bristled at the idea. “I’d like to think that my insight on the sport is most important.”

“How’s your mom dealing with all this?” Jasmine asked with a leading tone. “Has she come around about the podcast?”

Mia’s mom, Amy, was a journalist and had been for more than thirty-five years. She’d had high hopes for Mia when she earned her first master’s degree, in journalism. But Mia never found a job she liked in that field, despite her mom pulling out all the stops to help her find one. So Mia went back to school and got a master’s in psychology. Sadly, that was another degree she hadn’t really used. The sheer abundance of Mia’s career choices was a sore subject with her mom, to say the least, but it was the distinct lack of journalism work that irked her the most.

“She’s warming to it. Slowly, but I’ll keep working on her.”

“Good.” Jasmine gathered her napkin and placed it on the table. “Running to the bathroom.”

“Cool. I’ll pay the check when it comes.”

“You sure?”

Mia nodded eagerly. “Yep. My treat.”

It gave her immense satisfaction to take her best friend to dinner. There’d been too many times when Jasmine had needed to spot Mia a few bucks. As soon as Jasmine was out of sight, Mia quickly pulled her phone out of her bag and checked her social accounts. She probably cared a little too much about them, but the chatter was fun and a boost to the ego—her numbers were skyrocketing, and she had tons of comments on every post, especially from female F1 fans who seemed to appreciate Mia’s approach to the sport.

She also got a few angry, creepy and unhinged DMs every day, but someone had to wade through the muck. As soon as she ventured into her messages, she saw one that made her freeze. From the verified account of legendary F1 driver Dirk Van Dijk, Xander Bishop’s teammate at Mega Racing.

Hello, Mia! I’m Dirk’s personal assistant, Heidi. Dirk loves your podcast and would like to invite you to the Miami Grand Prix this weekend. He will provide travel and accommodations, as well as a paddock pass for qualifying and the race. Please get back to me as soon as possible so we can make arrangements.

“Are we ready?” Jasmine asked, sliding back into the booth.

“They haven’t brought the check yet.” Mia was still trying to figure out what was happening. She’d read the message four times. It didn’t make sense that the assistant of an actual Formula One driver would contact her. “Does this look fake?” She handed over her phone.

“Who’s Dirk Van Dijk?” Jasmine asked, butchering the pronunciation.

“Xander Bishop’s teammate.”

Jasmine narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Why would he invite you to a race when you’re so critical of the other guy on his team?”

“I’m guessing it’s because I’ve been so critical of Xander. Every team has a lead driver and a number two. When Xander signed with Mega, everyone thought he’d come in and crush Dirk. He’d be top dog. But the opposite has happened. I’m sure Dirk will do anything to keep it that way.”

Jasmine swiped Mia’s phone, then handed it back to her. “It’s from his verified account. I think it’s real. You, my darling, have a famous fan.”

“But going to Miami on his dime? That seems a step too far.” Mia was certain of what the invitation meant, and it gave her a whole new understanding of Dirk Van Dijk and his ruthlessness. “I can’t go. I want to go, but I’ve taken too many journalistic ethics classes. The rules are clear. I should pay my own way, but I can’t afford it.”

“Mia. I don’t care what you tell your mom about your new job being journalism-adjacent. You’re not a journalist. You’re a podcaster.”

“Hey. I take my work very seriously.”

“I know you do. But most of the substance of your show is your opinion.”

“My opinions are based in facts. And I do report the news of the sport.”

“Which you will be in a better position to do if you have inside access. Plus, don’t you think your listeners will find it exciting? Hearing about everything behind the scenes?”

That did sound appealing. It could be another big step forward for Not So Fast. Mia bunched up her lips, her brain in overdrive. “You really think it’s a good idea?”

“You’d be a fool not to go.”

Mia looked at her phone, her mind a torrent of thoughts and her heart pulling in opposite directions. “I think he’s doing this so he can mess with Xander.”

“Not your problem. Like I said. Access, baby. VIP. You gotta grab it while you can.”

* * *

Xander Bishop had spent most of his life dreaming of being a Formula One driver, but no one had ever bothered to warn him about the misery of media day. This particular press conference in Miami was an especially horrible one, in part because of Xander’s terrible showing at the last race, in Japan. Xander qualified like shit, starting at fifteenth on the grid, then falling back three spots to finish in eighteenth. Meanwhile, his teammate, Dirk Van Dijk, had come across the line in third and earned his second podium of the season. In the same car Xander was driving. How was Dirk managing these results while Xander was struggling? It made no damn sense.

“Xander, are you concerned with the trajectory your season is taking, given that there was so much hype about you signing with Mega Racing for millions of pounds?” a sharp-nosed and scruffy-haired reporter asked.

How in the hell was Xander supposed to answer that question? Of course I’m concerned. I spend every waking minute keenly aware that I could lose my seat, be cast out of the sport, never to return. I have nightmares about being a complete and utter failure, disappointing everyone I know and love, especially my family, who count on me for everything, all while simultaneously watching the only dream I’ve ever had go up in flames.

Xander leaned back on the U-shaped white leather sofa he and four other drivers were sitting on for the weekend press conference and raised the microphone to his lips. “I’m not concerned.” He shifted in his seat, noting the liar liar pants-on-fire vibes from the drivers sitting on either side of him. “Yes, I’m having some difficulty understanding the car and getting the setup right. But that’s just part of the process. We’ll get there. The team and I are working incredibly hard to make sure this weekend in Miami is a successful one.”

He caught sight of Isabel Terry, PR rep and his personal handler from Mega Racing. She offered a reassuring nod then tucked her fire-red hair behind one ear. At least Xander could answer a question correctly.

“Why do you think Dirk is having so much more success with the car than you are?” another reporter asked.

Dirk was a good twelve years older than Xander and had left the sport for two seasons a few years back, but since his return, he was tearing up every circuit they visited. It was like he’d turned forty and had a run-in with a radioactive spider that gave him secret powers. He marched through every race weekend, fully confident in his abilities and then proving them on track. Meanwhile, Xander, in the exact same car, seemed to be regressing. The harder he worked and the more determined he became to do better, the worse things got.

“Dirk and I have very different styles. I’m not making excuses, but I don’t think you can compare us like that, even if we are driving the same car.” Although Xander felt exactly like he was making excuses. He didn’t understand why he was struggling so much right now, which was its own source of frustration.

“One more question for Xander,” the woman overseeing the press conference said, showing him some mercy. “Then we’ll move on to the other drivers.”

A reporter in the back of the room raised their hand. “Xander, have you heard about the podcast Not So Fast with Mia Neal?”

Xander cleared his throat. On a long list of uncomfortable subjects, this one might be the worst, only because it was brand-new and so shiny. He was shocked the question had taken so long to come up. “I am aware of it.”

“Ms. Neal’s got quite a following now. Apparently, Not So Fast is blowing up. All because of her criticism of you. How do you respond to that?”

“That’s one too many questions,” Isabel interjected, something she was not technically allowed to do.

“No. It’s okay.” Xander held up a hand, wanting to be a good sport, but also wanting to fight back. So much of being a driver was sitting back and taking criticism while never arguing, but this podcast woman was going too far. “You know, I value everyone’s opinion, especially those of the fans. But being a podcaster isn’t the same as being behind the wheel. With all due respect to Ms. Neal, I’m not sure she knows what the hell she’s talking about.”

A low rumble rippled across the room. Several reporters nodded. Some eagerly scribbled notes on pads or typed on their laptops or phones. Xander was certain that, at best, he’d created a delicious and tempting soundbite and, at worst, set off an international incident. Fuck.

“Let’s move on,” the presenter said. “Who has a question for Kenji Matsumoto?”

Kenji, the only Japanese driver on the grid, sat a little straighter and ran his hand through his glossy, shoulder-length hair. All props to Kenji—he looked like a rock star, and the media treated him like one, too.

Xander caught Isabel staring him down. She tapped her watch then gestured with her thumb over her shoulder. Xander nodded, understanding that she wanted to chat with him after the press conference. Because of course. He was in trouble again.

Xander spent the next twenty minutes in near-bliss as the other drivers were made to withstand the questions. After Kenji went Brett Lockford, the super-young fellow Brit who’d taken Xander’s seat at the worst team on the grid, Hughes Racing. Then there was Emilio Alvarez Baquero, the ultra-smooth Spanish driver for Vermillion. Emilio and Xander had come up through the same driving academy when they were younger and had been good friends for a while now.

The other drivers nailed the session, but they weren’t under the same sort of fire Xander was. When the grilling was complete, Emilio leaned over to speak to Xander. “Sorry the podcast woman is creating problems for you. People don’t appreciate the pressure we’re under.”

It felt good to know someone understood what he was going through, although Emilio was in a different stratosphere than Xander this season. He was favorite to win the Drivers’ Championship. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“And I don’t care what people are saying. I don’t think you’ll lose your seat. Mega will give you some time to sort things out.”

Xander had heard some rumblings of his seat being in jeopardy, but right there was confirmation of just how serious things were. All that pressure he was feeling was now doubled. Because the only way to lessen the pressure was to prove himself on track, and that was the one thing he wasn’t doing these days.

“Thanks. Good luck this weekend.”

“You, too.”

Feeling beaten down, Xander made his way over to Isabel. “I made a real dog’s dinner out of the podcast question, didn’t I?” He wanted to get all uncomfortable subjects out of the way. If he’d made a mistake, he’d own it and move on. It was becoming a well-tested reflex.

“I tried to intervene, but you didn’t let me.”

“I know.”

“Come on. We need to talk. Let’s find a quiet spot.” Isabel led them outside the media center then across to Mega Racing hospitality. Inside, everyone from publicists to technicians and team executives occupied a good third of the tables, enjoying the spread of afternoon treats offered by catering, like coffee, sandwiches and pastries. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m good. But thank you.” They found a table in the corner and settled in. “Okay. Give me what you’ve got. I’m all ears,” Xander said.

“Mia Neal’s podcast is becoming more of an issue. And that thing you said about her not knowing what she’s talking about could make it much worse.”

Anger quickly bubbled up inside him, but who could blame him? His patience had been worn thin by the press conference. “How? Won’t this woman get her fifteen minutes of fame and fade back into the shadows from whence she came?”

Isabel snickered. “From whence she came? Sometimes you’re comically British.”

“You know what I mean.” Although he had no earthly idea what Mia Neal looked like, he imagined her hunkered down in a dark room—a lair—with nothing but a microphone, internet and an agenda to make his life miserable.

“I’m afraid Ms. Neal is showing no signs of fading. Her popularity is growing. As is her visibility within the sport.”

He narrowed his sight. “Visibility? What does that mean?”

Isabel turned and scanned the room, then leaned closer to Xander. “You aren’t going to be happy about this.”

That was an easy bet right now. Xander was happy about virtually nothing, especially the headache that was now brewing. “Come out with it. Please.”

“Dirk invited her this weekend. I just found out. She’ll be in the paddock in time for qualifying.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he blurted. Everyone in hospitality turned and stared.

“Xander. Please,” Isabel hissed. “You’re making your life harder when you do things like that.”

He leaned in and whispered. “How does this happen? Can’t the team say something? Revoke her credentials? Make him stop?” Xander jerked back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s doing this to get in my head. He loves that I’m struggling right now. That’s not good for any of us.”

Isabel cast him a pity-filled grimace. “I don’t disagree. But unfortunately, none of us has any say about who a driver invites to a race. You know that. We can advise, but Dirk wants exactly no one’s opinion. That’s how he is.”

Xander exhaled and shook his head, then resigned himself to his fate. “Fine. Then I suppose I’ll have to kick some serious ass this weekend so I can get her to start criticizing someone else.”

“That’s the spirit.” Isabel flashed a grin and knocked a knuckle on the table. “I’ll see what I can do from my end. Dirk’s assistant Heidi is sick. I’ll make a case for me ushering around Mia Neal.”

“Perfect. Yes.” How he loved having a plan of action. He’d let Isabel show Mia Neal who was really in charge. “Then I’ll have time to pour hot sauce into Dirk’s driving gloves.”

“You’re kidding.”

Xander managed half a smile. How he longed for revenge on Dirk, but he knew that the real focus needed to be on himself. “Don’t worry. I won’t make any problems as long as you handle Mia Neal.”

Two

What can you do today to take better care of yourself?

I could stop watching F1 press conferences. Xander Bishop said I have no idea what I’m talking about. Okay, it’s kind of amazing that he knows who I am, but still. Ugh! He was so dismissive. So arrogant. I pride myself on being educated and prepared. I would love to give him a piece of my mind. If I get to talk to him. Which might not happen. I just want him to know that he’s underestimated me.

As soon as Mia was on the ground in Miami and took her phone out of airplane mode, she was ping ping pinged with texts from her mom.

Don’t let them intimidate you. You are smart and capable. Just do your job.

Five minutes later:

Not that it’s an actual job. I know you work hard and feel passionate about this, but please be realistic. A podcast is not a career.

Especially not with your schooling and your brain. Shoot for the stars, my love! Don’t just do what’s easy.

Eleven minutes later:

Try to squeeze in some fun if you can. Go to a museum?

Please don’t go parasailing. It’s dangerous. I read an article about it. The industry has no oversight.

Three minutes later:

Remember sunscreen. I’m sure you already know this, but the rays are even harsher in South Florida than in Texas.

Love you. Mom

Mia had to laugh. That was always how she knew her mom was done with a string of texts. She signed off. Mia tapped out a quick I love you, too in response, then tucked her phone into her bag and filed off the plane and into the terminal. Beyond security, a driver waited for her, holding one of those little signs with her name on it. Her stomach fluttered with excitement. This was actually happening. She wasn’t simply going to a race as a fan, like she had more than a dozen times at the Austin GP. Oh, no. She was attending as an invited guest of a driver.

During the ride from the airport, Mia had entirely too much time to think. She didn’t know exactly what to expect today and tomorrow, but it seemed reasonable to assume Mega Racing would not be parking her in a grandstand with a bucket of salty popcorn and a soda. Of course, that only left her to wonder about things like VIP lounges and the paddock club. Was she ready for this? Hobnobbing with the wealthy and powerful people who had inside access to Formula One? Probably not. Case in point, very little time had gone into her clothing choices that morning. A T-shirt and shorts might be practical for traveling and the Miami heat, but she was going to impress exactly no one today. What in the hell was she doing?

She took a second to gather herself, but even greater questions barged into her brain. What if she really was nothing more than a pawn in some evil scheme of psychological warfare devised by Dirk? What if she met Xander Bishop and he used his sensational lips to spout British insults at her? What if he called her a wanker? A bloody git. A numpty. She might never recover.

Get it together, Mia.

She could do nothing about her present circumstances other than get on the train and ride it wherever it took her. She had to put on her game face. She pulled out her pocket recorder to document her experience for the podcast. “All right, guys, I’m in the car on the way to the track in Miami and we’re getting close. It looks like we’re pulling up to a security checkpoint. The driver’s rolling down the window and oh yes, there it is…” Mia closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled. “The scent of high-octane fuel and burnt rubber. The smell of hopes and dreams. Who will come out on top this weekend? Will it be another 1-2 finish for Vermillion? Will French driver Florian Laurent have as good a showing here as he did in Japan?”

“Excuse me, Ms. Neal,” the driver said. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Mia clicked off her recorder. They were right outside the paddock swipe gates. “Oh. We’re here. Like here-here.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get your bag.” In a flash, he hopped out and opened the door for her.

Mia climbed out, squinting at the sun as she scrounged for her sunglasses. As soon as the driver wheeled over her tiny roller bag, a freckled, red-haired woman wearing a Mega Racing polo appeared. “You must be Mia Neal. I’m Isabel Terry. I handle PR and tend to our special guests.”

Special guest? Holy crap. Mia hadn’t expected such a prestigious descriptor for herself, and she’d only just arrived. What other amazing surprises were in store?

She eagerly shook hands with Isabel. “Thank you so much.”

“Here are your credentials.” Isabel pulled out a laminated pass with a lanyard and looped it over Mia’s neck. “Let me take your suitcase.” Isabel grabbed the handle. “We’ll get you through the swipe gates and stow this.” She led the way to the security checkpoint, flashed her pass in front of the scanner, and the light turned green. Isabel dutifully waited for Mia to do the same. “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m good for now. Thank you.”

Mia was struggling to keep up, especially when Australian driver Preston Hubbard strolled past so close she could see the stubble on his face. She made a mental note to remember the details, which, fortunately, she was pretty good at. Still, everything around her seemed to be happening quickly and slowly at the same time. For the thousands of times she’d seen footage of drivers or photographers or VIP guests walking through the paddock behind the team garages, she’d never imagined she’d ever get there herself. It was further evidence that her podcast was taking her places. Finally, she was on her way.

Isabel led them inside a Mega Racing building, where a man appeared out of nowhere and took Mia’s bag. “We’ll dispatch that to your hotel, so you won’t need to worry about it. It will be waiting for you in your room when you get back tonight.”

“Wow. Great.” The next-level red-carpet treatment just kept on coming.

“Qualifying starts in a little under two hours as I’m sure you’re aware. Dirk would like to say hello in—” Isabel consulted her phone “—four minutes. You’ll have a few moments with him and then I’ll take you to the paddock club.”

“Great. Will I get to meet Xander Bishop, too?” Things were already going so well, Mia figured she might as well really go for it.

“I’m not sure. He’s incredibly busy.”

Mia was certain that meant no, she would not be meeting Xander. Perhaps that was for the best, considering the things she wanted to say to him about his comment in the press conference.

Isabel glanced at her phone again. “Dirk’s ready.” She directed Mia down a hall and into what appeared to be Dirk’s private driver’s room. There he was, lounging on a black leather couch and looking at his phone. “Dirk. This is Mia Neal. From the Not So Fast podcast.”

Dirk practically launched himself out of his seat. “Mia Neal! My hero!”

Mia was beyond shocked by his response. She shook his hand, noticing how his face could be boiled down to three elements—the whitest of white teeth, icy-blue eyes and shockingly symmetrical features. “Your hero?”

“Of course. You’re doing some hard work on my behalf. Getting into Xander’s head.”

Isabel cleared her throat.

Dirk slung his arm over Mia’s shoulder, which worked well since they were so close in height. “We should take a photo together.”

“We should?”

“So I can post on social media.”

Everything crystallized before Mia’s eyes. She really was here as Dirk’s pawn. Still, Jasmine’s comment about access rang in her head. This weekend could be a real boon for Not So Fast. Bigger social numbers. More listeners. Sponsors. Greater success than she’d ever dared dream of. She had to keep going.

“Awesome. Make sure you tag me.”

“Oh, I will.”

Isabel took the photo. Dirk rattled off a few things about how well his season was going, facts Mia was well aware of. “Right. Yes. Uh-huh,” she said about twenty times. Then he signed a Mega Racing hat for her and excused himself so he could prepare for qualifying. Mia donned the cap and was escorted outside, then upstairs to the paddock club situated directly above the team garages with an incredible view of the pit lane, starting grid and finish line.

“There’s an open bar. Anything you could possibly want to eat,” Isabel said. “You can watch qualifying on the TV monitors in one of the lounges or go out onto the terrace. I’ll come find you when it’s over. Just so you’re aware, your pass doesn’t allow you in the paddock without an escort.”

Mia was disappointed, as this severely limited her chances of running into Xander, but she was still happy to be there. “Okay. Thanks.”

With Isabel gone, Mia checked out her surroundings. The club was just as glamorous and over-the-top as she’d thought it would be—hell, people paid tens of thousands of dollars to have a pass to it for a weekend—but Mia felt like she’d been placed in a golden cage. Probably so Xander Bishop didn’t risk running into her. Isabel and the team were protecting him from her, which she understood, but the truth was that she didn’t want a confrontation; she merely hoped for a conversation.

She found a quiet spot and checked her social accounts. As promised, Dirk had not only posted their photo everywhere, he’d also tagged her. There were already a zillion comments, most of them positive.

I love Mia’s show!

How cool she got to meet Dirk!

Ahhh! So jealous of Mia, but she deserves it.

There were a few negative ones, too. Who is that rando with Dirk? There were some idiotic comments about her weight, which she’d learned to ignore. There was something about normal, everyday women daring to live their lives and take up space in a not-tiny body that some people simply couldn’t handle. Mia had zero time for that.

Good or bad, she had thousands of new followers. In the span of thirty minutes. Right there was evidence of the untapped potential of getting closer to this sport. Maybe the good things that would come from attending the Miami race would help her convince her mom that her podcast was a worthwhile venture. And if being stuck in the paddock club was the price she had to pay, it was worth it. She’d do anything to advance the cause of her new career. One that felt like it might stick, for the first time in her life.

She grabbed some lunch—a Cubano sandwich with sliced roast pork, ham, Swiss cheese and mustard on a baguette, pressed and grilled—and enjoyed it along with a shockingly delicious mojito while she did some people-watching. As soon as she was done eating, she recorded on the sly. “I don’t know if any of you have been in one of these paddock clubs before, but it’s a trip. Guys in diamond Rolexes and women wearing Louis Vuitton from head to toe. Meanwhile, here’s me, podcast girl, in jeans and a T-shirt from Target. I have to be honest. I feel a little out of place, but you know, I love this sport and that’s all I care about. I’m just a normal fan. I’m probably not cut out for the paddock club, but I’ll soak up every minute of it and take you all along for the ride.”

She clicked off her recorder and Mia found a viewing spot out on the terrace where she could watch the on-track action, but also turn around and have direct sight lines to a TV monitor. It was the best of both worlds, but she couldn’t record here—there were too many people talking, plus the roar of the cars below. So she took notes instead.

Q1: As expected, Emilio set the fastest time. It wasn’t even close. Of note: Xander Bishop made it to Q2, but then had his lap time deleted for exceeding track limits, so he’s out.

Q2: More Emilio. Nobody can beat this guy. Dirk made it through to Q3.

Q3: Emilio starting first. Florian in second. Dirk qualified in sixth. Xander will be starting ten places behind him.

With the session wrapped, Mia walked outside, and Isabel materialized from out of nowhere. “Did you have fun?” she asked.

“I did. Thank you.”

“Great. I’ll call a car to take you back to your hotel.”

Mia fought back her frustration at having Isabel follow her everywhere. Mia scanned the paddock, which was jam-packed with people coming and going. Would she luck out and see some drivers? Or maybe she could convince Isabel to let her explore on her own.

“You’ve already done so much for me. I can get an Uber. I really would like to hang out in the paddock if I can.”

“Well, if you have an extra minute, there’s one thing I was hoping to speak to you about before tomorrow,” Isabel said. “In case you were planning on posting to social media later or recording any segments for your podcast this evening.”

“Sure thing. What’s up?”

“We’d really appreciate it if you could take it a little easier on Xander. He’s doing his best and when the media turns up the heat, it makes things more difficult.”

Mia at least appreciated being referred to as the media. “Is this Xander’s request or is this about making life in the PR department a little easier?”

Isabel cleared her throat. “Both.”

Mia felt a pang of compassion, but she also remembered what her mom had said about not being intimidated. “I’m happy to have the discussion, but only with all parties involved. If Xander wants me to go easier on him, he’s going to have to ask me himself.”

“That’s not possible. He’s incredibly busy.”

Mia stood a little straighter and steeled herself. “Then I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” Just then, Mia caught sight of Xander exiting the back of the garage. Her heart jumped into her throat.

“Fine. You want to talk to Xander?” Isabel’s question came out more like an accusation of stupidity. “Xander! I need you for a minute!” she called, waving wildly, like she was adrift on the ocean in a rowboat and flagging down a passing cargo ship to save her life.

Oh, shit oh, shit oh, shit.

Mia wanted to grab Isabel’s arm and tug on it hard while blurting that her request had been at worst a joke and at best a gross miscalculation, but it was too late. Xander fucking Bishop was on his way over. And Mia’s entire body was aflame with nerves, remorse and—regretfully—more than a little horniness.

He had the worst look on his face—a mix of disappointment and disgust, and yet he couldn’t have been any more beautiful if he’d tried. From fifteen feet away, she could feel the laser-like power of his blue eyes, see the corded muscles in his jaw and neck, and sense his disdain for having been beckoned to speak to a stranger. She was so damn turned on right now she was surprised she was still wearing clothes.

“Xander,” Isabel said. “I want you to meet Mia Neal.”

He laughed quietly at the mere mention of her name. “The podcaster.” He offered his hand. “Xander Bishop.”

Mia had always thought it was outright ridiculous when someone said they loved a person’s accent. It felt so much like fetishization of culture or identity. Well, Xander had just turned her into a British accent fetishist in 1.7 seconds. Hot damn, she wanted to roll around in his voice and rub it all over her naked body like British body butter.

Mia thrust out her hand. The instant they met palm to palm, her throat closed up. Something shifted inside her. Also, she was horribly embarrassed because she was sweating like crazy. The combo of Miami’s humidity and Xander Bishop’s epic hotness had her body temp soaring.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m surprised you recognize me without my dick in my hand.”

Simultaneously, they both looked at their intertwined hands.

Mia dropped the connection, certain her face was now every known shade of red. “You heard that?”

“Only a clip. I haven’t actually listened to your show.”

Of course not. Of course he hadn’t. Stay tough, Mia.

“Then how could you say in the press conference that I don’t know what I’m talking about? If you’d listened to my show, you would know I have been a fan of Formula One since I was a little girl. I have extensive knowledge of all sides of the sport. I know the history, the circuits. I know the technical side, the regulations.”

He planted his hand on his hip. “When was the first season?”

He wanted to quiz her? Okay. Game on. She took a step closer. “1950. First race was the British Grand Prix on May 13. Giuseppe Farina won the first World Drivers’ Championship.”

He artfully cocked an eyebrow and narrowed his stare. “Who won the Constructors’ Championship that year?”

Mia let out an insulted snort and took another step closer. “Trick question. The Constructors’ Championship didn’t begin until 1958.”

He pursed his lips. She was winning. She was sure of it. “Youngest driver to win a race?”

“Max Verstappen. Spain. 2016.”

He shook his head. “Too easy. Greatest number of pole positions.”

“Lewis Hamilton. By a mile. Michael Schumacher is second on the list.”

“So you’ve memorized some statistics. Anyone can do that. Why don’t you tell me the purpose of the front wing on an F1 car?”

“It generates downforce, the aerodynamics that push the car down onto the track, allowing it to hug corners while maintaining high speeds. But you already know that because corners have been one of your biggest struggles this season.”

Xander pulled the sunglasses he had hanging from the collar of the fireproof shirt under his race suit and put them on. “It’s cute that you know a few facts about F1, but until you’ve been behind the wheel of one of these cars, you can save it.”

Mia saw out of the corner of her eye that Isabel was shaking her head at him. Meanwhile, Mia’s blood was boiling. Cute? Oh, no. He was not going to get away with using that word. It was not only contemptuous; she was certain he would never have uttered it if she were a man.

“Surely it is possible for someone to understand the sport without having participated in it. The majority of people who work on the teams have never raced. Technicians. Mechanics. Aerodynamicists. Strategists. Are you going to say they don’t know what they’re talking about, either?”

“I’m not going to argue with you, especially while you’re wearing a hat signed by my teammate. I’d like you to stop speaking about me in such unflattering tones. If you can do that, I will refrain from publicly insulting you and we can both go on with our lives as if we’d never known each other. Do we have a deal?”

Mia drew in a deep breath, thoughts tumbling around in her head. She had to stick up for herself and everything she’d built. Her only sliver of success. She wasn’t about to walk away from that just because Xander Bishop was handsome and sexy and inexplicably smelled good after a sweaty qualifying session.

“No. We do not have a deal.”

“Excuse me?”

“My listeners count on me to give my unvarnished opinion about the sport and although it might have been a crude way to say it, I did think you were driving around like you had your dick in your hand.”

Isabel snorted.

Xander let out an indignant huff. “We’re done here.” Just like that, he strode away, looking just as good going as he had coming.

Well, fuck.

“I’ll call you a car,” Isabel said, tapping away at her phone and avoiding eye contact. “We need to get you back to your hotel and out of this heat.”

* * *

Xander could not get Mia Neal out of his head, no matter how hard he tried, which was really messing with his already disastrous race weekend. He’d gotten a dismal amount of sleep last night after his post-qualifying run-in with her, and now he had to get behind the wheel and drive a race he had zero chance of winning.

“Good luck, Bishop,” Dirk said, strolling into the garage. “I’d say you’re going to need it.”

“Sod off, you bloody git,” Xander muttered under his breath. Several of the mechanics heard it, though, and a few of them snickered.

Dirk whipped around and narrowed his stare on Xander. “Did you say something?”

Xander shrugged. “Me? No. You must be hearing things.”

Dirk approached. “I heard you talked to Mia Neal yesterday. She’s such a lovely woman. We had a fantastic chat.”

Yeah, lovely hadn’t exactly been Xander’s experience, although there was something about Mia he couldn’t shake. He couldn’t get her brown eyes out of his head. Nor could he forget her voice, probably because she’d employed it in ways he hadn’t expected. He was not used to people telling him they were not going to do what he wanted.

“Glad it went well,” he said.

Xander grabbed his helmet and balaclava and finished his preparations before climbing into the car. The pit lane would be open soon so Xander could do his warm-up laps then take his position and wait for the formation lap. For now, he would focus on his race. He had to get to the root of the problems he was having this season, find a way to return to his previous form. Find a way to get back to the way things used to be, when driving was mostly instinct, it all felt so natural and he very rarely made mistakes. Return to a time when he could count on everything falling into place with talent and hard work.

He couldn’t allow his mind to dwell on his problems with Dirk. Nor vexing Mia Neal and her podcast. Not the world’s free-flowing criticism. Just driving.

* * *

Mia wasn’t sure why she was so nervous about the start of the race. Maybe it was because she felt like Mega Racing’s persona non grata after her dustup with Xander yesterday. At least they’d let her back into the paddock today. Even during the formation lap, Mia had a sense that something bad was going to happen. Which was a little ridiculous, because the truth was that something bad had already happened. She’d pissed off her favorite driver, and she couldn’t see a way back from that. Certainly she’d never have the chance to clear the air with him. She probably shouldn’t have made yet another joke about him driving with his dick in his hand, but it just slipped. She got like that when she felt insulted, and if he hadn’t been so infuriating, dismissing her knowledge and genuine love for the sport, things might have gone differently. Would this be yet another incident she would endlessly mull over? Probably. She could have a zillion new followers and the most successful podcast in history and the interaction with Xander would eat at her. Because she could’ve done better yesterday, and she hadn’t.

* * *

Gripping the wheel, Xander waited for the lights. Reminding himself that today did not define him as a driver. Things would get better. He would will them to get better. He simply had to work harder. One light lit up, then two. His pulse thundered. Adrenaline seeped into his system. Three lights. You’ve got this. Four. Five. Just drive the fucking car. The lights went out. Xander hit the throttle and jagged left, steering clear of the slower car in front. The car behind him went right up the inside. Xander was squeezed at the corner. He jammed the brakes. Front left tire locked up. Smoke. Crikey. Keep going. Stops and starts. Too much traffic. By the time he’d hit the fourth turn, he was down two spots. The Miami Grand Prix was going to be a slog.

* * *

Dammit. Mia felt sorry for Xander, even though she knew she shouldn’t. His showing was that pitiful. He might have acted like an arrogant ass yesterday, but no one deserved to have as miserable a race as he was having. Two disastrously slow pit stops. Stuck in a never-ending DRS train, surrounded by other cars going virtually the same speed so that no one could pass anyone. And since there had been zero safety cars, he never had the chance to grab a cheap pit stop or have the cars concertina. It was pathetic. Meanwhile, Dirk had moved up in the order. He crossed the finish line in fourth place. One agonizingly long full minute later, Xander crossed in eighteenth. Maybe it was a good thing she wouldn’t have another chance to talk to him. His bad mood from yesterday was certainly not going to be improved today.

* * *

Xander sat behind the wheel, wanting only one thing—to get the fuck out of there as fast as humanly possible. He wanted to close his eyes and be back home, create some distance from his terrible showing. The only problem with that idea was that he’d still be stuck with himself. He’d be followed by all the doubt that swirled in his head like a cyclone these days. He kept asking himself why… Why did he keep making mistakes? Why, after years of practice and work and sacrifice, couldn’t he get this right anymore?

He had zero answers for himself, so all he could do was get away from this circuit and this city and put the race behind him. He climbed out of the car, kept his helmet on to afford himself some privacy, did his weigh-in, then headed out through the garage. On the way, he was stopped by several members of the Mega Racing team offering condolences.

Hard day, Xander.

We’ll get it sorted.

Next race will be better.

He’d heard all those things before, and he didn’t want the pity. He only wanted to take off the pressure so he could reach his potential. The only trouble was that a good performance was the only way to lessen the pressure. Finally, he broke away and exited the garage, only to spot the second-to-last person he wanted to see—Mia Neal. Inexplicably, she was not with Isabel. As soon as she caught sight of him, she was rushing over.

“Xander. Hi. I’m Mia. Mia Neal. Remember me? The evil podcaster?”

Of course he remembered her. He’d had a devil of a time getting her out of his head. The things she said were so unforgettable. And part of him thought that was all the reason he needed to breeze right past her. But one thing needed to be said.

“You look far better without that Dirk hat on your head.”

“Thanks. It was making my hair do weird things. I’m sorry about today,” she said. “You had some terrible luck.”

He kept going, making a beeline for Mega Racing hospitality. Their one exchange was enough. His only goal now was to get to the airport as quickly as possible. “All good podcast fodder, though. I’m sure you’ll have no problem writing your next episode.”

Mia was nearly jogging alongside him. “It wasn’t you. What happened today.”

He came to a halt and closed his eyes, wishing he didn’t feel the need to set her straight. “Of course it was. I was behind the wheel.”

“But it’s not your fault you had two slow pit stops. The crew didn’t have your tires ready the first time. Then the rear left wheel gun jammed. I do question the team’s choice of the medium compound to finish the race. The hard tire was performing so much better, and this circuit eats tires. The degradation was so high. Did they explain their thinking to you?”

He shook his head. He’d wondered about the medium tire as well. He’d argued with his engineer about it. And he’d stupidly relented. Mia really did know her stuff.

“Look. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it still comes down to me.” He gave her one last look. She was gorgeous, and the absence of yesterday’s hat was a big improvement. Her dark brown hair was lustrous and lush, her cheeks flushed with radiant pink, but he’d walked away from plenty of beautiful women. One more wasn’t going to kill him.

“Goodbye, Mia.” He took his strides extra long, if only to escape more quickly.

“You’re my favorite driver, you know,” she called.

Her statement stopped him dead in his tracks. Her favorite driver? Maybe he was a glutton for punishment, but he had to know more. Part of him liked the way she was so brutally, brutally, brutally honest.

He turned back. “What’s the punch line?”

“It’s not a joke. I swear.”

He glanced around. “Maybe a prank? Are there hidden cameras somewhere? Are you recording me?”

“It’s a podcast. No cameras. And no, this isn’t a gotcha moment. Plus, I would tell you if I was recording you.”

He hated his own curiosity about the subject. “How does someone who purports to like me as a driver turn around and poke fun at me for their own personal gain?”

She nodded slowly, her haunting eyes seeming to process his question. “Fair question. Would it make sense if I said my criticism was born from genuine admiration?”

“Not entirely. No.”

“All I can tell you is that I admired you from the beginning. You had so much confidence when you came up in Formula Two. And of course, your first two years at Hughes were lightning in a bottle.”

He exhaled slowly. She seemed as enchanted with his start in F1 as he had been. Something about her bearing witness to his history had him intrigued. She may have said terrible things about him, but at least she knew he’d once been great at his job.

“That still doesn’t explain the line about driving with my dick in my hand.”

“I only said that because I was thinking it. I wanted you to snap out of it. Drive better. Take advantage of the amazing opportunity you have with Mega.” She stepped closer and he experienced the strangest sensation in the pit of his stomach as she peered up at him with those haunting eyes—wide and curious and unforgettable. “I hate that you’re struggling so much this year. Is it the car? Or the pressure? You do seem super stressed this season. It’s got to take a toll on your mental health.”

He shared a fondness for the questions she was asking, if only because he would’ve enjoyed answers to them as well. “Pressure is for amateurs, Mia. And you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe in pop psychology.”

She held up a hand. “First off, the notion of pop psychology is a bit of a misnomer. Most people have some natural understanding of how the human brain works and human behavior as a larger topic, so I like to think that pop really only means it’s widespread because we all have the inclination for it. Second, I have a master’s in psychology. So I’m not just spitballing here.”

“Spitballing?”

“Like bodging? I once went through a big Anglophile phase and learned some British slang. Never been to England, so this is the first time I’ve really had a chance to use it. I guess you could say I’m right chuffed.”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. Mia Neal was a trip. Out of the corner of his eye, Xander spotted Dirk approaching with an absolute shit-eating grin on his face. Just when Xander was starting to not hate his interaction with Mia, Dirk had to be a reminder of how things had gone horribly for Xander during the race, while Dirk had done just fine.

“Mia!” Dirk exclaimed.

She turned in his direction and waved.

Xander’s stomach sank. “I should go.” He didn’t understand how it felt wrong to say that, but it did. He’d been committed to getting out of there; why couldn’t he make himself do it?

“Mia, come to Monza,” Dirk called. “I think you were my lucky charm today.” He cast a look in Xander’s direction, punctuated by a wink. An infuriating, godforsaken wink. Dirk was needling him, reminding him that once again, Dirk had proven today that he was the better driver.

Xander couldn’t allow him to keep the upper hand in everything. “Too late, Dirk. I already invited her.”

Bloody hell. Why in the hell did I say that?

Mia whipped around and bugged her eyes at him. Her ridiculously enchanting eyes.

“Right,” she croaked, then cleared her throat. “You asked me just a few minutes ago. And I said I’d like to fly first class. And you said sure.”

Xander swallowed the grin trying so damn hard to bloom on his face. “I did. That’s true.”

“And then I said I’ll only go if I can stay at the Hotel de la Ville. So I can walk to the circuit.”

Wow. Clearly, she knew the details of attending the race in Monza, just like she seemed to know everything else. “Then I said it’s very expensive and quite difficult to get a room, especially at this late date.”

“But then I pointed out that you make millions of dollars a year and if anyone could pull it off, you could.” Mia slid a smile in his direction, which felt like an arrow straight through the center of his chest. “And you also said I could have paddock passes for all four days. Media day, practice, qualifying and the race, of course.”

Every fiber of his being was telling him to tell her no. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let Dirk use Mia as a weapon in this idiotic war he was waging within the team. If Xander paid for Mia to go to Monza, she would at least be out from under Dirk’s influence.

Xander glanced at Dirk, whose forehead was wrinkled with questions. So many questions. Xander loved seeing it.

“Sorry, Dirk. Guess I beat you to it.” It felt so good to say that. The pain of the race was nearly fading away. Nearly.

“That makes one thing you’ve beat me at.” Dirk directed his gaze to Mia. “I’ll see you in Italy. Don’t let him bribe you into being soft. He deserves every criticism.” Dirk turned on his heel and sauntered off down the paddock.

“Um…” Xander started, not knowing how to explain what he’d just done, because Dirk was right—Mia would have every reason to assume Xander had only invited her in order to convince her to go easier on him with her podcast.

“You already asked me?” she asked, with all the incredulity the situation demanded. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”

“Yeah. Right. Sorry.” He folded his hands across his chest and closed his eyes, wishing for strength. “He’s just such a bloody tosser. He’s been cruelly competitive with me since I came to the team.”

“Maybe he’s jealous.”

“Of what, exactly? He’s placed better than me in every single race this season.”

“True.”

Xander ran his hand through his hair, mentally and physically exhausted. “Dirk invited you here this weekend to get in my head, and that’s also why he invited you to Italy. I couldn’t let him get away with it. That’s why I told him I’d already invited you.”

“So you let your ego take charge?”

“Please spare me the psychological analysis.”

“It’s pretty clear you were motivated by revenge. A need to level the playing field.”

“Maybe.” He cleared his throat. “You aren’t going to talk about this on your show, are you?” He could only imagine what she might say next about him. He’d given her far too much ammunition over the course of this conversation.

“Not sure. Haven’t decided.”

Great. Just great. Bloody brilliant. There was nothing he could do about it now.

Meanwhile, her lips spread into a wide smile, making his face inexplicably flush with heat. “What?” he asked, desperate for her to stop being so…alluring.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Two Formula One drivers just argued over who gets to take me to Monza. Not bad for a stupid podcast.”

“I don’t think I called your podcast stupid.”

“You didn’t have to say it. I could see it on your face.”

He wasn’t sure how she saw anything. He was so good at hiding his emotions. Compartmentalizing. It was one of the demands of his sport—he had to push aside the personal to get on with the task at hand.

“So, Italy? I’ll have Isabel contact you about flights and accommodations.”

“Just as long as you aren’t trying to buy me off. I can’t take it easy on you just because you buy me a plane ticket.”

“A first class plane ticket.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I wanted to see how far you would go. It’s up to you whether you want to follow through.”

“I keep my promises. And I’m not trying to buy you off.” He sucked in a deep breath, certain it would be impossible to convince Mia of anything she didn’t want to do. “Go ahead and keep hitting as hard as you want. I can take it.”

Three

What is the biggest challenge you are facing right now and how does it make you feel?

My biggest challenge is that I now feel sorry for Xander Bishop. This is due to a number of legitimate factors—his teammate is a dick, his team did not support him well in Miami, and despite his protestations, something seems to be weighing on him. To top it all off, he invited me to Monza on his dime. How can I criticize him now? And if I’m not real with my listeners—delivering a dick in the hand moment—will they keep listening?

“Tell me everything,” Jasmine said as she picked Mia up at the Austin airport super late Sunday night. “Don’t leave anything out.”

“Why do you assume I’m going to leave something out?” Mia climbed into the passenger seat. “And let me get my damn seat belt on.”

“For someone whose friend is picking them up at the airport, you don’t seem particularly grateful.”

Mia reached over and put her hand on Jasmine’s arm. “I’m sorry. Thank you for picking me up. I appreciate it.”

“Now, tell me everything.”

Jasmine drove off and Mia let it all out—Dirk, the race, the fancy rich people who were nothing like Mia or her friends or the people who listened to her podcast, Isabel, and of course, Xander.

Dirk had lived up to the lore of his long career in F1—he was a cyborg with a megawatt smile. A driver with a killer instinct, emphasis on killer. Excellent driver, but prone to making his teammates suffer. And Xander? Well, he was a human puzzle, emphasis on human. Mia could feel his disappointment about the Miami Grand Prix. Okay, sure, he’d refused to own up to it, but he’d been motivated by his ego and pride when he’d slipped up in front of Dirk and invited her to Italy.

Formula One was a sport built to always look good—with the cars, the locales and the drivers—everything was beautiful and perfect. But Xander let her see a hint of the ugliness that was dogging him. Of course, she didn’t know exactly what the problem was, but she suspected he might not know, either. If there was something to fix, surely he would’ve done that already.

“So, yeah, my favorite driver pretty much hates me,” Mia concluded.

“He’s flying you to Italy. I would love to have someone hate me like that.”

“He was just being competitive with his teammate. It has nothing to do with me.”

“Still, not a bad deal for you.”

Jasmine pulled up outside Mia’s apartment building, and Mia couldn’t help but notice how distinctly unglamorous her living situation was. Did she actually belong in the world of Formula One? Probably not. She might be able to visit it, but exist there? No way. And that was sort of the point of her podcast—she could follow and love this sport from a distance, as the fan she’d always been, just like her listeners.

“Hey. You didn’t say,” Jasmine said. “Is Xander as hot in person as he looks on TV?”

Mia didn’t have to think too hard about that one. “Yes.”

“Figures. Rich athletes, right? How do they get to have everything?”

“I have no idea.”

“So you remember I can’t do Margarita Monday tomorrow,” Jasmine said.

“I do. I’m having lunch with my mom as a very poor and not nearly as much fun substitute.”

“Nice. Say hi to her for me.”

“Will do. And thanks for the ride,” Mia said, then blew Jasmine a kiss.

She hauled her bag up to her apartment on the second floor and nearly collapsed against the door when she closed it. She felt so stuck right now, or maybe it was more accurate to say she felt pulled in too many directions. The allure of being around the sport she loved so much was great. Who was she kidding? It had been intoxicating. She could see how easy it would be to get sucked in by that world. It was so exciting, and Mia had just had a close-up view in a way she’d never had in Austin. But now she was returning to reality. Paying rent and doing dishes, while working her tail off and hustling for her podcast.

But maybe she could find a happy medium, where she dipped her toes into the real world of F1 from time to time, then used that opportunity to improve Not So Fast. She would need to be on her game like never before—not allow herself to be swayed by teams. Or drivers.

She wheeled her bag into her room and although the thought of sleep held great appeal, there was only one fix for her preoccupation with Miami—she had to offload everything in her brain that was fighting for her attention. She’d written up the outline on the flight—by hand, in a notebook, as was her usual, since she’d always loved journaling. She brewed herself a cup of tea and headed into her home office/recording studio and went over the outline one more time, then slapped on the headphones, checked her levels and started to record.

“The Miami Grand Prix was a wild one, with a podium everyone saw coming, and yet more struggles for Xander Bishop. Your girl actually got to attend this one, so let’s get into it. This is Mia Neal and you’re listening to Not So Fast.”

Mia then launched into her usual race recap—that part was easy. She could talk about the racing for days, and she had the commentary she’d recorded while at the track, which she would edit in later. It was the part about meeting two of the drivers that she wasn’t sure about.

“Now, I know you’re all curious about who I got to meet and how that went. I think most of you saw the photo Dirk posted of the two of us together. He was…nice.” Mia stopped the recorder. “Nice?” she asked herself. “Maybe nice for a robot. Nice for a total egomaniac.”

Why was she second-guessing herself? She started over. “Dirk was great for inviting me, and he had a fantastic race, but you can see the guy’s ego from a mile away. It needs its own car.”

She stopped the recorder. “That’s more like it.”

She pressed Record again. “Of course, the real tea to spill is about meeting Xander Bishop—” The instant those words came out of her mouth, she saw flashes of those electric moments with him—when he first walked up to her and she thought she might pass out. When they shook hands. When she made him smile. All of it sent her verbal skills on a vacation. Like they flew to Fiji and downed a bunch of mai tais.

“Fuck.”

She stopped recording. What was she supposed to say? That he’d been rude and angry, but so sexy she sort of liked it?

She pressed Record again. “I met Xander Bishop. He said he was surprised I didn’t recognize him without his dick in his hand. How hilarious is that? Of course, I was shocked he knew anything about my podcast, but that’s beside the point. He didn’t have a great race. It was clear he was disappointed, and he had every reason to be. It was terrible at every step, and if I’m perfectly honest, I think Mega Racing let him down with their tire strategy. Also, I’ve talked about this on the pod before, but I still think he’s struggling with something that goes beyond the performance of the car. It might be stress or simply getting in his own way mentally.

“Now, the big news is that I have been invited to attend the race in Monza. Full disclosure, that invitation came from Xander. I guess he likes podcasters who are brutally honest about his driving? All kidding aside, I was very clear and said I would not go easier on him just because of the invite to Italy. I want to be aboveboard with you all about what’s going on. So. Wow. I’m going to a European race. It’ll be my first time. And I hope you all know that I am taking you along for the ride. Now, a little bit of housekeeping before I sign off. First, be sure to check out my merch. I have awesome T-shirts and hats and pins. And don’t forget that the first Not So Fast meet-up is on May 26 for the Monaco Grand Prix. If you’re near Austin, Texas, or willing to travel, come hang out with me. You can check my social feeds for details.”

Mia stopped the recording. That was what she needed to do—stop letting her brain get in the way and talk to her listeners like she would talk to Jasmine. Fan to fan. And keep it real. Now to sit down to edit this monstrosity, upload to the podcast platforms, then post to social about the new episode so she could get some sleep.

* * *

Mia crashed around 8:00 a.m. and woke a little after noon to so many comments on her socials that she was left to brush her teeth with one hand while tapping replies with the other. She barely made a dent and had a scant fifteen minutes to race out the door. Aided by a few well-timed traffic lights, she made it to her mom’s preferred lunch spot, Papagayo, only five minutes late.

Mia rushed into the restaurant and spotted her mom already seated at a table near the back, drinking iced tea. Mia was always amazed at how much she and her mom looked alike—same wavy brown hair, full face and dark eyes. If the resemblance was so strong, why couldn’t they think the same way?

“Mom. Hi. Sorry I’m late,” Mia said, a bit breathless.

Her mom greeted Mia with a kiss on the cheek, then plopped back into her seat. “I can only give you the speech on punctuality so many times. You’re a grown woman.”

“Which you would think means I don’t require a speech at all. Just a little grace.”

Mia unfolded her napkin and spread it across her lap, smiling at her mother to disguise her frantic internal assessment of her mom’s mood. There was no getting around the fact that Amy Neal was an intimidating woman. Or perhaps formidable was a better word. Either way, you didn’t want to mess with her, a fact Mia had learned many times over. When Mia was in first grade, there was a boy in her class who pulled her hair once. He got in trouble with the teacher, but that wasn’t enough for Amy. In the car circle at school, she climbed out of her run-down Volvo station wagon, knocked on the window of the kid’s mom’s Suburban and delivered a verbal smackdown that prompted an intervention from the principal. Mia loved her mom to the ends of the earth, but if you crossed her, there would be hell to pay.

And Mia loved her mom for being so strong. It had been just the two of them since Mia was eight years old, after Mia’s dad left and never said another word. Mia didn’t remember it leaving too big a hole in her life. Her dad had been a truck driver and was often away for weeks at a time. Even when he was at home, he wasn’t exactly an involved parent. In some ways, Mia had relished the idea that she had her mom all to herself, but she could see now that had been a selfish thought. And although her mom never really spoke about Mia’s dad after he left, Mia had often wondered if at the very least, her mom missed having a partner.

“How was Miami?” her mom asked. “Has podcasting lost its luster yet? Thinking of making a change?”

That was a potshot on multiple levels since Mia was prone to switching jobs when she felt unchallenged or bored, and of course her mom despised Mia’s current trajectory.

“Secretly hoping?”

“Simply bracing for the inevitable. How are your finances holding up? Do you need help?”

“I’m good. Things are getting better.”

“I thought I’d let you know there’s an opening in my office. I was thinking you might want to apply.”

Mia’s mom started her journalism career back in the day when it was a normal thing for every town in America to have a local newspaper. But with so much corporate consolidation within the news industry, those jobs were few and far between now. Mia’s mom’s paper was bought by a bigger paper about a decade ago, which was in turn purchased by a massive corporation, which was then bought by a media behemoth. Her mom had survived rounds and rounds of layoffs.

“There’s no security in journalism. I don’t want to start something new and get laid off a few months later.”

Her mother cast a doubtful glance. “You’ve quit every writing job you’ve had. The online magazine downtown. The arts weekly in South Congress. The copywriting job for that nonprofit. If you just stick to one thing and do a good job, you won’t need to worry about being laid off.”

“You know that’s not true. You’ve seen lots of talented, hardworking writers lose their jobs.”

She shrugged and returned to the menu. “If you don’t want to apply, just say so. You don’t have to turn it into an indictment of my profession.”

Mia reached for her mom’s arm. “You are an amazing journalist, but even more than that you’re an unbelievable writer who inspired me to get a degree in journalism. If I could have a career in your field, I would pursue it. But the opportunities aren’t there.”

Her mom slow-blinked. Once. Twice. “Okay. Fine.”

“Fine. Good,” Mia said, feeling anything but either of those things. She opened the menu and perused it. As soon as the server arrived, she and her mom ordered the exact same thing—Cobb salad, no egg, extra blue cheese—then they were once again plunged into silence.

“Mom. Can we clear the air about the podcast? I hate this tension between us.”

“Until you use your gifts for something meaningful, I’m going to have a hard time with it. It’s as simple as that.”

“Isn’t creating something on my own a meaningful pursuit? Something that requires me to have a multitude of skills? Because that’s what this is.”

Her mom straightened her knife and fork on the table, avoiding eye contact. “I think what’s bothering me most is that you’re so wrapped up in this sport.”

“But I’ve always loved Formula One. That’s nothing new.”

“I never should’ve let my sister expose you to it.”

Mia now saw the current conflict with her mom in a whole new light. “Is this about me or is this about your beef with Aunt Judy?”

“Beef? You make it sound like we’re mobsters. My sister and I are estranged and have been for years. That’s nothing new. It’s just that your podcast doesn’t help. Let’s put it that way.”

“What happened between you two? Because you weren’t always like this. When I was little, you were close. I don’t get why it changed. She only lives about an hour away. You two should be spending time together.”

Their lunch arrived, which put a momentary pause on the conversation.

“That’s your opinion,” her mom said. “My sister and I have gone separate ways in our lives. You don’t have to be close to every person you’re related to.”

“Why won’t you tell me what happened?”

“She wasn’t there for me when I needed her. That’s all you need to know.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“No. It’s too painful.” She stabbed her salad.

Mia sighed, willing herself not to explode with frustration. “Well, the Formula One genie is out of the bottle. There’s no shoving that back inside.”

“Honey, you’re so intelligent. You were always the smartest kid in school. You breezed through tests like it was nothing, graduated two years early. You could be doing so much more than following a sport that is just a bunch of men driving cars in circles.”

Mia took several deep breaths to remain calm. Digging her nails into her palms helped a little. “It’s so much more than that. Do you honestly think I would devote this much time and effort to something so simple?”

“I also think you’re getting swept up in things like being flown to Miami. Nothing is free in this life. People will want something from you in exchange for things like a trip. Trust me.”

Mia cleared her throat. Was that true of Xander? Would he expect something out of her? “Well, that might be true, but I have to accept the invitations while they’re coming. They could go away at any time.”

“Invitations? Plural?”

“Yes. I’m going to another race. This one is in Italy.”

“You’re going to Italy?” her mom screeched, loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear.

“Mom. Please. You make it sound like I just told you I murdered someone.”

“Well, I, I… I don’t know what to say. This is all very sudden. Jet-setting. That just doesn’t sound like you.”

“I’m not jet-setting. You make it sound like I’m a Kardashian. And I just got the invitation yesterday. After the race in Miami. I’ve accepted. I would hope you would be happy for me. It’s exciting.”

“People get murdered in Italy. And abducted.”

“They also eat pasta, are surrounded by some of the world’s most important art and make a hell of a pizza. Or so I’m told.”

“Is your passport still current?”

“Jasmine and I took that trip to Mexico two years ago. So, yes, I’m good.”

“I want you to make a copy of your passport and give it to me in case you get into any trouble over there. And give me your complete itinerary so I can find you. I wonder who the US ambassador to Italy is. I should probably look it up and have their contact information just in case.”

Mia choked back a grumble. “I seriously doubt any of that is necessary. You’re worrying for no reason.”

“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” Her mom’s phone rang. “Oh. I’m sorry. I need to take this. It’s my editor.” She tapped the screen on her phone. “Hello?” she answered far too loudly, then jammed a finger in her free ear, got up from the table and walked outside.

Mia took this quick respite to dig her phone out from her bag and get back to answering questions and comments on social. It was certainly easier than sitting in silence and mulling over the countless uncomfortable questions from her mom.

Mia found she had a zillion notifications—mostly comments about the new episode.

How cool is it that you went to Miami? Soooo jealous!

Loved the episode! Love hearing about everything behind the scenes!

Can’t believe you met Xander. I would die! What is he like in person?

Mia smiled at her phone. Whether her mom liked it or not, Mia was sure she was on the right path. Her work was resonating with her listeners and that was something important. Of course, these were comments about her coverage of Miami. Mia had no idea what was going to happen in Italy and how she would speak about the man who was now more than her favorite driver and her meal ticket—he was about to be her host.

* * *

Xander flew all night to get back to England, lead-footed it to his home in the Cotswolds, then did something he never did—climbed into bed and slept away half the day. It was a fitful attempt at first, punching the pillow, partly to get comfortable and partly because it was enjoyable to imagine it was Dirk’s face. When he finally drifted off, the dream came. He was in his Mega Racing car, all alone on a track he did not recognize. There was no one there—no other drivers, no fans, no team. Just him, the circuit and his car. Oddly, the front half of the chassis was somehow missing, leaving only his seat belt and the eventual G-forces to keep him from being launched from the vehicle. Still, he jammed the throttle and rocketed ahead at full speed. The rumble of the car bloomed in his belly while physics pinned him to his seat. Curves and corners came faster than anything he’d ever experienced before. One after another after another. He swooped through the circuit, building speed. He was traveling so fast that everything around him became blurry. Something in him couldn’t stop. Then he went through a chicane and straight ahead, right in the middle of the track, was a brick wall. There was no getting around it. He was headed straight for it. And his leg was frozen. He couldn’t bring himself to brake…

He bolted up straight in bed, in a cold sweat.

“Bloody hell,” he managed, even though it was hard to swallow. His heart galloped in his chest, vision fuzzy and head in a fog. He found himself searching for meaning, but as soon as his pulse slowed and his logical brain took over, it took no effort to figure it out—his professional future was out of control and the clock was ticking.

Mega Racing would only be patient for so long before they brought in another driver to take his place. The stakes were too high—billions of dollars on the line, professional reputations of people who’d spent their entire careers in F1, the livelihoods of the hundreds of people who worked for the team and back at the factory. The sponsors who expected results in exchange for the investment they poured into the team. Xander was the only person who could stop himself from self-destructing. Or at least that seemed like a reasonable explanation for his dream.

Mia, with her spiel about psychology, wormed her way into his head, and it was hard to get rid of the vision. She was nothing like what he’d expected, vibrant and lively and—if he was being completely honest with himself—gorgeous. And now, because he’d let his ego get in the way, she was coming to Monza. She could make his life more difficult with a single clever turn of phrase on her podcast, and then he would be guilty of having made his own situation worse.

He picked up his phone. It was nearly five and he was due at his parents’ for dinner at six. This was the usual routine after a race, when his schedule allowed him to come home—his mum, dad and two younger siblings delayed Sunday roast until Monday, so they could all spend time as a family. But first, he needed to text Isabel.

Mia Neal is coming to Monza. She’ll need paddock passes.

Either you traded phones with Dirk or you’ve lost your mind.

Long story.

I get it. You’re trying to make friends with the enemy.

Just do this for me, please. I’ll book her travel.

You need an assistant.

I’m more than capable of doing it myself. I just need you to send her everything when it’s done.

Whatever you need. I hope you know what you’re doing.

He almost laughed. What he needed was to think about racing and nothing else. The problem was that Mia Neal kept getting in the way.

Thank you.

He hopped into the shower, got cleaned up, and put on a mostly wrinkle-free shirt and a pair of jeans. Downstairs in the mudroom, he dipped his feet into a pair of hunter green wellies and went out to his garage where he kept his vehicles. A black McLaren, a titanium silver Aston Martin, a gentian blue Porsche and a slightly rusty 1952 Hampshire green Jeep that had been on this property since Xander could remember. Lots of drivers had more cars than he did, but many of those drivers came from affluence. Xander still had working-class hardwiring that told him money in the bank was better than belongings. Plus, he had responsibilities many of the other drivers did not have to worry about. For Xander, it was supporting his family, a role he filled happily. It was the least he could do.

He hopped into the Jeep and headed out across the bumpy dirt road that bisected the rolling lush green farmland that had been in the Bishop family for generations. His parents had been custodians of this property before Xander started making big money. Then, he bought the land from them so both his mum and dad could retire early. Xander built himself a house on one end of the parcel and his family occupied the original farmhouse on the opposite end. That was where Xander had grown up, along with his brother Oscar, who was nineteen and had Down syndrome, and his sister Freya, who was sixteen going on thirty. As it so happened, the early retirement came right on time for his parents—his mum had been diagnosed with MS a year ago. She was still doing and feeling well most days, bothered mostly with leg pain at night. The entire family was doing their best to be supportive and loving and not live in fear, but the worry was always there. Perhaps that was the price to be paid when a loved one was facing a lifelong health battle.

Making this ten-minute trek back home, Xander was often reminded of the path he’d taken. His parents had made countless sacrifices for him to be in F1—funneling money into karting, equipment and coaching; then giving up all their free time once he started doing well and was on a promising trajectory. In light of the current state of his career, he hated that he’d gone from he’s come so far to he’s going off the rails. And then there was the lingering question of whether he really had what it took to have a long career in Formula One. That one ate at him like nothing else.

He turned onto his parents’ gravel drive and followed the wood rail fence. Ahead, the house, with its ivy-covered whitewashed brick facade and tall windows, was a welcome sight. No matter what, he was home now. This was the respite he’d longed for in Miami. He went in through the front door and removed his boots, placing them in a long line of shoes that were always in the front hall. “I’m here,” he called. The welcoming smells of a home-cooked meal filled his nostrils.

Oscar came thundering down the stairs, his long wavy hair pulled back and a wide smile on his face. He threw his arms around Xander. “Don’t worry. Dad already said we aren’t going to talk about Miami.”

Xander kissed Oscar on his temple. “That’s fine, because I’d rather hear about your job instead.”

Oscar was employed at a local ceramics workshop, making and glazing decorative tile by hand. He’d even made the tile in every bathroom in Xander’s house. Oscar had always had a flair for the artistic.

“Work is great. They’re letting me try some new glazes.”

“Brilliant, O. So brilliant. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. Are you going to talk to Dad tonight? About the house?”

Oscar’s greatest desire was to live on his own, especially since he now had a girlfriend, but their parents weren’t convinced it was a good idea. Xander had been lobbying to build Oscar his own house on the family property and had hired an architect to come up with plans.

“I’ll definitely bring it up.”

From the back of the house, his father, Edward, arrived with Xander’s grandmother’s coral-pink rose-print apron around his waist and a blue-checkered kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. “There’s my boy, looking rested and well after your trip to the US.”

“Dad, I thought we weren’t talking about Miami,” Oscar said.

Dad slid Oscar a look. “I only said we wouldn’t talk about the race,” he said out of the side of his mouth. “Unless you want to, Xan. Up to you.”

“It’s fine. Not much to say. It was rubbish. Hopefully Monza will be better.” Xander stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Dad, I was hoping we could talk about the house for Oscar.”

His father’s forehead wrinkled with worry. “Not tonight, if it’s okay with you boys. Your mum’s had a good day and it upsets her so. I’d like to wait for a better time.”

“A better time might not come,” Oscar pleaded.

“I have the preliminary plans from the architect at my house for you and Mum to look over whenever you’re ready,” Xander added.

“They’re mega, Dad,” Oscar added. “Really.”

“I’m sure they are. Let me find a time to talk to your mum about it. For now, come on. She’s curled up with a book. Freya’s out back cutting flowers for the table.”

Oscar and Xander exchanged identical resigned glances, then trailed behind as their dad wandered back into the great room at the back of the house, a space his parents had reluctantly allowed him to renovate last year. The fact that the old thatched roof had been leaking for years and had rotted some windowsills helped make Xander’s case for a more modern space. They’d opened up the wall between the kitchen and living room, gutted both rooms, and started over—the result was beautiful and far more livable than what had been there before. Xander was glad he’d been able to do it. It brought him so much satisfaction to have the money to improve the lives of his family.

“Hello, Mum,” Xander said, approaching her and placing his hand on her shoulder.

His mother startled. “Goodness. Must’ve nodded off. Didn’t sleep well last night.” She positively beamed at him, sandy brown waves framing her face. “How are you, my sweet boy?” She took his hand. “Do you want to talk about Miami or shall we just leave that in the past?”

“Let’s skip Miami.” He smiled and made a point of cherishing the happiness in her eyes. “How are you feeling today?”

“Bit tired, but otherwise I’m just pleased to have all three of you at home.”

Freya opened the French door and stepped inside with a large bouquet of flowers. “The prodigal son returns.” She strolled into the kitchen and filled a vase with water, then artfully arranged the blooms.

“How’s school?” Xander asked.

“Fine.”

“Read any good books lately?”

“You’re making small talk, Xan. I want you to tell me what the hell is going on with everyone on social. People are being right pricks about you. I hate it.”

Xander’s dad, stirring a pot on the stove, looked over his shoulder at Xander, but didn’t say a peep.

“Can we talk about this in the other room?” Xander whispered.

Freya shrugged. “Sure.”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Xander had to say his piece. “Please don’t let Mum hear you talk like that. And you shouldn’t be reading that stuff. You’re young. Impressionable.”

Freya clucked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “I’m a teenager. My whole bloody life plays out on social media. And you’re my brother. I love you. What else am I supposed to do?”

“Ignore it? I do.” Or at least I try. Most of the time, it’s impossible. It’s everywhere.

“But how? How do you do it?” she pleaded. “People are saying you shouldn’t have your seat. That Mega should replace you by the summer break.”

Those words were flaming daggers to his heart, made all the worse because his beloved sister was speaking them. This was merely confirmation of the things Emilio had said to him in Miami. How Xander despised social media. The most random person could say one thing and by the time the rest of the world had listened, they had managed to will it into existence. It was bloody unfair, and a game he refused to play.

“I can’t do anything other than drive the car.”

“That American woman is a bit of a bitch. Mia Neal? I can’t believe they let her into the paddock in Miami.”

Xander swallowed hard. “You listen to her show?”

“Yeah. Of course. All the F1 fangirls do.” Freya bunched up her nose. “I mean, she says some funny stuff, too. And she’s quite smart. I just don’t like it when she’s giving you the business.”

“Well, hopefully, Monza will be better for me and it won’t matter.”

Xander wanted that so badly he could taste it. He wasn’t hoping for the world—simply a weekend where he was in his previous form. No more mistakes. Just a bit of driving perfection. He’d done it before, so why not now?

“I hope so.”

“Me, too, Freya. Me, too.” He tugged her closer and kissed the top of her head. “Now, let’s go set the table or we’ll never hear the end of it from Dad.”

Over roast beef, potatoes and Yorkshire pudding, a lively conversation bloomed—full of laughter and inside jokes and completely devoid of Formula One. Xander couldn’t have been more grateful for anything, especially when he caught the seemingly benign moment when his mum looked at his dad and her face lit up just like it always did when all three kids were home and the house was filled with love.

Around eight, belly full, Xander clunked along in the Jeep back to his house. He was too wide-awake to consider sleep, so he poured himself some Irish whiskey, lit a fire in the fireplace, grabbed the sci-fi novel he’d been reading and plopped down on one corner of the sprawling tufted leather sofa in his living room. A few pages and several sips in, he caught sight of his phone sitting on the end table. Only one thing, or more specifically one person, popped into his head—Mia Neal.

He sighed, set aside his book and pulled up the podcast app, then typed in Not So Fast. It came right up. He tapped his fingers on the side of his phone for a moment, wondering if he should open this tin of worms, then begrudgingly subscribed. Freya’s comment about how Mia was mean about him but also smart and funny had him legitimately curious. And of course, he couldn’t forget that Mia had floored him by divulging he was her favorite driver.

The latest episode posted was from that day, titled “Mia Gone Wild in Miami (Not Really).” He found himself smiling at his phone. Grinning. Like an idiot. What was wrong with him? Why was he so easily entertained by the woman who’d made his life miserable? Perhaps he truly was a glutton for punishment. He grumbled, shook his head, then hit Play, sat back and let every criticism Mia Neal wanted to wield roll right over him.

Four

What makes you feel powerful and in control?

Honestly, not much, but flying in first class to Italy was next-level. I feel lucky and a bit like I’m living in a fairy tale. If I was going to write a fairy tale, I would make myself the main character and of course I would be powerful and in control, but I would also be kind and generous. A benevolent badass queen. Everyone in the kingdom would think I am awesome. Side note: this hotel is amazing. I’ve seen almost every driver in the lobby.

Except for one driver—there’d been no sign of Mr. Xander Bishop. And Mia could admit that she was feeling disappointed, but she had high hopes for media day.

She not only had a pass, but one that allowed her to be unaccompanied. It made her feel like anything was possible. Maybe she’d chat up a driver afterward? Stroll through the paddock and ask a mechanic about the ins and outs of their job? Grab one of the strategists and learn more about that? Fill up on pastries in Mega Racing’s hospitality suite? The sky was the limit as near as she could tell. There was no telling what kind of trouble she could get into, but she couldn’t wait to find out.

The walk to the track took almost an hour, much of it along storybook, tree-lined streets, and Mia spent her time soaking up the charming, magical atmosphere. She found her way through the swipe gate and managed to locate the media center after asking one of the security people. Inside was a buzzing beehive of activity with members of the media chatting and rushing around. Mia had a total fan moment when she spotted Claudia Simon, one of the foremost Formula One TV journalists, who worked for Cloud Sports in the UK. Mia made a promise to herself that she would find a way to talk to Claudia before the race weekend was over.

For now, it was time to find a seat and listen in on the press conference. This was another pinch-me moment, something she’d watched on TV countless times. It was so surreal to be sitting there, and it did make her feel special, but it was also a stark reminder that she was a podcaster and not a member of the “real” media since she didn’t have a pass that permitted her to ask questions. She was certain that if her mother were present, she would point out this fact. Repeatedly.

Mia wasn’t sure exactly which drivers would be on hand, but was excited when they began to file inside—Florian, Preston, Emilio and last came Xander. Mia’s heart practically flipped in the center of her chest as he strode past in a Mega Racing polo and jeans with his unruly hair poking out of a baseball hat. She wanted to yell out his name, but of course she didn’t. Bringing up the rear were the PR handlers for each driver, including Isabel. She didn’t look at Mia, either.

He sat with the other drivers and the session started. Unfortunately, that meant Xander was grilled from the word go.

How would you rate your performance in Miami?

“Less than optimal,” Xander said, looking straight ahead, his expression cold and composed.

Mia hated that he was giving such a short answer. She wanted him to fight back. Show some backbone. It did not bode well for his performance this weekend if he was going to be timid.

Are you nervous about losing your seat, Xander? There have been rumors. A lot of chatter about it.

“I’m focused on racing. That’s it.”

Mia’s heart seized in her chest. Right then and there she understood in a way that hadn’t been clear before—the things she said on her podcast mattered.

She’d given Xander shit about his driving—hell, she’d even made fun of him—and that had helped create this environment around him. She suddenly had a whole new perspective on her job, one that made her nervous and a bit sick to her stomach. Her little podcast had real-life repercussions for Xander and any other driver she chose to speak about. But her listeners expected her edge, her snarky opinion. They loved her for it. Was it possible for Mia to show true respect for the drivers in her favorite sport while creating an entertaining show? She wasn’t sure that balance was possible, but it was apparently her mandate moving forward, at least if she wanted to have access to the sport, build on her current success and still sleep soundly at night.

Luckily, the session moved on to other drivers and more pleasant topics after a few more rocky questions for Xander. Mia made a zillion notes and wished she could have made an audio recording, but she was forbidden from doing so, as well as taking pictures, another reminder that she wasn’t really the “media.” She was someone who’d gotten a pass because a driver couldn’t back down from the shit his teammate was giving him.

When the session wrapped up, Mia stood and that was when she made eye contact with Xander. Feeling hopeful, she waved. He waved back. For a split second, she was pleased, then he turned and walked out of the room so quickly she wondered if it had even happened. Fuck.

Mia started for the exit, but was stopped by a spindly man with a handheld recorder and a camera looped around his neck. “Excuse me,” she said, trying to get past him.

“You’re Mia Neal. The American podcaster.”

She came to a stop. “Do I know you?”

He held up his badge. “Reginald Huff. I write for The Daily Reflection out of London.”

Mia stifled a groan. The Daily Reflection was a terrible tabloid, world-renowned for spreading gossip about anyone rich or powerful in the UK. They’d given Meghan and Harry such a hard time, it prompted their exodus from England.

“Nice to meet you, Reginald. Now, if you’ll let me past, I have things I need to do.” That was a total lie, but Mia already didn’t like this guy.

“I saw you wave at Xander Bishop. He paid your way here, didn’t he?”

Now Mia was beyond creeped out. “How do you know that?”

“Including your hotel, I’m guessing. I know you’re staying at the Hotel de la Ville and a normal person can’t get a room there. You need a connection with a team or a driver. You were much nicer to him on your podcast after Miami, which is interesting since he had such a terrible result. Are you on the take from Mr. Bishop? Did he buy your favor in order to take the pressure off?”

Mia reared back her head. How in the hell did he know so much about her? How was he making these leaps? The answers hit her all at once—he’d listened to the Miami episode of her podcast where she’d come right out with it and said Xander had invited her to Italy. She’d divulged the info to be up-front with her listeners. It had never occurred to her that someone might twist around her honesty and use it against her.

“I wouldn’t say I was nice. I was less harsh. I felt bad for him. My podcast is my opinion, Mr. Huff. I can say whatever I want.”

Reginald scowled. “Oh, right. You’re an influencer. You think you can waltz into this sport with zero accountability.”

It was the first time someone had referred to Mia as an influencer and it certainly gave her pause. She’d strived for that label because it hinted at a certain level of success. Now she wasn’t so sure she liked it. It suggested a person who tried to mold public opinion, rather than merely present their own. Now she felt confronted by yet another fine line and another set of questions she might be forced to answer one day. Was she just a fan? A member of the media? Or something else entirely?

Just then, Mia felt a hand on her shoulder. “Is old Reginald giving you a hard time?” a musical British voice asked.

Mia turned to see Claudia Simon, absolute legend of Formula One broadcasting, standing at her side. “Ms. Simon—” Mia sputtered.

“You do not have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” Claudia said.

“I was only making a few queries about her relationship with Xander, Claudia. No need to be a pit bull about it. It’s my prerogative as a journalist.”

Claudia tutted. “That’s a very generous use of that word, Reginald. Why don’t you scurry off and pester someone else?”

Reginald rolled his eyes, but then he slid Mia an angry look. “Just remember. I’ll be watching.”

“Oh, my God,” Mia said to Claudia once Reginald was gone. A million things were running through her head, beginning with the realization that a woman she idolized had come to her rescue. “Thank you so much for stepping in. I love you.”

Claudia laughed. “Okay…”

“I mean I have loved you. Forever. Since I was a little girl.”

“Well, now I feel old.”

“No. No. That’s not what I’m saying.” Mia was tripping over her words. She needed to take a beat and formulate a coherent thought. “I’ve just always really admired your work, Ms. Simon. And thank you for getting him to go away. He started asking questions, and I wasn’t prepared. No one has ever put me on the spot like that. I’m Mia Neal, by the way. I do a fan podcast called Not So Fast.”

“First off, call me Claudia. Second, women in this sport need to stick together.” Claudia offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mia. I’ve heard a lot about your podcast.”

Mia wanted to pinch herself. What had her life become that Claudia freaking Simon knew who she was? “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me too much. Not everything I’ve heard is good. But I like that you’re shaking things up. And making inroads. Good for you.” Claudia dug into her pocket and produced a business card, which she handed over. “Let’s keep in touch.”

Mia, slack-jawed, stared at the piece of paper now resting in her hand. “Keep in touch?”

“It’s an expression.” Claudia glanced over her shoulder. “I need to go now, love. Take care of yourself.”

“I will.” Mia watched as Claudia filed out of the room, then realized she needed to get going herself. She dashed outside and spotted the person she was looking for. “Isabel!”

Isabel looked up from a clipboard. “Mia. Hi. Everything okay?”

“Yes. Got in okay. Checked in to my hotel and everything. I was just wondering if I might talk to Xander at some point.”

Isabel squinted then returned her sights to her clipboard. “Sorry. Not today. You might be able to talk to him after qualifying, but I’m not sure. He’s incredibly busy.”

Mia understood, but it still felt like he was keeping her at arm’s length. Perhaps it was best to accept the distance between them. After all, creeps like Reginald Huff were sniffing around and Mia had a podcast to protect.

“Okay, well, just let me know,” Mia said.

“I will.”

“Wish him good luck in qualifying. In case I don’t see him.”

Mia sighed and looked around the paddock as Isabel walked away. She spotted a few drivers down at the other end. With no one around to tell her what to do, she figured she might as well try her hand at a few informal interviews. While she was at this race, she was going to make the most of it.

* * *

Xander had spent two days with his head down, shutting out the noise all around him. He’d seen Mia only once—the day before yesterday, at media day, but he hadn’t tried to talk to her. Something told him that it wasn’t a good idea for them to be any closer than they were. He wasn’t sure he could trust her. Sure, she’d gone easier on him after the Miami Grand Prix, but so many members of the media were absolute snakes. Did he think Mia was a snake? Maybe. A cute one who managed to make him laugh, but who might bite him, too. She’d certainly demonstrated she wasn’t afraid to tear him down.

On his way to the garage for qualifying, Isabel walked alongside him. “I think we’re all straight on everything,” she said. “No more extra interviews this weekend. Do you need anything from me?”

Xander wondered whether he should ask the question. “Have you talked to Mia Neal? I feel a bit bad that I’m hosting her this weekend and haven’t seen her, but I need to stay focused.”

“I ran into her. She asked me to wish you good luck in qualifying today.”

Xander felt like an ass. “When were you going to tell me that?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“How’s she doing? Is she enjoying herself?”

Isabel squinted at him, skeptically scanning his face. “She seemed fine. Why?”

Xander was eager to play it off. “Don’t want her to have any reason to bad-mouth me again.”

“Seems to me like you really made some inroads with her in Miami.”

Xander scoffed, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “Inroads? More like verbal sparring. That was about it.”

“Which makes it even more confusing that you would end up flying her across an entire ocean. Are you ever going to explain to me how that happened?”

No. Definitely not. “Bit of ego got in the way. That’s all.”

Isabel clapped him on the shoulder. “Whatever you did, just keep making her happy. It’s nice not having to field as many questions about her podcast. I listened to her Monza preview episode last night and she hardly insulted you at all.”

Xander’s ears perked up. He hadn’t listened to that episode yet. “Hardly insulted me?” He couldn’t help it. Curiosity got the best of him.

“She was talking about how well you drove in the first two practice sessions. She made some crack about you being more than a pretty face.”

A smile fought to cross Xander’s lips, so he pressed them together tightly. “She’s a funny one.”

“As long as she’s on our side.”

“Right.”

Xander strolled into the garage and actually didn’t recoil when he saw Dirk. The fact that Xander had outperformed Dirk in all three free practice sessions helped. Hopefully, that would continue for qualifying. He put on his gear and climbed into the car, laser-focused. His heart pounded in his chest. Yes, he was desperately clinging to any and all success these days, but when things hadn’t gone your way in a while, it was a natural response. Perhaps it was good for him to feel desperate. It would keep him hungry. And that would help him keep his seat in F1. There was only room for twenty drivers in this sport, and there were hundreds of young drivers dying to take his place.

He had to earn it. Every day.

* * *

Mia sat with her chin on the balcony, overlooking the pit lane. Monza was a charming place, but attending a race by herself was starting to wear on her. It wasn’t that much fun, especially since her host had ghosted her. When she’d attend races in Austin, she might not have been hanging out in the paddock club, but she always had a friend or two to keep her company. She enjoyed sharing this sport with others. It was part of the fun. It was part of the reason for her podcast.

Below her she heard the telltale roar of an engine as the first car came out of its garage and headed down the pit lane to start qualifying. Finally, some excitement. Now to see if Xander’s performance in practice would hold up in qualifying.

* * *

Xander made it through Q1, a feat that had often been a given before this season, but had become a victory in its own right. And now he felt like he’d owned his final lap of Q2, but he wasn’t sure.

“Tell me I got through. Tell me we got it,” he said over the radio to his engineer soon after he crossed the finish line.

“You’re P10. Through to Q3. Great job.”

Xander couldn’t believe the wave of relief that rushed through his body. It was his first Q3 of the year.

Maybe Mia Neal really was a good-luck charm. And this time, she was his good luck. Not Dirk’s.

* * *

As annoyed as Mia was with Xander, she was about to leap out of her own skin during Q3. Xander’s lap times had only been good enough to put him in ninth place thus far, an achievement for sure, but she was certain he’d be wanting more than that. She watched as Emilio raced across the finish line, setting a time no one would ever beat.

Come on, Xander. One more flying lap, she thought, wondering if she was losing all objectivity. She probably shouldn’t be so invested in him doing well.

* * *

Come on, Xander. You can bloody well do this. Just a few more corners. That’s it. Gun the throttle. You’ve got it.

He hit the straight. Flew across the finish line.

“Where’d we end up?” he asked his engineer.

“Waiting for Laurent and Hubbard to finish.”

His chest heaved. His back ached. He’d put a lot into those laps.

“All right, Xander. Looks like P7 for tomorrow.”

It felt like the sun had just come up. Like it was a new day. In some ways it felt like he’d just won the race. And although that was a sign of exactly how far he’d fallen this season, he was so damn grateful to be on an upward swing.

“Xander? You there?”

“Yeah, mate. That’s bloody brilliant. Thank you. Thank you for everything. Cheers to the whole team.”

“We’re super proud of you. Excellent driving. Now let’s just replicate that for tomorrow.”

Xander silently nodded, finishing his cool-down lap. Somewhere up in the stands, Mia Neal was watching. He had a lingering desire to see her reaction to his performance. To know firsthand that she’d not only seen that lap, but that she’d also seen he wasn’t a loser. But he couldn’t spend his time seeking external validation, especially from someone who might turn on him. He needed to focus on himself and the job ahead. And Mia was nothing but a beautiful distraction.

Five

Which of the four elements do you identify with? Explain.

Today, I identify with fire, because frankly I am a little pissed off. (And yes, I know I’m filling this out late in the day. I’ve been busy.) The race is tomorrow and I haven’t seen Xander once. I know now that his invitation to Italy had nothing to do with me. It was all his ego. Bright side: Monza is lovely, even when you’re by yourself. I could stay here and eat pasta forever, as long as I had someone to hang out with.

After a day of running around the paddock and the excitement of qualifying, Mia needed fresh air. And probably pistachio gelato. She checked to make sure she had her room key, then stepped out into the hall, only to run right into the man who’d proven himself elusive since she’d arrived—Xander.

He came to a stop, dressed like he didn’t want to be seen, wearing jeans and a plain black T-shirt, his glorious hair tucked into a baseball cap. “Oh. Hi.”

Don’t sound so fucking disappointed. “Headed out?” she asked, then started down the hall ahead of him.

“I am,” he said, walking behind her.

“Would you like me to wait for the next elevator? Or take the stairs? You’ve spent the last two days avoiding me.”

The elevator doors slid open, and she didn’t wait for an answer, scurrying onboard. To her great surprise, Xander followed and stepped to the back. She stayed to one side, away from him, while frantically jabbing the button for the lobby. What was she feeling right now? Her frustration with him was entirely self-made. He owed her nothing. Absolutely nothing. She closed her eyes and begged for strength.

“I’ve been busy.”

In the quiet confines of the elevator, his rich voice bouncing off the walls, it was as if he was wrapping himself around her. Somehow, she could feel his warmth and it made her want to experience it in real life. Just once.

God, he’d really wormed his way into her psyche.

“I have, too.” She made a point of looking straight ahead and not letting his presence get to her. “I’ve talked to quite a lot of the drivers. Got a few quick interviews, even. It’s been lovely. Everyone has been so nice to me.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Part of her wanted to turn and confront him, tell him he’d hurt her by ignoring her for her entire stay. Part of her wanted to pin him against the back of the elevator and kiss an apology out of him.

“Congrats on qualifying,” she said instead. “I hope the race goes well tomorrow. If I don’t see you, have a nice life.”

She forced her feet to carry her forward. Meanwhile, her heart pounded at the base of her throat. Why in the hell was she having such a visceral reaction to him? She had no attachment to Xander Bishop. They’d been in each other’s company a sum total of twenty minutes. This was so like her, running away with the circus because she’d built something in her head that wasn’t there.

She couldn’t be around him anymore. She needed to stay in reality. Her reality, not his. She hightailed it across the lobby, headed straight for the door.

“Mia. Wait.”

She came to a halt. Apparently, her determination to stay strong was no match for his voice.

“What?” She turned, confronted with his chest as he stepped right up to her.

“Where are you headed?”

“Out for some air and to walk through the village. My flight home leaves at the ass crack of dawn Monday morning. Whoever books travel on your behalf is a real wanker.” Why was she suddenly spouting British slang? Xander’s effect on her was ridiculous.

“The connection times are better on that early flight. Plus, it’s a much nicer plane than the one you took over here. First class will be like a trip to a spa. Trust me.”

“How do you know this?”

“I’m the wanker who booked your travel.”

“Xander!” A shout came from the far end of the lobby, in a British accent Mia recognized. It was that troll of a reporter, Reginald Huff.

Xander turned in Reginald’s direction and seemed to make a split-second decision to grab Mia’s hand and yank her out the door and into the night air.

“Hurry.” He rushed around the side of the building, then ducked through a narrow metal gate. They spilled out into the street behind the hotel.

“Where are we going?” She trotted double-time down the sidewalk to keep up with his long-ass legs.

“To get away from that man.” Xander employed his lightning-fast reflexes and turned down a narrow side street.

“I met him in the media center. Well, not so much met him as was accosted by him. He saw you wave at me after the press conference. He figured out who I am and he knew that you paid my way here. He grilled me about it.” After that long explanation while power walking, Mia was breathing hard.

“Why did you feel the need to divulge that I invited you to Monza on your podcast?”

Mia was struggling to keep up, literally and figuratively. “You listened?”

“Yes. I listened. You don’t have to tell everyone everything.”

“I try to be forthright with my listeners. That’s all. I want them to know what’s going on.”

“People like Reginald Huff will exploit your honesty until you regret it.” Xander took a right down an even narrower side street, this one entirely residential-looking, with laundry hanging from lines overhead, an orange cat sitting in a doorway and a silver-haired woman leaning out of a second-story window. “He is not a good person. Stay away from him.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Just stay away from him, okay?”

“Got it. Where are we going?”

“There’s a park at the end of this street. I like to go there when I’m here. It’s quiet. And private.” He let go of her hand, but he already had her fully convinced. She wasn’t going anywhere except precisely where he was. “If you come with me, there’s one condition. This is just us talking. I don’t want any of this ending up on your podcast.”

Mia knew she’d earned that comment. She deserved to be put on notice. “Promise. Plus, I got so much material in the paddock today it was kind of ridiculous. I think I’ve talked to every single driver on the grid. Except for you, obviously.”

“I’m sorry if it feels like I’ve been avoiding you. I needed to keep my head down. I can’t afford to lose focus.” Behind them came the sound of laughing. A group of people in Mega Racing gear were approaching. “Bugger.” He took her hand again and they hustled around a corner, then across a quiet alleyway. Ahead was a stone wall covered in ivy with a wrought-iron gate to one side. Xander opened the latch and ushered Mia inside.

As she crossed the threshold between the street and the stone pathway, it was like stepping into a secret garden—a lush expanse of grass edged by carefully kept hedges bordered by a thick canopy of trees crowning the space, leaving an opening in the center that framed the cobalt night sky. The air was so much sweeter here, filling her lungs and lazing over her skin. Time suddenly slowed down. Moments were ticking by at an entirely different pace.

“What is this place? Are we even allowed to be in here?”

“It’s a public park. Not many people know about it. I discovered it the first time I raced here and I make a point of coming every time. It’s nice to have a break from everything.” He strolled over to a bench and sat. “I’m sorry about the cloak-and-dagger routine back there and in the hotel. I didn’t want to deal with either Reginald or fans. They’re just going to ask about tomorrow, and well, I don’t want to think about it too hard.”

“I’m amazed at how much you all get hounded. I witnessed some of that while I was chatting with the drivers in the paddock.”

“They all want a piece of us. It’s exhausting. I realize the sport wouldn’t exist without them, but it’s still a lot to deal with.”

“I’m a fan, too. Before I started the podcast, that’s all I was.”

“You don’t really seem like a person who would chase a driver down the street.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

He laughed quietly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course,” she answered a little too eagerly.

“Sometimes I wear a disguise. I even have a fake mustache.”

“Seriously?”

“Sometimes it’s the only way I get a moment to myself. Some semblance of privacy. Just so I can bloody think.”

Mia heard the strain in his voice, the way it got thin and wobbled at the end. She saw the pressure on his handsome face, forming deep creases between his eyes and wrinkles on his forehead. Good God, the man was stressed, which left her feeling so sad. This wasn’t right. He’d been struggling all season, but he’d done amazing in qualifying that day. He should be floating on air, feeling as though tomorrow was filled with endless opportunity.

“Makes perfect sense to me. I don’t know how you deal with the pressure. Having to smile and be nice all the time. And you never know who’s watching. Who’s got a phone pointed at you. All of that on top of the actual job has got to feel impossible sometimes.”

* * *

Xander sat quiet. How long had it been since someone had acknowledged that what he did was fucking difficult? It felt like a lifetime. He took a seat on a wood bench and gestured to Mia with a nod of his head. “Come. Sit.”

“You sure?”

He peered up at her. She was stunning in the moonlight, dark hair framing her softly lit face. “I’m sure.”

Sadly, she was hesitant when she sat next to him. Like she was worried he might bite her or yell at her.

“So, was the baseball hat and plain T-shirt one of your various disguises?” she asked. “You had to know that was never going to work. You’re seven feet tall. It’s hard to miss you.”

“I’m not seven feet tall. I’m six-three.”

“Well, I’m five-two, so I’m rounding up.”

“Is that all?” Funny, but he’d never thought of her as short. Her personality was larger than life. “The hat’s because my hair is a disaster today.”

“Uh. I’ll be the judge of that.” She slid him a sly look, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Go on. Take the hat off, Bishop. I’d like to see what exactly the most epic head of hair in Britain looks like when it’s less than perfect.”

“The most epic head of hair in Britain belongs to Harry Styles.”

“Fair point. Now, stop stalling.”

He smiled and removed his cap, brushing his hair back from his face. “See?”

“You are so full of shit.” Mia shook her head in dismay, turned toward him and reached out to touch his hair.

“Don’t. It’s gross.” Purely out of reflex, he grasped her wrist. Her skin was so soft. So warm. Something in his stomach went weak. He scanned her face, looking for some sign that she wanted him to let go, but she didn’t show it. Meanwhile, his eyes were drawn to her lips. They were the most perfect shade of deep pink. If things were different, if he didn’t have so much to lose, he might kiss her. “I haven’t washed it properly.”

“Oh, pfft.” She wrenched herself from his grip and combed her fingers into the hair on the side of his head.

He sucked in a breath when the heel of her hand brushed his cheek. What was the draw of Mia Neal? He didn’t understand it. Mere weeks ago, she was his public enemy number one. But there they were, sitting together in a park while she touched his hair. If he was honest, he’d gladly let her do it all night.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about. Looks pretty epic to me.” She pulled her hand back and settled it in her lap. “So, fan to driver, how are you feeling about tomorrow? Are you nervous?”

He drew a deep breath in through his nose and stared off into the park, watching the trees bend with the breeze. He normally disliked this question, but when Mia asked, she delivered it without judgment. It felt like nothing more than pure curiosity. “I don’t like to say I’m nervous.”

“The things you say and the things that might be true can be two different things.”

“Nerves are for amateurs. I’m a professional. I can’t afford to be anything less than on it and fully prepared.”

“You’re also not a robot. Just because you’re a professional athlete doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings.”

“Part of my training is learning to compartmentalize. Set things like feelings aside.”

“Hmm.” She did not seem convinced. At all. “Why do you think you’re struggling this year? Is the car difficult to drive?”

“He’s not easy to drive. I’ll tell you that much. The understeer is horrendous. Sometimes it’s like driving an ironing board.”

“He?”

He laughed quietly. “Charles. I call him Charles.”

“Weird. That’s my dad’s name.”

“Really?”

“I would not lie about that.”

He turned to her and held up a finger. “Please don’t tell anyone I told you that I named my car.”

“Is this like when guys name their penis?”

“No. This is not like that.”

“Which raises the follow-up question, since you were so quick to answer that no, the two are not the same, have you named your…?” She pointed at his crotch and made a circle in the air.

“You really will say anything, won’t you?”

“I don’t think that’s true. I just start talking and my mouth gets ahead of my brain. Don’t worry. I will live to regret that I asked you that question.”

“Maybe not. It doesn’t necessarily bother me.”

“Oh. It’ll bother me. Later.” She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t think you can force trying to become one with Charles. It’s like a relationship. Either it’ll happen or it won’t.”

“Except that a mountain of money and my career are on the line.”

She slowly shook her head. “It is a lot of pressure, isn’t it? I don’t think I’d last a day with that kind of pressure.”

“It’s part of the sport. I can’t do anything about it, so I try not to think about it.”

Facing him, she pulled her leg up onto the bench, leaving her knee right near his hip, sending a warm reverberation through him. How odd that he found so much comfort in her presence, but he did. “Have you seen any footage of yourself walking around this year?”

“Walking around?”

“In the paddock. Footage that the media catches, like when you arrive for a race.”

“No. Why would I? I study my onboard film and I study data.”

“You’re carrying a lot more tension in your body this year compared with the last.”

“Well, sure. Things were a lot easier last year. I had amazing results on a regular basis. Everyone loved me.”

“It’s got to be hard to take such a bad turn. No pun intended.”

“Is this your master’s in psychology speaking?”

“Good memory. And it’s merely the art of observation.” She got up from the bench and walked around to the back until she was standing right behind him. “Let me try something.”

“You aren’t going to crack an egg on top of my head, are you?”

“Good Lord, no. Why would I do that?”

He shrugged. “Because you hate me?”

“Xander. I do not hate you.” She cleared her throat. “Quite the opposite. Remember, you’re my favorite driver. So, no, I’m not going to crack an egg on your head.”

“Good to know.”

“Now, close your eyes.” She placed her hands on his shoulders. “And think about becoming one with Charles.”

“I thought you said not to force it.”

“We aren’t forcing it. When you become one with someone or something, it should be effortless. But you still have to see it in your mind as a possibility.”

“Okay…” He closed his eyes and imagined himself in the car, hands on the steering wheel and feet on the pedals, his butt perfectly cradled in that seat built for him. It wasn’t hard to conjure the feeling, but the sensation of Mia’s hands on his shoulders made it difficult to hold on to the image. Her fingers kneading into his muscles, working away the tension. He kept feeling like he was being pulled away…or maybe being pushed toward her.

“Now, don’t think about the way you were with any other car in the past. Forget the past. Just think about you and Charles and the future. Your relationship today isn’t perfect. How can you get closer to Charles? Understand him better?”

She continued to knead his upper back, right at the base of his neck, which made it incredibly hard to focus. Her fingers? Pure magic.

“You’re making me regret that I ever told you his name.”

“Shh. Just focus.”

“Why shouldn’t I think about the past?”

“Because that’s magical thinking. You can’t stay wedged in last year or the year before. Sure, they were great, but life doesn’t work like that. You’ll never again be that person you were last season or the season before. So don’t even entertain the notion. Just think about tomorrow, looking ahead and staying positive. Think about a flow of good energy.”

“This is all leading to you telling me that my struggles are stress. Or a mental block. Just like on your podcast.”

“I can’t believe you listened.” Her voice reached a high pitch and she stopped kneading, which was such a disappointment. Still, he could hear how much it meant to her.

“Yes. I listened. Just to the one episode. After Miami. You could’ve skewered me, but you didn’t.”

“I didn’t have the heart. Not after I witnessed firsthand what a jerk Dirk is.”

“Well, you’re wrong about me. It’s not in my head. Half of what I do is keeping a strong mental state. I’ve spent years honing that skill and I’m very good at it. I have zero problems on that front.”

She planted both hands on his shoulders. “Interesting. Tell me more about that.”

“Now you sound like a therapist. You don’t believe me. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Do you have a sports psychologist you work with?”

“I do not. I don’t need one.”

“I just want to understand how you think you can go about changing your thinking if you don’t have any help.” Mia returned to kneading, rubbing away the tension in his neck and shoulders. It made him lightheaded, but he lapped up every second of it. He couldn’t begin to remember how long it had been since a woman had touched him like that.

“It’s about strength. That’s all. My mind is strong. This is something I never, ever question.”

“Maybe you know what’s wrong and you’re just not ready to admit it to yourself.”

“Or maybe you’re wrong.”

“You definitely don’t want to admit it.”

Honestly, he would admit all sorts of things if he could simply sit there and let her hands rove over his body. Let her massage away all his pains.

“You realize I pay a physiotherapist a ton of money to do this for me and they’re not anywhere near as good.”

“I went to school for massage therapy.”

She was full of endless surprises. “Do you practice?”

“Nope. I got the training and the license, but never did anything with it.”

“What about psychology? Did you use that?”

“Nah. Being a clinician didn’t feel like a good route for me. Sitting in an office all day.” She sighed a heavy sigh. “Now, I did self-publish a mental health journal. Every day you fill out a page that starts with a different prompt. Things like ‘Today, I feel…’ It helps you keep in touch with your emotions. Sometimes simply acknowledging your feelings is enough.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Do you want one? Because I have about fifty in my apartment. They weren’t exactly a big seller. I write in one every day but it’s going to take me a lifetime to fill all of them.”

Again, he laughed. “You are a mystery to me, Mia Neal.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of a mystery to myself, too.” She patted him on the shoulder then walked back around until she stood in front of him. “You should probably head to bed, mister. You have a big day ahead.” She reached out her hand as if to help him up.

He accepted the gesture, even though he didn’t require the assistance. He liked touching her. Hell, he was even starting to like her.

“Why are you being so kind to me, Mia? I’ve left you to your own devices for days.”

She blinked her big, beautiful eyes. “Not sure why, but I like you.”

For a moment, he forgot that he was a race-car driver and she was a podcaster who’d criticized him in dozens of different ways. Again, he wanted to kiss her. Part of that was curiosity. He had a feeling a kiss from Mia wouldn’t be like a kiss from anyone else. But he couldn’t afford to be curious right now. It wouldn’t help him get where he so desperately wanted to be. He needed to stay on the straight and narrow.

“Come on. Let’s get back.”

Six

What do you think is holding you back?

My brain, probably, which should come as no big surprise. I am so conflicted today. Xander and I had such a nice time last night, and now I just want more. Be his friend. Get to know him. Figure out what makes him tick. That is such delusional thinking. In twenty-four hours, I’ll be on a plane back home and he’ll probably forget that I ever existed.

Mia used her walk to the circuit to record snippets for her podcast. “This really is such an amazing location for a race, and qualifying held so many surprises. I hope today will live up to the excitement of yesterday.” Mia knew her first loyalty was to her podcast, which meant her attention needed to be on all the drivers, but it was impossible not to root for Xander today, especially since he’d had such a strong showing in qualifying and would be starting in the top ten at P7.

Despite her focus on the race, she was haunted by thoughts of last night in the park. Touching him had not been part of her plan—she’d innocently thought she might help him alleviate his stress. But the reality was that once she started kneading his shoulders, feeling every unbelievable muscle at the base of his neck, it had been incredibly difficult to stop.

She’d used her immense talent for overthinking to help her stem the tide of whatever it was going on inside her body, or more specifically between her legs. She reminded herself over and over again—last night and again this morning—that nothing good came of getting attached to Xander Bishop.

Even a fantasy of him was a foolish experiment—he was the sort of man who dated actresses and models. Who had women falling at his feet—women with flawless bodies and faces, who came from money and influence. In other words, not women like Mia.

And she didn’t mull over these thoughts to diminish her value as a person. She’d been lucky enough to almost always feel comfortable in her own skin, even when her mind was a complicated place. Most of the time, she felt pretty, and she knew the things that made her feel sexy. Being around Xander made her feel sexy.

Was it the thrill of verbal back-and-forth with someone who regularly frustrated her? Or was it because she sensed he wanted to show her more of who he was, even though his words said the opposite? It was probably all those things and more, but that didn’t change the fact that on the surface, she and Xander did not exist in the same world.

* * *

Despite his intention to keep solely focused on the race, Xander could not stop thinking about last night in the park with Mia. He popped down his visor and started the formation lap, zigzagging to get temperature into his tires and taking note of the feel of the track. Focus. Unfortunately, his brain kept drifting to Mia and the things she’d said. Although he sensed she was coming from a place of good intention, he didn’t buy into the notion of not looking back. Last year had been perfect. So had the year before. And since he was in a much better car this year, logic said that all he had to do was conjure his former self and drive like the Xander of last year. That would bring the desired results.

He really wanted to prove that to Mia. Doing well in the race was the only way to accomplish that. And if he didn’t do well? It would mean yet another step back. More misery. More pressure.

* * *

Mia thought she might be sick when Xander pulled into his seventh-place spot on the grid. Please do well. He had to do well. He’d kicked ass in qualifying and he’d always said Monza was one of his favorite circuits. High speed and fast corners. It was a beautiful day.

Just go racing, Xander. Just go racing.

The first light ticked on, then the second, the third, the fourth and the fifth. Mia’s pulse pounded in her ears. That moment of anticipation was killing her.

* * *

The lights went out. Xander punched the throttle. Charles protested.

In front of him, car five lunged to the left. And in that split second, a procession of thoughts hit him—becoming one with his car. Positivity. Looking ahead.

These were not his usual thoughts. But he didn’t have time to push them aside.

Miraculously, car six went right to take the inside line of the first corner. Xander spotted his opening in the gap and took it. By the end of turn two and the straight, he’d moved up two positions. He was flying. This lightness inside his chest was familiar. And so fucking welcome. He nearly laughed.

It was time to settle in. Complete this first lap. Focus on sector times. Tire management.

Come on, Charles.

It was time to catch Dirk and the rest of the field.

* * *

The better Xander did, the more nervous Mia became.

Her stomach wobbled and churned. Her hands were sweaty and slippery as she gripped the railing on the club balcony above the paddock, where she’d nabbed her primo viewing spot.

Just like in Miami, she could not only watch the on-track action up close, she could also turn around and peer inside to see one of the TV monitors. Xander’s race start had been excellent, and since then, he’d been doing great, but there had been a few rocky moments, including an excruciatingly long pit stop of 4.2 seconds.

* * *

Xander was up only one grid position from the starting order, but he’d take it. Five more laps to go. If he could just hold on, it would mean a sixth-place finish, by far his best showing this season. But the other issue was that Dirk was somewhere ahead and likely within striking distance of getting into third, which would mean a podium for the man Xander was so desperate to beat.

* * *

Mia bounced on her toes and gnawed on her fingernails as the laps ticked by. Three laps to go. Two.

From behind her, the announcer’s voice rose in volume and speed. Oh, my word! There’s Dirk Van Dijk making a mega move, no pun intended!

She whipped around to see on the TV that Dirk was up into third. Fuck. She knew it was good for the team, but she worried about what it would do to Xander. That he would continue to see himself as second-best.

She returned her attention to the track. “Come on, come on,” she muttered, leaning over the railing as the final lap started. As Xander’s car whizzed by, she made a silent wish for all to go well. She imagined him in the car, holding on for dear life.

Stay where you are, Xander.

* * *

Beads of sweat rolled down Xander’s forehead inside his helmet. So much that it felt like rain in the cockpit.

He was less than one lap away from his best finish of the season. Now it was half a lap and he dared to let himself think about the good that would come from this. Breathing room.

Come on.

A quarter lap. He checked his mirrors. Kenji was right on his ass. Xander went full beans. Final corner needed to be perfect. Final apex hit exactly. The finish line was ahead. He gave it everything. And when he sailed across with the checkered flag waving, securing his sixth-place finish, he felt like he’d just won the Drivers’ Championship. He pounded the steering wheel with his fist.

“That’s P6, Xander,” his race engineer said. “Great job. Great points.”

“Come on, baby! Let’s gooooo!” he hollered back into the radio.

“Dirk was P3. Excellent result for the team.”

Bloody hell. A podium for Dirk.

“Great. I’m so thankful for everyone’s hard work.”

The good wishes for the team were real. Any enthusiasm for Dirk was pure fakery. But none of that mattered right now. He was finally pointed in the right direction. And as he continued his cool-down lap and realized what had happened, he thought he might have Mia Neal to credit with some of this.

Because he’d looked ahead, during that race. Not back.

* * *

Xander felt like he was floating when he climbed out of the car and took off his helmet and balaclava. As he paused and looked out at the grandstands bursting with fans, he remembered why he did this. He loved the pure adrenaline of it all. Striving to be the best of the best in the entire world. He could get there. He knew it. And that was why he had to keep fighting through these struggles he was having. Today was certainly a start.

He did his post-race weigh-in, then entered the garage, which was sadly empty. All the mechanics and engineers had already headed down to get their spot in front of the podium to celebrate Dirk’s third-place finish. Part of him thought he should be a good sport, be a team player and support Dirk. Then again, Dirk was a horrible prick and had been doing everything he could to get inside Xander’s head. Dirk could sod off. Xander would celebrate on his own. All he needed was to find a bottle of champagne.

He exited the garage and headed for Mega Racing hospitality. In the distance, the Spanish national anthem was playing for Emilio, the race winner. How he hoped that one day he’d stand on that top step and listen to the strains of “God Save the King.” Even today, it still felt so far out of reach.

“There he is,” a voice came from behind him. “Mr. Sixth-Place Finish!”

He turned, confronted by Mia. Confusing, sweet, beautiful Mia. He might owe her a lot of thanks for today. But that would require admitting she might be right about him and his mental state, a fact of which he was not convinced.

“You aren’t watching the podium celebration?”

Mia waved it off. “Nah. I can’t watch Dirk up there. He’s kind of a jerk, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I noticed.”

“Plus, I’m short and the crush of people watching is no place for the vertically challenged.”

“Sure.” An awkward quiet settled between them. “I was about to hunt down a bottle of champagne. Do you care to join me? No pressure.”

She unleashed her lovely grin. “Well, yeah. Absolutely. It’s a big day.”

He couldn’t contain his own smile. “It is, isn’t it?”

He led the way inside, only to find that hospitality was being packed up, which came as no big surprise. With the race over, the teams were always ready to head out, especially with next weekend off before Monaco. Still, he knew his way around enough to find what he needed.

“Hold on one minute.” He ducked into the kitchen and found a beverage fridge with some beer. That would do. He grabbed two bottles and held them up, feeling victorious.

“Nice.”

“If it’s okay with you, I know a quiet spot where we can talk.”

“Away from the fans?”

“Exactly.”

She followed him out back behind hospitality. It wasn’t deluxe accommodations, but it was quiet and away from fans and reporters. He stood while Mia took a seat at a picnic table.

She clinked her beer with his. “Huge congratulations for today. You were spectacular. I saw shades of the old Xander.”

He took a long drink of the cool and hoppy beer. Damn, it tasted good. “Thanks. But I thought you told me to not look back. To only look ahead.”

“Don’t listen to me. Clearly, you know what you’re doing.”

Part of him did think Mia had made a positive impact on him. Or maybe it was simply that he’d wanted to prove to her he was capable of being back on his game. “Thanks for listening last night. I appreciate it.”

“Are you kidding? I love it. I love every minute of getting to be around this sport.”

How he appreciated she felt that way. Aside from other drivers, very few people lived the sport the way he did. “What’s next for the podcast?”

She shrugged. “Back to the grind, I suppose. No more exotic locales for me, but I really appreciate you bringing me here. Thank you. It’s done so much for me. I have tons of new followers and subscribers. I’m sure that will only grow after I do my big Monza episode. Hopefully, I’ll get a few more sponsors out of this weekend. Just keep growing.”

“Do you have anyone helping you with all of this?”

“It’s just me. Recording. Editing. Marketing. Social.” She took another swig of beer, her mesmerizing eyes locked on his.

How he admired her entrepreneurial spirit. It reminded him of the things his dad had done when Xander was just starting off—scraping money together to buy secondhand karts, maintaining and learning to fix them on his own while the other kids had top-of-the-line equipment and their own mechanic.

“It’s very impressive. I’m glad it’s going so well. I really am.”

“Considering where it started when we first met, that’s a real sea change, Xander.”

He smiled and downed the last of his beer. “I suppose it is.”

Mia finished hers as well, then got up from her seat. “I guess this is it, then. Thanks for everything, Xander. Especially for bringing me here. Even if it was only out of ego.”

“I never owned up to that, you know. But you’re more than welcome.”

“I’m not hard to find if you’re ever in need of a neck rub. Or an insult.”

“Ah. But I already follow your podcast. The insults are free there, aren’t they?”

She unleashed a musical laugh. “One hundred percent.”

“Isabel has your email, right? She sent you your tickets. So I could reach out to you that way.”

“She does. Although I could give you my cell number. I mean, if you want it.”

He didn’t make a habit of taking numbers, or giving out his own. It would be a nightmare if it ever fell into the wrong hands. But it didn’t feel right to simply say goodbye to Mia and let her walk away. There was something between them. What, he didn’t know. But in a sport that could be isolating, it felt foolish to throw away a genuine connection.

“Sure. I’ll take your number.”

“Hand me your phone. I’ll put it in.”

He did as she requested and watched as she tapped away at the screen. Her lush brown hair fell down around her face. Light glinted off it. He was sure it was silky soft, and he found his hands twitching at the prospect of touching it. That was only fair, right? After all, she’d touched his…

“Here you go.” She handed over the phone. “Can I give you a hug? For today? I feel like you deserve one. Especially since you didn’t have the chance to celebrate with your team.”

Her sweetness took his breath away. He hadn’t bargained on getting a hug from her, but he wasn’t about to turn it down.

“Sure. I’d love it.”

He held his arms wide and she stepped up to him, the top of her head reaching only the center of his chest. He stooped to wrap himself around her as she put her arms around him. She was warm and soft and he let his head drop forward ever so slightly, inhaling her sweet smell. He might not ever see her again, but she’d made such an impression on him. She’d managed to completely turn around his thinking about her.

He loosened his grip a bit, but didn’t let her go. Something in his arms wouldn’t allow it. Blood coursed through his body, heat circling in his hips. He was struck with an image of picking up Mia and putting her down on one of the equipment cases out back. Kissing her. Having her wrap her legs around him. Tight. Her fingers in his hair. His hands up the back of her top…

The next thing he knew, she popped up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. As she lowered to her normal height, his arms pulled her closer, and she smiled at him, their faces mere inches from each other.

“Why do you have to be so tall and handsome?”

“Why do you have to smell so good?”

“I asked you first.”

He wanted to be clever, but he couldn’t keep up with her. His mind went blank. He dropped his head and kissed her. Right there. Without thinking about it at all. She instantly bowed into him. He pulled her tighter. She slanted her head. He could’ve sworn she sighed. His dick stood up and took notice. And for the first time in a long time, he was attracted to someone in a way that felt so right. Too little felt like that these days…

Mia pushed away and stumbled back. “I should go,” she blurted, breathless.

What the fuck had he done?

“Oh, God. Mia. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” He instinctively reached for her, then stopped and ran his hands through his hair, wishing he could go back in time one minute and erase his stupid, stupid mistake. Still, her lips looked amazing from the kiss. So plump and red and raw…

“No. It’s okay.” She only glanced at him for a second, then averted her eyes.

She thought he was a creep. He was sure of it.

“I’m sorry. I mean it. I should’ve asked first.” Again, he wanted to reach for her, but he had to force his arms to stay at his sides. Why couldn’t he do anything right?

“Xander, it’s okay. I’m not going to tell anybody. But yeah, I really need to go.” And off she went, half running.

And he was left wondering what in the hell was wrong with him.

Seven

Describe yourself in three words.

Dammit. I have been waiting for this prompt because I had the perfect answer—shy disco ball. That’s me. The wallflower who secretly wants to sparkle. I’m no disco ball today. Today, I am confused, dehydrated and exhausted, which are not anywhere near as interesting or clever. Also, this flight has not been like a trip to the spa.

The running dialogue in Mia’s head for the entirety of her flight back home: oh, my God oh, my God oh, my God oh, my God. Not the optimal spa soundtrack. A spa suggested relaxation, when in reality she was wound so tight after that kiss she might snap in two.

What the fuck, Mia? One of the hottest men on the planet kisses you and you reject him? For someone who people generally regarded as smart, she’d been remarkably stupid.

That being said, she was not shocked by the manner in which her reflexes had taken over. That had always been her reaction to romantic intimacy. She needed to tiptoe her way into those waters, taking time to check in with herself and the other person. Are you okay? Is this okay? It meant she’d had very few relationships. Most men she’d met didn’t have that kind of patience.

She’d always suspected love wasn’t for her, largely because one was expected to fall into it. Mia despised the imagery. First, there was very little one could do once falling. Once you started, momentum took over. Physics. That hardly seemed fair. Plus, the notion of falling suggested you’d tripped first or at the very least lost your balance, and that made it sound like an accident.

Mia wanted to float into love, like on an inner tube down a cool, clear river on a warm summer day, advancing inches at a time, dangling her feet in the gentle water without a worry on her mind. The thought of being thrust into anything, well, it had never worked for her. Her brain got in the way and she contorted every situation into something it wasn’t. She ruminated over every word and stolen glance until it was all ground into the dirt and became a muddy mess. Who was she kidding? She was not built for kissing a Formula One driver, especially one as sexy as Xander Bishop.

Regardless of her overthinking, as soon as she got back to her apartment—via an Uber because Jasmine was busy—she knew she had to tackle her next episode. This one would take more work than usual since she’d recorded soundbites and mini interviews with so many drivers. It would require her absolute best editing game. After sorting through clips and refining her outline, she decided the episode would be a two-parter, culminating with the big story that Xander appeared to be back in form. Were his troubles behind him? Surely her listeners were expecting her opinion on exactly that.

Just as she’d put the final polish on part one, she walked into her bedroom, where she kept her phone to minimize distractions while working. She expected mostly social notifications, but instead she was greeted by the one thing she never, ever expected.

A text from Xander.

Get home safely? (This is Xander, by the way.)

She slowly sank down to perch on the edge of her bed, drumming her fingers against the side of her phone. Her initial reaction? Shock. Second? She couldn’t lie—a bit of glee. Xander freaking Bishop was texting her. But why? Of course, her innate skepticism crept in. Was he fishing for intel? Wondering if she would keep their kissing secret? He had to know she was already working on her Monza episode.

Regardless of his intentions, it wasn’t like she wasn’t going to respond. Seriously. She had to at the very least figure out what he was up to.

Yes. Flight was lovely. You were right, although I’m wound too tight to enjoy any spa sensations.

Ha ha. Glad you liked it. I’ve traveled enough to know the ins and outs.

Mia snickered at ins and outs, then she admonished herself. Why did her mind have to go there? Focus!

Back home in the Cotswolds? Or straight to Monaco?

England. How did you know I live in the Cotswolds?

She smiled at her phone and settled back against her pillows, wondering if she was in a dream or at the very least, a sleep-deprived stupor. In what world did she get to have a cordial back-and-forth with Xander?

Hello. F1 nerd alert.

LOL. Home is Texas for you, right?

Austin. As the person who booked my travel, you should know the answer to that question.

Didn’t want you to think I’m a stalker.

Never.

Austin is one of my favorite races.

Me too. For obvious reasons.

Three dots appeared, but they seemed to blink forever with nothing coming through. What was he thinking? What could possibly take so long to say? The questions were maddening.

I’m very sorry for what happened after the race. I pride myself on being a gentleman and I failed. I only hate that we had to say goodbye under those circumstances.

Mia’s heart sank. It even broke a little. Who hadn’t surprise-kissed someone? Well, Mia hadn’t. But only because her height put her at a disadvantage. And her brain got in the way. But had she thought about it? Of course she had. Dozens of times, including at least two or three times while she was hanging out with Xander in the park in Monza.

If it helps at all, I would also like to apologize. I’m very sorry.

Why?

I panicked.

Go on… Please.

Could she be so vulnerable with Xander? Part of her felt like she owed him the unvarnished truth. Thankfully, she was not only pretty good at saying what was on her mind, but this was also something that would be easier to say over text.

I never expected Xander Bishop to kiss me. I don’t know if I can draw a parallel for you. Maybe if King Charles showed up at your house and invited you to the pub? Even then, it probably wouldn’t faze you.

I’m a normal guy, Mia. Don’t put me on a pedestal.

It’s cute that you think you’re normal.

But I am.

Okay. Mr. Delusional.

I’m glad you’re home safe. I have to run. Take care.

You too.

Mia reread the exchange at least a dozen times over the next forty-eight hours. Had she managed to piss him off? Or was he simply busy? He did live a crazy life. Maybe that would be the extent of their back-and-forth. An apology. A bit of chitchat. She appreciated that he’d wanted to make it right. Even if she wanted more.

Listened to the Monza episode, he texted two days later. It’s very good. You got some great interviews.

Thanks! Not everyone was avoiding me in Italy.

Emilio got pretty flirty with you.

And he won. Maybe that’s a new strategy for you.

As soon as she typed it, she regretted it and scrambled to unsend. But it was too late.

My mistake. Flirting with you after the race. Next time: before.

Mia’s cheeks turned into fields of red-hot embers. A lava flow from an active volcano. What in the ever-loving fuck was happening right now?

That would require me being at another race.

There’s always Austin. Or maybe before? Have to run for a team Zoom call. Talk soon.

Why did he have to give her so much to think about, then make a quick escape? Xander was an expert at brain baiting.

Okay. Talk soon.

She endeavored to focus for the rest of her day with podcast business, doing a few social media collabs with other creators and a sponsor, and of course, responding to the never-ending stream of comments, especially since part two of her Monza episode had dropped. The overwhelming majority of things people said were positive, but she couldn’t help but notice a negative tone creeping in, including one exchange between two people that made her downright queasy.

formula1girliegirl @mianealnotsofastpod my imagination or are you being way nicer to Xander now? Seems weird. He’s only had one halfway decent race. He’s still sucking.

dirkisstillhotashell @formula1girliegirl Remember he paid for her to go to Monza. She admitted it in the episode after Miami.

formula1girliegirl @dirkisstillhotashell Oh right. I forgot. I thought she was just a fan like us. If she can be bought with a plane ticket, her podcast will die a quick death.

dirkisstillhotashell @formula1girliegirl IDK. If Xander offered to fly you to a GP, would you go?

formula1girliegirl @dirkisstillhotashell yes. Obvs. But I’m not a podcaster.

Mia didn’t know how to respond. So she didn’t. Between this and her run-in with Reginald in Italy, it was now crystal clear that people were watching and paying close attention. And in the case of her listeners, they cared about her loyalty to them.

She put her head down and returned to her work, designing new T-shirts and tote bags, spending hours to sincerely answer emails from her listeners, and taking RSVPs for her upcoming Monaco watch party. The guest list for that event was getting shockingly large—nearly up to one hundred in-person attendees. For someone who intentionally kept her social circle small, the thought of hosting that many people made her break out in a cold sweat. But she’d heard from another podcaster that in-person events were the best way to keep loyal listeners close. A little face time was supposed to turn them into superfans who would spread the word about Not So Fast. Which was why she’d scheduled the watch party in the first place, and now that she had a pile of RSVPs, she couldn’t back out.

The next day, Mia decided to initiate the conversation with Xander. She wanted to test these waters, mostly because she still couldn’t believe they were real.

Only problem with your flirting theory is that I’m not good at flirting back.

Not true, he replied moments later.

What had she started? I think you have the wrong idea of me.

I think you might have the wrong idea of yourself.

As if Mia needed anyone to give her more to think about, that little gem kept her brain occupied for days. She was like a dog with a bone. What did he mean by that? She had to put the question to Jasmine when she came over Friday night.

“No fucking way. He kissed you? How are you still alive?” Jasmine cracked open a beer, then plopped down in one of two mismatched camping chairs on Mia’s tiny apartment balcony.

Mia shook her head in disbelief, looking out over her building’s parking lot, the Texas night air hanging heavy and the memory of Xander’s kiss humming on her lips. “I know. It’s a miracle.”

“And to think you gave me shit for flirting with our waiter. Meanwhile, you’re making out with one of the hottest men in the world.”

“We didn’t make out. I panicked and pushed him away then ran off.”

Jasmine patted Mia’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

That was a real comfort—Jasmine had way more game than Mia. “Weirdly, it doesn’t seem like it dissuaded him.”

“Let me see the texts.”

Mia gripped her phone tightly for a moment, feeling strangely protective, then handed it over. Jasmine’s insight was worth far more than keeping this private.

The ambient light from the screen lit her up in profile. “Dude. He’s hot for you.”

“Me? He’s hot for me. How does that make any sense?”

“Girl, do not make me explain all the reasons you are awesome. You’re smart and hilarious and probably just as obsessed with his sport as he is.”

“I’m obsessed with F1 a normal amount.”

“If you say so.” Jasmine handed over the phone. “Also, I’m regularly jealous of your boobs. So, yes, he’s hot for you and I am not surprised.”

Mia glanced down at her cleavage. She was packing some above-average heat. “So I’m not reading this wrong?”

“It’s only a matter of time before you two are having phone sex. My advice? Do not do it over FaceTime. It’s not as hot as it sounds.”

Mia’s stomach did about fifty somersaults. “What? No. I don’t think that’s where this is going. Why would he do that?”

“Like I said, hot for you.”

Turned out Jasmine saw something in those texts that had eluded Mia. The next night, Xander upped the stakes.

Tell me what you were really thinking when I kissed you.

Mia instantly went into panic mode, which was not good since she was trying to wind down and had hoped to get some sleep.

Gentlemen first.

The dreaded dots appeared. They kept going and going and going while her pulse only matched the rhythm.

I was thinking that I’m made of metal and you’re a magnet. It felt like I had no free will.

Oh, shit. Could he have said anything more devastatingly sexy? No. The answer to that question was no.

Yeah right.

I’m serious. You’re one of the most beguiling women I’ve ever met.

Beguiling? Who used that word in a text exchange? Actually, Mia was known to bust out such gems as superfluous and plethora. How she loved a man with a top-notch vocabulary. It was such a turn-on.

Now you, he said.

Fuck. Okay. Brain, it’s time to do your best, she thought, then started typing something sarcastic.

When you kissed me, I was thinking one of the sexiest men in the world might have suffered a brain injury.

Stop it.

Why did she always resort to humor as her defense mechanism? The answer was simple. She wasn’t good at this. Xander could be with anyone he wanted. A model or an actor or someone with a big fat trust fund and connections. Someone famous. It was certainly what most drivers were drawn to. At minimum, he could flirt with someone who hadn’t insulted him.

I was thinking that I wished my brain wouldn’t get in the way. I wanted to give in to the moment, but I couldn’t.

What does giving in look like?

Mia sighed and sank down farther in her bed, allowing her eyes to drift shut. Her body warmed as she returned to that moment in her mind, the heat starting in the center of her chest and radiating outward, to her breasts and down her belly. That few seconds of magic they’d shared was simultaneously easy to remember and so far out of reach. His impossibly strong arms around her. His soft, warm lips on hers. The delicious scratch of his chin stubble. Why couldn’t she go back and have a do-over? How she wished she could try again.

What did you want to happen? he asked before she’d had a chance to respond. No judgment. I just want to know.

I wanted to wrap my legs around you and kiss you until my lips were raw, she typed before she had a chance to second-guess herself.

Her heart sat in her throat while every other molecule of her body screamed for him. She ached, even when it was the most irrational thing in the world. Even when he was taking forever to respond.

Are you alone right now?

Mia sat straight up in bed. Holy fuck. Y-e-s, she typed as fast as her fingers could manage, all to outrun her brain.

Can you talk?

“Isn’t it super late there?” Mia asked when he answered the phone.

It was so damn nice to hear her voice, especially after days of texting. “It’s 3:00 a.m., but I don’t really care.” He hadn’t been sleeping much at all, so it didn’t matter what time it was. His mom was having a rough patch, and he’d had a shit day on the simulator back at Mega Racing headquarters. Despite his good showing in Monza, texting with Mia had been his only real bright spot since the race.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked.

“We’ve been flirting over text for days, Mia.”

“Well, I don’t know,” she blurted. “Maybe you do that with dozens of women. Maybe that’s just a normal day for you.”

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, then he took a sip of whiskey and put the glass down on the coffee table in his living room. He settled back on the leather couch. “I don’t. In fact, if you must know, before I kissed you, it had been more than a year since I’d kissed someone.”

“No way.”

“I’m dead serious. I would not lie about that.”

“That’s so weird.”

He laughed again. “Why? I’m a busy guy. I don’t have time for things like romance.”

“The other drivers do.”

“Maybe they’re better at time management than I am.”

Mia sighed. “I’m not good at whatever it is we’re doing. I wish I was, but I’m not.”

Her honesty was so endearing. She didn’t try to put on a show for him.

“I’m not, either. And before you say something about how I’m lying, I’m not. Mia, most of the time, all I do is work and take care of the things I need to take care of. I’m not some international man of mystery, traveling the globe and picking up women at every race. I’m just a normal guy who apparently has a real weakness for women who can give a good neck rub and be ever so slightly mean to him.”

“I have a weakness for men who are honest, just so you know,” she said, breathless enough to make heat plume in his belly.

“I need a good poker face to drive in Formula One, but I’m otherwise a terrible liar.”

“Your face is too pretty to be playing poker.”

There was something in the things she said that buoyed him like nothing else. “You have the most beautiful eyes, Mia. Warm and rich. I could get lost in them for days. If I close mine, I can see them. I think you imprinted on me.”

He allowed his own eyes to drift shut, bringing up the memory of the moment before he kissed her. The moment when everything changed.

“It’s embarrassing to admit, but no one has ever said anything like that to me before.”

“And that is a travesty. I’m glad I could remedy the situation.” He cleared his throat, gathering the nerve to ask one nagging question. “Can I trust you, Mia? I feel like I can, but we’re wading into complicated waters here.”

“Because we’re flirting?”

“We both know it’s more than that.”

“Fair enough.” She let out a quiet sigh. “But as a woman who earns her living from your sport, I have a lot to lose if anyone found out about this. As I recognize you do, too.”

“We have to trust each other.”

“Yes. Whatever transpires during this or any other phone call between us needs to stay exactly there—between us.”

How he hoped that proved to be true. “Where are you right now?”

“In bed. I was just lying here texting you.”

He groaned softly, picturing her luscious brown hair against a crisp white pillow. “I’m on the couch in my living room. Thinking about you. Tell me what you wear to bed, Mia.”

She giggled. “Seriously?”

If only she knew how serious he was. “Yes.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Usually just a T-shirt. Actually, I’m wearing a Mega Racing shirt tonight.”

“Which one?” He had to plant the full picture in his mind.

“The one with the Union Jack on it. And this year’s car.”

Oh, yes. He knew exactly what she was wearing, and the vision materialized with zero effort, the way her curves would fill out every soft, cottony inch of the garment. “Panties?”

“No.”

“Good. I like that.”

He smoothed his hand across his stomach and lifted the hem of his T-shirt, imagining her fingers running across his skin. His cock responded by growing impossibly hard in his jeans, blood and heat rising in his skin. He unbuttoned his pants, then drew down the zipper. The ache between his legs was immense. He needed release.

“I want to take my pants off, but only if we’re going to take this all the way. If you don’t want to, I won’t.”

The other end of the line went quiet for a moment. “I’m already touching myself, Xander. So yeah. I’d like to take this all the way.”

She was killing him. In the best way possible. Cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder, he raised his hips and shucked his jeans and boxers. His erection sprang free, full and hard.

“Remember that thing you said about me on your podcast? The thing that made you famous?”

“Are you doing that right now?”

“I am. I have my dick in my hand.” He stroked hard up from the base, rubbing his thumb over the tip.

“I bet you have a glorious cock.”

He groaned harder, the pressure building. “Perfect for burying myself in you.”

Mia gasped. “I want that, Xander. I want you.”

He stroked harder and harder. “Tell me how you’re touching yourself.”

“I’m…uh…well…”

“Just say it, Mia.”

“I’m rubbing my clit. In tight little circles.”

“And?”

“Every now and then I stop and put a finger inside myself.”

“How wet are you right now?” He cupped his balls with the tips of his fingers, choking the base of his cock and rubbing it up and down with his thumb.

“Dripping.”

“Are you going to come for me?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “But I want you to come, too.”

“Oh, I will. I just need to know when you’re ready.”

“I’m so close.”

“I am, too.”

“You lead the way. I’ll follow.”

She hummed her appreciation into the phone and he kept his eyes clamped shut tightly, pumping his hips as he stroked his cock, all while imagining what it would be like to thrust into her over and over again. The pressure coiled so tightly in his body he thought his head might snap off. Over the line, Mia’s moans were the sound of pure bliss. He wanted to listen to her make that noise forever.

“Talk to me, Mia.”

“I’m so close. So close. I just need a little help.”

He wasn’t sure he had much more dirty talk in him before he rocketed into space, but he wasn’t about to let her down. “I wish you were straddling me right now. Riding my cock so hard. I wish you could lean down and kiss me so I could spread my hands across your ass. I wish I could lick your nipples—”

From the other end of the line came a sudden loud gasp and he knew she was there. He pumped his cock only two more times, then the release came hard and fast, all over his stomach. Thank goodness for wipeable furniture. He took a moment to compose himself, his chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. He could still hear Mia humming her appreciation.

“Wow,” he finally said.

“I know. I’ve never done that before. Honestly, I always thought it sounded improbable, but that was super hot.”

“It was.”

It also wasn’t enough. All the frustration in his life, everything he was holding on to in his body, would be there again tomorrow. All his hard work kept leading to results that simply weren’t enough. Every sacrifice he and his family had made could end up having been for nothing. He couldn’t take the pressure anymore. He needed to hold on to something good.

“When do I get to see you again, Mia? Can you come to Monaco? I’ll book your flight right now. I’m one of the only drivers who doesn’t have a place there, but I have a suite at the Hôtel de Paris Monte-Carlo. We can do this in person. I’d like that if you want that, too.”

“Do you have any idea how badly I want to say yes?”

“Then do it. Say yes.” He hated how much hope pinged around in his body.

“I have a race watch party scheduled that Sunday. For my podcast listeners. At a bar, here in Austin.”

And there it was—his old friend. Disappointment. “Right. You talked about that on your podcast, didn’t you? I’m guessing that’s important.”

“It is. Almost one hundred of my listeners have RSVP’d. People are driving in from Dallas and Houston. One woman and her best friend are flying in from LA.”

It sounded like a big deal, and he couldn’t blame her for putting that ahead of an invitation to Monaco. His career took center stage for him, too. “Sounds amazing. I’m sorry I won’t see you, but I understand.”

“We can figure something out, right? And I’ll definitely see you when you come to Austin. I mean, if that’s what you want.”

Austin? That was five or six weeks away. He had no clue how he’d make it that long.

“Yes, Mia. That’s what I want.”

Eight

What future achievements are you working toward? How can you make strides today?

Well, 112 people RSVP’d for my Monaco watch party, so I’m proud of myself for taking steps to keep and grow my listenership. I’m nervous, though. I’ve never hosted more than three people at my apartment. Granted, that’s because I don’t have enough chairs. Note to self: buy better furniture after my next big sponsor deal.

With bottle-blond hair and dark roots whipped into a tornado, objectively too much blue eyeshadow and a metallic chrome motorcycle helmet under one arm, Mia’s aunt Judy was the first person through the door of Arena Ale for Mia’s Monaco watch party.

“You’re here!” Mia exclaimed, half out of excitement and half out of surprise. It was seven-thirty on a Sunday morning—there was every reason to expect her aunt to still be in bed.

“Of course I’m here. This is the culmination of years of me indoctrinating you into this sport. I had to come.”

Mia laughed and soaked up all the goodness of her aunt’s warm embrace. Judy’s hugs hit differently than those from Mia’s mother. They came with zero unspoken judgment.

“So? Will my sister be here?” Judy asked, stepping back and wiping her hands on her dark jeans.

“Mom? No. I mean, I invited her, but just to be nice. There’s no way she would come. It combines the three things she hates most in the world—a bar, sports and my podcast.”

“Don’t forget me.” Aunt Judy raised a demonstrative finger. “She hates me most.”

Mia’s heart broke a little more every time she was reminded of this fact. And she’d made zero headway after the Miami GP when trying to urge her mom to mend fences. “Hate is such an ugly word.”

“But accurate.”

“I love you both, but I’m begging you two to get past whatever caused so much unhappiness.”

“Tell my sister that.”

“She said you weren’t there for her when she needed you.”

“Maybe that’s true. It’s also not my job to do everything she wants me to do.”

Mia hated how much this topic only traveled in circles. It never went anywhere. “You should just show up at her office one day and take her to lunch. Talk it out. Like grown-ups,” Mia suggested.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Judy replied.

A small group of people Mia did not know came through the door, swiping off sunglasses and looking around the bar. In truth, they seemed a bit lost, but Mia knew they were in the right place. One of them wore a Not So Fast T-shirt. Up until that moment, Mia had never seen one out in the wild. This was real—people were coming here to watch the race. But they were also here because of her podcast. Because of her. The sense of pride she felt was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She’d built this on her own, and it was all coming together.

“Are you Mia?” the woman in the T-shirt asked.

“That’s me,” Mia managed, grappling with an abrupt case of nerves.

“You tend to these folks,” Judy said. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Help people find their tables? Make sure they know to order with the QR code.”

“I’m on it.”

Mia had never been so thankful for help. Why in the world had she ever thought she could handle this on her own? Five minutes in and she was already feeling overwhelmed.

“You can put your stuff down at our table. We’re up front. You’ll see our names.”

“Don’t worry. It’s a party. Have fun.” Judy started for the front of the room, flirting with one of the waiters as he helped her find a suitable place for her helmet.

Mia turned back to her guests as even more came through the front door. “Welcome, everybody.”

“Oh, my God,” the woman in the T-shirt said with a surprising squeak of elation. “I can’t believe I’m meeting you. Can I give you a hug?”

Luckily, Mia was a big hugger. “Of course. What’s your name?”

“I’m Sam. This is my best friend, Angel. And my boyfriend, Chase.”

The towering man with Sam raised his hand. Yet more people streamed in through the door. A line had formed. People were waiting.

“Your podcast is the whole reason I finally relented and started watching F1,” he said. “I fought it for a long time.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “He’s so stubborn. Can we take a photo together?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Mia didn’t want to be rude, but she glanced at the clock on the wall and realized there was no way she could have this sort of interaction with everyone and work her way through the whole line before the race started. She posed for the photo, even though she did not like having her picture taken, and was starting to feel panicky, then sent Sam and her group to find their table.

More people arrived and now the hallway that led into the restaurant was jam-packed. She should’ve thought this through better. She grabbed a chair from one of the tables and climbed up on it so everyone could see her.

“Good morning,” Mia called between cupped hands. She was not used to commanding attention in person. Most of the time, she was sitting behind her podcasting mic. “Welcome, everyone. I’m Mia—”

That was as far as she got. People started clapping and hooting and hollering. Mia made a mental note to learn how to do one of those cab-hailing whistles. Or at least bring an air horn next time. She waved her hands, waiting for everyone to calm down. Someone near the back of the line shouted, “Shut the fuck up! She’s trying to talk!”

Mia took a deep breath and smiled. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I’m super excited about today. But the race starts soon and that’s the main event.”

“No! You’re the main event!” someone interjected.

A nervous laugh left her lips. “Um. Thanks. As I was going to say, everyone has an assigned table. Go ahead and sit and take a look at the menu before the race starts. I’ll come by and say hello to everyone. And we’ll have tons of time to talk after the Grand Prix.”

Thankfully, her guests began filing by as she climbed down from her chair, all while offering kind words.

I just had to tell you that I love you.

You’re so pretty in person. I’m so excited to meet you.

Will I be able to get your autograph later?

Mia smiled and said thank you about one hundred times, feeling overwhelmed. Her mind flew to Xander, how he sometimes had to hide from fans and how it was hard to have any real privacy. Of course, thinking about him only made her heart heavier and her stomach churn. He’d done okay in qualifying, but not great. Not like at Monza. She really hoped he’d have a good race today.

As soon as the crowd filtered into the bar, Mia took a breath and surveyed the scene. There had to be at least thirty people wearing her T-shirt or baseball hat or carrying one of her tote bags. This was officially nuts. And she needed to remember to be thankful. This was what she’d always wanted—a career where she could not only have success, but excitement, too.

She was about to walk up to her table when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see her mother.

“Mom? You came?”

“Well, of course I did. You invited me.”

Oh, this had been a serious misstep on Mia’s part. “Right. Okay. Great.” Mia rubbed her hands together, again glancing at the clock on the wall. She had about five minutes before the formation lap.

She scanned the room. “I guess we need to find a place for you to sit.”

“Where are you sitting? I’ll pull up a chair at your table.”

“Well, things are a little tight over there.”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t take up much space.”

As soon as her mom said it, Judy’s loud and distinctive laugh rang through the bar like someone clanging a cowbell. Across the room, her aunt stood at one of the tables, holding court.

“What is she doing here?”

Judy caught sight of Mia and her mom and strolled toward them.

“I invited her.”

“You invited both of us? Is this some sort of trick? Why would you do this to me?” her mom asked, about as unhappy as Mia had ever heard her.

The guests closest to them were taking note of the disturbance just as Judy walked up to them.

“Amy. Good to see you,” Judy said, waving her hand then folding her arms across her chest.

“Don’t start with me,” her mom said, her tone sharp.

Mia grabbed them both by the arm and did her best to be inconspicuous as she dragged them to the back of the room, away from her guests.

“I love you both, but you cannot do this here. There are people in this room who flew to Austin for this. So you both have to be civil to each other. The race is ninety minutes. You can watch it and keep your mouth shut. Have a mimosa.”

Mia’s mom pursed her lips. “I’m leaving. I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Typical Amy. Always has to play the victim,” Judy said.

“Come on, you two. I’m serious.” Mia wanted to stomp her feet. Now she truly understood what parents with toddlers went through. Except these were grown-ass women.

“It’s okay. I’ll leave. I don’t want there to be drama. I just wanted to be supportive.” Her mom leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Love you, honey.” She sneered at her sister, then walked away. A few seconds later, she was out the door.

Mia exhaled through her nose. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“But are you? Really?”

“I am. I don’t want it to be like this. But she’s making a mountain out of a molehill.”

Across the room, Mia saw that the formation lap was starting. “Come on. It’ll look bad if I’m not playing host.” She wound her way between the tables with her aunt behind her. “Is everybody good?” Mia called out. “Everyone excited? Who do we think will take the win today?”

From somewhere in the crowd, someone yelled, “Are you rooting for Xander today, Mia?”

“Sure,” Mia answered, turning to face her guests and feeling put on the spot. “But I root for all the drivers. I know it’s impossible, but I want everyone to have a good race.”

Mia took a seat with her aunt at their tiny table near the front. Up on the screen, the drivers started lining up on the grid.

“I’m so excited to be here,” a woman at the table next to them said. “Thank you for hosting this. It’s so awesome to meet other fans. I can’t wait to talk with you later.”

“Thank you. I’m so glad you came.” Mia smiled and willed herself to relax. This event was a good thing, and she couldn’t let the kerfuffle between her mom and aunt ruin it. Still, she felt overwhelmed by the pressure of everyone wanting a piece of her. The pressure of feeling like she needed to fix things between her mom and aunt.

She looked up at the screen as Xander pulled into his starting position of twelfth place. In a race like Monaco, where it was an immense challenge to overtake on the circuit, twelfth was as good as last.

Part of her hated that she couldn’t be there to support him. Another part of her wondered what in the hell was going on between them since one thing she’d never thought to put on her life’s bingo card was phone sex with Xander Bishop. Unbelievably, they’d done it three times. Mia was getting kinda good at it. Of course, they’d talked a lot, too, about everything from her new T-shirt designs to the interviews he never seemed to want to do. A few times Mia had tried to bring up his troubles on track, but he always changed the subject. He was working on it, he’d said. And who was she to doubt his answer? She wanted to respect his boundaries. She might know a lot about the sport, but she didn’t know what it was like to be Xander Bishop.

“I decided to come back.” Mia’s mom pulled up a chair and sat on Mia’s left-hand side.

Her aunt Judy leaned closer. “Did I ever tell you two that I once had a one-night stand with a Formula One driver? In the late ’90s. Very hot.”

“Oh, good God,” Mia’s mom blurted. “Do you see what I’m dealing with?”

Great. Just fucking great.

Why had Mia ever wished that her mom and aunt could find a way to be in the same room? Also, she had about five thousand follow-up questions for her aunt about that one-night stand, but there was no time for that. The lights above the starting line came on—one, two, three, four, five. Then out. And Mia braced herself for a race during which she was certain anything could happen.

* * *

By lap ten, Mia was juggling too much—trying to play referee between her mom and her aunt, all while watching the race, keeping track of where Xander was, and entertaining her guests. For someone who simply wasn’t super outgoing, this was a lot.

Her mom leaned into her. “I still can’t believe you invited her.”

Mia glanced at her aunt, who might not have heard that, but was probably figuring it out, anyway. “Mom. She introduced me to the sport.”

“And now we know why. She was some sort of race-car driver groupie.”

Some people might call me that, too.

“She listens to the podcast. She’s supportive of what I do. And I think you should talk to her.”

“That’s not happening.”

Mia turned to focus on the TV, something she’d been struggling to do for the entire race. People kept coming up to her and trying to have a conversation. She was incredibly thankful, but it was draining, and Mia knew there would be more of it later.

* * *

“Keep on the offensive, Xander. And mind your tires. If you can,” Xander’s race engineer said.

I can do one or the other, but not both, Xander wanted to scream. “Understood.”

Twenty laps in and his race was sheer misery. Stacked behind other cars. No opportunities to overtake. And a car that was finicky as fuck. Understeer was no longer the problem. Now he was stuck with oversteer. It was like driving on an ice rink. Maybe it was a good thing Mia hadn’t come. He certainly didn’t think he’d have anything to brag about today.

* * *

The announcers hadn’t said anything about Xander in several laps, but Mia could tell from the driver lineup on-screen that he was still in eleventh place. He’d moved up, but only one position, and only because another driver had a reliability issue and had to retire from the race. She was sure he was disappointed. She was sure he was longing. And how could he not? Monza had gone so well. He thought he was on a better trajectory. She stared at the screen, willing something good to happen. He was so close to being in the points and only a few more laps to go.

Come on, Xander. Just one car to pass. It’s Hubbard ahead of you. Piece of cake. You’re such a better driver. I believe in you.

* * *

“Tell me I can do this,” Xander said to his race engineer.

“Keep on Hubbard. You can close the gap in the tunnel. Take him at the chicane.”

Sounded simple enough, but of course, Xander knew it wasn’t that easy. He was about to have his chance, but the opportunity would last only a second or two. If he couldn’t manage the move, he’d have to wait one more lap. And he was running out of laps.

He drew in a deep breath through his nose. Focus. Positivity. Be one with Charles. Let the race come to you. Do what you did in Monza.

The problem was that Monaco was not Monza. It was almost impossible to overtake another car. He took the turn at Massenet a little too tight. It was like he could feel the barrier through the car. That was close. There was no time to lose focus. He took turn four at the casino perfectly. He kept his eyes glued to Hubbard’s rear wing. Through the winding hairpin of Mirabeau. He was right on Hubbard’s ass. So close.

And then. Just like that. He was spinning.

* * *

“Oh, my word!” the TV announcer with his booming British accent proclaimed. “That’s a massive shunt for Xander Bishop! His race is surely over!”

Mia saw it all in slow motion. Everyone in the bar gasped. Mia bolted up out of her seat, hands clasped over her mouth, eyes darting back and forth across the screen. She’d never felt more helpless. Ever. Xander wasn’t moving.

“Are you okay?” his engineer asked as the team radio feed was broadcast on television.

A grunt came in response. Mia knew by now—that was Xander’s grunt. He made similar noises when he was…in the throes of phone sex. She blew out a breath. At least he was alive.

“Yeah. I’m okay,” he finally said.

Mia dropped down into her seat. “Oh, thank God.”

“He’s the driver who flew you to Italy, isn’t he?” Aunt Judy asked.

“Well, that’s it for Xander Bishop’s race today,” the announcer said. “And we’ve got a safety car coming out, which will make things quite interesting when we restart the race. For the moment, the marshals need to get that car out of the way.”

“I’m going to go,” Mia’s mom said. She leaned over and kissed her cheek. “See you later.” In a flash, she was gone. Mia was relieved. And worried sick about Xander.

One of Mia’s guests, wearing a black Not So Fast T-shirt, rushed to her side. With short, white-blond hair and bright green eyes, she was already memorable. “I can’t believe that happened to Xander. I hope he’s okay.”

Mia looked up to see him climbing out of the car. She was filled with the most bizarre mix of feelings—relief that he was okay, but so much worry. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Can I get a photo with you?” the woman asked.

This was the last thing Mia wanted to do. “Uh. Sure. Absolutely.”

“I’m Heather, by the way. I was hoping I could talk to you about something if you have a minute.”

The timing was horrible. All Mia wanted to do was talk to Xander. But she needed to focus on what was right in front of her. After all, Xander was halfway around the world. She couldn’t do anything to help him.

“Sure. What, exactly?”

“I want to start a Not So Fast fan club.”

* * *

Well, fuck.

If that wasn’t a complete kick in the teeth, Xander didn’t know what was. Why did this sport have to be like this? One moment, a glimmer of positivity was in sight. The next, absolute disaster.

He climbed out of the car, feeling mostly okay, except for the absolute rage of frustration that coursed through his body. He wanted to punch something. Or at the very least, toss back a stiff drink. For now, he had to walk back to the garage while everyone else on track continued their race. There would be a winner and drivers who earned points today, but it wouldn’t be him.

When he got back to the garage, he stopped to talk to the Mega Racing team principal, Jaime Newton.

“I think that was bad luck, but we’ll look at the data,” he said. “Hopefully, the car isn’t too bad off.”

Xander knew the undercurrent of the comment—it was most likely that Xander had made a mistake on track, and even an accident that wasn’t too bad could still end up costing the team hundreds of thousands, not to mention countless hours in repairs back at the factory.

What an absolute shit show.

He met with the medical team, which cleared him after the concussion protocol, then he went back to his driver’s room to decompress. He nearly lunged for his phone the moment he glimpsed it, but to his great disappointment, there was no text from Mia. He was positive she’d been watching the race—her watch party was the entire reason she’d declined to come to Monaco. Unless she was merely being nice about it and didn’t want to come. He didn’t think that was what was going on, but doubts crept in so easily after a bad day on track.

Hey. Terrible race, obviously. I’m relatively unscathed though. Would love to chat when you have the chance.

He sent the text, then stared at the screen for quite some time, willing her to respond. “Mia. Darling. Come on…”

A knock came at his door. “Xander. It’s Isabel. Race is over, so I need to take you over to media.”

Xander groaned and got up from his seat, opening the door just a crack. “Maybe I just pay the fine for a no-show. I crashed. Tell them I haven’t been cleared by medical yet.”

“Medical already announced you were cleared. You have to go. No one is going to blame you for that shunt.”

“The naysayers will. And so might Jaime. And the sponsors. And every mechanic who has to rebuild the car.”

Isabel carefully looked down the hall in both directions. “Come on, now. Put on your big-boy pants. Let’s get this over with.”

Xander grabbed his team baseball hat, tucked his phone into the pocket of his suit and dutifully joined Isabel as they went to the media pen. She followed along as his minder, recording every question and answer so no newspaper or magazine could ever misquote him without being called on it. Honestly, Xander struggled to stay in the moment as he answered question after question about whether his season would improve or even continue. It felt like his career was collapsing. His dream was evaporating into nothing. And the person he most wanted to talk to about it—Mia—was nowhere to be found.

“Do you think there’s any chance the team will replace you this year?”

How the fuck was he supposed to answer that? He didn’t know what he didn’t know. But if he had to place a bet on it, the chance was certainly there.

“The team and I are working incredibly hard to turn things around. Today was just a bit of bad luck.”

“What exactly happened before the crash, Xander?”

He didn’t know the answer to that, either. It simply happened. One hundredth of an inch too far into the corner and it was all over.

“We’ll have a look at the data and the onboard to see precisely what happened. I don’t want to make any assumptions.”

This continued for at least another twenty minutes, all while the drivers around him were talking about the race they’d managed to finish. That included Dirk, who’d had another great points finish and hadn’t so much as asked if Xander was okay after his shunt.

Meanwhile, Xander couldn’t help but notice that his phone was not buzzing. Mia was not texting him back. Had he misread what was happening between them? They’d had so many intimate phone calls… But maybe he’d been all wrong. He and romance weren’t a great mix. He always managed to bungle it. He’d always put driving first, and although he still didn’t regret that choice, he could admit it put him at a disadvantage in any sort of romantic relationship.

He and Isabel were on their way back to his room when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. A text from Mia. An emoji-filled, panicky, wordy text about the accident. Followed by I thought I sent that an hour ago. I didn’t hit Send! OMG! I’m so sorry. Can you talk?

“I need to make a call. If you don’t mind.” He clutched the phone to his chest.

“Someone special?” Isabel asked.

“No,” he answered, a little too defensively. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re smiling, Xander. And there’s nothing to smile about today.”

His face went dry and hot like pavement in the sun. “Leave me. Please.”

“Of course.”

Xander ducked into his room, closed the door behind him and dropped down onto the couch, fumbling his phone, but managing to place the call.

“Oh, my God, Xander. Are you okay?” Mia asked, seeming frantic.

“I am.” He exhaled and sank back on the couch. He deeply disliked the fact that he’d questioned whether she cared. Clearly, she did, on some level. “So much better now. Hearing your voice is nice.” In truth, it was a salve for his ragged nerves.

“I am so sorry about the text. I typed it right after the accident. I thought I hit Send.”

“I didn’t see the three dots, so I wasn’t sure.”

“I think those only stay on your phone for sixty seconds. Which is great for me. It makes me nervous to think I’m building anticipation with someone by typing a message.”

He laughed quietly. Only Mia would think that way. “It’s okay. No worries.”

“I could’ve sworn I hit Send. But there were so many people at the watch party and they were all trying to talk to me. Honestly, it was a big blur.”

“It means a lot that it was your first instinct to text me. Even if it didn’t work out that way.”

“You’re sure you’re okay? You’re not hurt? Tell me everything.”

He was such a bloody fool to worry about Mia’s concern for him. There it was, plain as day.

“Pretty run-of-the-mill shunt, honestly. And I’m not hurt since the car went into the barrier sideways. If it had been a front or back end collision, it would’ve been much worse.”

“I’m so sorry. You were so close to scoring points. I could tell you were trying to get past Hubbard. I really thought you could get him at the chicane.”

He had to laugh. Half a world away, she knew precisely what had been happening on track. “I thought I could, too. But that’s this sport. One minute you’re up, the next you’re out.” Of course, it was more like one minute he was in the middle of the pack and the next minute he was sucking rocks. “Tell me about your event. How did it go?”

“People are still here. I ducked outside for a minute so I could talk to you. I probably need to go soon.”

“Good turnout?”

“Amazing. We ended up with a fantastic crowd. The bar is super happy. They sold a ton of food and drinks. And I got talked into doing another event on the Wednesday of Austin race week.”

“We ended up with a fantastic crowd? Weren’t they there for you, Mia? Didn’t you end up with the crowd?”

She sighed. “It’s so weird, Xander,” she pleaded. “People were wearing the T-shirts I designed. They wanted to take pictures with me. They asked me for my autograph. I’m nobody. One woman is starting a Not So Fast fan club. How does this even make any sense?”

“And to think it all started because you told everyone I was driving with my dick in my hand.”

“Oh, God. I’ll never live that down, will I?”

Xander laughed. “I don’t want you to live it down. I love that you owned it that first time I met you. I want you to keep owning it. It’s done fantastic things for you, darling. You should run with it as far as you care to go.”

“Darling?”

Xander was surprised he’d let that slip. But it had. “Well, now you know how I feel.”

“That’s sweet. So sweet. Especially in your adorable accent.”

“Some people think I sound pompous.”

“Not me.”

Quiet fell between them and he felt such a profound ache right in the center of his chest.

“Can I tell you something, Mia?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“I want to see you. Desperately.”

“I want to see you, too.”

He sucked in a deep breath and wondered if what he was about to say was the right thing. “Come to England. I have ten days until the race in Austria. We can spend time together. We can get to really know each other.”

“Get to know each other through talking? Or is this more of a transatlantic booty call?”

“There will be talking. Of course. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want a second chance at that kiss.”

She was quiet on the other end of the line, ramping up his nervousness. It wasn’t easy to put himself out there when he already felt like he couldn’t get anything right.

“It’s okay to tell me no. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

“I can probably only come for a few days.”

“I understand. You’re busy.”

“And we need to keep this quiet. Some of my listeners were not happy when they found out you paid for my trip to Monza. They expect me to be a regular fan like them.”

Xander wanted to say she shouldn’t care what other people thought or said, but he lived in the public eye, too. He knew it wasn’t that simple. Still, he might have to point out, eventually, that she wasn’t just a fan. Not anymore.

“I understand. We’ll keep a low profile. For both our sakes.”

“Okay, then. When should I come?”

“Can you leave tomorrow? You’d land in England Tuesday morning. Does that work?”

“Sure. I can do that.”

He wasn’t entirely sure of the timeline he’d suggested, since he would need to race home from Monaco and get the house ready for a visitor. But he was prepared to stay up all night to make that happen. A jolt of energy coursed through him. The prospect of seeing her soon gave him something to look forward to.

“Brilliant. I’ll book your ticket as soon as we get off the phone.”

Nine

Think of a time you were surprised by a positive twist of fate. Can you see that life holds good surprises?

I definitely see that now, although I’m still deeply suspicious when good things happen. I can’t help it. For now, I’ve had a lot of positive twists of late. My life has become almost unrecognizable. I’m waiting for Xander in the secret rich-and-famous garage at Heathrow Airport. Who even knew there was such a thing?

Mia stood at the curb, wondering if perhaps she’d been lured here so someone could murder her. Seemed plausible—she’d followed a toothsome stranger all the way from baggage claim, simply because they’d approached her and said, “Mia Neal, please allow me to take you to Mr. Bishop.” Her mom would be losing it if she knew how Mia’d ended up in this dimly lit and cavernous parking garage. Which was precisely the reason she did not tell her mother she was going to England. She probably would’ve gotten a speech about the hidden dangers of pubs and room temperature beer.

Just as she was mulling over her best self-defense techniques, a silver sports car appeared at the far end of the garage, screeching as it came up the ramp. The driver was going entirely too fast, and she could tell from the silhouette they were tall. It had to be Xander. Mia’s pulse fluttered in her throat. The car zipped up to the curb and came to a stop right in front of her. Mia nearly fainted. He was picking her up in a gleaming Aston Martin.

He hopped out and that was when she almost fainted a second time—there he was, legs impossibly long in dark jeans, wearing a T-shirt that showed off his incredible shoulders.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting long?” He was breathless as he stepped closer and peered down at her.

Mia was suddenly aware that he and his penis were now in close proximity to her and her lady parts, and it might not take very long until they were naked. As much as she hoped it would be a short drive to the Cotswolds, her ever-present fretful state was there. The phone was one thing—she didn’t have to worry about him seeing her from unflattering angles. She didn’t have to think about things like being naked around him at times when they weren’t having sex. She didn’t need to see him without his clothes to know he was perfect. And there she was, normal as could be—a flawed human specimen. Also, leaving the phone behind and entering the realm of in-person contact meant there were other things to think about—trust, motives and conflicts of interest. If people thought she’d gone soft on Xander because of a plane ticket, what would happen if anyone found out they’d moved things into the bedroom?

Despite all of that, she couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be than here, with him.

“I’m fine. I just got here.” She swallowed hard, then found the courage to boldly hold her arms wide for a hug.

But Xander bent down and cupped her face with one generous hand, his fingertips curling into the back of her head. “It’s so good to see you.”

He closed his eyes and delivered the softest, most tender kiss, finished with the slightest brush of his tongue along her lower lip.

Mia’s spine went soft and she nearly crumpled to the ground. A rush of warmth through her body made her head spin. Her previous urge to push him away was gone. Fuck any and all of her insecurities. She wanted to wrap her legs around Xander and ride him around like a pony.

“Is it a long drive to your house?”

He grinned, lips only a few inches from hers. With a beep, the trunk popped open. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I am quite good at driving fast.”

“I’ve heard a few people say the opposite.”

“Bollocks. Rumors and lies. Complete fabrications.”

She giggled and climbed into the passenger seat. The interior was just as sexy as the outside, sleek black leather, even though none of that stood up to Xander.

He climbed inside and adjusted his mirrors. “Allow me to demonstrate my true talents.”

With a jerk, he launched them across the garage and down the ramp, taking nimble turns like a bat out of hell. She gripped the armrest, drifting into the center console while smiling so hard her cheeks ached. This was awesome.

He hopped on the highway and under a cloudy sky, they whizzed through towns with unfamiliar names like Iver, High Wycombe and Boarstall, then eventually into the living fairy tale of the English countryside. The scenery was new and exciting, but it was hard to keep her eyes off Xander. She loved watching him behind the wheel, up close. His eyes darted everywhere, scanning the terrain. He was somehow on alert and completely at ease, all at once. The grip of his hand on the steering wheel, working the paddle shifters, was another dizzying sight. His hands were fucking magnificent and Mia imagined what it might be like to have them all over her body.

She had every reason to believe it would happen today, but she would take nothing for granted since she’d also had her fair share of disastrous luck when it came to sex. She’d once broken her ankle at an old boyfriend’s apartment when they were going upstairs for a romantic rendezvous—she slipped on the landing and tumbled down the stairs. There’d been no trip to his bed that night, just the emergency room.

“Here we are,” Xander said, finally pulling onto a long gravel driveway, leading to a beautiful home that was larger than a cottage, but definitely not the sprawling manor she’d imagined.

“It’s so pretty.”

The house was like a postcard, built of flinty stone with front-facing gabled windows framed by ivy and climbing roses. It was hugged by gardens, complete with long-stemmed blooms that waved in the breeze, all set against the background of lush rolling-green countryside.

Xander pulled into the third bay of a six-bay garage, the only overtly ostentatious thing she’d seen thus far. She climbed out, noting the number of vehicles parked inside. “And of course you have a zillion cars.”

“Four is not a zillion. And I am a race-car driver.”

“Still. Pretty impressive,” she said as he pulled her suitcases from the trunk.

He shrugged it off. “I got them all for free.”

Mia shook her head. His world and hers? Not the same. She’d gotten a free air freshener at the car wash once. That was the true extent of her VIP lifestyle.

She followed Xander inside to a mudroom, where he tossed aside his baseball hat, then ran his hands through his hair. That sight alone left her body tingling. “You can see the rest of the house later. I thought I’d bring your bags upstairs so you can get settled.”

Settled. Mmm-hmm. Mia’s pulse picked up as she pondered the many possible meanings of the word settled, all while following him through a cozy great room with brown leather furnishings and an entire wall of books, then to a large central staircase with hefty dark wood handrails and an arched window with a charming pastoral view at the top of the landing.

At the very top of the second flight, he set down her bags and turned to her.

“I feel as though we must have a chat.”

Mia snickered. Delivered in his British accent, it sounded as though she’d done something wrong. And quite honestly, she wouldn’t mind being in trouble with Xander. “Sure.”

“I have prepared the guest room for you.”

Mia’s heart sank all the way down to the soles of her feet. What was with the kiss at the airport? Now he was banishing her to some other room? “Okay…”

He reached down and took her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “I feel like I’ve known you forever, Mia, but in truth, it hasn’t been long. And we’ve spent far more time talking on the phone and texting than we have in each other’s presence.”

His blue eyes were wide and earnest; meanwhile, his lips were fucking begging her to kiss him. Or even take a nip.

“So you want to take things slow?” she asked. In some ways it would be a relief, especially since it was always her preference to ease into things.

“I want to defer to you. You control your own destiny. Whatever you want. I’m gobsmacked you were willing to fly across an ocean to see me. You’re a busy woman. With a lot on her plate. And of course, we both recognize that our involvement does not come without risk. You could fall out of favor with your listeners if they learned we were involved.”

She inched closer until they were standing toe-to-toe. He was right about all of that, but she’d already expended energy worrying about those things.

“It’s very sweet that you’ve put so much thought and consideration into this. Normally, I would say yes, we should take things slow.” I also feel like this chance might never come again and I would like to at least have this memory of you. Her heart beat an erratic rhythm as she scanned his face, looking for clues. “But we both knew what this was, didn’t we?”

He delivered a stern and pointed glance, his eyes dark and serious. All the while, he kept caressing her hand with his thumb. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“If we’re being honest, yes.”

“Then I think I should stay in your room.”

“Perfect.”

With one fluid motion, Xander swept Mia off her feet. Quite literally. And she held her breath as he carried her down the hall, past portraits she didn’t have time to look at and several rooms. He strode into what she presumed was his bedroom—dark and moody with navy blue walls and the biggest bed she’d ever seen, topped by a crisp white comforter. On one wall was another stretch of fully stocked bookshelves and in front of it, a cozy reading chair and lamp.

Not that she was taking much note of the furnishings as he set her down on the bed, then pulled his T-shirt over his head while he kept his eyes glued to her, showing her exactly how perfect he was. Long and lean with so much muscular definition it defied all logic, his chest a broad plane with the tiniest patch of hair in the middle. He toed off his shoes, then pulled off his socks and unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. He moved in on her, setting a knee on the bed, rolling onto the mattress and pulling her along with him until she was on top. If he wanted to defer to her, perhaps that was only when it came to living quarters. For now, in bed, he was in charge.

And Mia was so hot for him she could hardly keep up. He pulled her close and kissed her hard, their tongues finally getting acquainted. They swirled in an endless loop while she planted her elbows above his shoulders and combed her fingers into his silky hair. She let her knees settle on the bed and that was when she felt exactly how ready he was for this to happen. He was rock-hard through the layers of his jeans and hers.

“Tell me what you like, Mia,” he muttered, then rolled her to her side and started unbuttoning her top. “Tell me everything.”

She was suddenly struck with a severe case of shyness. It was hard enough for her to let down her guard on the phone. In person was a whole other thing.

“I like you.”

He laughed quietly, then groaned as he pushed her top past her shoulders. “Your breasts are incredible. And that bra. So fucking sexy.” He dragged a finger along the edge of one lacy cup. “Although it’s not staying on for long.”

Mia felt an immense sense of pride—she’d had rave reviews of her breasts before but never from a man as discerning and worldly as Xander. Also, she’d spent a good deal of money on quality underpinnings in the scant eighteen hours she’d had before she got on the plane, an investment that was already paying dividends.

He reached behind and unhooked her bra, then pulled it forward and they both sensed the release and what it meant for them. He tossed the garment aside and rolled her to her back, lowering his head and licking her nipple. He looped his tongue around the tight bundle of nerves, flicking at it and making her head swim with the possibilities. Every lick sent a zap of electricity straight to her clit. That alone might be enough to make her come.

He shifted to his side and stretched out beside her, sucking on her breast while he unbuttoned her jeans. As soon as the zipper was down, he slipped his hand inside her panties and found the perfect spot with his finger.

“You are so wet, Mia,” he whispered into her ear before nibbling on her neck. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

Mia closed her eyes, letting the sensation take over, trying not to let her brain get in the way. If it did, she’d have a hard time reaching the logical conclusion of this exercise. He rubbed in perfect circles, kissing her with an open mouth and driving her to a peak all too fast. She knocked her head back as the pressure appeared out of nowhere, then mowed her right over.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, she opened her eyes to see Xander looking right at her. He kissed her with an open mouth.

“I already love watching you come. Let’s see how many times I can do that.”

Mia had to laugh. “It’s not much of a competition. Either way, I win.”

He was on his knees, shimmying her jeans and panties past her hips. He tossed them aside with the same enthusiasm as her bra. Then he placed both hands on the insides of her thighs and pushed her legs apart. They made eye contact as he lowered his head, and she could’ve sworn she saw that same hyper-competitive Xander she saw when he was about to start a race. The second his mouth touched her, she clamped her eyes shut and arched her back. He was a master with his tongue, using the tight tip to run around her clit, then using his fingers to caress between her folds, lightly at first then with greater pressure. Mia was already close to the brink, but then he started to suck her clit with pursed lips while he plunged his fingers inside her and curled them into her most sensitive spot. That was all it took. Mia grabbed the bedclothes with both hands and called out. For a moment, her mind went blank, then she saw swirls of color. It was the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced. And they’d only been in the house for thirty minutes, tops.

He gently kissed her inner thighs while she floated back down to earth.

“Get up here. I need to kiss you,” she said.

He obliged with an open mouth and a plundering tongue, his lips and cheeks wet. “That was so fucking hot.”

“We need to make you happy.”

“I’m already happy,” he said between kisses.

She pushed back on his shoulder. “I want your cock in my mouth, Xander. Please.”

“For a few minutes. Then I want to fuck you. Properly.”

Mia wasn’t sure of the difference between a regular fuck and a proper fuck, but she was willing to explore all aspects of British culture.

He needed no more instruction and rolled to his back, and it was finally Mia’s turn to remove his jeans. The word spectacular leapt to mind when she finally got to see him in all of his rock-hard glory. She wrapped her fingers around his length, while he propped himself up on his elbows and watched every moment. She’d never had sex with someone who was so into observing. And it turned her on like nothing else.

“You like seeing your dick in my hand, for once?” she joked.

He smiled so wide, then sat up to kiss her. “It’s so much better than mine.”

He dropped his head back down onto the pillow and Mia took her chance, lowering her head and taking his cock into her mouth. To say he was hard was a disservice. He was like titanium, but warm, and so human it took her breath away. She rolled her tongue over the tip again and again, then took as much of his length into her mouth as she could. He was a bit too much to take all the way, so she wrapped two fingers around the very base and held on tight, hoping the extra pressure would work. Judging by his groan of approval and the way he dug his fingers into her hair, she was doing just fine. His breaths were getting choppy and sharp.

“About that fuck, Mia. We need to—” he cleared his throat “—get on with it.”

“You sure?” she asked, then dragged her tongue along his length, from base to tip.

“I’m sure.”

Mia obliged, letting go of him and kissing his lower belly. “Yes, sir.”

He rolled to his side and pulled a condom out of the bedside table, tore open the packet and rolled it on. “Come here.”

“Where do you want me?”

“Honestly, everywhere and in every way imaginable. But for now, on your side. Facing away from me.”

Mia was intrigued. She’d never been with a guy who could manage this move—fucking her from behind while they were both lying down. She got into position and he pressed his long, warm body against hers, then reached between her legs and raised the top one a bit. The next thing she knew, he was slipping inside her, perfectly filling her up. It felt so good she wondered if perhaps he had a magical penis. Then he reached down and started rubbing her clit and kissing her neck while he thrust into her using his insane abdominals. She wasn’t going to last long like this at all. Waves of warmth were coming over her like she was lying on the ocean floor, with his rock-hard body pressed against her back. She was putty in his hands…and it occurred to her she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to be anything but exactly that.

“Come for me,” he huffed into her ear.

“I’m close.” The pressure was immense, but the pleasure was toying with her, edging closer then slipping away.

Any other guy might have started fucking her harder, but not Xander. Oh, no. He slowed down. He lightened his touch on her clit. And that gave her time to appreciate every bit of him and his talent.

“Come for me, Mia,” he said, breathless.

She was right there…so close…milliseconds away…it was right there…and then the release came, crashing into her at a force so unlike the previous two orgasms. The world went hazy and impossibly soft. And then he came right after her, wrapping his arm around her stomach and pulling her even tighter against him. They rode out the waves together, joined, as one.

“Wow,” she was finally able to say. Anything else was surely a waste of syllables.

“You are fantastic, Mia,” he said into her ear then kissed her neck again. “And I think we’re going to have a pretty amazing time while you’re here.”

Ten

Write a love letter to yourself.

Jesus, Mia. That’s how you start your mental health journal? Couldn’t you give me something light and fun like, “What kind of tree are you?” Regardless, the gesture of giving me this journal was quite sweet. And I know you’re serious about me writing in it. Quite serious. But here’s the thing: I’m not sure I see the advantage of writing down my feelings. They are what they are, and I prefer to keep them contained. Plus, you’re here and that makes me happy. Why waste my time writing?

“You’re actually using your journal?” Donning one of Xander’s T-shirts, Mia stepped out of the bathroom, then scrambled over to him like an adorable, excited puppy. “How’s it going?”

Xander, stretched out in his reading chair with his feet up on the ottoman, and wearing only his boxers, closed up the journal and tucked it behind his back. “Still getting my sea legs.”

Mia managed a thin smile. “Oh. Of course. But did it help? Please tell me it helped.”

Merely having her here helped. There was something about her that made his troubles melt away or at the very least, fade into the distance. Partly, it was that she cared to understand his struggles. Nearly everyone around him was in one of two distinct camps—those who felt nothing but pity for him and those who blamed him. In the middle, there was Mia, coming from a place of generosity and kindness while also having a deep understanding of his occupation. Funnily enough, that had been their biggest bone of contention when they’d first met—that she was sure she knew more than he thought she did. And she’d been absolutely right.

“It’ll take me some time to get the hang of it.” He stretched out a bit and patted his lap. Every nerve ending in his body felt more alive in her presence, making him crave her touch on a molecular level. “Come here.”

She stood a little straighter, as though she was steeling herself for an argument. “I don’t want to be a bad guest, but I’ve been here for a pretty long time and you haven’t fed me. I’m starving.”

“Bugger.” Come to think of it, he was quite hungry, too. He’d simply been so preoccupied by sex with Mia that the idea of food hadn’t even entered his brain. He hopped out of the chair. If his father knew he’d been such a poor host and hadn’t fed his guest, he’d be appalled. “Let’s take care of that right away.”

He led Mia downstairs and into the kitchen, a room he could admit he didn’t use nearly enough. It had all the mod cons—stainless industrial fridge and eight-burner stove, but he’d never been much of a cook. Plus, there were many culinary sacrifices he made in order to stay lean for driving. Too much indulgence and he’d be in big trouble with the team and his trainer. Which was why he’d been so focused on staying upstairs with Mia—that was an indulgence that only burned calories.

“What can I make for you?”

“What do you usually eat for breakfast?”

“Honestly? A protein shake. A handful of almonds. But I did shop for your arrival, so I have much more to offer than that.” He gave a quick tour of the options—a variety of fruit, sausages, eggs, good sourdough, store-bought scones and clotted cream…

“Wow,” she answered. “How about avocado toast? Do you have lemon and extra-virgin olive oil?”

“Both, but I’m not sure if the olive oil has had sex before.”

Mia swatted his arm. “Very funny. Show me?”

He pulled the bottle out of the cabinet near the stove and handed it over. Mia carefully examined the label. “Pretty nice. Sicilian. Cold-pressed.” She opened the bottle and gave it a sniff, then poured a drop onto her fingertip and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm. This will work.”

Xander thought he might pass out from the vision of Mia with her finger in her mouth… “Let me guess. Culinary school?”

She grinned and rolled her eyes. “I thought about it, but no. Just entirely too much Food Network. Now, show me where everything is and I’ll make our breakfast.”

“As your host, I feel as though I should cook for you.”

“After taking a look at the burners on your stove, it’s pretty clear that Mr. Protein Shake doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. There’s no way you’ve used that thing.”

“Guilty as charged. How about I make us some tea? Not sure I can trust an American with that job, anyway.”

“That sounds like a safe undertaking.”

Xander filled up the kettle and plopped two bags of his favorite Yorkshire tea into a pair of mugs. “Mia, how many careers have you had, exactly?”

Mia expertly cut open the avocado with a knife while he leaned against the counter and watched, gently running his knuckles along the channel of her spine. “Too many to count. Several jobs in academia. Student teaching. Admissions. A few writing jobs when I was trying to use my journalism degree. Many, many false starts.”

This was fascinating to him. He’d only ever had one occupation—that of race-car driver—and he’d known from a very young age it was all he wanted to do. Which made the idea of his dream ending much more difficult to face.

“Do you have a hard time deciding on one thing? Are you one of those people who endlessly mulls over the menu at a restaurant?”

“I am one of those people, yes. But that has nothing to do with my aimlessness with career choices.” She scooted the toaster away from the wall, pulled two slices of bread from the loaf and dropped them into the slots. “It’s more curiosity, I guess. I’ve always been interested in a lot of different things.”

“Curiosity is a hallmark of intelligence.”

She glanced at him then returned to her task of mashing and seasoning the avocado. “It also killed the cat.”

“I don’t know. Your smarts seem like they’ve treated you well.” The teakettle whistled and Xander turned off the burner, then poured hot water into the mugs.

“In some ways, being smart has been more trouble than anything. I got teased a lot for it, especially when I was a kid.”

Xander was struck by an image of little Mia being teased for her beautiful brain, and he immediately wanted to pound on all those who’d participated. “Why would anyone do that?”

“I skipped two grades in elementary school. I was just so much smaller and younger than everyone else. And I still kicked everyone’s ass academically, especially when it counted, like in high school. Nobody likes getting outsmarted, but especially not by someone who isn’t tall enough to reach the top shelf of their locker.”

Xander’s heart ached at the thought of her troubles. “No growth spurt by the time you were in high school?”

Mia cast a look in his direction then turned to him and pointed at her glorious chest. “Aside from these two, no.”

He smiled and wrapped his hands around her rib cage, placing each of his thumbs beneath one of her breasts. “I approve. Greatly.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

“Thanks. I picked up on that.” Mia dug her fingers into his hair, keeping his head in place for a moment. How he longed to stay right there.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” He straightened and leaned against the counter again, watching her return to their breakfast. He loved how they were so comfortable with each other already. This was effortless. Everything else in his life required so much work…but being with Mia? It was like a vacation.

“Fire away.”

“Why the podcast? It sounds like you could do anything you want. Be a physicist or an astronaut or a surgeon. Absolutely anything at all.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“Does she not approve?”

“She’s warming to it, but it’s a struggle. She would’ve preferred I chose something safe and normal like a job with a newspaper.”

He nodded. “I get it. My mum hates the racing. She and my whole family support me in it, of course, but she gets so nervous.”

“Of course she does. You’re her son. And people have died doing what you do.”

“I know. I just don’t take the time to think about the dangers.”

Mia reached for the pepper grinder. “As for me and the podcast, it was supposed to be a side hustle. My best friend, Jasmine, suggested it because she knew I was such a huge fan of the sport. And it ended up striking a chord. It’s the only time I’ve ever been successful at something.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s the truth. Which is part of the reason why I’m so devoted to it. I built it on my own. It’s not like I went to someone and asked them to give me a job or hire me. I hired myself. And that’s pretty damn satisfying. Plus, it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. I don’t think I’ve come close to reaching the limits of what it can do.”

“Something worth sticking to.”

“Exactly.” Mia presented their breakfast, artfully plated and looking absolutely amazing.

“I haven’t even taken a bite and this is already so much better than anything I could make.” He placed her steaming mug of tea in front of a place at the kitchen island and pulled out a bar stool. “But I did do all right with the cuppa.”

“And I thank you for it. Now, you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not able to climb up here in a particularly ladylike fashion.” She hoisted herself up onto the seat, wiggling her hips back and forth until she was settled.

“I could’ve helped you up.”

“You already carried me to the bedroom. That was real romance hero stuff, you know.”

He smiled, thinking back on that moment. It wasn’t romance—he’d been too damn impatient. Too much blood flowing to lower parts of his body coupled with too much eagerness to give himself over to nothing but Mia and pleasure.

She took a generous bite of her toast. “Damn. I did well.”

He tucked in, too. She’d done better than well. It was fantastic. “Why is this so good?”

“Salt. The answer to that question is salt.”

“Tell me more about your mom. Are you close?”

Mia shrugged and wiped her mouth. “It’s been just the two of us since I was eight. I love her to death, but it’s complicated. I mean, she was always there for me when I was growing up. She always told me I shouldn’t be embarrassed that I was so good in school. She always told me I could do anything I wanted to do.”

“That’s wonderful.” Xander would be nowhere if his family hadn’t told him the same thing and supported him in the same way.

“Except it isn’t really true. Because I’m doing something I really want to do right now, and she thinks I’m selling myself short. She thinks podcasting isn’t a real job. And she’s also not a fan of Formula One.”

“Doesn’t like motorsports?”

“It was something my aunt got me into when I was young, and those two have a never-ending rift so it’s more that than anything.”

He hated that Mia was receiving so little encouragement from her mother. His family was immensely important to him, and he never could’ve gotten as far as he had without their support. Mia’s success was a real testament to her drive and determination. “Maybe I can turn around your mother’s thinking on the subject. If I ever get the chance to meet her, that is.”

“Maybe in Austin? Although, I don’t know how we would ever get her to the track. I’d probably have to trick her. Tell her there’s a flea market or a craft fair.”

Xander laughed. “That’s several races away. We still have Austria and Silverstone before that.”

“Right. Plenty of time to figure out how to trick my mother.”

With some chitchat about F1 and the upcoming Austrian Grand Prix, they finished their breakfast, and Xander took care of the dishes.

“Can I give you more of the tour?” He didn’t mention that he planned to end it in his bedroom, so they could get back to enjoying each other’s company in the way that was far more fun in person than over the phone.

“I’d love it.”

It didn’t take long—just another peek at the mudroom and laundry, a quick walk through the chronically unused dining room, then into the great room at the back of the house, where he kept much of his book collection and enjoyed a glass of whiskey most nights.

Mia ran her fingers along the spines of the books, carefully scrutinizing the titles. He couldn’t help but be on edge about it. She was so smart she was surely well-read. Dickens. Jane Austen. Harper Lee. Did she think he was uncultured because so much of his collection was modern-day fiction with a heavy focus on sci-fi? He hoped not.

“Oh. Cool. You have a copy of Race Car Vehicle Dynamics. I love this book.” She removed it from the shelf and began thumbing through the pages.

Xander snatched it out of her hand. “You’re making fun of me. I realize it isn’t high literature, but it’s actually quite a fascinating read.”

She snatched it right back. “I am not making fun of you. I have this book at home. I’ve read it like twenty times. I love it.”

“Why in the world would you have this?”

“When I said I know a lot about the sport, I wasn’t kidding. I saved up and bought an early edition when I was ten or eleven.” She shrugged and put the book back on the shelf. “I was curious about how the cars work.”

How he loved that she looked at the world with her eyes wide open, eager to take it all in. He could learn a lot from her, and not simply facts or information. He was so focused on Formula One and his career that he often had tunnel vision. Stepping back and taking in a wider view might be good for him.

“You’re full of surprises.”

She grinned and peered up at him. “You are, too. Because I can’t figure out where you keep all your trophies.”

“You don’t want to see those.”

“But I do. I just figured you’d have them all over your house. Or in a big display case. A super-obvious one in the middle of your living room. Apparently not.”

“They’re upstairs. In my office.”

“Show me. Please.”

“Okay. It might be a little messy in there, but sure.” Xander led the way upstairs and all the way down the long hall to the very end. “They’re in here.” He opened the door, confronted by the sad state of his office. A desk and chair were in the middle of the room and a few mostly empty bookcases were along one wall, surrounded by stacks of cardboard crates.

Mia stepped inside. “Xander. What the fuck? Are you telling me your trophies are in boxes?”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t build this house until two years ago and I guess I just haven’t had any time to unpack. I only have a handful of Formula One trophies.” Xander opened one of the containers and peered inside. “A lot of this is from Formula Two and Three. And karting stuff. Stuff that doesn’t matter.”

Mia fished a bundle of brown paper from a box and unwrapped one of his awards. “Why doesn’t it matter?”

“This is just how I got to where I am now. It doesn’t represent where I want to be. It doesn’t represent the ultimate goal I hope to achieve, which is becoming a world champion in Formula One.”

Mia dusted off the trophy, then walked it over to one of the bookshelves and placed it. “As the person who told you not to look back, I understand what you’re saying, but these are accomplishments. Big ones. That lots and lots of people in the world would wish they had achieved themselves. You should be proud of them. It shows how hard you’ve worked. Don’t diminish that.”

It sometimes felt like Mia had a portal into his heart and soul. How did she see right through him? “But you’re always diminishing your degrees.”

She cast a look at him over her shoulder. “It’s not the same. Anyone can go to school. It’s a much smaller subset of people who do what you do.”

“It doesn’t mean you should minimize your accomplishments. You know, you’re very good at dispensing advice, but I’m not entirely sure you listen to it yourself.”

“I definitely don’t.”

“Maybe we can work on these things together.” He went up behind her and stooped down, wrapping his arms around her rib cage and lifting her breasts. He kissed her neck softly. “I can think of some other things we can work on together.”

Mia turned in his arms and stood on her tiptoes so she could reach up and clasp her hands behind his neck. “Are we going to spend my entire stay in your bed?”

“I’ve already shown you the kitchen and my office. So, no.”

“Okay, good. Because I would like to get to know all parts of Xander Bishop. Not just the exciting ones.”

* * *

Late-morning trips to bed led to a few midafternoon rendezvous on the couch in the living room, which led to long nights where neither Mia nor Xander were getting much sleep. The days blurred into each other, a lovely haze of hours and minutes that simultaneously felt long and short. There were early-morning trysts started by nothing more than Mia’s innocent nudge of her nose against his cheek, or in Xander’s case, a not-so-innocent nudge of his erection against Mia’s bare ass. Mia had never been hot for a guy the way she was for Xander. Every minute with him had an undercurrent of sex, as if their bodies were silently conspiring with each other to find a way to get naked again.

Tell me you’re having sex, Jasmine texted her one day.

Maybe. ;) Mia replied.

OMFG. A lot?

Mia hugged her phone to her chest, not wanting Xander to see. Fortunately, he was dead asleep next to her in bed.

I think I wore him out. He’s sleeping. Right next to me. Right now.

You bitch. You have to tell me everything when you get home.

For an instant, Mia delighted in the thought. She and Jasmine loved sharing the juicy details of their romantic entanglements. Granted, there had been way more of that from Jasmine’s side of their friendship. Mia and love? Most of the time, it never got past the first date.

She began to type out a response, but just as quickly, she realized what was going on between Xander and her felt like far more than a hookup. With any other guy, this would be the moment at which she’d tiptoe out of the room with her clothes clutched to her chest. Panic would have taken over. Questions would have flooded her brain. What are you doing? What does this mean? Are you in love? Is this a good idea? You haven’t even done a background check on this guy.

None of that pertained to Xander. Maybe she was exhausted. Maybe it was because she was an ocean away from home and had no clue how to get back to Heathrow. Or maybe it was because he somehow soothed her most extreme tendencies. He had been so damn sweet and understanding when she’d shared those embarrassing stories about being teased in school. She wasn’t sure another guy had even bothered to listen.

I’ll share the broad strokes. That’s it.

From the sound of it, there have been many broad strokes.

You’re not wrong.

Xander and Mia did manage to squeeze in a few nonsexual activities. There were meandering muddy walks on the property, where they spotted wild pheasant and Xander told her all about his great-grandparents’ hardworking and humble history as sheep farmers.

“Where are the actual sheep?” Mia asked as they stood in the middle of a field, the afternoon breeze blowing his hair in every direction. “I was hoping to see them.”

Xander shook his head. “We don’t have any anymore, I’m afraid. It’s so much work. I don’t have time to do it, obviously, and my parents have other worries to deal with.”

“Other worries?” Mia didn’t want to pry, but she was curious, especially since she knew how close he was with his family.

“My mum was diagnosed with MS a year ago. Not long after, my parents took early retirement.”

Mia reached for his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

He slipped his hand into hers. “That’s life, isn’t it?”

Mia had to wonder about the timing. Perhaps some of his struggles this year had to do with the stress of his family situation. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You’re sweet, but not right now. We’re enjoying ourselves too much.”

Mia left it alone, but later in the walk Xander spoke about the sacrifices his parents and younger siblings made so he could become a Formula One driver. “Imagine being twelve and having everything…the household finances, weekend activities, family vacations…all of it dictated by my obsession with racing,” he said. “I’m so thankful my parents believed in me. But I know it was selfish.”

“You were young and you had a dream. They wouldn’t have done it if they didn’t love you,” Mia insisted. “And I think the families of every professional athlete have similar stories of sacrifice.”

“I know. But it eats at me,” Xander said in response.

Again, Mia was left wondering about the larger issue here—the things he felt he owed his family and how that played into his troubles on track.

Over pints of beer, there were heated chess matches, and over glasses of whiskey that made Mia’s throat burn, there were even more serious games of gin rummy, in which Mia handily kicked Xander’s butt. She often couldn’t help herself and delivered a post-game critique outlining his strategic mistakes.

“I can’t believe you played the Queen. You had to know I had the King and Jack,” Mia said.

“I was too distracted by your cleavage in that tank top.” Xander did fixate on her breasts. A lot. And she loved it.

“Next time, I’ll wear a different shirt.”

“Or just wear that and I’ll keep losing. Plus, I can’t help but think you’re playing at a higher level than I am. You won fair and square. Despite your magnificent boobs.”

Mia’s smile was impossible to contain at that moment. Was there actually a man in this world who wasn’t intimidated by her brain? She was starting to think there might be.

He even convinced her to work out with him, a humorous endeavor to say the least. Essentially, Mia did a gentle half-hour stint on the elliptical while Xander ran his ass off on the treadmill. Then she stretched and did a few crunches while Xander grunted his way through pull-ups while he held a medicine ball between his knees, and push-ups where his hands and feet were on small rubber balance balls, and then did medieval-looking resistance exercises for his neck. She was flat-out amazed by the physical sacrifices he made for his chosen sport. Having to stay lean and muscular…not too bulky, but also not too slim. It was a careful balance requiring discipline Mia simply did not have, nor did she care to. Life was too short not to enjoy ice cream whenever one felt like it. End of story.

One night they went to the pub, where they sat in the back corner and the locals stopped by to offer their thoughts on his season. Most folks were charitable well-wishers, but one man in particular was not, telling Xander he’d better get his bloody act together, lest he get released by the team and embarrass the entire town. That was Mia’s cue to announce she was tired and wanted to go back to his house.

“Are you okay after all of that?” she’d asked in the car.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” he answered, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

For what felt like the millionth time, Mia felt bad for the role she’d played in the chorus of voices critical of his driving form of late. And that left her a bit worried about how he might perform at the next race. If he did poorly, people would expect her to criticize him. But she knew far more about his struggles than her listeners did, and she couldn’t share any of it.

“You’re on an upward trajectory. You can tell that guy to sod off in a few months.”

“He’s the mayor, so I probably shouldn’t.”

Oh. Wow. “Maybe wait to see if he gets reelected.”

Time hadn’t stopped for Mia’s career, either. She was somewhat regretting having given Heather, the president of the newly minted NSF fan club, her cell number. Heather was very eager, delivering updates at an almost too-regular pace.

Up to 327 members! Yay! What do you think about doing a special fan club T-shirt? I could work on some designs if you don’t have time.

Great idea. Can we talk about it next week, maybe? I’ve been super busy.

Sure thing! Whatever you want. I’m here for you. Also, when will there be a new episode? People have been wondering.

Having brought along some of her equipment, Mia recorded two podcast episodes—one a preview of the upcoming Austrian Grand Prix and before that, a more in-depth look back at everything that had happened in Monaco. “I’ve rewatched the race twice. From everything I saw, the setup for the Mega Racing car in Monaco left both Xander and Dirk with a ridiculous amount of oversteer. The team overcorrected in the wrong direction. It’s no big surprise that Xander lost the rear of the car heading into Portier. It could’ve happened to Dirk just as easily,” she’d said.

Later, Xander said in the living room, “I heard you recording. Dirk didn’t lose the end. Only I did that.”

“It could have happened to either of you. That’s my point. Maybe you just had a bit of bad luck.”

“Maybe.” He set aside his book and with a pat on the cushion next to him, invited her to join him on the couch. “I did appreciate your assessment of the race. You really know your stuff, Mia. It’s so impressive. I wonder if perhaps you aren’t selling yourself short when you employ snark and sarcasm to speak about the sport.”

Mia didn’t take a seat. Instead, she stood right before him, hands planted on her hips. She didn’t particularly like the words coming out of his handsome mouth. The podcast was her creation, and the way she’d done it up until that point had been a verified hit.

“I give my listeners what they want. They like a bit of snark and sarcasm.”

“I understand that, but I’m more concerned about you and your career than the whims of your fans.”

“If I don’t give them what they want, they’ll move on to someone else.”

His forehead did that wrinkly thing it did whenever he doubted something. “Further evidence that they might not be as serious about this venture as you are.”

“I got this far. I’m staying on this course I’ve set for myself. Keep growing the podcast. Grow my listenership.”

He nodded and took in a deep breath. “Okay, then. Just keep looking ahead, right? Don’t look back.”

“Enough career advice, okay? You keep promising me an ATV ride, but it hasn’t happened. Can we go now?”

Xander looked over his shoulder through the windows at the back of the house. “It’s been a few days since it’s rained. I’m guessing it’s dried out enough.”

“Awesome.”

Outside, Xander unlocked the last garage bay, then stepped inside and opened a tall black metal cabinet. “Hold on one second. I’ll get you a…” He was being noticeably cagey, shielding Mia’s view of what was inside.

“I’ll help,” she said, then grabbed one of the doors from him and pulled it open. Inside, there were signed photos of old-school Formula One drivers, including one that made her freeze. “Is that who I think it is?” She pointed at a photo of a good-looking young driver. A Dutch driver—Dirk Van Dijk in his prime. The print was even signed. To Xander.

“Yeah. That.” Xander blew out a long breath, contorting his lips into all sorts of strange orientations. “I can explain…”

“I would ask if it’s a joke, except it clearly isn’t since it’s signed to you.”

He nodded. “Dirk signed this for me when I was twelve. My dad and I went to the British Grand Prix and we waited outside the security gates for hours, just so I could meet him.” Xander folded his arms across his chest. “He was my favorite driver.”

Mia blinked about fifty times. “Does he know this?”

“No. He does not. And I would very much like this piece of information to stay inside the unspoken cone of silence we have established between us. Or at least that I hope we’ve established.” He looked her right in the eye, everything in his expression pleading with her. “Please don’t say anything on your podcast.”

“God. Xander. Of course I won’t. But he’s such a jerk to you. That’s got to make what you’ve been going through so much harder. All he does is kick you when you’re down.”

Mia again felt torn that she’d accepted Dirk’s invitation to Miami—she wished she’d never contributed to his ability to troll Xander. Then again, if she hadn’t gone, she and Xander never would’ve met.

“You know, when I was young, I thought the fact that he was known for playing mind games was so next-level. He was ruthless. Untouchable.”

“Why do you think he was like that?”

“Things were different in the sport then. There was no pretending to be nice to your teammate. It was all-out war from the word go. And Dirk’s a calculating guy, so he extended the competition to the garage.”

“Pretty next-level stuff.”

“Yeah. Now that I’m on the receiving end of it, I don’t think it’s quite as cool.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’d like to think that maybe it makes me stronger.”

“You should tell him about this picture. About how much you admired him when you were young.”

“Absolutely not. It’s humiliating. He would never let me live it down.”

“If he has any shred of humanity, it’ll make him be nicer to you.”

“It’ll just make me sound like more of a loser.”

“Xander. You are not a loser. You are one of the most amazing drivers on the grid in quite some time. You just haven’t hit your stride yet this year. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. All drivers struggle.”

“Some more than others.”

“If anything is making you stronger, you are doing that for yourself. And I would argue you don’t need to be any stronger. You’re plenty strong.” She rolled her hand over the top of his shoulder, then trailed her fingers down his biceps.

He reined her in closer and kissed the top of her head. “Not sure what I did to deserve your generosity of spirit, Mia, but I’ll take it.”

She looked up at him, marveling at how sweet he could be. “It’s just my natural reaction to you.”

“Come on.” He handed her a helmet, then closed the cabinet. “Let me show you the real definition of speed.”

“You aren’t going to kill me, are you?”

“I won’t let a single thing happen to you or your pretty little head.” He strapped on his helmet, effortlessly swung one long leg over the beast of a motorized vehicle, then offered his hand. “Need some help?”

Mia wiggled into her helmet and buckled the chinstrap. “I think I’ve got it.” She stepped up onto the side platform, then climbed on board.

“Mmm,” he said, reaching back for her leg and hooking his hand under her knee. “I like feeling your legs wrapped around me.” He started the engine. It sputtered then roared to life, with a relentless rumble between Mia’s legs that had her nearly as hot as Xander. “Hold on.”

Mia reflexively wrapped her arms around his waist and gripped his hips with her thighs, clamping down hard. With a jerk, they roared out of the garage and down one of the many dirt roads on his property, bumpy as fuck, jostling her like nothing she’d ever experienced. He took no time getting up to speed and that made the ride a bit smoother, probably because they were now flying over every little imperfection in the road. Excitement bubbled up inside her and a musical laugh burst from her mouth. That made him go faster, which made her cling tighter. Excitement turned to delicious danger. She sensed the daredevil in him, the parts he kept locked away until race day… Witnessing it firsthand was dizzying.

He slowed down and came to a stop atop a hill with a wide view of the countryside. Xander killed the engine, then waited for Mia to climb off. She didn’t want to let go of her grip on him, but she was happy for a moment to catch her breath, unclench her legs and allow her internal organs to settle back into their original locales. Xander removed his helmet, shaking out his hair, which obediently fell into disarray. It was one of the sexiest things she’d ever witnessed.

Together, they climbed a few yards up to the highest point and stood for a moment in silence, surveying the kaleidoscope of green in the patchwork of this land, marked by crisscrossing lines of trees and low stone walls cutting through in graceful swoops. Straight ahead, the sun was slowly dipping toward the horizon. Birds chirped.

“It’s so lovely here. So peaceful,” she said.

“I know. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“Do you feel left out by not living in Monaco?” The majority of drivers had their home base there, partly to avoid taxes.

Xander remained fixated on the view. “I always feel at least a little left out of this sport.”

“You aren’t saying that because you’ve been struggling, are you? You deserve your seat. You can’t listen to what the mayor said.”

He laughed and looked over at her, his eyes full of certainty, like he could see right through her. “You just love to take a thought and run with it, don’t you?”

She pressed her lips together tightly. “It’s my superpower.”

Xander directed his gaze to the ground. “It’s more my background. Most of the other drivers walked into the sport with incredible sums of money behind them. Fortunes. Sponsors from a young age. Or with some sort of legacy, like a father or grandfather who’d raced before them. I had none of that. I guess that has just stuck with me. That feeling like I’m looking in from the outside.”

Mia could relate to that statement like nothing else. Her whole life she’d felt as though she was on the outside of everything, with her nose pressed to the glass. That was one of the things she loved so much about her podcast. It was her world because she’d created it. She would always belong there, no matter what.

“That’s one of the things I admire about you, Xander. You’ve gotten as far as you have without all those advantages. It’s so impressive. You defied the odds.”

“Let’s hope I can defy a few more over the course of my career.”

“You will. I know it.”

“We should probably head back. It’ll be dark soon and the light on the ATV is terrible.”

When they turned, she spotted a house in the opposite direction. “Who lives there?” She pointed to a quaint ivy-covered home, standing alone, off in the distance.

“My family. That’s the house where I grew up.”

“Oh, wow.” It was several days into her stay and although they’d talked about his family and she knew from her general knowledge of the drivers that his family lived nearby, she hadn’t known their house was so close. “Do you see them often?”

He nodded. “Once a week or so. It depends. More during the offseason.”

Mia kept waiting for more, like perhaps an invitation to meet them, but it didn’t come. Which was fine. Meeting someone’s family meant things were serious, when as near as she could tell, what she and Xander were doing was merely fun. A brief respite from the stresses they had both been living with lately. She needed to remember that, even when it left her feeling vulnerable. She wanted more of him. So much more. And she’d probably always be left feeling like her time with Xander had never been enough.

“I’ve been thinking.” He took her hand. “You’re already over here. If you want, you could come to the next race. In Austria.”

Funny how one minute ago she’d been wanting an invitation, and then she got cold feet when one arrived.

“So here’s the thing. Of course I would love to go. I’ve never been to Austria and you know I’m always down for a race. But I really don’t want another repeat of Monza. Would I actually get to see you? The races are no fun by yourself.” She sucked in a breath just to give her brain a bit more oxygen before it overheated. “But I don’t know how we go together and keep our—” Mia realized she’d stumbled into a trap. Emotional quicksand. How, exactly, was she to label what was going on? “—er…romantic entanglement a secret? We’ve already talked about how there was blowback when you bought my ticket to Monza. And I sincerely doubt Isabel would want to deal with whatever the press might say, and Reginald Huff will likely be lurking nearby. Then there’s the simple fact that I’m the podcast person who was mean to you. How’s that going to look?”

“So you admit you were being mean…” He slid her a sly grin.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. And I’m just standing here, watching your thought process play out in real time. It’s exhausting. I don’t know how you do it.”

She didn’t know, either, but her mind and mouth were fully engaged now and there was no stopping them. “And I can tell you right now that a decent chunk of my listeners would freak out. I mean, some of them would love it, but there are others who would absolutely criticize me for this. For you. For us. Being together.” She waved her hands back and forth between them. “I hope that doesn’t sound horrible.”

Xander blew out an exasperated breath. “If you don’t want to come to Austria, just say so. I won’t be happy about it, but I can cope.”

When he put it like that, she sounded like an absolute idiot. “I told you I want to go. I do. I’m just looking ahead and laying out the potential pitfalls. The things we need to be aware of.”

“I officially hate that we have to think about any of this.”

“You’re a Formula One driver, Xander. This is part of your job.”

He nodded. “Okay. Here’s what we do. We’ll rent a motorhome rather than stay in a hotel. We’ll be off in the motorhome pen with some of the other drivers. There’s an unspoken rule that we don’t talk about each other’s partners, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“You don’t think they’ll talk shit about you if they see me?”

He shrugged. “We’ll be careful. And they’re already talking shit about me.”

That made her stomach sour. “As long as we try our hardest to be quiet about it.”

Xander stepped closer and leaned down until his mouth was right at her ear. “Are you saying no sex? Because you were not quiet this morning, Mia. Not even close.”

Mia swallowed hard, wondering what she was getting herself into, while simultaneously admitting to herself that she would pretty much go anywhere if Xander asked her.

“I’m not saying no sex. But you might need to hold your hand over my mouth.”

He bounced his eyebrows at her. “Challenge accepted.”

Eleven

Today, I feel…

Cautiously hopeful. Mia and I have just arrived at the track in Austria, and she makes me feel like good things are possible. I also feel silly, since I do not understand the purpose of writing in this journal. I’ve written in it every day for over a week now and my mental health is exactly the same as it was before I started.

Mia drew back a curtain and peeked out the window of Xander’s motorhome. “How many other drivers are back here?”

Xander was busy gathering his things for a team meeting. “Depends. Maybe half at the European races. It’s just easier when we’re going from city to city. There’s a lot more privacy back here, too.”

“How much privacy, exactly?” Mia slumped back down on the bench seat. “The other drivers will see me. They’ll see us, right?”

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but although you are somewhat notorious in the paddock, I don’t know that everyone will recognize you. And all the drivers are so focused on the race weekend, there’s no time for them to think about who’s got a—” Xander realized he’d talked himself into a corner, but then remembered the way Mia had framed their situation “—romantic interest back here.”

“Okay.” Mia pressed her lips together tightly, seeming worried. “And someone like Reginald Huff? He can’t get in here, can he?”

“No. Security is too tight and the drivers despise him.”

“He was already convinced something was going on between us.”

Xander sensed Mia was worried. Again. And although he understood it, so many of these things were beyond their control. “Hopefully, he’s on to a juicier topic. I heard Florian has a new girlfriend. Some famous actress.”

“Famous actress?” Mia blurted. “Who? How do I not know this?” Mia dug out her phone and began tapping away. “Holy crap. He’s dating Emma Taylor-Ross? Wow. She’s stunning.”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t watch a lot of movies.”

“Fuddy-duddy.”

A knock came at the trailer door. “Come in,” Xander called.

Mia popped up from her seat and scrambled back by the kitchen. “Xander,” she hissed. “You can’t let just anyone in.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Isabel appeared in the doorway and walked up the steps, slow as molasses. “Hello, Mia,” she said, her voice dripping with annoyance while she stared down Xander. “Are you and Xander doing an interview I didn’t know about?”

“Uh. No,” Mia answered.

Fuck. “I can explain…”

Isabel planted her hand on her hip. “Tell me. Please.”

Xander hadn’t expected Isabel so soon. He should have prepared. Their working relationship was so good it hadn’t occurred to him he might need to formulate an explanation. “So, Mia and I hung out at Monza one night…”

Isabel frantically waved her hands. “No, no, no. Stop. I don’t want to know.”

“Nothing happened that night.” He glanced at Mia, thoughts of Monza warming his face. They grew closer that evening in ways he hadn’t expected. “That part came later.”

“You two are a couple?” Isabel asked.

“A secret couple,” Mia interjected. “I don’t think it would be good for either of us if this came out.”

Isabel nodded slowly, seeming as though she was calculating possible collateral damage. “I agree.”

Of course Mia had been right, but hearing Isabel agree so quickly really made him take notice. “Right. Me, too,” Xander chimed in, although he already hated the secrecy. He hated that the opinions of strangers needed to play into his relationship with Mia.

“First off, you two can definitely not be seen walking into the paddock together,” Isabel said.

“Of course,” Mia said. “I’ll keep to the paddock club, per usual. Just like at the other races.”

Isabel kneaded her forehead, seeming beyond stressed. “Well, I did not have this on my bingo card for the season, especially after the whole dick-in-your-hand comment, I’ll tell you that much. But if everyone follows the plan we just laid out, I might get through this race weekend without a full-blown international incident on my hands.”

Xander was desperate to lighten the mood at least a little. “You did tell me to stay on Mia’s good side.”

Mia snickered.

Isabel rolled her eyes. “This is not what I meant. And from your standpoint, Xander, the sponsors spend millions each year to have their product or company shown in the very best light. Many of them did not like it when Mia’s criticisms went viral.” Isabel glanced at Mia and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry if it hurts to hear that, but it’s the truth.”

“I understand,” Mia said.

“But a lot of that has faded away,” Xander said. “She’s been much nicer of late.” He and Mia shared a knowing smile.

“Which will of course raise the question, why?” Isabel asked.

“My race performance has improved,” Xander said, perhaps a bit too optimistically.

“That’s too logical an answer, I’m afraid. That’s not the way the world works. If there’s even a hint of controversy, the press will blow it up, just so they can get the public to care. And once that’s happened, it’s game over. It’ll become impossible to control the story. People will say whatever they want to.”

“Hence keeping a low profile this weekend,” Mia said.

“Precisely.” Isabel’s phone beeped with a text and she fished it out of her pocket. “Shoot. I need to go, but please stay out of trouble this weekend, you two. And Xander, I’ll see you at the team meeting shortly.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Xander plopped down on the bench as soon as Isabel was gone. “Bloody hell. Why does the world have to be like this?”

Mia eased in next to him. “I don’t know. It just is.”

“You were right about the whole thing. And although I agreed, I was minimizing it. I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry if I was delusional in inviting you.”

Mia looked down at her lap, picking at a fingernail. “Why did you invite me, Xander? Why did you invite me to England? And Austria? I don’t feel like it was just for sex.”

He hadn’t expected to be confronted by this question, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to answer it, but one thing came to mind that might help him illustrate his thinking. “Remember when we were in Monza and I ignored you?”

“How could I forget?”

He turned to face her. “I did it on purpose. It was more than staying focused. I was afraid of getting close to you. Something told me you would pull me in. And I was right.”

The sweetest smile crossed Mia’s face. “Go on…”

He cleared his throat, hoping he could come across as eloquent and composed, while also staying true to himself. “Well, here’s the thing. You could’ve raised holy hell with Isabel or made a scene in the paddock or taken to your podcast and roasted me. But you didn’t. Instead, you found Isabel and you wished me good luck.”

“I can be a bit of a pushover…”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you were respectful of my situation and what I’m going through. And that was thoroughly unexpected.”

“I guess I’m also a bit of a contradiction.”

“But that’s what I appreciate so much about you. You’re your own person. You think for yourself. And although you can be quiet and very chill, you can also be loud and bold. I admire that. You’re multifaceted.”

“I probably don’t deserve such a rave review, but thank you. That’s so generous of you to say.”

“And I feel like you’ve been generous with me. With your time and your advice. And your friendship. It means a lot to me. You calm me, Mia. You poke holes in every argument I make against myself and help me see how wrong I can be.” He laughed quietly to himself. “I mean, sometimes you piss me off, but then you calm me again.”

“That’s the rush of dopamine to your brain after an orgasm. I’m not sure that goes in the category of generosity.”

He leaned closer and kissed her softly. “Oh. But it does.”

* * *

Just as Mia had promised, she kept her head down and managed to avoid anyone taking note of her presence during the Austrian Grand Prix. It had been quite difficult during qualifying because Xander qualified P6, his highest position of the season, and two spots ahead of Dirk. Mia had to dig her hand into her palm when she watched Xander cross the finish line and a few seconds later, his high-flying finish became official.

Hours later, Xander was in rare form back at the motorhome, plopping her down on the bed, peeling back her jeans and going down on her. He gave her two orgasms before he fucked her. Mia told him to pace himself, but he didn’t seem interested.

Now to see whether all that sex would help him or hurt him in today’s race…

* * *

Xander breezed into the Mega garage. Finally, things were coming together. Mia was there and he was driving better than ever.

“I suppose you think you’re hot shit, Bishop,” Dirk said as he zipped up his race suit.

Xander glanced around the garage, wondering if he’d missed something. “Nope. I don’t.”

“Bullshit. Just admit it.”

“What are you going on about?”

“Qualifying better than me does not make you a better driver. My setup was all wrong yesterday.”

“Okay… Talk to the team about it. I have nothing to do with that.”

“Don’t try to play mind games with me. It won’t work.”

Xander didn’t know how to respond anymore.

I’m not playing mind games, you bloody git.

“How about this? How about neither of us play mind games for the rest of the season and we just try to be supportive of each other as teammates.”

Dirk grabbed his helmet. “I don’t think so. Nice try.”

Xander couldn’t even be bothered to be annoyed anymore. He couldn’t even be bothered to tell Dirk to go fuck himself.

* * *

Mia was thankful it was a beautiful sunny day without a cloud in the sky. This circuit was notorious for rain, fog and all sorts of bad weather. She didn’t want anything to get in the way of Xander having a fantastic race.

She stood at the railing on the viewing balcony, watching intently as the last of the cars took their places on the grid. Xander was right beneath her. Did he know she was watching and silently cheering him on? Her heart did a little flip in the center of her chest at the thought. She hoped he knew she had her eyes trained right on him.

* * *

From the moment the lights went out, Xander zoomed ahead like it was nothing. He felt like his old self, but better. Looking ahead, just as Mia had said. Charles felt fantastic—the balance was perfect. The engine roared with all the ferocity Xander wanted. He gripped the steering wheel, relishing the sheer joy of racing. Of going fast. So very fast. Swooping and diving and cutting in the most effortless way. Lap after lap, it was nothing but fun.

He completed another lap, seeing from the team’s marker that there were only three more left in the race. It had gone by in the blink of an eye. And he’d managed to hold on to sixth place with no sign of anyone threatening to pass from behind. Finally…a bit more redemption.

* * *

“Come on, come on,” Mia muttered.

It wasn’t that she was nervous. Xander’d had a fairly uneventful, competent race. Unless something disastrous happened in the closing laps, he was golden. Still, she knew this sport. Bad things happened in the blink of an eye. A tire puncture. A crash from a driver who let his focus lapse for a split second. A late safety car. Anything was possible. And she wanted this for him more than anything—a glimmer of the success he’d worked so hard for.

* * *

Xander flew across the finish line.

“That’s P6, Xander,” his race engineer said. “Well done. Started in sixth. Ended in sixth. Can’t ask for much more than that.”

“Yes! Brilliant! Thanks to everyone for the incredible work this weekend. Super happy with that.”

He continued with his cool-down lap, taking in a deep breath and savoring the moment. He knew it wouldn’t last. The truth was that this was progress, but it wasn’t everything he wanted. It wasn’t a statement or a declaration about where he wanted to be. It wasn’t a podium. It wasn’t a win.

And now that things had improved, he had to wonder if he had it in him to pull off such a feat.

* * *

Mia rushed down from the paddock club, trying to figure out her next best move. She wanted to congratulate Xander, who’d be coming out of the garage sometime soon. But she also needed to lie low. Not make it obvious they were a thing.

“Mia. Mia Neal,” Claudia Simon called from a few feet away, waving. “Can I get a minute with you before the drivers come into the media pen?”

If Claudia hadn’t specifically said Mia’s last name, she would’ve been doubting Claudia meant to talk to her.

“Do you need me to check if you have something in your teeth before you go on air? Because from where I’m sitting, you look perfect.”

Claudia’s eyes went wide as saucers. “I was hoping to interview you.”

“Me?” Mia refrained from asking the follow-up questions—Why? Now? And why again?

“Yes. I’m sure our viewers would love to hear from an influencer like you.”

There was that word again—the one that made her both happy and a little sick.

“Oh. Okay.” Palms sweaty and forehead clammy, Mia stepped next to Claudia. “Just tell me what to do.”

“You’re great. Stand right there and I’ll ask you a few questions. Easy peasy. We’ll be live again in a few seconds.” She turned to her cameraman, who pointed at her a heartbeat or two later. “For the audience at home, I’m with Mia Neal, host of the popular Formula One fan podcast called Not So Quick.”

Mia leaned into the microphone. “Actually, it’s called Not So Fast.”

Claudia laughed quietly. “My apologies. Not So Fast. Now, you rose in popularity after you were quite vocal in your criticism of Xander Bishop, but aside from the crash in Monaco, his season seems to be turning around. He had a P6 finish today, two positions ahead of his teammate, which is a fantastic result for him. What are your thoughts about the strides he’s made?”

Mia not only hadn’t expected to be interviewed by Claudia Simon today, she also hadn’t expected a Xander question from the word go.

“I think it’s great. I was quite critical of him, but I’ve never wanted anything but for Xander to do well. He’s a brilliant driver. I’m happy to see him performing on track.”

Mia was hella proud of herself for such an eloquent string of words, but then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Reginald Huff stepping into view. Now she was nervous again.

“Do you think your criticism played a role in Xander’s turnaround?” Claudia asked as Reginald lurked.

“I’m not the only one who was critical.”

“Of course not. You just happened to do it in the most colorful way. Most drivers would do anything to make a podcaster stop saying the things you said about Xander.”

Mia winced. Would her viral moment ever stop feeling so cringey?

“I’m sure it all came down to Xander and his relationship with the car.” She was desperate to steer the conversation to a broader topic, away from the focus on Xander, especially with Reginald in such close proximity. “I don’t get the impression that any of the drivers pay much attention to my podcast or any other.”

“I don’t know about that,” Claudia said. “I interviewed Emilio Baquero today and he had a Not So Fast patch on his backpack.”

“Are you serious?” Mia blurted before she realized it wasn’t the most professional of responses, but she was proud of herself for not spouting the things actually going through her head.

Holy shit. That’s cuckoo banana pants.

“He mentioned that he really enjoyed his chat with you at Monza.”

Just when Mia was floored, Claudia came out with another detail that made her even more so. “That is so lovely to hear.”

“Now, just a few more questions before we head to the media pen to interview the drivers. Tell me your predictions for the rest of the season.”

How Mia wished she’d had time to prepare. “Well, I don’t see anyone beating Emilio in the Drivers’ Championship. He’s in top form and the Vermillion car is only getting better. The upgrades they brought to Monza continue to pay dividends. With Florian a very close number two, Vermillion will come out on top in the Constructors’ Championship. After that, I think Kenji will end up at number three in the Drivers’, which will mean a coveted second place team finish for Cyclone Green Dragon. That’ll be a big accomplishment for them. They’ve never finished higher than fourth in the Constructors’.”

“And how do you think things will play out at Mega Racing? Will Xander keep his seat? Will Dirk sign a contract extension?”

Just then, Xander came out of the Mega Racing garage. With everything going on, Mia was shocked she’d noticed, but even more astounding amid the hubbub of the paddock was that Xander looked right at her. She searched for the excitement of his sixth-place finish in his eyes, but didn’t see it. What she could see were the wrinkles in his forehead and a look of eagerness to talk to her. Did Claudia have them figured out? And exactly how much attention was Reginald Huff paying to any of this?

“Yes to both. Xander’s season will continue on an upward trajectory, he will absolutely keep his seat and Dirk will re-up. I predict stability and good things for Mega.”

“You’ve heard it here first,” Claudia said. “Thanks to Mia Neal for chatting with us today.”

“And we’re out,” the cameraman said.

“That was wonderful, Mia. Honestly, have you ever thought about television? Commentary about F1 perhaps? We need more women in the sport, and we’re always looking for new talent.”

That was as much out of left field as Claudia’s request for an interview in the first place. “I do have a degree in journalism.”

“Even better. You have my card, right?”

“I do.” Mia said goodbye to Claudia, somewhat stunned. She scanned the paddock for Xander, but he’d disappeared.

Surely he’d gone off to do his stint in the media pen. Mia had to think hard about her next move—stand outside the media area and wait for Xander to emerge? Or go straight to the motorhome and wait for him there? Making her choice exponentially more difficult—Reginald was making a beeline for her. What was he up to? What was his fixation on her? She knew the answer to neither of those questions. She only knew she had to get out of there.

She slipped on her sunglasses to be as incognito as possible and began winding her way through the throng of people. The crowd was growing now that the race was over. Her height was not helping. She couldn’t see shit. And she kept running into people.

Suddenly, there was a tap on her shoulder. “Ms. Neal. Can we chat?”

Mia’s stomach turned at the sound of Reginald’s voice, but she knew it was unwise to piss him off, so she faced him and forced herself to smile. “I’m in a bit of a rush, actually.”

“Where are you off to? Back to the motorhomes?”

Mia’s heart sank. Had that worm of a man figured her out? Even if he hadn’t, she had to get rid of him. “Looking for a bathroom. I have my period.”

Reginald stepped back. “Uh…”

“Any more personal info you require from me, Mr. Huff? If not, I’ll be going now.”

She hustled off before he could say anything else, but of course that meant she couldn’t head in the direction of the motorhomes, at least not right away, so she circled back, ducked into the Mega Racing hospitality and used the bathroom.

A half hour later, she was back in the relative safety of Xander’s trailer. She checked her socials to pass the time until he returned.

Right away she saw Cloud Sports had done a post with a clip of her interview and tagged her. Mia winced a bit watching herself doing the interview. It wasn’t because Claudia was tall and willowy, and Mia was not. The truth of Mia’s absolute center was that she enjoyed being in the background. She was accustomed to that space, which was why podcasting suited her so well.

Soldiering through the clip, she felt pretty good by the end about the things she’d said. She was knowledgeable about the sport and she sounded so. Now, to see what everyone else thought. As she scrolled through the comments, she unfortunately ran across a few unkind things.

What happened to Mia Neal? She used to be one of us. Now she’s going to every race as an “influencer”? And doing interviews with Claudia Simon? I’m done.

No wonder Mia Neal is going soft on the drivers. She’s in the inner circle. Bye bye, Not So Fast. It was fun while it lasted.

Gah! No! Mia used to be cool. This is so corporate. What’s next? Hanging out on a yacht in Monaco?

Mia grumbled under her breath. This was what was really starting to annoy her about her place in this sport. F1 was built on glamour and excitement, all polished to a fine sheen, but still people expected her to be relatable. To get close but not too close. They loved that she had access, but they didn’t seem to want it to become a regular thing. Would she be receiving this type of criticism if she were a man? Or…wait for it…an actress or a model? Someone who looked like they were part of this world? Something told her no one would think twice about it if that were the case. The idea infuriated her. And honestly, it only made her want to try harder to reach new heights. Maybe she should contact Claudia about that job.

To make things worse, she got a text from Heather.

I saw you did a live interview with Claudia Simon. I didn’t know you were in Austria! I wish you had told me. I could share it with the fan club. They love knowing these things about you!

My bad. I’ll let you know next time I go to a race, okay?

Awesome. Also, some people are being trollish about your interview. I thought it was fine. I’ll keep an eye on things and definitely hide any ugly comments on your account.

Mia hated that it was necessary, but she was thankful for Heather.

Thank you. You’re the best.

Xander opened the door and Mia hopped up from her seat, casting her phone aside. “You were so amazing today.” She threw her arms around him. “Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.”

He hugged her and picked her up for a moment, then kissed her forehead. “Was I amazing? Really? Or did I do the bare minimum to hold on to a halfway decent qualifying?”

“What? Are you disappointed in the finish?”

He took off his baseball hat and tossed it on the small kitchen table, then slumped down on one of the bench seats. “I know I shouldn’t be. I would’ve killed to be sixth at any other race this season. But it’s not that hard to overtake on this circuit. I just couldn’t find my opportunity and I was worried about managing my tires, so I played it safe. And now I wish I’d taken a few more chances.”

Mia sat next to him. “There’s nothing wrong with delivering a solid result for your team. You finished in the points, which is all anyone can ask of you. And you beat Dirk. That’s got to feel good.”

“He was really pissed earlier. He told me to stop playing mind games with him.”

“If only he knew he was your childhood idol.”

“That shall remain a secret forever, thank you very much.”

Mia took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m really proud of you. I hope that counts for something.”

Xander put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “It does count. And I want you to know that having you here makes these weekends much more fun.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Oh. Wait.” He sat up and faced her. “I saw you talking to Claudia Simon in front of a camera. Did you do an on-air interview with her?”

“I did. Cloud Sports has already aired it.”

“That’s fantastic. What did you talk about?”

“You. F1. My podcast. The usual.”

“Bloody hell. That’s brilliant. Good for you. You’re going places. I tell you.” He shook his head in disbelief, but he was smiling wide. It felt like the sun was shining right on her, which was a pleasant distraction from the sting of hateful social media comments.

“Yeah, well, my fans hate me for it. Some of them at least.” Mia picked up her phone and showed the posts to Xander. “Look.”

“Wankers. The whole lot. They’re just jealous. That’s all that is.”

Mia blew out a cleansing breath. “It pisses me off. Why does everyone think they’re entitled to police me?”

Xander cocked one expressive eyebrow at her. “Welcome to my world. Everyone has an opinion and they’re dying to share it.”

Her gaze was instantly drawn to his. “Like my opinion of you a few months ago?”

He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “I suppose so.”

“One thing to be grateful for is that the internet has basically exploded with the news of Florian and his new girlfriend. So maybe that gave us a reprieve this weekend?”

“I think you might be right. Does that make you more or less likely to say yes when I ask you to stay one more week for Silverstone?”

Mia had wondered if that invitation might be coming. She was thrilled at the prospect. She’d always wanted to attend that race, plus it meant more time with Xander. But even that last part came with a little too much uncertainty—she was attached to him already and just like the situation with her career, she had reason to be optimistic, but there were zero guarantees. “I think I can make that work. I’ll need to record more podcast episodes at your house, of course.”

“Whatever you need.”

“And I’ll need to do laundry.”

“We can make that happen.” He leaned in and kissed her softly. “That’s a good idea, anyway. You’ll want to be presentable when I take you to meet my family.”

“Your family?”

“Well, yeah. We’ve been doing everything else together, we might as well really take the plunge.”

Twelve

What are three things you are exceptionally good at? How can you use these strengths in your daily life?

LOL. The answer should be fairly obvious—overthinking, asking questions and I’d like to think I’m very good at listening. Although if Xander were asked this question, he might say I’m exceptionally good at sucking his cock. As for how I can use those strengths in my daily life, I already do. For example, all I can do right now is ask myself what’s next. Xander and I had a lovely time in Austria and no one figured out we were together. He had a great race and I just recorded a killer episode of Not So Fast. But now what? I have to go home at some point, right? I have to go back to my real life.

“You are not going to believe this, but the media gave Florian and Emma a couple nickname,” Mia announced as she walked into Xander’s living room. “Spoiler alert, it’s atrocious.”

He was sprawled out on the couch, reading. He placed his book on his chest and looked up at her. She marveled at how normal this all had become, the two of them occupying the same space. Somehow it felt real and unreal, all at the same time.

“Don’t tell me.”

“Flemma. Florian and Emma equals Flemma. How terrible is that?”

He sat up. “Wow. That’s about as bad as it could possibly be. God forbid the media treat them like normal people by referring to them as individuals.”

“All famous couples must have their names merged. It’s like a rule.” Mia inched closer to Xander. “So, I’m mystified by British laundry detergent. What’s the difference between Persil and Fairy? I’ll be honest. Fairy sounds way cooler. That’s definitely the direction I’m leaning, but I’m not sure and I’m about to start my laundry.”

“Hold on. I have a few things to go in as well.” He hopped up from the sofa.

“You want to mix our stuff together?” She followed him, noticing how her body registered mild panic.

“We’ve mixed everything else, why not this?” Xander grabbed a canvas drawstring bag he’d had at the motorhome, then began tossing in his dirty clothes, willy-nilly.

Mia peered into the washing machine drum. There was the evidence—his clothes with her clothes, all mixed together. Her underwear. His. Her dirty socks. His slightly smelly dirty socks.

“I’ve never had this level of intimacy with a man before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And it’s kind of freaking me out.”

“Why?”

“Because this is not normal.”

“This is the definition of normal. It is literally the most normal thing two people could do.” Decisively, Xander put a cup of detergent into the dispenser, closed it, then very reasonably selected a cold-water cycle and pressed start. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, so just tell me what you’re thinking.”

Oh, no. She was not ready for this. It was happening way too fast, and she had this feeling that if she got honest, she might blow up part of her life. This part, to be exact. The part with Xander in it. The unbelievable fairy tale had to end at some point, right?

“That was the whole point of the mental health journal. You write down your feelings so you can process them and honor them and then you don’t have to say them out loud.”

“That was the point?” Xander cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowing with deep suspicion. “Mia. Come on. You’re the one who’s always saying whatever the hell comes to mind without thinking about it.”

One million thoughts swam through her mind. They were like ravenous fish in an aquarium at feeding time, making the water churn and bubble.

“What are we doing, Xander? I thought I was just going to fly to England for a few days, we were going to have sex a couple times and then you’d send me on my way to live out my days with some lovely erotic memories of you.”

“Send you on your way? Does that honestly sound like something I would do?”

“I didn’t know you very well then.” Mia looked down at the floor, noticing how tiny her feet were compared to his. “So, no. It doesn’t now.”

Xander placed a single finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. “I’m not good at planning. So I didn’t have some grand scheme in mind when I asked you to come here. But I’m enjoying our time together greatly. That’s why I keep extending it. And I’m thankful you’ve been able to stay.”

Mia’s heart zipped around in her chest at lightning speed. Like an electrified ping-pong ball. “I’m not good at this. With the laundry, and meeting your parents, and the saying of important things out loud.”

“You’re the one who asked what we were doing.”

“And I regret that now.”

“But you still want to know.”

She blew out a breath between pursed lips. “I do.”

“I think you’re searching for certainty. That’s understandable.”

Mia narrowed her stare at him. “That sounds like something I would say. What is even happening right now?”

“Laundry, Mia. Laundry is happening. And for the record, if you want a declaration, I like you. A lot. Probably more than any other human I know. At the moment.”

Whoa. Mia’s head was swimming. “I like you, too. A lot.”

“Probably more than any other human?”

She felt a little weird about that part. Jasmine was her best friend. But the reality was that she and Xander were sharing everything right now, even space in the washing machine.

“Yes.”

“Good. That’s great. Then we’re on the same page.” He put his arm around her shoulder. “Now, fair warning, in a little bit, we will move our laundry into the dryer. Also together. And tonight, we will go to dinner with my family. And somewhere in there, I hope to take off every stitch of your clothes and properly thank you for making me feel better after I had my post-race pity party.”

“Sixth place is nothing to sneeze at,” she said, the tension in her body ebbing as their familiar dynamic returned.

She was fine. This was fine. Meeting Xander’s family was not a reason to overthink herself into a black hole. And she wouldn’t repeat past mistakes, either. No more blowing up her life. She wanted what she had right now. She was thankful for every minute. She needed to take several deep breaths. And let Xander make her come.

* * *

Mia was grateful for her clean clothes as she and Xander walked up to his parents’ house, but her mind still chewed hard on their conversation in the laundry room. Xander was right—she’d always been the one who’d say anything, but that was far easier when she was talking about the other person. When it came to what she was really feeling? Much harder. That was so deeply filed away in her brain that getting it out seemed hard. If things became more serious between her and Xander, she would need to get better at that. But the whole idea of serious made her want to roll up into a tiny ball. She’d never had a broken heart, but it was widely regarded as the worst possible thing someone could have. A broken heart as a result of Xander Bishop? Surely it was at least twice as bad.

“Hello! I’m home,” Xander called when they stepped into the foyer of his parents’ house. It was lovely and cozy with wide wood-plank floors and a buttery color on the walls. The heavenly aromas of a home-cooked meal filtered through the air. “You can leave your shoes here.” Xander toed off his sneakers. Dressed in a light blue dress shirt and dark jeans, he was the picture of perfection. Mia couldn’t have been any more smitten if she tried.

A young man Mia recognized from Xander’s family photos as his brother came down the stairs. “Freya’s on her way in a minute,” Oscar said. “She’s primping. She’s very excited to meet you, Mia.” He extended his hand to shake hers. “I am, too, but you’d think the bloody prime minister was coming over.”

Mia laughed quietly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Mia Neal!” a young woman’s voice called from the landing above. “I can’t believe you are in our house right now. Pinch me!” In a flurry, she ran down the stairs and flung her arms around Mia, squeezing tight. And to think Mia had been worried Xander’s family might not like her.

“Mia, my brother Oscar is the calm one and my sister Freya is the one accosting you. I apologize,” Xander said.

Freya released her hold and stood back, dressed in all black, with bright pink cheeks and a radiant smile. “You know, when I first heard your podcast, I thought you were a bitch. I mean, a cool bitch who I totally wanted to be best friends with. I just couldn’t stop listening, even when you were saying saucy things about this guy.” She gestured to Xander with a nod.

Mia cringed and lightly slapped her forehead. “That will haunt me forever.”

“But it kept people listening. I loved the episode you uploaded today. It was great.”

Mia relished the positive feedback, especially since things had gone a bit sideways after she’d done that interview with Claudia.

“It was a bit rushed. Probably not my best. But I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Of course, as soon as I found out you and my brother were involved—” Freya put air quotes around involved “—I went back and listened to the episodes about Miami and later and I can tell exactly when you first met, when you met the second time and then I guess I can tell when—”

“That’s enough, Freya,” Xander interjected. “Thank you very much. I’m sure Mia doesn’t need to hear the entire history of her podcast. Now, where are Mum and Dad?”

“They’re upstairs. Dad’s helping Mum get dressed. She wanted to put on something nice to meet Mia.”

“Bad day?”

“She didn’t sleep well last night. Her legs were bothering her.”

Oscar turned to Mia. “Our mum has MS.”

“Xander mentioned that. I’m so sorry.” Mia was struggling to keep up—clearly Xander had told his family about her since Oscar knew who she was without an introduction and Freya had taken to conducting a forensic investigation about Not So Fast.

“Probably not a good time to talk to Dad about your house, Oscar,” Xander said.

Oscar grumbled. “No big surprise there. It’s on perpetual delay.”

“Dad’s focused on caring for Mum. You’ve got to be patient,” Freya added.

“I’ll find a time, O. I promise.” Xander’s voice carried a familiar tone of stress and strain. Clearly, his family meant a lot to him, but Mia knew from experience there was a price for that closeness.

“Oscar just wants a place to shag his girlfriend in peace,” Freya said.

“I love her, Freya. But thanks for saying that in front of Xan’s girlfriend,” Oscar countered.

Freya shrugged. “I just want her to feel like she’s part of the family. Now, let’s get dinner out of the oven.” She flitted off toward the back of the house with Oscar in her wake.

Xander looked at Mia with kind eyes. “I’m sorry. I know that was a lot.”

“No. No. It’s okay. She seems awesome. They’re both great.”

“Thank you for tonight. It didn’t seem right that you’d spend all this time with me and not meet them.” He reached down and took Mia’s hand, wrapping her fingers in his. She realized this was the first time he’d ever done that while they were in the presence of other people. He even squeezed it a little tighter as they stepped into the kitchen. And he didn’t let go.

“Mia, are you going to be at Silverstone?” Freya asked as she set water glasses on the table.

Mia slid a glance in Xander’s direction. He was busy opening a bottle of wine.

“Uh, yes. Your brother invited me just after Austria.”

“That is so awesome. I’ll be there. I hope we get to see Florian and Emma together. She’s so amazing.”

“Freya’s obsessed with Flemma. Because of course she is,” Oscar said. “I’ll be at the race, too. Not sure about our parents. Mum gets so nervous. It’s hard for her to watch.”

Freya clapped Xander on the back. “We’re super excited, though. You’ve been doing so much better lately. Hopefully, you’ll have a cracking race. Maybe a podium?”

“Maybe a win?” Oscar added.

“Could you imagine a win at the race we’ve all been going to since we were kids? Your home Grand Prix? How amazing would that be?” The hope in Freya’s voice was unmistakable.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Xander said, his tone strained. He handed Mia a glass of red wine and clinked his glass with hers. “A lot could happen next weekend.”

Mia could see how excitement on the part of Xander’s family could be both lovely and read as nothing but pressure and expectations. It made her think of the way she felt when her mom tried to point her in new and different directions. Maybe her mom hadn’t been suggesting those things to be critical. Maybe Mia was the one being too hard on her mom.

“No matter what happens, we’ll all be there to cheer you on, Xander,” Mia said.

Edward and Audrey soon appeared from upstairs. Audrey, warm and cordial, had put on bright red lipstick and a pretty floral dress that nearly skimmed the floor. And Edward? Well, he was the spitting image of Xander and wearing almost exactly the same thing. He had a similar quiet intensity, too. Mia felt like she was seeing a sneak preview of what Xander would look like in twenty-five years and she had to wonder, would she and Xander still know each other then? Or was he only meant to be a single heavenly chapter of her life?

The thought of him walking the earth and her not calling him or talking to him made her chest ache. It made her eyes sting. She wasn’t sure what she would do without his support. His friendship. He’d carved out a sizable space in her life that would be impossible to fill. And the mere thought of the emptiness that would be left behind? She didn’t dare try to imagine it. It was too sad.

A bottle of wine was opened and after a cursory chat about life as a podcaster in Austin, Texas, they all sat down to eat at the long rustic wood table in the great room. Mia was struck by one thing as they began passing platters of roast beef, potatoes and roasted carrots, as well as Yorkshire pudding—this reminded her of holiday meals with her mom.

The first few years after Mia’s dad left, her aunt Judy would drive over from San Antonio and the three would celebrate together. On Christmas Eve, her aunt would stay over and sleep on the couch. The sisters would drink a bit too much eggnog, play music and dance around while they prepared dinner. In the morning, Mia would eagerly tear open presents while Judy and Amy sat together, nursing hot cups of coffee, and patiently listening to Mia explain the awesomeness of every gift she received. Those were some of Mia’s best memories. But then the sisters became estranged and it was only Mia and her mom after that. That was the way it was now, and it was still nice, but it wasn’t what it could be.

Sitting in this lovely room with the Bishops, a family who so clearly loved each other, Mia realized that as soon as she returned home, she needed to force the issue between her mom and aunt. Find a way to get them to talk. She missed this family feeling. She knew she had a family, but she longed for the special occasions when they felt connected. Mia’s gut told her that despite the way her mom had acted the morning of the Monaco watch party, her mom missed it, too.

With several glasses of wine in her, Mia finally felt comfortable enough to inject herself into the conversation. “I’d really love to hear about Xander as a kid. Especially when he was in his karting days.”

Xander’s parents looked at each other and smiled, then his mom wiped her mouth and put down the napkin. “You wouldn’t believe it now since he’s so tall, but Xander was actually quite small when he was young. He started karting when he was seven—”

“Six,” his dad corrected her.

“You’re right.” His mom nodded. “He was six.”

“And he was so short his feet couldn’t reach the pedals. Of course, modifying a go-kart is an expensive proposition. I think I worked overtime for more than a month to pay for it.”

Xander reached for Mia’s hand under the table, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.

“You have to understand,” his mom said, leaning forward and making eye contact with Mia. “Xander loved it so much. Driving was all he talked about. All he wanted to do. The walls of his room were plastered with photos of Formula One drivers. That was always his goal. We couldn’t bring ourselves to say no. So we did everything we could to make it happen, even though we knew it was an incredible long shot. That’s how we ended up where we are today. We couldn’t be any more proud.”

“He beat the odds simply by getting into the sport,” his dad added.

“It really is so impressive.” Mia glanced at Xander and he squeezed her hand under the table.

“It’s not enough to defy those odds,” Xander said. “I want more. I want to be world champion. I won’t be satisfied until I am.”

“There it is. Always the competitor,” his dad said.

“Mum forgot to mention all the weekends Freya and I got dragged to hundreds of races. It was not fun. We hated it so much. Sitting in the stands, freezing our bollocks,” Oscar said.

“Of course, we love going to the big races now, when we can. We love that VIP treatment. You must love that, too, Mia,” Freya added.

“Oh, sure,” Mia said, even though aside from many trips to the paddock club, she hadn’t really had the full VIP treatment. She’d never gone into the garage to give Xander a good-luck kiss. She’d never walked through the paddock with him, holding hands.

* * *

“Let’s not talk about me anymore,” Xander said. “Let’s talk about anything else. Please.”

Xander did a lot of listening as his parents asked Mia dozens of questions and she dutifully answered them over dinner, two bottles of wine and a sticky toffee pudding Xander would need to work off before Silverstone but was still worth every bite. Over the course of the conversation, he learned more about Mia’s various careers, but by and large, it was mostly things she’d already told him. He wasn’t there for the details, he was there to soak up the warm rapport between Mia and his family, especially between her and his mum. That was no small thing. He loved his family to the ends of the earth, but they could be loud and unfiltered. He’d had several girlfriends who found his family unpalatable. But not Mia. She seemed right at home.

“Thank you for tonight,” Xander said as they rode back to his house in the Jeep.

He glanced at Mia, seeing her only in profile as she looked straight ahead. Her lovely dark hair framed her face so perfectly in the soft light of evening. She was a vision he might never get out of his head.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you. It was amazing. So much fun.” She turned to him as he pulled into the garage and killed the engine. “Do you remember that night in the park in Monza when I asked how you deal with the pressure of F1?”

“I think I told you I just deal with it. I don’t have a choice.” He climbed out of the car, as did Mia. “It’s part of the sport. It will always be there.”

Mia was at his side as they walked into the house. “I think the real pressure comes from your family. And I don’t say that as a bad thing. It’s sweet. Not all pressure is bad. Pressure can be good. It pushes us to do better. And this is the best kind. It’s from not wanting to disappoint the ones you love most.”

He came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, needing a moment to wrap his head around what she’d just said.

Of course he’d spent many sleepless nights worrying about letting down his family. He didn’t want their sacrifices to have been for nothing. But he’d never thought of it as pressure, even though he’d felt it. Internalized it. Kept it close to his heart. Having Mia see it, give it a name and acknowledge it, created a monumental shift inside him. It was like having a weight lifted. Or seeing the sun come up for the first time.

“Mia, that is quite a remarkable thing you just said to me.”

“Just spitballing.”

She started up the stairs, but she stopped and turned back when he reached for her hand. Funny, but with her two steps higher, he could finally look her directly in the eye. The only problem was the distance between them.

“How do you see so much in other people, and you don’t see yourself?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You dismiss your achievements. You play off the nice things people say about you and your work. You did that with Freya tonight. Even yesterday when I tried to congratulate you about your interview with Claudia, you focused on the bad things people were saying.” He took one step up and reached for her hair, the back of his hand brushing her temple. “I just want you to be as generous with yourself as you are with everyone else.”

“Aren’t we all nicer to other people than we are to ourselves?”

“Probably. But I think you take it to a new level.”

She nodded slowly. “You know, no one has ever referred to what I do as my work. You take it seriously, don’t you?”

“I’ve seen how hard you work, Mia. And I do take it seriously. You make people happy. And I will always love what you do because it brought you to me.”

She sighed with a sweet smile on her face. “That’s the real bonus, isn’t it?”

“You’re the real bonus. You are the kindest and most insightful person I have ever met. And you’ve made my life better. You’ve helped me get out of my own head and enjoy life. That’s why I’ve thought of every reason under the sun to keep you from getting on a plane and flying home.”

Mia dropped down a step and leaned into him. “You’re practically keeping me captive.”

He cupped the side of her head, dragging his hand down until he could slip his thumb under her chin. He wanted her in a way he couldn’t describe. He only knew that the need resided in every atom of his being, right alongside his desire to win.

“I only do that selfishly.”

“It’s okay to be selfish.”

“Good. I want to be selfish with you right now.”

He claimed her lips with an open mouth, and she practically melted into him, bowing her back and pressing her breasts against his chest. Everything in his body went tight and hot as she unbuttoned his shirt, spread her hands across his bare chest and caressed his skin, flicking at his nipples with her fingertips. Despite the tension in his body, the way his cock expressed urgency with a rush of heat, he wanted to take his time with her. Perhaps that unexpected sliver of patience came from knowing what he wanted—Mia—and knowing she was in this house and they had all night.

She pushed his shirt from his shoulders and he reached for the hem of her top, lifting it over her head and casting it aside on the stairs. He pulled down her bra straps and his fingers scrambled for the back clasp, then he had her breasts in his hands, cupping them while he felt her velvety skin against his palms. He flicked his tongue against her nipples… There was no way to describe the way he felt when she made that noise.

He wrapped one arm around her torso and used the other to sweep under her legs and picked her up exactly as he had the first day she’d been there. That time had been out of expediency, but this time he hoped to tell her something that wasn’t easy to say with words.

She’d shifted his thinking away from his faults. She’d made a massive impact on his life—she was his friend, but she had become his partner, too. In all things—joy and work and family and even laundry. The effect Mia had on him was starting to feel seismic.

“You’re doing that romance hero thing again,” she muttered into his neck as he carried her up the stairs.

It was true. He was trying to romance her, which was no easy task. This was the push and pull of his relationship with Mia—he wanted her to understand that however much he’d tried to keep things casual, he took it all very seriously. It was his nature, and she made him be true to himself. She’d wanted to take things slow and he’d done everything he could to abide by her rules. But at some point, she would have to decide if she was going to give in to her feelings the way he was giving in to his.

He set her down on his bed and immediately dispatched his pants and boxers, dropping them to the floor, while she wriggled out of her jeans. As he stood before her, blue light from the moon filtering into his room, he bared more than his body. Mia had always seen him, the man, for who he was, not simply for what he was, like much of the world did.

“I think you should do that thing I love. Our thing.” Mia wiggled against the sheets, telegraphing her impatience.

“This?” he asked, fulfilling her request by taking his cock in his hand and stroking it hard.

She nodded. “So fucking hot.”

You’re so fucking hot by just merely existing.

Watching her watching him put him in a most primal headspace. He needed to be inside her now. He stepped to the other side of the bed and opened the bedside-table drawer. Mia rolled over and smoothed her hand over his ass, sending waves of anticipation along his spine as he struggled with the carton of condoms.

He sat on the edge of the bed and handed her the foil package. Mia raised one eyebrow and tore it open. He stretched out beside her, wanting to watch her put it on, but his eyes clamped shut the instant she touched him. That was the effect she had on him. It was like magic.

She played with him, drawing her finger up and down his stomach along the midline. He lifted his head and watched as she eyed his body, her lustrous hair tumbling over her shoulders. As the light changed in the room, it struck him that no one else could make him feel like this. It would never happen again.

He rolled to his side and kissed her, slipping his thumb into the waistband of her panties and tugging them down, but the angles were all wrong and eventually she had to shift to her back and wriggle them down herself. Then she let her knees fall open in invitation. His heart seized in his chest. He sank into her slowly, closing his eyes, feeling every inch of her as he went.

He’d spent nearly his entire life wishing and longing for certain things, mostly his driving career, but he’d never bothered to worry about love. It was always sex and it had never meant much. Not until he met Mia.

He opened his eyes to see her looking back at him, her eyes dark with want. She licked her lips and locked her legs behind him, digging her heels into his ass and her nails into his back. She kissed him into oblivion and he countered every motion of her lips and tongue, a never-ending conversation between them that was both physical and mental.

“You feel so amazing,” she murmured into his neck.

He found it hard to respond, mostly because he was smiling in the dark. “You feel like heaven,” he said.

“You say the corniest things sometimes.”

He laughed quietly. “Only you would criticize me while I’m fucking you.”

“Hey. Hey.” She flattened her hands on both sides of his face. “It’s not criticism. I love that you say sappy, nerdy things. I do.”

She lifted her head and kissed him, gathering around him, her body pulling him in even farther as they continued to move in the rhythm they’d found. He steadied himself and focused on her as the tension in his hips built with every thrust and her sexy, begging noises told him she was close. So close. So very, very close. He could hear it in her breath. Feel it in her pull. Her hips and back rose, her head knocked forward and then fell back as she called out.

Her body clutched his, pushing him to the brink, electricity buzzing through his belly and thighs. Mia opened her eyes and raised both arms above her head, granting him an up-close view of her full and perfect breasts. She used the headboard as leverage, pushing back and bucking against him. He was a strong guy but she met him with surprising force. Heat spiked in his thighs. Every muscle pulled tight. And then the boil rolled over, pulsing out of him in steady beats. He struggled for breath, then he buckled under the weight of the release, his arms rubbery as he struggled to keep his head in the here and now. Mia pulled him close when he collapsed, digging her hands into his hair and kissing his neck while he caught his breath.

“Wow,” was all he could manage as he rolled to his back, mostly because he had a little too much going through his head.

When had he fallen for Mia? He wasn’t quite sure. He supposed it was inch by inch and then it was all at once.

“I agree. That was definitely a wow.” She settled next to him on her side, resting her head on his shoulder and smoothing her hand over his stomach.

He lazily dragged his hand up and down along the curve of her spine. “Thank you again for tonight. It meant a lot to me. To see you with my family.”

“They’re so awesome. I had the best time.”

“I hope to meet your family. I mean, your mom. When I come to Austin. We should plan a dinner.”

Mia popped up onto her elbow. “Do you have time for that? You’re always so busy during a race weekend.”

“I’ll make time.”

“Really?”

Xander sat up and turned to her. “Yes. Mia. I want to be part of your world, just like you have become part of mine. That includes meeting your mom. If you’re okay with it.”

“Of course I’m okay with it. I just…” She looked off and he could tell those gears in her head were turning.

“Look at me.” He redirected her vision to him. “This is not a big deal. We’re talking about a meal with you and me and your mom.”

“Okay.” She nodded, but didn’t seem convinced. He hoped like hell that her attitude about this was more about her need to take things slowly and not about him.

“How do you want to handle Silverstone? Do we go on pretending we aren’t together? Because something about that doesn’t feel right.” He’d already brought up one uncomfortable subject. Might as well tackle another.

Mia exhaled. “I still think we’re asking for trouble if we let people know we’re a couple. I’m not ready for that heat from my listeners. You’d have Isabel to answer to. And everyone else will likely lose their collective minds. I don’t think we’d get the same attention as Florian and Emma, but more people know who I am now. I did that interview with Claudia. My subscriber numbers keep climbing.”

Secrecy and sneaking around weren’t part of what Xander wanted with Mia, but once again, it felt like the prudent thing to follow her lead.

“Lord knows we wouldn’t want to end up as Xandia.”

“Or worse, Miander.”

Thirteen

What is your biggest flaw? What does it say about you?

This one is almost too easy. I’m a perfectionist. Some people might call that an asset. I know for a fact my perfectionism got me to Formula One. It is a sport built on the slimmest of margins—fractions of a second between you and a competitor, inches between you and a fiery crash. Working hard to eradicate mistakes and eliminate those margins made me a good driver. The only problem is that real life isn’t like that, and I sometimes have a hard time switching gears (ha).

Mum has had a tough few days. Not that I thought she and Dad would be here for the race today, but I don’t like knowing they are at home dealing with something far more important than racing, and I have work to attend to. I did well in qualifying yesterday. P6. A podium finish is within reach. And I feel like I can taste it.

This race means so much. Almost too much. My home country. The GP I’ve attended so many times with my dad. Oscar and Freya are here. So that’s nice. And Mia, of course. She flies home tomorrow and we’re continuing this charade where we pretend like we hardly know each other. I only see her in the motorhome.

It feels wrong. It weighs on me. But life isn’t perfect, right? I need to remember that.

“Bloody hell. It’s true. It’s official.” Freya, sitting on one of the bench seats in the motorhome, swiped away at her phone. “Florian and Emma really are no more, already.”

“Is there confirmation?” Mia asked, sitting across from her.

Freya handed over her phone. “Emma issued a statement.”

Mia read, then returned the device to Freya, shaking her head. “That poor woman. She couldn’t handle the pressure. She said it. The press followed her everywhere while she was in England this week.”

“They were together a sum total of ten days.” Freya sighed.

“Which is like five years for a nonfamous couple,” Mia added.

“RIP Flemma. My sister might never be the same,” Oscar quipped.

Mia slid a glance in Xander’s direction. “If Emma Taylor-Ross can’t handle the pressure of the media microscope, who can? She’s a huge actress. Her face is on the side of buses. She’s used to having her life revealed for all to see.”

“Everyone is different.” Xander closed up his journal and ducked back into the bedroom to stow it. Writing down his feelings might have helped him today. Sure, it had stirred up a whole lot of the things on his mind, but it also allowed him to offload his thoughts so he could focus on the race. Huh. Perhaps Mia had been right all along.

“Freya and Oscar, I love you both, but I need a private moment with Mia and then I need to go to work.”

Oscar sprang from his seat and saluted. “Right-o. We’ll get out of your hair.”

“Apparently, our brother needs a good-luck snog for the road.” Freya looped her cross-body bag over her head.

“Brilliant. Then go on.” With a nod, Xander shooed them out.

“We’re going, we’re going.” Freya dutifully followed Oscar down the stairs and outside, punctuating her exit with a slam of the door.

Mia immediately gripped Xander’s shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “Is everything okay with you? You seem preoccupied. You’re going to do great today. You know that, right?”

“Freya was driving me barmy with her nonstop talk about Flemma.” He took a deep breath and let himself get lost in Mia’s eyes for a moment. Just like the journal, she helped him smooth off his ragged edges. She was his respite. Always there for him. Always supportive.

“Think of it this way. The situation with Florian and Emma is confirmation that we made the right decision by not being public. It would open a can of worms that would end up being nothing but a distraction for you. Now you can focus on your race.”

Again, she was right, but he still didn’t like it. Every other driver who had a partner could stroll through the paddock with them hand in hand. Mia wasn’t a world-famous actress like Emma. Yes, she was building a name for herself within the sport, but would anyone even care after the first day or so?

Then again, he and Mia still hadn’t pinned a label on their relationship beyond admitting that they liked each other. He only knew his feelings for her were strong. The L-word was a persistent presence in his head. But he was okay with going fast and Mia had been clear many times—she had to take things slow.

“You’re right. This allows me to focus on the race. No drama.”

“Just focus on the flow of it. The way you feel when you and Charles are working well together. Visualize that. Looking ahead to a big finish. You qualified great. Now just finish the job.”

“Another P6, though. It’s not enough. It just isn’t. Not for me.”

Just like being friends with Mia wasn’t enough, either. But this wasn’t the time to talk about it. Perhaps they’d have some time after the race and before he took her to the airport.

Mia pulled him into a hug and reassuringly patted his back. “You qualified ahead of Dirk. Again. And don’t think about where you’re starting. Think about where you want to go.”

He drew in another deep breath, trying hard not to think about her leaving tomorrow. He’d have no more of this.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

Mia released her hold on Xander and he gave her a kiss. The instant it was over, he knew one indisputable fact—what they had was amazing, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“You’re going to kill it today,” she said. “I can feel it.”

“I’ll see you after the race. Have fun with Freya and Oscar.”

Mia smiled. “I will. See you soon.”

And just like that, she grabbed her bag and was gone.

Xander waited a few minutes before he left, then met up with Isabel at the motorhome entrance.

“How are we doing today?” she asked, handing him a Mega Racing umbrella. Along with things like wearing headphones, an umbrella was a good way to tell any passersby not to bother him. He didn’t have the mental bandwidth for chitchat, autographs, or selfies. It was time for work.

“Ready to get to it.” Xander raised the umbrella above his head.

“Perfect.”

Isabel was his eyes and ears as they moved through the crowded paddock, and Xander kept his sights on the ground so he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. He bid a silent goodbye to her with a wave, then lowered the umbrella and ducked into the Mega garage. It was a bustle of activity, per usual, and once again, Dirk wore a scowl.

“Good luck today,” Xander said, wanting to keep things cordial.

“I don’t need your encouragement,” Dirk said.

Xander supposed he could understand Dirk’s response since Xander had done better than him in qualifying. But Xander was so tired of this dynamic. Dirk wanted there to be a war between them, but Xander deserved a say in this, too. He’d had enough of the acrimony. It was time to mix things up.

“Dirk, did you know you were my favorite driver when I was a kid?”

Several mechanics took notice with bugged eyes and looks of pure shock.

“Are you making a joke about my age? I’m not old.” Dirk slapped his rock-hard belly with his open palm. “I’ve never been in better shape. I could kick your ass if I had to.”

Xander stepped closer, realizing that the Dirk he’d once idolized and the real Dirk were not the same people. And as much as he wanted to be on a team built on harmony and cooperation, that might not be in the cards.

“It’s not a joke. My dad brought me to Silverstone when I was a kid and we waited hours to see you. You signed a photo for me. I still have it at home. I keep it in my garage with my car gear. I can text you a picture of it sometime if you want.”

“You’re not as good at these mind games as you think you are.” Dirk pulled his balaclava over his head.

Xander let out a snort, then grabbed his helmet. He’d tried. That might be as much closure as he would ever get. The things he’d written in his journal that morning came to mind—real life wasn’t perfect. Nor was his relationship with Dirk, apparently.

“Like I said, Dirk, good luck.”

* * *

Mia, Freya and Oscar had scouted out the ideal spot on the paddock club viewing balcony, high above the pit lane and right over the Mega team garage with a perfect view of the starting grid.

“I’ve never watched from up here before,” Oscar said.

“We usually get to be in the garage. With headphones. Listening to the team radio,” Freya added.

Mia realized they were enduring lesser accommodations because of her. “I’m sorry if this isn’t as good of a seat.”

Oscar shook his head. “I think I like it better from up here. You can see more.”

Freya slung her arm over Mia’s shoulder. “Plus, we get to hang out with you.”

Mia smiled and returned the half hug. She truly adored Freya and Oscar. She’d only known them a short time, but they were so much fun to be around, just like their brother.

“It’s really nice to have company. I’ve had to watch the last few races by myself. This is way better.”

Off to the side, something caught Mia’s eye. She turned to see a figure just inside the club. She lowered her sunglasses and squinted. Reginald Huff was looking right at her. He raised his camera. And took a picture of her and Freya. Mia dropped her arm from Freya’s shoulder and took a step in his direction, but the balcony was already quite full. In a flash, he turned and disappeared.

“Well, fuck,” Mia said, worried.

“What’s wrong?” Freya asked.

Mia choked back a grumble. She didn’t like being so paranoid about Reginald, but something told her she needed to keep up her guard. “Nothing. Just someone I don’t like.”

Below them came the rumble of car engines readying to head out, a sound that always sent ripples of excitement through her. She’d worry about Reginald Huff later.

* * *

Xander finished the formation lap and was about to take his spot on the grid when the sky went dark. His pulse picked up and he immediately hopped on the radio.

“Is there rain in the forecast? I thought we were expecting dry conditions. Has that changed?”

He didn’t want to sound too excited, but he was thrilled at the prospect. Xander loved to race in the rain.

“There are a few cells moving through the area,” his race engineer said. “Nothing significant. But I’ll keep you posted if it looks like anything will change.”

Xander pulled into his P6 position and looked skyward. He made a little wish to the weather gods for things to go his way. The first light went on. The second. Third. Fourth. Fifth. Then out.

Xander got away as cleanly as he possibly could.

* * *

“Does anyone else feel like it might rain?” Mia asked after the twentieth lap. Xander was up one place, which was great news, but it was an otherwise uneventful race.

Oscar shook his head. “Nah. This is just English weather.”

Freya sighed. “I wish something exciting would happen. Like a crash.”

“Freya! Careful what you wish for,” Oscar snapped. “What if it was Xander who crashed? That would be horrible. Mum was worried sick after he spun out in Monaco.”

Mia couldn’t even say anything. She was terrified she might speak something bad into existence.

“I wasn’t suggesting that.” Freya gently hit Oscar’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “But I can’t help it. I like excitement.”

“All I care about is Xander finishing this race in one piece,” Oscar said.

“Me, too, Oscar. Me, too,” Mia added with a heavy sigh.

* * *

By the fortieth lap, Xander knew it was going to rain. The wind had shifted. The sky had yet again grown darker.

“What’s the latest with the weather?” he asked over the radio.

“Radar still looks relatively clear despite the cloud cover.”

Xander wasn’t convinced. Call it his gut or intuition, he had a feeling something was about to change.

“I don’t totally trust the radar. Please alert the crew about a possible late change to inters. If it starts to rain, I’m coming in right away to switch tires.”

“We’ll have to talk about that, Xander. Even if we do get some rain, there are only twelve laps to go. You risk losing position with another stop.”

All Xander could think about was how he’d played it safe in Austria and lived to regret it. “Just prepare, okay? If it doesn’t work, I’ll take the heat.”

* * *

Mia felt a raindrop on her nose. She directed her gaze skyward. Another drop, this one fatter and on her upper lip. “It’s raining.”

She looked out on the horizon. A massive black cloud that seemed to have come out of nowhere was rolling toward them at immense speed, headed straight for the track.

“Bloody hell,” Oscar said. “Mia, you’re right. You were right. Sky’s about to open up.”

As if Oscar had conjured the weather, the dark cloud doubled in size, dark and swirling and foreboding, now blocking out the sun. A few seconds later, the rain came. Standing on the balcony, they were shielded from it, but Mia thought it might be wise to seek cover.

“Freya. Oscar. Let’s watch from inside.”

“Looks like we’ve got a cats-and-dogs situation on our hands,” the announcer said from the TVs inside the club. “Because ladies and gentlemen, it is officially raining at Silverstone. This is going to be very interesting. Hubbard is already sliding around a bit. Oh! Hold on! Look there! That’s Xander Bishop heading straight into the pits. What in the world is he doing? Surely there’s no time for another tire change, but the Mega pit crew is running out with the intermediates. Well, there’s a bit of intrigue for you in the closing laps of this race. I predict things are about to get spicy!”

Mia’s stomach felt like it was inside a whirling blender. She didn’t want any more disappointment for Xander. This race meant so much to him.

“You wanted excitement,” Mia said to Freya, her heart up in her throat. “I think we got it.”

* * *

“You’d better be right, Xander,” his engineer said over the radio.

Xander roared out of the pit lane.

“I’ll buy you a pint if I’m wrong.”

As soon as he was up to speed and back on track, he knew he’d made the right decision. Ahead, three different cars were all struggling with grip. And he was in the driver’s seat in every sense of the word.

A bit of rain might not be perfect for everyone else, but it was right on time for Xander.

* * *

Freya, Oscar and Mia all had their eyes glued to the screen. Someone would have had to set Mia’s hair on fire to get her to look away.

“Hey. Uh. Mia. You can maybe hold on to my arm a little less hard,” Oscar said.

Mia let go and shook out her hands. Her fingers ached from gripping Oscar so firmly. “Sorry. I’m just—”

“Nervous?” Freya interjected, bouncing up and down on her toes. “Me, too.”

After his pit stop, Xander had come out in P10, but as other drivers began to slide all over the track and visibility became worse and worse, he passed cars like crazy. “That’s P4 for Xander Bishop. What an overtake from the Brit! Could it be that he’s trying extra hard for his home Grand Prix? I think that might be the case. Matsumoto has finally relented and gone in for the intermediate tires as well. With three laps to go, it might be too late.”

“Come on, Xander,” Mia muttered, her lower lip trembling with a mix of emotion and nervousness she couldn’t begin to understand. “You. Can. Do. It.”

Yes, she absolutely wanted him to hold on to what he had, but she also knew what was within reach—if he moved up one more position, he’d be on the podium.

* * *

Xander couldn’t see shit.

There was so much mist and spray it was impossible. At this point, he was driving on pure instinct and thankful for the blinking lights on the backs of the cars ahead.

Focus, Xander. Fucking focus.

“Lockford is struggling for pace, Xander. You can take him,” his engineer said.

“Stop talking. Please. Just let me drive,” Xander snapped.

He hated losing his cool, but so much of what he wanted was within reach and he needed everyone to just get the hell out of his way. Starting with Brett Lockford.

* * *

P2. Xander was in P2.

“Here it is,” the announcer said. “The final lap.”

The paddock club was packed with people now, trying to avoid the rain. Everyone was staring at the TVs cheering Xander on—the hometown boy, about to become a hero. If all went well.

“Come on, Xander!” Oscar yelled at the screen.

“Oh, my God,” Freya said, clutching her stomach. “I’m going to be sick.”

“I hope your parents are watching,” Mia said.

Thinking about someone else was a good way to distract herself from what was happening. From the enormity of it all. But she could also imagine Audrey consumed by the nerves of watching her son risk life and limb on a track that had turned to an ice rink in the rain. And Edward, filled with hope for a fantastic finish at the Grand Prix that meant so much to the entire family. Once again, a podium finish for Xander felt like too much to hope for. Too much to hold on to…

And then, just like that, Xander flew across the finish line. In second place.

Mia, Freya and Oscar screamed at the exact same time, as did everyone else in the paddock club. It was an explosion of sound, followed by a bright flash of light—a reaction awash in pure joy. The three of them jumped up and down, arms wrapped around each other, Freya crying and Oscar laughing and Mia somewhere in between.

Catharsis didn’t begin to describe it. It was church bells and a shout from a mountaintop and the roar of a crowd at a ticker tape parade. And when the celebration calmed enough for the result to sink in, Mia looked at Freya and then at Oscar, with their wide-as-the-sky grins, and she realized she felt like part of something. Something big. Bigger than anything she’d experienced in her life.

She’d stepped into this world expecting that she’d never truly belong, but she’d found her place. With Xander, his family, this sport. She belonged.

“Hurry! Let’s go!” Oscar yelled. “We have to run down to the podium. I don’t want to watch from the balcony!”

Mia and Freya grabbed their bags and the three of them hustled downstairs, frantically winding their way through the crowds in the paddock and then into the mayhem of fans running to stand in front of the podium. Luckily, the rain now was nothing more than a sprinkle. Isabel spotted Mia, Freya and Oscar and flagged them down.

“I’ve got a spot for you three to watch. Come on.”

Isabel led them behind the barricades to where select family were allowed to watch the podium ceremony near the mechanics and engineers. Mia had seen people stand in this coveted place many times on television, but she’d never imagined she would be there herself.

“I’m so glad you’re here for this,” Freya said, leaning into Mia.

Mia couldn’t explain the way she felt right now—light and free, with nothing but pure happiness coursing through her veins. She kissed Freya on the temple.

“Same. Thank you for sharing this with me. It was so much fun.”

From the podium, they began announcing the drivers’ names. First up was Florian, who received an enthusiastic round of applause from the crowd, not only because he’d taken third place, but possibly because everyone felt bad for his breakup.

Next came Xander…and all hell broke loose. The crowd whooped and hollered in deafening fashion—a British driver on the podium at Silverstone was a very important point of national pride. Clearly. Xander walked out and waved at the adoring masses, looking like he was twenty feet tall, and Mia felt like she would burst.

It was so obvious he’d been crying. His eyes were ringed in pink. But his smile was wide and effortless. He was beaming. Like he was carrying around the whole goddamn sun inside him. She couldn’t wait to see him. Touch him. Kiss him and congratulate him and tell him he was brilliant. The anticipation bubbled under her skin. It wound its way around her heart, along with a thought, one that had been floating around in her head for days as a very vague idea, fueled by sex and stolen kisses and furtive glances. Now that idea was a full-blown thesis, with citations and empirical evidence and footnotes.

She loved Xander. She loved him. That was it. Game over.

Also, she was leaving tomorrow. Fuck.

Emilio took his place on the top step and the band played the Spanish national anthem, followed by the Italian anthem for Vermillion. Trophies were handed out and again the crowd lost it, this time when Xander triumphantly hoisted his over his head. The “Toreador March” blared from the loudspeakers, sprays of champagne began to rain and Mia wondered what was going through Xander’s head right now. Relief? Jubilation? Or more of his yearning for something better? He was the guy who would always be looking for more. But that hunger was part of what made him an elite competitor. That desire for more had put him on the podium today. It had given him a taste of what he’d been chasing all season.

Mia felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Isabel.

“I can get you a sliver of time with Xander before he heads to the media pen. It’ll only be a minute, but I’m sure you don’t want to wait. And he really wants to see you. He told me.”

Mia turned to Freya and Oscar. “You guys should come with me.”

Freya slung her arm over Oscar’s shoulder and shook her head. “Oh, rubbish. You go on. We’ll see him later.”

“Are you sure?”

Oscar smiled and nodded. “Let me put it this way. We’ll never hear the end of it from Xander if we crash his moment with you.”

Mia wound her way through the crowd with Isabel then down a corridor and into a covered breezeway between two of the paddock buildings. Like magic, Xander emerged from a door.

“There you are,” he said, smiling wide.

“Oh, my God, I’m so proud of you,” was all Mia could manage before Xander had her wrapped in a sweaty champagne-soaked embrace. Her feet left the ground and he swung her around as she rested her arms on his broad shoulders and dug her fingers into his hair and delivered a kiss that made a tear run down her cheek.

Fuck. She loved him.

And she couldn’t bear to think this might be all there ever was between them.

“I wish we could do that forever, but I have to go do media.” He put her back down on the ground and peered into her eyes, then wiped her cheek with his thumb. “It’s okay to cry. I cried like a baby in my car after I crossed the finish line.”

Mia smiled, scanning his face and committing every detail to memory. She needed to hold on to these small moments with him. Even though they might break her heart later, after she left, when the reality sank in.

“I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

“I’ll see you in a bit, darling.” Xander turned.

Mia grasped his arm. “Xander. Wait.”

“Yes?”

All Mia could think about was how she’d spent her whole life scared of taking a relationship too fast, but that this was the one moment where she wanted to set that aside. She was leaving England tomorrow, and the future? Well, absolutely none of it was certain.

“I love you, Xander. I know that’s a lot to hear right now and it’s your big day, but I didn’t want you to walk away without knowing… I love you.”

He peered down at her and for a moment, she could’ve sworn his lower lip trembled.

“You are full of surprises, Mia Neal.”

“Well, that’s one way to respond.”

“I love you, too.” He reached down and squeezed her hand. “Had you not figured that out yet? I was just waiting for you to come around. I didn’t want to go too fast.”

“But you’re so good at going fast. I mean, they gave you a trophy for it today.”

“Xander,” Isabel called from a few feet away. “The media pen is buzzing. Everyone is waiting for you.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I have to go, darling. We can resume this conversation later, okay?”

Mia nodded eagerly, half crying, half laughing, all of it in disbelief. “Yes. I’ll see you soon.”

Mia stood there for a moment by herself, taking it all in. “Well, damn. That actually went pretty well.”

She let out a quiet laugh, wiped her tears, and went off to find Oscar and Freya. She found them in the paddock, then the three of them headed back to the motorhome to wait for Xander. As soon as they were inside and had some quiet, Mia pulled her phone out of her pocket. She had dozens of notifications after the dramatic end to the race. The first thing she saw was a text from Heather.

You’re at Silverstone? I just saw you on TV during the podium ceremony. I thought you were coming home after Austria? I really need you to tell me when you’re at a GP so I can keep the fan club notified. You didn’t mention it on the last episode of NSF either. The F1 conspiracy theorists are losing their minds because you were spotted in front of the podium with Xander’s siblings. They think Mega Racing hired you to raise Xander’s profile and that the pod was fake from the beginning. I’m doing my best to defend you, but there are sooo many comments. And your diehard fans are listening. Hard.

Mia’s stomach sank. Had she been a fool to think she could keep her connection to Xander a secret? Probably. At least that was still under wraps. Hanging out with Oscar and Freya was not the same as a romance with Xander.

Hey Heather. Thanks for checking in. Yes, I ended up at Silverstone. I had so much fun in Austria, I figured I might as well stay. I’m so sorry I didn’t let you know. Things have been so busy. Don’t waste your day trying to defend me. It’s not fair to you. Trolls will be trolls. I fly home tomorrow. Can we catch up then?

That sounds great. Talk soon.

Mia didn’t want to overanalyze a text, but Heather was the queen of exclamation marks. Things were changing. Mia could feel it.

A moment later, Mia received a text from her mother and knew for a fact that her world was tilting off its axis.

You’re in England? My editor saw you on TV. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you even put me down as your emergency contact when you booked your flight?

Yes, I’m in England. I didn’t know that I had to tell you every little thing that I do.

Is this what our relationship has become? You hide things from me and I have to use my investigative reporting skills to find out what my own daughter is doing?

Mia needed to defuse this situation since her mom was blowing it out of proportion.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I fly home tomorrow. Let’s have dinner this week and I’ll catch you up. Tuesday night? My apartment? I’ll cook.

You’re changing the subject.

I’m not. I’m merely suggesting we talk about it in person.

What time? Should I bring wine? White or red? What about an appetizer? Or dessert? I don’t want to interfere with whatever you were planning to prepare.

Six. Definitely wine. White, please. Not sure what I’m going to cook. I just want to catch up.

Fly safe. And don’t drink water on the airplane unless it comes out of a bottle. I read an article about how the airlines have let sanitation standards slip. Love you. Mom

After those two exchanges, Mia wanted nothing to do with her phone so she tucked it into her bag. Unfortunately, there were two other phones on the motorhome and she had zero control of those.

“Somebody posted a photo of us up on the balcony in the paddock club. Who’s Reginald Huff? He tagged me,” Freya said.

Oscar was on the case. “He tagged me, too. And Mia. Is it just me or is this caption semicreepy?”

Mia couldn’t bear to look. “What does it say?”

“‘Got some very interesting photos at Silverstone today,’” Freya started reading. “‘Of course, the paddock is abuzz with talk of Xander Bishop and his impressive second-place finish.’” She looked at Oscar and smiled. “Aww. Sweet.”

“Yeah, but that’s not everything,” Oscar replied, then focused his attention on the post. “‘Here are his sister Freya and brother Oscar attending the Grand Prix with none other than American podcaster and aspiring Formula One influencer Mia Neal. If you’re a Xander fan, be sure to check tomorrow’s front page of The Daily Reflection. It’s going to be a hot one.’”

“What does that mean?” Freya asked. “If you’re a Xander fan, check out tomorrow’s front page? It’s going to be a hot one?”

“Not sure.” Mia’s brain was going one million miles a minute. She was surprised smoke wasn’t coming out of her ears. What was Reginald Huff up to? No good was the only logical answer.

Just then, Mia heard the latch to the door on the motorhome and up the stairs came Xander.

“There he is!” she exclaimed, her heart full despite everything that had come to light in the past few minutes. She popped up from her seat to greet him, noticing how different it felt to look at him now.

She loved him. And he loved her back.

Freya and Oscar had similar reactions, each of them vying for Xander’s attention with hugs and well-wishes. When things settled down, Xander smiled and looked at all three of them. “What have you all been up to?”

“Do you know a man named Reginald Huff?” Freya asked.

“I do. Why?” His sights narrowed on his sister.

“It’s nothing.” Mia lightly hit Freya’s leg with the back of her hand. “He’s just saying The Daily Reflection is going to publish photos of you tomorrow. No big surprise there. I’m sure he got all sorts of great shots of you up on the podium. It’s a big deal. I’m sure you’ll be in lots of publications all across England tomorrow.”

Xander cast a doubtful look in Mia’s direction. “Do you really think Reginald Huff will be charitable with me?”

“In this case, yes. I do.” Mia really didn’t want to ruin today. Too many good things had happened. A podium. I love you. Those were worth savoring. They were worth celebrating. “Now, who wants to hunt down some champagne?”

Fourteen

What is something you need to let go of? Why?

Apparently, I need to let go of the cringey feelings I have when I see myself in a photo. Because Xander and I are on the front page of The Daily Reflection. The front page. With the headline “Snogging at Silverstone.” A year ago, I would’ve killed for this kind of exposure. I also would’ve been cheering myself on for making out with the hottest driver in F1. Still, I never wanted things to play out like this. I love him. He loves me. The news of our relationship should not have come out in such a public way, with zero say from either of us. Then again, it was my choice to keep the secret. I put my podcast first. And now that all might backfire.

Across the kitchen, the teakettle whistled. Xander poured the steaming water into two mugs and brought them over to Mia, who sat on the other side of the island. Her suitcases were parked at the front door. They needed to depart for Heathrow in less than an hour. Leaving was the other thing she was freaking out about, but she couldn’t multitask right now. Her brain and heart couldn’t process this much information at one time.

“It’ll blow over. I promise,” Xander said.

How charmingly naive was he? Not that charming, actually. It was driving Mia nuts that he was so calm.

“Doesn’t it make you mad? You came in second yesterday and this is what people are talking about? It’s not fair to you. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Of course it isn’t fair. It’s bloody rubbish. But this is the UK press and there’s nothing anyone can do. Other than perhaps give Reginald Huff a black eye.”

“Violence is never the answer.”

He cocked his head to one side and narrowed his stare. “Is that really true? In all cases?”

Mia shook her head and returned her focus to the paper. “How do you look so amazing in these photos? I look like the creature from the Black Lagoon trying to consume your face.” She flipped the paper back to the front page. Her stomach lurched. There she was with Xander in the ultimate paddock clutch pose, as they kissed each other into oblivion, Mia going for the gold with her tongue. “My mother is going to have kittens. An entire litter of fucking adorable kittens that I will have to raise. And you know they’ll all live to be twenty.”

“So you’re saying she won’t be happy.” Xander came up behind her and wrapped her up in his ridiculously long arms, kissed the side of her head, then rested his chin on her shoulder. It was enough to settle her pulse rate.

“Why would she be? What mom wants a photo like this of their daughter on the front page of a British newspaper?”

“It’s not a newspaper. It’s the lining for a parakeet cage. And blame it on me. I was totally caught up in the moment and you were looking so hot, I had to get some while the getting was so very good. Plus, maybe she won’t even see it.”

She turned her head and stared him right in the eye. “My mother prides herself on consuming all kinds of news. As much of it as humanly possible. It’s only a matter of time.”

Xander slid onto the bar stool next to Mia and took her hand. “This is really bothering you, isn’t it? I can hear it in your voice.”

“Everything is falling apart and it’ll just get worse once everyone in the States wakes up and sees this. It’s only a matter of time before I get a horrible text from Heather, the woman who runs the fan club. I can’t even look at social media right now. The things people are saying are so terrible. I’m really worried about the podcast.”

She could tell from the look on his face that he wanted to roll his eyes. “Don’t you think this could ultimately be a good thing? Millions of people are going to see those photos and know who you are.”

“This isn’t exactly the first impression I hoped to make. A lot of F1 fans have suspected this for a while now, but now they’ll know for sure that our relationship was the reason I went soft on you. Everything I’ve built does not look good through that lens.”

A deep furrow formed between his eyes. “My season has also turned around. That’s a good reason for not saying shit about me.”

“Of course it is,” she grumbled and stared off. “But I still have to find a way to explain myself that doesn’t burn everything I’ve built to the ground.”

“What are you going to say?”

“That we’re friends and we were caught up in the excitement of your podium finish?”

“Seems like we’re more than friends. My tongue is down your throat.”

“I don’t suppose I can get away with saying it’s because you’re British and everyone knows the English are notoriously horny? Make it a cultural thing?”

“I’m no expert on public relations, but my gut says that won’t work. I think honesty is the best policy. I say we come clean. We have to.”

Mia couldn’t see her way through this. Everything in her gut was telling her the podcast was toast. Should she have come out with the truth earlier? Or maybe she should’ve just stayed away from Xander entirely? The mere thought made her stomach sour. She didn’t regret Xander. How could she? They’d fallen in love. That alone was a dream come true.

“Look, I understand how you’re feeling,” Xander said. “You’re trying to save the success you built.”

Mia so appreciated his kind words and understanding, but it wasn’t enough to stem the tide of frustration raging in her body.

“I’m not sure you can completely understand this because you’re a driver and I’m not. And you’re a man and I’m a woman. But Formula One is a very male-dominated space and it’s going to be way too easy for everyone to dismiss me as someone who didn’t care about the sport but was just looking to get her hooks into a driver.”

“I hadn’t thought about it that way. Probably because I know it’s not the truth.”

She turned on her bar stool and peered into his amazing eyes. “A lot of people aren’t going to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“I support you in whatever you need to do to get out of this. Okay?”

Mia scanned his face, wondering how the fuck she managed to get so lucky. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Finish your tea. We don’t want you to miss your flight.”

Mia’s phone beeped with a text and she reluctantly looked at it. The message was from her aunt.

Good for you! It must be genetic.

“Everything okay?” Xander asked.

“Yeah. Just another voice that isn’t being very helpful right now.”

* * *

Xander drove Mia to Heathrow in near silence. Today should have been bittersweet but ultimately wonderful—they’d say their teary goodbye in the wake of his showing at Silverstone. They’d see each other in only a few days, in Austin. They loved each other. Did anything else matter?

He wanted to say no, but he hadn’t planned on bloody Reginald Huff putting them on the front page of The Daily Reflection. He’d tried to play it off back at the house, but the reality was this was a very big deal. He’d had several panicked texts from Isabel. He was to head for an emergency team PR meeting right after he dropped Mia at the airport.

As he pulled into the secret rich person garage and zipped up to the curb, Xander reached over and patted Mia’s leg. “I’ve booked someone to help you with your bags. And you won’t have to go inside to check them. They’ll handle that.” At least he could do that much for her. Everything else about being involved with him made her life so messy.

He looked over and watched as a single tear leaked from the corner of Mia’s eye. She was so sweet. So kind. So heartbreakingly amazing. And she was about to get on a plane, fly away from him. Would I love you be enough to hold them together when it felt like things were falling apart? Good God, he hoped so.

“Thank you,” she croaked as the dam broke and the tears really started to fall.

Xander killed the engine and unhooked his seat belt. “Come here.”

Mia freed herself from her own seat belt and wrapped her arms around him. How he wished there was some simple way for her to climb over the center console of an Aston Martin.

“I don’t even know how to say thank you,” she sobbed. “It’s been…so…amazing.”

He tightened his hold. Clearly, she was beyond stressed. And possibly not thinking straight. He had a pretty good idea now of how her brain worked and he feared she was about to spiral. He wanted to keep things as simple and optimistic as possible.

“I’m going to see you in Austin when I get there on Thursday. It’s only three days.”

“I know. But until then I have to deal with the whole world losing its mind. The photos were just the match thrown on the powder keg.”

He loosened his grip and rubbed the side of her face with his thumb, swiping away the tears. Looking at her now reminded him of what it had felt like to look down and see her gazing up at him while he stood on that podium yesterday. In that unbelievable moment, her mere presence made everything better. He had to find a way to make something better for her.

“Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing. I’ll work it out.”

“Mia… I can see it on your face. It’s not nothing.”

Visions of the night in Monza popped into his head. There in the park, Mia had told him she could see stress taking up residence in his body. Now he saw the same thing in her.

“I managed to destroy the one thing I built in my life, all because I was trying to protect it. You know, people always tell me I’m smart, but right now I feel incredibly stupid.”

“You are not stupid. And you can always shift gears if you need to. The podcast doesn’t have to be the only great thing you do. It’s only proof that you have amazing ideas and can make things happen. People shift gears and make changes in their lives all the time.”

“I’ve spent my whole life doing that. I want to stick to one thing. For once.”

He hated hearing the distress in her voice, but he admired her determination. “You always talk about the jobs you’ve left or careers you’ve pursued as if it’s some sign of a personal shortcoming. What if it isn’t that? What if it’s just that you knew they weren’t right for you?”

“You’re giving me more credit than I deserve.”

Xander sat back a bit, creating distance between them. She wasn’t listening. And she was being unreasonably hard on herself.

“I think you need to decide what you want. What you want more than anything.”

He could see her brain immediately go into overdrive, whirring and tumbling and processing.

“What I want is for everything to not be so complicated. I just want there to be a clear path forward. For the skies to part and for the sun to shine a bright light on an answer. What I really want is impossible. I want to be loved and appreciated… I want to be adored, for being exactly who I am.”

Xander laughed, finding none of this funny. “But you already have that. From me. I love you.”

Her shoulders dropped. “I love you, too. But that’s not exactly what I mean. I’m not talking about romance or a relationship. I’m talking about having a purpose and being appreciated for what I do. Finding my perfect place. I thought I’d found that with the podcast and it’s turned into a nightmare. And unfortunately, it has me wondering if I belong in the world of F1 at all.”

“But that world is my world. So yes, you do belong in it. However you decide to be a part of it.”

She shook her head slowly. “Your world is big and glamorous. And my world is tiny and not like that at all. Do I actually belong in your world?”

He wanted to scream, But I love you, and hope his words could shake her thinking and turn all this around. But she was clearly questioning whether or not they belonged together and he’d be damned if he would convince her. If she didn’t know it in the very core of her being, then it wasn’t right.

“That night with my family, it felt like you belonged in my world.”

“That night with your family was lovely and amazing. But it wasn’t everything.”

“It was something.”

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “This whole thing has happened so fast.”

And there it was. She’d told him, straight up, that she needed time to wrap her head around relationships. He needed to give her that space. It didn’t feel fast to him, but his entire life was built around speed.

“I think you need some time to think. And some space.”

She nodded. “I think you’re right. As scary as that might sound. Because we both know I could win a gold medal in overthinking.”

“It’s the way your beautiful brain works. Let it do its job.” Just then, a man appeared at the curb and nodded at Xander. “Looks like the person is here to take your bags.”

“Okay.”

He climbed out of the car and pulled her bags from the boot. As he set down her suitcases, he knew very well he wasn’t close to being ready to let her go. Frankly, this was a shitty way to say goodbye. But just like so many other things in his life, it was imperfect and deeply flawed and he was learning to accept that.

“I’m just going to say one more thing. Only you can decide what you want. And I don’t want to influence your choices. I think you and I need to wait to talk until I’m in Austin.”

“What? Why? Are you breaking up with me?”

He smiled for an instant. Funnily enough, most of that conversation had felt like she was breaking up with him.

“I know us. We’ll start talking or texting and things will get flirtatious or we’ll joke around, and as much as I love those things, it will just cloud your judgment.”

“But I love it when you cloud my judgment.”

He clasped his hands on either side of her head and looked her straight in the eye. “I’m serious, Mia. You are a strong, independent woman with a brain that is unsurpassed. I want you to use that brain to figure out what you want.”

“This is going to be hard.”

“I know. It’ll be hard for both of us.” He leaned in and pressed the softest kiss on her lips, making a silent wish that it wouldn’t be the last. It couldn’t be the last. His heart would shatter if it was. “But we can do difficult things.”

* * *

Jasmine picked Mia up at the airport.

“If I tell you everything, you’re going to be driving around for seven hours,” Mia said as she climbed into the car.

“I saw the tabloid thing.” Jasmine pulled away from the curb. “I gotta say, you and Xander were going for it. Those photos are hot.”

And Mia’s face was hot right now—with embarrassment. “It’s just such a horrid way for people to find out we’re a couple.”

“So it’s official?”

Mia looked out the window at her beloved hometown. “I don’t even know what that means. We haven’t promised each other anything. And we made a pact to not talk at all while I figure out what to do about Not So Fast.”

“Wow. Brutal.”

“Actually, it was sort of sweet of him to suggest it. I do need to figure this out on my own. There’s just so much stuff to wade through. Things are such a mess right now.”

“I saw some of what people were saying about you online. I spent about an hour telling people to get a life and fuck off, but then I gave up.”

“Well, it’s gotten worse. I made the mistake of taking my phone out of airplane mode and I got a text from Heather, the woman who started my fan club. She made an official statement and wanted me to see it first before she posted it on social.”

“What did it say?”

Mia’s stomach couldn’t even turn sour anymore. She was simply out of stomach acid. As she pulled out her phone, she made the decision to read this piece of bullshit as dispassionately as possible.

“‘Many people have asked me to weigh in on the issue of Mia Neal and Xander Bishop. For the record, at no time did I know they were romantically involved. Technically, Mia did not lie to me, but I believe omission is as bad as lying. She did not tell me the truth. Due to this, and her general unwillingness to communicate with me, I am reluctantly stepping down from my role as president and founder of the Not So Fast fan club effective immediately and will no longer have anything to do with the podcast. I have found so much to love in this community, but Mia has let me down, as well as her fans, and my joy for it is gone.’”

“Oh, my God,” Jasmine groaned. “How much performative bullshit can one person squeeze into a single statement?”

Mia scanned it again. “She feels let down. I did let people down. I let them think I was one thing, when in truth I was becoming another.”

“You are the same person you’ve always been, Mia. You’re still sweet and kind and a good person. You were a voice for the fans, and you can continue to be that. Just because you might not be stuck in the bleachers in Austin like you used to be doesn’t make you less of a fan.”

Mia hadn’t thought about it like that. “I guess that’s true.”

Jasmine shook her head. “It’s amazing how quickly people turn on other people. And Heather’s statement makes me think she wasn’t really in it for the right reasons. You got into this for the right reasons. You love F1 and you funneled that into Not So Fast. End of story.”

Mia let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you. That makes me feel a lot better.”

“Also, if you need someone to run your fan club, I can do it. Until you find someone else.”

“Do I even need a freaking fan club? I’m not sure I do.” She turned back to Jasmine. “Right now, I’m still not sure I want to keep doing the podcast.”

“Please don’t quit, Mia. People love it. People love you.”

“That’s really kind of you to say, but I’m just not sure it’s worth it. But of course, that just brings up the obvious question of what I should do with my life, and nobody wants to deal with that.”

“You’re not wrong, Mia. I love you, but this does seem to be a persistent issue.”

“Which is why I have decided to tackle a completely different problem in my life. I’m having my mom over tomorrow night so I can finally have it out with her.” They had to find a way to come to some understanding. Mia couldn’t let things stay the way they were.

“Whoa. That’s no easy thing.”

“Everything in my life is a mess right now. Might as well really get down in the dirt.”

“Do you need me to come over and referee? I watch a lot of reality TV. I get very invested in other people’s conflicts.”

It was tempting, but this was a Mom-and-Mia problem. Jasmine would only prompt her mom to be on her best behavior and possibly pour Mia too many glasses of wine.

“I love you, but some things I need to do on my own.”

Jasmine dropped Mia off, and Mia was immediately hit with a sense of urgency when she walked in the door of her apartment. She knew her own silence in the midst of her personal crisis was probably making things worse. She wasn’t ready to record a full episode of Not So Fast, but she had to upload something. So she wrote up a quick script and went to work.

“The Silverstone Grand Prix was one for the record books, but after a long day of travel back to Austin, I’m not quite ready to record my complete episode on the race. Plus, I realize many of you are disappointed in me. You might believe I’m not the person you thought I was. And I understand that disappointment. I do. And I’m sorry. If I could go back and make some changes, I would. But I can’t. I can only look forward. And with that in mind, I’ll be recording my Silverstone wrap-up from the Austin Grand Prix meet-up I planned a month or so ago, which takes place this Wednesday at Arena Ale in Austin. I have no idea how many of you will still come, but I hope you will, because I will also make an announcement about the future of the podcast, as well as offer further explanation about what exactly happened when I went to England. Until then, you’re listening to Mia Neal and Not So Fast.”

Mia pressed the stop button on the recorder. She could listen to it again and refine it or try a second take, but she was so tired of second-guessing herself and her own voice. It felt right while she was recording. That was enough. So she brought up the file on her computer, did a bit of audio magic and uploaded the episode. Then she sought the sweet relief of sleep.

Fifteen

What is your biggest fear? What does it say about you?

It’s very simple. I’m terrified something bad will happen and I won’t be able to fix it. For a long time, that worry extended to my career. But I’m learning there are only so many things I can control. I need to focus on those. For today, I hope to convince Dad and Mum to let me move forward with Oscar’s house. I can’t control their answer, but I can control my part in asking the question. As for Mia, I have no control. I love her more than I thought it was possible to love someone, but she needs to sort her life. I can’t do that for her.

Xander closed his journal, downed the rest of his protein shake and got in the Jeep to drive over to his parents’. It was Tuesday morning, and they weren’t expecting him since they’d just had dinner last night. The subject of Oscar’s house had been dodged, much to Xander’s chagrin. At this point, Xander thought it best to wage a sneak attack.

“Mum! Dad! Everyone decent?” Xander called as he stepped into the foyer, closed the door behind him and took off his shoes.

His dad walked into the hall from the great room, concern and confusion painted on his face. “Everything all right, son? We just saw you last night.”

“Dad, we have to talk about the house for Oscar. And I figured it would be hard for you to avoid the topic at 11:00 a.m. on a Tuesday.”

His dad sighed. “Fair enough. Come on in. I’ll put on some tea.”

Xander followed his dad into the kitchen and watched him set the flame under the kettle while Xander fetched two mugs from the cabinet near the stove. “Where’s Mum?”

His dad got out the same Yorkshire tea Xander preferred. “She went into town to have an early lunch with a friend.”

“Oh. Wow. She seemed great last night, but I didn’t know that meant she was up to being out and about.” Xander was so pleased. This was a wonderful, unexpected surprise. “That’s so great to hear.”

His dad grinned. “You know what this whole thing has taught me?”

Xander couldn’t begin to guess. From where he was sitting, a diagnosis like MS came with dozens and dozens of lessons. “Tell me.”

“It’s taught me to appreciate the good days. Your mum still has lots of them and we’ll take every last one.”

How Xander loved the simplicity of that. He and Mia’d had so many good days together, especially when she’d been in England and they had their first chance to really get to know each other. Those long walks and card games might have seemed like ordinary activities to anyone looking in from the outside, but they were cherished memories for him now. It was the first time in a long time when Xander had simply felt like himself.

“That’s nice. I like that.”

The kettle whistled on the stove and his dad killed the flame, then poured the hot water into their mugs, handing one to Xander. “All right, let’s talk about Oscar and this house you want to build him.”

The pair sat at the kitchen table and Xander smoothed his hand over the wood surface, pondering his approach. Being direct seemed best. “I got a call from the architect. He says you haven’t been returning his calls.”

“He’s right. I haven’t.”

Xander and Mia had discussed this situation after the night she’d come to dinner. Xander would never forget what Mia had said to him after he’d explained everything. Her insight was right on the nose.

“You’re trying to protect Oscar. And I understand that. I’m sure when he was born, you and Mum had all sorts of questions and doubts about what his life would look like when he got older. But with all the love and support you’ve given him, and with therapy and many other things going in the right direction, he has a job, he has friends. And now he’s ready for the next step. He will literally be on the same property as you and Mum and me. He will be fine. He needs this.” Xander twisted his lips and looked up at the ceiling. He didn’t want to talk out of turn, but his father needed to know he was holding Oscar back. “And he has a girlfriend, Dad. He’s nineteen. He’d like some privacy. And I can’t blame him.”

“Is he calling her his girlfriend now? It’s just a crush, isn’t it?”

“It’s more than that. I think he’s in love. But you need to talk to him about it. I shouldn’t have said anything. But I really needed you to understand how important this is. He needs to live his life.”

“I see.”

“I get it, Dad. I understand you want to protect Oscar. Protect the family. I want to do that, too. But that’s what I was trying to do when I got myself so worked up about my poor showing this season. I kept thinking about what would happen if I failed. But doing that did not help me. It only made things worse. The truth is that bad things will happen. Good things will happen, too.”

“Like Silverstone.”

Xander laughed quietly. “Like Silverstone. But even more important than that, like meeting Mia.”

“You like her a lot, don’t you?”

“I love her, Dad. I told her as much, right after the podium at Silverstone. And she loves me, too.”

His dad smiled and reached across the table for Xander’s hand. “That’s wonderful. What’s in the future for you two?”

Xander shrugged, his heart heavy despite the hope he was clinging to. “I’m not sure. After that whole thing in The Daily Reflection, things are a bit barmy.”

“Not your finest showing, son. Sorry to say.”

“I know. I’m glad Granny wasn’t alive to see that.”

“Me, too.”

“Anyway, Mia has a lot to decide. About what she wants. Unfortunately, being involved with me does come at a price. The tabloid pictures are evidence of that. I’m just trying to sit back and give her time and space to think.”

“Sounds difficult.”

“It’s not fun. I’ll tell you that much.” Xander took a sip of his tea. “How did you know you were in love with Mum?”

“Are you questioning whether you’re in love with Mia?”

“I’m not. I just, I don’t know. I can’t explain how I came to the conclusion other than it popped into my head and wouldn’t budge.”

“Then you’re definitely in love.” His dad’s smile was even wider now.

“Just like that you deliver your diagnosis?”

“Just like that.”

“I love your self-assurance.” Xander smiled and took another sip. “Why is your tea so much better than everyone else’s?”

“It comes with age, I’m sorry to say. The self-assurance and the tea.”

“So? Oscar’s house?”

His dad nodded, seeming resigned. “It’s time to say yes. It’s time to move forward. I know I’ve dragged my feet, but you hit the nail right on the head. Your mum and I were trying to protect him and we have to let him live his life. I’m very fortunate to have a son who is so generous that he will pay for such an incredible thing for his brother.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Xander leaned over to give his dad a hug. “Thank you, Dad. I think it’ll be good for everyone.”

“Before long we’ll have a whole family compound.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“I completely agree. Also, I think you should prepare yourself to build something for Freya when the time comes. I’m afraid she’ll insist on it.”

They both laughed. “Of course she will.”

Xander finished his tea and returned to his house, but he felt nothing but restless. His first instinct after his talk with his dad was to text Mia, then maybe have a chat over the phone. But he’d promised to give her space, and he intended to keep his word. Even when not having her to talk to made him feel as uncertain and unsettled as he’d felt before he met her.

There was one quasi-substitute, and that was listening to her podcast. At least he could hear her voice. He had to admit he was surprised she’d uploaded a new episode. She hadn’t been home long. Turned out it was a quick listen—more like a memo than an episode. He listened twice. There was entirely too much apologizing and backpedaling for his liking, all because of him. It wasn’t right that strangers felt entitled to chime in on the state of her personal life. But when your livelihood was a public-facing endeavor and fully reliant on the opinion of anyone who chose to support you, that was where you landed, whether you liked it or not.

He really hoped people would show up for her event on Wednesday. He didn’t want to see her fail. More than anything, he wanted to see her succeed. In everything.

Reflect on a past hardship. How would you handle it differently today?

I look back at my long string of professional false starts and just see a mess. That was all one giant hardship. Now I’m trying to force myself to see it from a different point of view. I can’t stop thinking about what Xander said in the car. Was I really that astute? That I knew those things weren’t right for me? I’m not sure. It’s hard when you’ve had it framed for years as a shortcoming. Maybe it was just part of my journey.

* * *

The price Xander paid for his and Mia’s media snafu ended up being almost nothing. The trolls had some disparaging things to say about his choice of Mia as a person to be romantic with, but that was to be expected. She could be the most beautiful woman in the world and somebody would have something to say about it. Otherwise, he hadn’t received any flak from his sponsors as near as she could tell. She’d have to ask him on Thursday, when they would finally talk, but the word on the street was that his watch sponsor was over the moon about the primo placement of his wrist in the photos where he was clutching Mia’s neck during their kiss. Even in the middle of a firestorm, Xander managed somehow to come out on top.

Mia really wanted to text him and give him shit about it, but he was right. She needed to sort out her life on her own. After one night in her own bed and some time with her journal, she was only slightly seeing things more clearly. So she set her sights on her mom and dinner.

Mia cooked for several hours, slow roasting a pork butt in the oven with root vegetables and apples. She’d been intentional with her choice of recipe. She wanted her apartment smelling just as good as Xander’s parents’ house the night she and Xander ate dinner there. That was the night she’d realized there was a family feeling missing from her life, and she wanted that back with her mom. If she and her aunt couldn’t fix things, that was fine. But Mia and her mother? There was no reason they couldn’t reclaim their closeness.

A few minutes before six, there was a knock at Mia’s door. She already knew it was her mom, who was nothing less than perfectly punctual. Mia opened the door. “Mom, hi.”

“I couldn’t decide on a wine, partly because I didn’t know what you were going to fix, so I brought pinot grigio and a Grüner Veltliner.” She set her purse down on the kitchen counter. “The young man who was working at the wine shop was very good-looking and seemed quite knowledgeable. He’s studying to become a sommelier. Maybe I could introduce you two?”

“Mom. I’m already in a relationship with Xander. Bishop. The guy I was kissing on the front page of that British tabloid?” Mia could hardly believe she’d just uttered those words. “I don’t need you to set me up with some random guy from the wine shop.”

“If we’re going to talk about this, I’m going to need to open one of these bottles.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’m on it.” Mia went into the kitchen and grabbed two wineglasses, twisted the screw-top cap and gave them each a generous pour. “Here you go.” She presented a glass to her mom.

“Okay. So tell me everything.”

Mia carried the bottle into the living room, put it within easy reach, then she and her mom took seats at opposite ends of the couch. It would’ve been easy—effortless, really—for Mia to overthink the answer she was about to give her mom about her time with Xander, but she really was done with second-guessing herself. So she let it all out, unfiltered. Of course, she left out the sex stuff, which made it more of a short story than a lengthy tale, but it was by and large exactly what had happened while she’d been in England and Austria.

“And that’s how your daughter ends up on the front page of a British tabloid.”

Her mom reached for the wine bottle to give herself a refill. When she sat back, she shook her head and Mia braced herself for a lecture. “You and I are so alike. This is why you should be a journalist.”

Mia narrowed her sights on her mom. “Um… I’m trying to connect the dots here. How do you come to that conclusion from the story I just told you? And we’ve been through this. I don’t think that’s for me.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, honey. I’m not telling you to get a job. I’m done having that argument with you.”

Well, that much was a huge relief.

“What I’m saying is that your instincts are strong,” her mom continued. “You were right to be hesitant to get involved with Xander. And you were right to want to keep it a secret once you did.”

“If I was so right, then why did everything go wrong?” Mia was desperate for answers since her mom was looking at this from a very different perspective.

“It didn’t. You were sure it would be a disaster if anyone found out and you were right. It went exactly as you thought it would.”

Well, shit. That was of zero comfort. “You know I love to be right. This time, not so much.”

Her mom scooted closer to the edge of the sofa cushion and turned to Mia. “Honey, I only ever give you a hard time because the world should be your oyster. You can do anything you want. So, the question is what do you want to do?”

“That has always been the question, hasn’t it? That’s all anyone is asking me these days.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

Normally, the answer to that would be no. But everything was upside down right now, so Mia figured she had nothing to lose. “Yes.”

“I think you want everything to make sense. And life isn’t like that. You pick a path and you work hard and you hope for the best. But if something can go wrong, it will. I guarantee you that. Almost nothing in your life will happen the way you think it will.”

“I think that makes it harder to make a decision.”

“Of course it does. But look at it this way. You’ve made the wrong decision before and you’re still here. So, no matter what you decide you want, you’ll survive. You’ll make it through.”

Wow. Her mom was dropping truth bombs like nobody’s business. “This sounds a little weird coming from the person who said I shouldn’t go to Italy because I might get murdered.”

Her mom twisted her lips. “I think I’ve been consuming too much true crime lately.”

“Let me guess. Dateline? The podcast?”

Her mom leaned forward and touched Mia’s arm. “It’s like candy. I can’t stop.”

“I know. I get it.”

They both laughed for a moment, then quiet fell between them and Mia decided this was as good a time as any to broach the most difficult subject between them.

“Mom, is there any hope for you and Aunt Judy reconciling? Because it would mean a lot to me if you mended things.”

Her mom took a long drink of wine. “I’m not sure. Everything that happened between us was so long ago. In some ways I wonder if simply too much time has passed.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

The heaviest sigh Mia had ever heard escaped her mother’s lips. “A lot of it comes down to you, unfortunately.”

“Me?” Mia was shocked to hear the answer.

Her mom nodded silently. “After your father left, I was suddenly a single mom who was trying to have a career and raise a daughter. I needed help, so I asked her to play a bigger part in your life. But she didn’t want the responsibility. She wanted to breeze into town and feed you chocolate ice cream for dinner and get you hooked on Formula One, then leave and forget to call me back for a month. Eventually, I just got sick of it.” Her mother picked at a spot on Mia’s couch. “That wasn’t a one-time thing. It happened over the course of a few years. She kept telling me I didn’t need a man and I should be strong. I should do it all on my own. But the reality was that being a single mom was hard. I was trying to establish my career, not so much out of fulfilling hopes and dreams, but mostly so I could put food on the table and so you could have things like shoes.”

“Mom, why did you never tell me this? I would’ve understood. Completely.”

“Because I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to know that I ever questioned being capable of raising you on my own. That is not something a mom wants to tell her child.”

Mia knew her mom had made a lot of sacrifices for her, but she hadn’t ever thought about them quite like that. That was another parallel between Mia and Xander—they both were lucky enough to have parents who were willing to go the extra mile for their kid.

“Thank you, Mom. For everything you did.”

“It’s okay. It’s what a mom does. But Judy wants to breeze in and be the fun aunt. And I guess that morning of your Monaco party, I just saw a repeat of the past.” She looked Mia in the eye. “For the record, I don’t hate Formula One. It just brings up bad memories. Maybe you can teach me about it. That would be nice. Maybe it could be something you and I share, too.”

“That would be amazing. I would love that. So much.” Mia felt a bit like she’d been hiding under clouds and was finally seeing a ray of sunshine. “Now that I know more of the backstory, do you think that could pave the way for you and Aunt Judy to spend some time together?”

“What did you have in mind, exactly?”

Mia scooted a little closer on the couch. “Christmas? I have the best memories of you two on Christmas Eve.”

Her mom smiled. “We did have fun, didn’t we? Your dad never liked Christmas much. After he left, Judy and I could revel in it as much as we wanted. And spoil you, of course. For a few years, at least. We both always loved to do that.”

“I just remember feeling so loved and like I was a part of something warm and wonderful. I would love if we could do that again. But only if you’re up for it. I don’t want you to think you aren’t enough family for me. Because you are.”

A tiny tear leaked from the corner of her mom’s eye. “For you, I will make Christmas amazing this year. And we will invite my sister and see how it goes. Does that work?”

Mia was getting misty-eyed, too. “That’s all I could ever ask for.”

“Great. Good.” Her mom pressed her lips together tightly, then smiled. “You know, you haven’t told me how you feel about Xander. Is it serious?”

“I love him.”

“Well, that’s about as serious as it gets.”

“I love him a lot. But I still worry that I don’t really fit into his world.”

“Aren’t you already in his world? Mia, I was there that day for the Monaco race. There were dozens of people attending, all because they value your opinion of the sport. You have a place in his world and, more importantly, you’ve earned it. All on your own. Don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t belong there.”

“What if I’m telling myself those things?”

Her mom arched both eyebrows and tilted her head to the side. “Then I think that means that you’re scared.”

“You’re right. I am scared.” It was such a relief to simply admit it.

“Sticking to one thing has always made you nervous, honey. And you’re always second-guessing yourself. But don’t let something silly stand between you and love and whatever you want to do.”

Mia would need some time to mull over that little bit of wisdom, but the timer buzzed in the kitchen.

Mia hopped up from her seat. “That should be the pork. Ready to eat?”

“I am. It smells wonderful. It smells like home.”

Mia turned to her mom. “Good. That’s exactly what I was going for.”

Sixteen

How do you express love? How do you prefer to receive it?

Honestly, I’m a dramatic gesture kind of guy. Today will be evidence of that. As for receiving it, if it’s coming from Mia, I’ll take whatever she has to give, however she wants to give it. (And no, I’m not going into any detail about that. At all.) Now that I’ve gotten comfortable writing in this journal, I realize giving it to me was an expression of love from her, even if she might not have known it at the time. She turned around my thinking. And my heart. And my whole life, really. Because of that, I only want the best for her. I have the sense she won’t be truly happy without a purpose that feeds her soul.

As soon as Xander got off the plane in Austin, he had a text from Freya.

Not that you want my advice, but if you mess things up with Mia, I will never forgive you. Dad told me everything.

Of course. His dad had never been good at keeping a secret.

Thanks for your input.

Not that I couldn’t figure it out after dinner at the house. And Silverstone. And The Daily Reflection.

Good job being perceptive.

I’m serious. You were different when you were home the last few times. You were nice again. We all love nice Xander.

I’ll do my best. Also, please tell me if I’m not being nice. Being in love shouldn’t be the only condition under which I behave.

In love???? (Dad didn’t mention that, but I had a feeling.)

Xander smiled at his phone. He knew there would be no denying it with Freya. She would dig and dig and dig until she got it out of him.

Yes. Don’t turn it into a whole thing.

It’s already a thing. For me at least.

Xander was about to tuck his phone into his pocket when he decided to check one thing. He scrolled down to his message chain with Mia and opened it. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked. He’d checked yesterday and he could’ve sworn he saw the three dots, but then they disappeared. Was she wanting to reach out? Trying to say something? He exited the message app and tucked his phone into his pocket. Despite the uncertainty of what was ahead, he was closer to an answer on that front. And he had to prepare himself for anything.

He picked up a rental car and made a quick stop at his hotel to drop his bag so he could move on to his surprise. The thing was, Mia didn’t know he was coming into Austin today. She thought he was coming tomorrow. He was nearly back across the lobby when Isabel strolled in through the automatic doors.

She swiped off her sunglasses. “Xander. What are you doing here? I thought you were flying in tomorrow.”

“Change of plans.” He knew it was time to come fully clean about Mia. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

Isabel glanced at her phone, then shrugged. “Sure.”

The pair walked off to the far side of the lobby, where chairs sat partially obscured by a potted palm. “I’m here a day early because I’m going to see Mia. She’s doing a meet-up with her listeners. And a live broadcast of her podcast. I’m planning on surprising her.”

She tapped her folded sunglasses against her temple. “Do you think that’s a good idea? Are you taking security? You could get mobbed.”

Xander hadn’t thought about any of those things. “I have to show my support for what she does. And I have one of my disguises with me.” He pulled his trusty fake mustache out of his pocket.

“You’re Xander Bishop. No Formula One fan is going to be fooled by that.”

“I don’t know. It’s worked before. It might slow them down.”

Isabel sucked in a breath. “There’s really something between you two, isn’t there?”

It was Xander’s turn to take a cleansing breath, if only to steel himself. “I love her, Isabel.”

“Wow. That was fast.”

“Hey. Going fast is my specialty.”

Isabel clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations. Can I give you a little advice?”

“Always.”

“Don’t mess up or it’ll become a whole thing and make my life way harder.”

Between Freya and Isabel, the women in his life were certainly putting him on notice. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“No. We would not.” Isabel’s phone beeped several times. “I have to go. The PR department has a briefing in a half hour.”

“Thank you, Isabel. For everything.” He hoped she knew he meant it.

“Of course.”

With that, Isabel made her departure. Xander took a beat, then strode out to the parking lot, hopped back in his car and put the destination—Arena Ale—into his phone. And as he pulled out of the hotel parking lot, he could do nothing but hope for the best.

Reflect on a past mistake. What did it teach you?

Well, past Mia, this prompt in the mental health journal might have been a mistake, but here goes. My biggest past mistake was not a one-time thing. It was something I did over and over and over again. I doubted myself. I second-guessed every little thing. All it taught me is that doing that is exhausting. It wasn’t until I was backed into a corner and got truly pissed off by other people’s expectations that I questioned why I kept doing that. (Questioning my own questioning…there’s a circular argument for you.) Anyway, today is the day I rip off the bandage and say my piece. If people hate me for it, they hate me for it. Of course, I say that now. I never do well when people don’t like me. But that might be what happens.

* * *

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Mia’s mom asked, looking around the room at Arena Ale. She was showing next-level mom skills by attending this event in which her daughter might end up humiliating herself. “Do you need me to greet your guests? I’m sure you’ll probably want some privacy before you do your recording. And I don’t know if you’re worried about someone saying something rude to you. That could be a concern.”

Yeah, Mia had thought about that, but today was about making apologies, setting her forward path and looking ahead.

“You know, it would be great if you could stand here and help me greet people, but I can’t promise you everyone will be nice. In fact, I think we can count on somebody not being nice.” Mia had no idea what to expect. She’d had so much hate and vitriol aimed at her online in the past few days, it was astounding.

“When you were little, I almost got permanently banned from your elementary school parking lot for confronting another parent about her son being mean to you.”

“I remember.”

“So we’ll do this together.”

Just then, the first people came through the door. They spotted Mia and moved toward her so quickly and decisively that Mia nearly dropped into a defensive pose.

“Hi, I’m Mia.”

The first person, a woman wearing a Xander T-shirt, held her arms wide. “Can I give you a hug? I’m so sorry for everything people have been saying about you. It’s all a bunch of bullshit.”

“Yeah,” the guy behind her said. “We weren’t planning to come to this, but after that tabloid story broke and Heather from the fan club made that statement, we knew we had to come and support you.”

Mia stood there in utter shock as more people funneled through the door. Many of them were familiar faces from the Monaco watch party, but many were not. None of that mattered when most notably everyone had a smile on their face. They were waiting patiently. Mia had expected torches, pitchforks and calls for her head. But no. That wasn’t what was happening. And having a solid start lifted Mia’s spirits in a way she hadn’t expected today.

“Wow. That’s so amazing. That means so much. Thank you.” With a flourish of her hand, Mia presented her mother. “This is my mom, Amy Neal. She’s one of my biggest supporters.”

No, that hadn’t been true for much of the history of Not So Fast, but it had been true for Mia’s life. And that was what mattered.

“Hello, everyone.” Her mom delivered a feverish wave to the crowd then quickly became distracted by a woman who’d cross-stitched a Not So Fast pillow. “Oh, my goodness. How adorable is that? Can you make one for me?”

Mia greeted her guests, noticing how she didn’t feel as overwhelmed as she had the first time. Although, that wasn’t entirely true. She was overwhelmed. With good feelings from genuine well-wishers. Xander should’ve been there. She would call him the instant the event was over, although he’d probably be somewhere over the Atlantic.

After a good twenty minutes of saying hello and deflecting questions about Xander, Mia had to get her show on the road or they’d be there forever. She used her old trick of climbing up on a chair and cupping her hands to shout. She still hadn’t learned how to perform one of those taxi-cab whistles.

“Hello, everyone! If you can take your seat, we’ll get started. I’m so thankful you’re here. If we haven’t had a chance to talk yet, there will be time afterward.”

“Is Xander coming to this?” someone in the crowd asked.

“Nope. Sorry. Hopefully, I’m enough.”

“You are!” a woman yelled in response.

As everyone found their table and the room filled up, Mia thought about how far she’d come. This roller coaster she’d put herself on had given her a lot of ups and downs, but she’d proved to herself that she was resilient. She could make it through the storm. And she was proud of herself for taking a breath and a step back when things became too much. The Mia of old would’ve squirreled away all her problems, gathered them in a pile and examined them under a microscope. The Mia of today couldn’t bring herself to focus that hard on the bad. She’d rather look ahead at the good.

She stepped to the front of the room and started her recorder, then turned on her microphone. She’d rehearsed this at home in her apartment many times, but she’d been so nervous, which was slightly hilarious since she’d been by herself. Now that she’d witnessed the outpouring of love and was looking out at this sea of friendly faces, she felt none of that. She only felt a strong conviction that what she was about to say was the right thing.

“Welcome, everyone, for this special episode of Not So Fast. I want to thank everyone for coming today, and for those of you who couldn’t be here, listening at home, I thank you, too. I want you all to know I appreciate your support and I also appreciate your criticism. My listeners are the entire reason I do the podcast, so I listen to everything everyone has to say.”

“We love you, Mia!” someone in the room yelled.

“Thank you. That’s so sweet. I love you all, too.” Mia started to tear up. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to hear that. Call her human or imperfect, it meant a lot to feel appreciated. “I have to be honest. I have always been a quitter. Just ask my mom.” Mia pointed to her mother, who looked around then offered a thin smile that seemed to ask, Mia, honey, what in the hell are you doing? “Amy Neal, everyone.”

The crowd gathered offered a hearty round of applause while her mom stood and waved. It was adorable and slightly nerdy, which Mia had the utmost appreciation for.

“Be sure to say hi to her before you leave today,” Mia said into the microphone. “Now, as I was saying, I’ve always been a quitter. I’ve quit more jobs than most people will ever start. I’ve spent my whole life looking for something better, but I can admit there were usually one of two factors in place when I set something aside and moved on to something new. I was either bored, or it became difficult. In the last few days, Not So Fast has become difficult. And I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about quitting.”

No! Don’t do that!

We don’t want you to quit!

Mia held up a hand. “Thank you. Spoiler alert, I’m not going to quit.” It felt good to say that out loud and not keep everyone in suspense. “But I do want to tell you all what happened. From the very beginning of Not So Fast, I prided myself on being fully transparent and brutally honest. Granted, when I first started there was very little for me to be transparent about, but that was my approach. And that’s part of where I went wrong when things began to get complicated.”

She sucked in a deep breath, thinking about how dramatically things had changed since she’d embarked on this journey, but in many ways, talking to her listeners felt like a full-circle moment. She’d put a lot of miles under her, and a lot of things had changed, but her desire to speak honestly to her fans was still front and center.

“I never expected to meet Xander Bishop and I certainly never expected that he and I would become romantically involved. Believe me, I was just as surprised as all of you.” The audience laughed, making Mia smile. “But I think Xander and I recognized something in each other that we both needed. Xander needed someone to really see and appreciate his struggles. And honestly, I needed that, too. So when I started going easier on him, it wasn’t a conspiracy. It was me genuinely seeing exactly how hard he was working and how it had been a little too easy for me to stand at a distance and criticize him. But it’s a very different thing to get invested in someone, to stand by their side and to help them. So, it was never something that either of us planned. It just happened. And I suppose that’s the best way to fall in love, isn’t it?”

A rumble of voices broke out across the room. Mia realized she’d said the L-word.

“That’s true. I love Xander. And he loves me. And yes, he’s a public person and I somehow ended up becoming one, too. But I deserve happiness just like every other person in this room deserves happiness. And if anyone wants to get mad at me for falling in love with Xander Bishop, then I suppose they’d just better go ahead and get mad.”

* * *

Xander held his breath, his heart swelling as he stood in the back of the bar and listened to Mia’s words. He’d already known she loved him, but hearing her say it out loud, in front of a room full of people and to all of her listeners… She’d shouted it from the digital rooftops. And after they’d both invested so much energy into keeping it a secret, it was a huge relief to have it out there in the world on their own terms.

He was so in awe of Mia, and not just for the things she was saying, but for the fact that they’d managed to find each other. There were millions of people in the world…millions of chances to get it wrong. But somehow, he’d gotten this part right. And there she was, in front of the people whose opinion she most cared about, professing her love for him.

Could he be any luckier? He didn’t think so.

* * *

Mia froze when she spotted the suspiciously tall guy at the back of the room. He was not one of the people she’d greeted earlier. She knew that frame and head of hair anywhere. Xander. Where in the hell had he come from? He wasn’t supposed to arrive in Austin until tomorrow. Either he’d remembered she was having this meet-up or he’d listened to the last episode of the podcast. Either way, it meant so much to her to know that he’d change his plans to be on hand for this pivotal moment. And it was no small thing that he’d been willing to brave a packed room of Formula One fans to see her. Even better and slightly more hilarious…that he’d worn a disguise.

“Hey, can I tell you all a little secret about Xander Bishop?” she asked the crowd.

“Yes!” they replied in chorus.

“He sometimes wears a fake mustache when he doesn’t want fans to spot him.”

* * *

Busted.

Xander was so freaking busted.

And he did not care that Mia had effectively neutralized his ability to ever wear a fake mustache again. He started for the front of the room, his eyes trained on Mia. On either side of him, people started to mumble, then talk, and that wave of awareness spread across the room as everyone turned to stare at him. Every last one of them.

But he didn’t care. All he wanted was Mia.

* * *

Mia laughed when Xander tore off his fake mustache and winced slightly. God, it had to have hurt. She shielded the microphone with her hand as he walked right up to her.

“We’re still recording,” she said. “Do you want to let me sign off before we talk?”

“I love you so much, Mia. And the last few days without you have been murder. So, no, I don’t want you to sign off. I want you to kiss me.”

The crowd erupted in a chant. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Mia was certain her face was one thousand shades of crimson.

Xander cupped her elbow with his hand, looking down at her with his hypnotic blue eyes. “Come on, Mia. You’ve got to give your fans what they want.”

Mia’s heart felt like it might burst out of her chest. She dropped the microphone on the floor. It made a terrible screech. She did not care. All she cared about was Xander. He was the only thing she could think about. He wrapped her up in his arms and she did the same and they fell into a kiss that felt limitless. Like it had no boundaries, no beginning and no end. It was the kiss she’d always wanted, with the guy who might not be perfect but who was perfect for her.

Xander pulled his lips back slightly, leaving a whisper of a space between them. “Is it weird that we’re kissing and everyone is cheering us on?”

“I’d say it’s weirder that this is how you’re meeting my mom.”

“Oh. Blimey. She’s here. You introduced her, didn’t you?” he asked with every bit of panic the question deserved.

Mia nodded, their lips still so close. “I did. She’s in the front row.”

“I suppose I have some explaining to do.”

“It’s okay. It’s a long weekend. You’ll have plenty of opportunity.” She then remembered she was still recording. Oops. She broke free from Xander’s embrace and grabbed the microphone. “Due to the unexpected arrival of Xander Bishop, this is the end of this extremely haphazard episode of Not So Fast. Thank you for listening. If anyone wants a selfie and an autograph from Xander, start forming a line.”

The room erupted in chaos, but Xander rushed right over to Mia’s mom. “Mrs. Neal, I presume?”

She smiled wider than Mia had ever seen her smile. Hell, Mia hadn’t realized her mom had that many teeth. Four words from Xander and she was already smitten.

“You presume correct. Now can we take a photo together?”

Xander turned to Mia. “Can you do the honors?”

“For you and my mom? Anything.” Mia snapped the picture, which was flat-out adorable. Mia would need to blow it up and frame it and hang it in her apartment. But she realized there was something else she wanted to tell Xander.

“Hold up, everyone. I just need one more second with Xander.” She pulled him aside. “I just need you to know. I don’t just love you, Xander. I love love you.”

He unleashed his soul-melting grin. “Good. I love love you, too.”

“Like I don’t ever want to say goodbye unless it’s for a very short, predetermined time, and even then it needs to be a real goodbye with kissing and nakedness and sweating.”

“I’m all for sweating it out with you, Mia. And I just assume this means you’re coming with me to the rest of this season’s races?”

“I can record some pretty epic episodes of my podcast.”

“Yes, you can.” His eyes narrowed. “By the way, did you try to send me a text after you left England?”

“I did send you a text. I know I cheated. But wait. You looked?”

He shook his head. “Yes, I looked, but I did not get a text from you.”

“Hold on. That’s not right.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and scrolled down through her messages. “Dammit. I forgot to hit Send again.”

“Of course. Trying to torture me.”

She sent the message. Seconds later, Xander’s phone beeped and he looked at it, then he winked at her. “Good. We’re on the same page.”

Mia smiled. She felt as light as air. “Definitely the same page.”

Epilogue

Five months later

Today, I feel…

happy, but also slightly annoyed with myself. My predictions about Mega Racing? The ones Claudia Simon asked me to make in Austria? They were only half-right. I hate not being right. Xander is ending the season on a high note. Five podiums since Silverstone, including a win in Mexico City. P4 in qualifying yesterday. He kept his seat at Mega. I was right about that one. And of course, I’m over the moon for him. Dirk, however, did not re-sign with the team and will be driving for Cyclone Green Dragon alongside Kenji next year. So I was wrong about that. But it’s probably for the best. Dirk and Xander never had the bonding moment I hoped they would.

Exactly like last year, Mia was super bummed the season was ending. But then again, she wasn’t. She needed a break from all these hot weather locales. Abu Dhabi was not a place for feeling cute, and she always wanted to feel that way when she was with Xander. She also, admittedly, did not like being around the other drivers when she didn’t feel confident and her hair was a big frizzy mess. She’d been spending a lot more time with them now that Not So Fast was on another roll. The top podcast in the sport. The whole entire sport.

It was a circular thing—Xander got Mia to take Emilio and him out for barbecue after the race in Austin; the three of them had a fun and slightly drunken evening since both drivers had landed on the podium and were eager to celebrate. It didn’t take much to convince Emilio to do a proper interview for her show, which ended up being an extensive talk about Spanish cuisine. Turned out Emilio was quite the cook.

That episode sent NSF to new heights. The fact that Emilio sealed the Drivers’ Championship by the race in Brazil helped. It also turned out that where Emilio went, the other drivers followed, which meant she’d nabbed real interviews with most of the grid over the final weeks of the season. Kenji Matsumoto. Brett Lockford. Preston Hubbard. Florian Laurent. The few she hadn’t chatted with yet were on the books starting with testing in February. All of them, except Dirk. She was still trying to get him to commit. Even having access to the Mega Racing garage hadn’t helped.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Mia asked Xander as they were on their way through the paddock, walking hand in hand to the garage. The race was still a few hours away—the start wasn’t until 5:00 p.m. at this Grand Prix, mostly to let the sun go down so the heat wouldn’t be quite so punishing for the drivers. Even in November, Abu Dhabi was hot AF.

“Sure. Anything for you.”

“Can you make yourself scarce while I talk to Dirk in the garage? I think he doesn’t want to say yes to me because of you.”

Xander came to a stop. “Fuck Dirk. Maybe he doesn’t get to be on Not So Fast. Did you ever think about it that way? He should be chasing you, not the other way around.”

It was cute that Xander had become so fiercely proud of her podcast. It still didn’t change the fact that she wanted to tie up this one loose string.

“Five minutes. That’s all I ask.”

“Sure. I need to go to the media center and chat with Isabel, anyway.”

Mia popped up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.” She strolled through the corridor leading into the garage, greeting the mechanics and engineers, whom she all knew by now.

Dirk spotted her as soon as she walked into the central bay where the cars were sitting. “If it isn’t Mia Neal. Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He and Isabel are meeting.”

His eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here alone?”

Mia walked up to him. “I wanted to talk to you about being on my podcast. You’re the only driver who hasn’t said yes.”

“How can I trust you? You’re sleeping with the enemy.”

Apparently, this would be harder than Mia had bargained for. “He’s not your enemy, Dirk. I know Xander told you that you were his favorite driver when he was a kid.”

“That’s real?” Dirk looked down at his feet. “I thought he made that up.”

Mia shook her head. “It’s the truth. I swear.”

“Really?”

“Cross my heart.”

He pursed his lips, seeming to mull it over. “Fine. I will do an interview with you. At the beginning of the season when I’m with my new team.”

“Awesome. I’ll be in touch.” Mia reached out to shake Dirk’s hand just as Xander walked in.

“Did I miss something?” Xander asked.

“Dirk’s going to be a guest on Not So Fast.”

“Fantastic,” Xander said with a note of sarcasm. He was still pissed.

Dirk looked back and forth between Xander and Mia, took a beat, then extended his hand. “Good luck in the race, Xander. I’ve enjoyed having you as a teammate.”

“Uh. Yeah. Okay. You, too, Dirk,” Xander said, his voice expressing deep disbelief.

Mia’s work here was done. And she needed to let Xander work on his race preparations. “I’ll get out of your hair for a bit. I want to go upstairs and record a prerace segment.”

“As long as you’ll be back to give me a good-luck kiss before I head out on track.”

“Always.” Mia exited the garage while Isabel was heading inside. “Thank you for everything this season. I realize it’s been a journey since Miami. I hope I haven’t been a complete pain in your ass.”

Isabel clutched her clipboard to her chest. “Honestly? It was kind of fun to have that much going on. Plus, what F1 fan doesn’t want to see another fan fall in love with one of the drivers? It’s like a dream come true.”

Funny, but it had never occurred to Mia that Isabel might see it like that. “Please tell me you get to take a break after this weekend. You’ve got to be exhausted.”

“I’m off through the beginning of January, so that’s nice. Then I’ll be back at headquarters working on the PR plan and the preseason launch. The reveal of next year’s car. All of that. There’s not really a lot of downtime.”

“What are you going to do for the month of December? See family?” Mia asked.

“A bit of that at Christmas. What about you and Xander? What’s next? Are you moving to England?”

That was an entire procession of questions Mia was wholly unprepared to answer. “You know, we haven’t talked about it, but we’ll see. For now, I’m staying in Austin and traveling to races when I can.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you after the race, but if for some reason I don’t, I hope to see you next season.” Isabel held out her arms for a hug.

This was a line she and Mia had not yet crossed, but Mia was happy to participate, giving her a big squeeze. “Yes. Definitely.” Mia watched as Isabel walked away. Damn, it felt good to have made another female friend.

Mia rushed upstairs to find a quiet spot to record in the paddock club, only to run into Claudia Simon coming out of the food service area and devouring an enormous croissant.

“Mia,” she said with a few crumbs tumbling from her lips.

“Claudia, hi.”

“Apologies.” Claudia wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I’m starving.”

“No worries.”

“I was hoping I might run into you. Cloud Sports needs a replacement for me for about a six-week stint in late May/early June next year. Any chance you’d be interested in filling in? Walk the paddock? Talk to the drivers? Sounds like your cup of tea, doesn’t it?”

Claudia had made this offer in theory before, but never had it been anything so concrete. “I’m not sure.” That would mean a lot of extra work on top of what she was already doing. “How many races? And what are the exact dates?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t give you an exact date. The baby will show up when the baby shows up.” Claudia lowered her hand to her belly.

“Oh. Wow. Congratulations.” Claudia’s announcement put an entirely new spin on it. “So this would be for your maternity leave.”

“Yes. And if I have to surrender my microphone for a short time, I’d like to give it to someone who really knows their stuff, and who the drivers are already comfortable with. They all speak highly of you, Mia. Which is a wee bit humorous considering where you started off in this sport.”

Mia laughed quietly. Claudia wasn’t wrong.

“I’d love to do it. I’ll likely be at the races, anyway.”

“I take it things with you and Xander are going well?”

Mia couldn’t contain her smile. “They are.”

“Brilliant. Happy to hear it. I’ll have Cloud Sports be in touch about contracts and paperwork and all that.”

Mia took several deep breaths. She was excited and astounded that although additional responsibility always made her nervous, she didn’t feel completely overwhelmed. “Great.”

Claudia started down the stairs, then turned. “Oh. Mia. By the way, did you hear what happened to your old friend, Reginald?”

“You know he’s not my friend, Claudia.”

“You’re not the only one who doesn’t like him. Someone put dark ink around the viewfinder on his camera. I saw him only in passing. It looked like he had a black eye.”

“Oh, wow. A bit of karma, perhaps?”

“Something like that. I’ll see you soon.”

Mia ducked into the corner and got out the notes she’d written that morning, then pulled out her recorder. “Well, here we are. Abu Dhabi. Emilio Baquero has long since won the Drivers’ Championship and Vermillion has taken the Constructors’. So what intrigue remains for the final race of the season? Kenji is on pole for the first time in his career and Florian has a three-place grid penalty for speeding in the pit lane during qualifying yesterday. And of course, you all know I’m thrilled Xander is starting in P5. I’m not quite sure what will happen. It’s always a bit of a mystery and that’s what makes it exciting, isn’t it? And if you’re like me, you’re going to soak up every last minute of racing, then spend the next few months longing for its return. Let’s get into it. I’m Mia Neal and you’re listening to Not So Fast.”

She clicked off her recorder, marveling at how effortless it had become, when she got a text from Xander.

Can you come down to the garage? I have something I want to ask you.

Mia had been eyeing the croissants after seeing Claudia with hers, but she’d grab one later.

Sure thing. Two secs.

She hurried downstairs and found him waiting outside Mega hospitality.

“I need to ask you something,” he said.

“Yeah. I read your text.”

He took her hands, both of them, and peered down at her. He wasn’t smiling.

“Xander. What in the hell is going on? Don’t you need to be focusing on the race? Your final preparations.”

“This will only take a minute.”

Mia’s breath froze in her chest. It was so unlike him to take his eyes off the prize. The race was always the most important thing.

“I hate that look on your face. When your forehead does that thing with the crinkles. What is it? Is it something serious?”

Somehow, the furrows in his forehead became even deeper. “It is.”

Oh, God. Was he going to propose? Because she was not ready for that. She loved him to the ends of the earth, but marriage? No. She hadn’t sifted through her feelings about the way patriarchy and traditional marriage were so fully intertwined. It was a deeply complicated subject, buried in centuries of misogyny. “Maybe this can wait. Until later.”

“Why are you getting panicky? I don’t like that look on your face, either.”

She couldn’t take the suspense. “Then just come out with it, Xander. Please.”

“I want to know if you want to come for Christmas. To England. Spend it with my family.”

She paused for a moment, then let out a snort of a laugh. “That’s it? Christmas?”

“What do you mean, that’s it? It’s a very big deal to me. And I’m only asking you right this second because Freya will not stop pestering me about it.”

She squeezed his hands. “Well, I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to my mom. And my aunt. They’re finally talking again. We’ve already made plans for the three of us to spend it together.”

“They can come, too.”

“Seriously?”

“You know I don’t offer travel if I don’t mean it, Mia. They can stay with us. There’s plenty of room.”

“We won’t be able to have sex all over the house.”

He reared back his head. “Of course not. It’s Christmas. That’s a time for keeping things contained to the bedroom.”

“Right. How could I suggest something so absurd?”

He laughed. “I need to race, Mia. Are you going to give me an answer so I can get my sister off my back?”

“Will we be having British Christmas cake?”

“Definitely. My mum and Freya made it in September. You age it and regularly soak it with more and more brandy.”

She winced, but was also oddly curious about the tradition. “I’m going to need to hear more about that. You know, I once thought about becoming a pastry chef. I even taught myself how to make puff pastry and profiteroles.”

“Of course you did.” He drew in a deep breath. “Does that mean you’re saying yes?”

“You’re going to need to get me your Christmas list immediately. Like right after this race is over. I take Christmas shopping very seriously.”

“Will do.”

It was now Mia’s chance to ask a question. “Did you tamper with Reginald Huff’s camera kit?”

A distinctly sheepish smile crossed Xander’s face. “Absolutely not. Why? Did someone put a substance on the viewfinder and give him a black eye?”

“So it was you…” She was pretty proud of him for getting even in a relatively harmless way.

“I never said that.”

“But you’re smiling.”

“I’m happy.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I have everything I want.”

He looked at her with his unforgettable eyes. They always made her feel so seen. So understood.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “This sport gave me so much, but the best thing it gave me is you.”

* * * * *

Look for Karen Booth’s next

sweet and spicy romance from Afterglow Books,

coming in 2026!

Keep reading for an excerpt from Unlikely Neighbors by Renee Daniel Flagler.

ONE

Holland Davenport

You’re ready for this.

Those words were part of my daily pep talk, reminding me that leaving Florence, South Carolina, needed to happen. It would be the scariest and bravest thing I’d ever done. I wanted nothing more than to do fearless and bold things.

A life bigger than what Florence could offer was finally on the horizon. Florence was familiar and familiar felt safe to me. I was completely over seeing the same people, doing the same things, and going to the same places all the time. Days, weeks, months, and years clumped together into a mountain of sameness.

Thank God my cancer scare wasn’t the death sentence I had feared, but I couldn’t help thinking, How could I die without ever really living?

Two short toots of a car’s horn let me know my cousin Amy had pulled up. This was our last weekend together before my move to Charleston. My announcement last month shocked everyone, especially my adoptive mother. You would have thought I told her I was jumping off a cliff. Ma been an emotional mess ever since.

Grabbing my bag, I braved the balmy heat, knowing Amy would have the air conditioner on ice-cold once I entered the car. Inside, her teary eyes stared back at me.

“Don’t start,” I said, rolling my eyes and holding my hand up at her.

She pouted. I stared at her beautiful face, marveling how her signature bright red lipstick perfectly contrasted with her espresso-colored skin.

Glistening hazel eyes bore into me as the corners of her mouth turned down and quivered.

“Ugh!” She sniffed. “I don’t want to ugly-cry,” she groaned. “Who would have thought you would leave this place before me?”

I tasted the salt of my own tears.

“Girl! We have to stop all this crying,” I said, wiping my face and flipping down the visor. “We’re going to look like raccoons.” I laughed through sniffles.

“I know!” She fanned her eyes with her hand, blinking rapidly. “These lashes won’t last through the night.”

Amy wasn’t just my cousin, she had been my best friend, therapist, and bodyguard since I was five. When she walked into a room, she hijacked all the attention. Loved hard and never bit her tongue.

Since childhood, I’d admired her boldness. Now it was my inspiration. Living hours away from Amy and Ma wasn’t going to be easy.

Amy squeezed my hand gently and then let go before she slowly pulled into traffic.

“Charleston isn’t that far away. What is it? A two-hour drive? I’ll be back all the time.” I turned to Amy with wide eyes. “Why don’t you move to Charleston with me? You’ve wanted out of Florence for years. Take my second bedroom.”

“If Mama’s health was better, I’d leave in a minute.” Amy’s lips turned down again, and the weight of being Aunt Shirleen’s sole caretaker since an autoimmune disease rendered her fragile dimmed the light in her eyes. “Anyway,” Amy sighed. “That gumbo at Jazz on Dargan is calling my name.”

Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” came up on Amy’s playlist, lifting the mood. “Oh, girl! That’s my song.” Amy cranked up the volume. We danced in our seats like life wasn’t beating down on us.

“What grade were we in when this came out? Eleventh? Twelfth?” I wondered, snapping my fingers.

We sang along with Amy’s playlist until we pulled up to the restaurant. The weight of my secret bore down on me. I’d told my family about the move, but never shared the real reason I felt so strongly about doing it now. Amy had always been my confidant; keeping her in the dark about this didn’t feel right.

Once she parked, I placed my hand on her arm before she could turn to get out of the car.

Raising one brow, she side-eyed me. “What?” She always knew when something was up.

“I need to tell you something, but you have to promise to keep it to yourself.”

Alarm widened Amy’s eyes. “What’s wrong, Hollz?”

I took a deep breath. “My doctor found a lump in my breast.”

Gasping, Amy clutched her chest. “No!”

“I’m fine,” I said immediately and watched Amy release the breath she held. “It was small,” I reassured her. “They did a biopsy, and I had a quick procedure to remove it. A small cyst. No cancer. I’m all good now.”

Amy went to open her mouth, probably to rip into me but I held my hand up, stopping her.

“I kept it to myself because my doctor assured me there was nothing to fear and that it could easily be taken care of. Ma and Aunt Shirleen don’t need unnecessary bad news at their age.”

Both women were old enough to be our grandmothers.

Amy shook her head and squinted at me.

“Just hear me out.” I rummaged through my brain in search of the right words. “I know it seems incredibly selfish, but I promise you I was thinking of all of you more than me. If it was bad news, I would have said something. And this scare made me think about how much more I wanted out of life. I’m moving to Charleston and pressing the restart button. This is something I need to do for me.”

“Normally, I would have a mouthful of spicy words for you, but I get it.” Amy shrugged. “I understand.”

Amy reached over and hugged me, then pulled back with tears shining in her eyes. “I’m not happy about how you handled that by yourself, but you deserve this move. And! I want daily play-by-plays so I can live vicariously through you. Fly, little butterfly. Fly!” Amy flailed her arms and smiled and we laughed through our tears.

“Let’s get inside,” Amy said. “Patience is waiting for us and you know how she gets.”

Relieved, I exited the car feeling lighter than when I’d entered. Like Amy said, my sister Patience was right inside the restaurant waiting on us. Her striking gray eyes were glued to her cell phone. Some days, an olive-green hue rimmed her irises. Mostly, it depended on her mood, her eyes shifting like a temperature gauge, getting greener when she was sullen and lightening when she was excited.

Long acrylic tips tap, tap, tapped against the phone screen at lightning speed. Blond braids cascaded down the back of her hourglass figure, meeting the ragged hem of her cutoffs.

“Hello!” I sang, breaking through her self-absorbed bubble.

Twisting her lips, she rolled her eyes. “It’s about time,” she teased before throwing her arms around my neck. Patience hugged like every embrace could be her last, tight and lingering. This time I matched her intensity. It was going to be hard leaving her behind.

The energy in the restaurant was electrifying. Waiters and customers hustled and scurried in a well-orchestrated ensemble. Summer Walker’s latest hit floated through the speakers.

Amy, Patience, and I pressed through the crowd, waving at friends. We knew almost everyone in there.

“What’s good in the neighborhood?” Tony, one of the longtime waiters, said once we sat down. “Your regulars?” he yelled referring to our drinks. We nodded. “Be right back,” he said, his voice muffled by the loud music.

Our city wasn’t one-traffic-light small, but small enough to know people based on who their family members were. Smaller towns came to us for action.

Patience’s attention was back on her phone as we sat. I leaned close enough for her to feel my breath in her ear. “No texting all night. Hear me?” This needed to be said. Patience could live her entire life through her cell phone while the outside world passed her by.

She laid her phone face down on the table and blinked at me. “Why do you have to leave?” she asked for the umpteenth time.

Amy and I snickered when Patience folded her arms across her chest and pouted.

“You are so mature,” Amy teased.

“And pouting won’t help,” I laughed.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Patience whined. “Who will fix my life when you’re hours away?”

“Just pick up your phone and call me. Phones still function that way, you know. It’s always in your hand anyway,” I said, rubbing my chest to loosen the lump of guilt that formed there.

“It won’t be the same without you here,” Patience groaned, her abandonment issues on full display.

Ma had adopted me in time to put me in kindergarten. Patience joined our family a few years later, but her struggle with abandonment never waned. Once she’d learned that I could be trusted, she clung to me. It felt good to go from having no siblings to being the big sister.

“How sweet,” Amy teased, pushing her lips into an exaggerated pout. “She’s going to miss her big sister.”

“Whatever.” Dismissing Amy, Patience turned to me. “Why the rush, Holly?” she asked, using my nickname.

I took a breath, preparing to explain my position once again. Patience wouldn’t understand that I needed to separate myself from her, Ma, and everything I’d ever known to figure out who I really was, or that after my cancer scare, every question about my medical history was a glaring example of how much I didn’t know about myself.

There were so many ways to answer Patience’s question. “I have to get settled before starting my new job in September.” I kept it simple.

“Are you coming home for your birthday?” Patience asked.

“No,” I said, forcing what I hoped was a warm smile.

“No!” Patience jerked her head back. Appalled, she asked, “We can’t even celebrate your thirtieth birthday with you? Dang, Holland!” Even in the low light of the restaurant, I could see the light in her eyes dim.

“Of course you can.” I reached for Patience’s hand. “Come to Charleston anytime you want,” I said matter-of-factly, in contrast to Patience’s dramatic response. “It will be fun.”

Turning the big three-oh was a big deal. My next decade needed to look drastically different from my last.

On my last birthday, I vowed I wouldn’t turn thirty in the same town. I didn’t take myself seriously until the health scare. Then I made plans to leave Florence, landing a job and an apartment in Charleston within months.

I didn’t hate Florence. Fond memories bonded the city to my heart. But none of the things on my life’s checklist had happened for me. Upward mobility? No. A husband? No. Possibly a kid or two? No again. There wasn’t anything holding me back.

Tony the waiter arrived with our cocktails and set them down in front of us before taking our orders.

Amy raised her glass. “Welp! Here’s to a new start.”

“To living the life you want… I guess,” Patience muttered then grinned sheepishly. “At least you got a job first.” Everyone laughed. Patience would have left without one.

I raised my glass to meet theirs. “And to doing it all, scared as hell,” I added.

The glasses clinking was the best accompaniment to our laughter.

“What about Sean?” Patience asked, setting her glass back down on the table. “How did he take the news of you moving?”

I took a long sip, then carefully set my cocktail on the table. Suddenly, it wasn’t strong enough. I didn’t want to discuss Sean.

“It’s over.”

“Good!” Amy said, before sipping her chocolate martini. “Find a man that will make you a priority.”

“Wow.” That stung a little.

“Did I lie?” Amy asked matter-of-factly.

She didn’t. Admittedly, I allowed Sean’s behavior, and it didn’t feel good at all to realize that. Sean was the most unfulfilling situationship ever. Following a fun start, whatever we had between us withered after a few months but didn’t completely die. It lingered with late-night visits and conversations that vehemently avoided substance.

I had hoped for more. What girl didn’t? The freedom of not being pressured worked for Sean and avoiding the direct sting of rejection worked for me, so instead of pinning him down, I acted as if I didn’t care when he called less frequently and eventually not at all. Whoever I dated next would have to make me a priority.

Reaching in my bag, I panicked when I didn’t feel my phone.

“Amy! Do you see my cell?” I asked, still rifling through my purse.

Both Amy and Patience looked around for it before shaking their heads.

“Ugh! I think I left it at home.” I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Waiter.” I raised my hand before he could pass us by. “Can I get one of those?” I pointed to Amy’s chocolate martini and then gulped the last of my drink, looking forward to the sweet, strong cocktail to ward off the anxiety that fluttered in my chest because I didn’t have my phone.

“Sure.” He nodded politely.

“So. Are you going to find a new man in Charleston?” Patience asked.

“Nope! I’m going to focus on me,” I declared.

Patience cocked her head to the side and tapped her chin thoughtfully. “But what if he has a cute brother for me?”

Laughter bubbled up from each of us, refusing to subside.

“Don’t be selfish, Holly. I’m gonna need a husband someday. Who would I marry here?” Patience asked.

“Cousin Willie,” Amy said, guffawing. I covered my mouth to keep the drink from spilling out.

“Exactly!” Patience pointed a finger at Amy, her shoulders bouncing as she cackled.

Through the rest of dinner, we imagined ourselves living bigger lives in metropolitan cities across the South.

“Charleston could just be my first stop,” I said, prompting a new list of cities to explore.

It was after midnight when Amy dropped me back home. Martinis swam in my stomach, making me queasy. I dropped two tabs of Alka-Seltzer into a small glass of water and watched them fizz, then downed the contents in one long gulp. Instantly, a belch rumbled through my chest, erupting before I could get my hand to my mouth. “Excuse me,” I said into the emptiness of my apartment.

My cell phone sat on the table near the door. I grabbed it on the way to my bedroom to undress.

Ma had left a message about a package I received from New York. I didn’t know anyone from up North and wondered why it had gone to her house. Knowing she would be asleep, I waited until after my fitful night of alcohol-induced sleep to call her.

* * *

“Hello,” Ma croaked early the next morning. She cleared the sleep from her throat and repeated her greeting.

“Hey, Ma. Sorry to wake you. Your message sounded important.”

At the sound of rustling sheets, I imagined her propping herself up on her elbow.

“It’s all right. A package came. It looks important. Come on over and get it.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

When I reached Ma’s house, she was sitting at the small, round table in her neat little dining room, sipping on her favorite tea. Steam swirled above the mug. The aroma wafted through the small room.

“Hey!” I greeted her, kissing her cheek and reaching for the priority envelope on the table.

Ma watched me over the rim of her cup. The curiosity behind her eyes made me rip the package open faster, revealing official-looking documents. The contents proclaimed that I was the next of kin and sole heir to the estate of a woman I’d never met.

My heart didn’t know whether to beat faster or stop completely. Mindlessly, I circled Ma’s oak coffee table, reading slowly, zeroing in on the words that requested my presence at a law office in New York in less than two weeks. I’d wanted to embark on a journey of self-discovery and was getting what I’d asked for. It came in the form of legal documents and an unexpected trip to New York.

“Deep breaths,” I reminded myself in a whisper. I closed my eyes. Counting, I willed my breathing to regulate itself. Ma watched me, her expression unreadable. I expected questions but she didn’t ask any. Had she somehow known what was in the envelope?

Goldie Mae Williamson. I breathed the name listed in the documents, trying it on my tongue. The papers said she was my maternal great-aunt—my grandmother’s sister. Tracing the letters of her name with my fingers was the only way to feel her. I had a biological family member. A living one—until two weeks ago.

I guess I was going to New York.

Copyright © 2025 by Renee Daniel Flagler

ISBN-13: 9780369750433

Not So Fast

Copyright © 2025 by Karen Booth

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