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CHAPTER FOUR

ROCCO

“That doesn’t mean she’s any good,” Rocco bellowed.

He made a point of speaking loudly. She was somewhere behind him, standing a few feet away and talking to one of the mechanics. He wanted her to hear him.

How the hell was he supposed to race on the same team as Nico Angelini?

“And,” Rocco added, “it definitely doesn’t mean we need a third driver, let alone her as a third driver.”

Casey glanced behind him. Probably looking to see if she’d heard. Rocco knew he was making the man uncomfortable.

“Well, we’re not— We don’t see it— We’re not thinking in terms of #1 and #2 drivers. We’d like to think of this as a team. We plan on supporting both drivers—equally.”

“What do you mean both ?” Rocco demanded.

“Well, uh, she’s not a third driver.”

Rocco gaped. He now knew what people meant when they felt like there was steam coming out of their ears. “Are you telling me she’s the second driver? She’s going to actually race?”

Casey hesitated. “Again, we’re not thinking of either of you as the #1 or #2 driver.”

“You’re forgetting,” Rocco grumbled. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

“Look, I don’t know how much you saw when she was driving that retired F1 car, but she knows her way around a track. I can show you footage of some of her races.”

Rocco remained silent.

“Look, this isn’t just me,” Casey said. “I’ve been talking this over with the owner, the technical director, the director of engineering, some of the mechanics and technicians. They’re just as impressed as I am.”

Rocco was fuming. He felt himself getting ready to say something only the biggest douchebag would say. There was hardly a moment’s hesitation before he threw himself headlong onto the heap of the Ghosts of Douchebag Past.

“Yeah, I can guess what impressed them. It’s not exactly difficult to figure out. She’s sleeping with one of them.”

Inwardly he cringed. If he’d heard anyone else say it, he’d have told them they were an ass.

Damn the woman! She brought out the worst in him!

How in the hell was he going to race alongside her?

Not only was it a douchebag thing to say, it was downright stupid.

Sex appeal? This woman? Not even an ounce of it.

He’d seen enough of her body when she was talking to Casey.

The woman didn’t possess even one curve.

She was about as captivating as Highway 10 in Saudi Arabia.

No going up, no going down, no bends left, no bends right—straight as a rod and nothing but desert for 159 miles.

Okay, so she was wearing a racing suit. But what did that matter?

If she had any curves, he’d have seen them.

“Maybe we should lower the volume,” Casey muttered before sighing.

“Think about what you’re saying, Rocco. Do you really think I would make this kind of decision based on that?

That the owner would? Do you think I would manage for an owner who would?

And what about the mechanics, the entire team we’ve got here?

You know a lot of these guys. They’ve worked for other F1 teams, including teams you’ve raced for. ”

“He’s right, Rocco,” Dario said. “Just because you—” He paused when his eyes met Rocco’s, and he stammered, “Uh—”

Gaping at his cousin, Rocco’s heart stopped.

Jesus, Dario, have you forgotten Casey’s standing right here? Not to mention one Nico Angelini who is a couple feet away and within earshot and would like nothing better than to make my name trend … but for all the wrong reasons.

Dario quickly recovered. “Just because you don’t like the idea of having a woman on the team doesn’t mean she isn’t any good.”

Rocco cringed. He knew Dario was trying to come up with something—anything other than what he’d nearly divulged about Rocco’s past. But couldn’t he come up with something better?

It wasn’t her being a woman that was the problem. It was her being Nico Angelini that was.

“Let me get her, and I’ll introduce you,” Casey said, leaving them.

Rocco crossed his arms. “Why did you say that, Dar? You know better than anyone I’ve never objected to having a woman race Formula 1 as long as she can prove she deserves a spot. And you definitely know that I’ve never had a problem racing alongside one.”

Dario sighed. “I know. I know. I couldn’t think. I’m sorry. We both know how hard you tried to get Ceci promoted to F1.”

“That’s right,” Rocco huffed.

Ceci Rivers had raced F3 alongside Rocco years ago. When Rocco had been promoted to F1 and was racing for Blue Jet Lightning, he’d tried to persuade the owner to bring on Ceci as a third driver.

Dario nodded. “Right. So, explain to me why you’re trying to convince anyone within hearing distance that you’re the biggest sexist douche on the planet?”

“Do you really have to ask? It’s because of that woman—Nico Angelini. You know our history.”

“I know, but you’ve both said things on social media. Why don’t you just give her a chance?” Dario held up his hand. “Don’t answer that, here they come.”

Rocco lifted his chin, clenched his jaw, and looked off into the distance.

“Rocco, Dario,” he heard Casey saying, “this is Nico.”

“Dario Berlusconi. Nice to meet you.”

Damn, I’ll have to look at her now.

He lowered his gaze. She wasn’t wearing the racing suit.

She was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt.

He glanced at that triangle and the subtle ripple her collarbone made beneath her flesh.

It reminded him of the woman at the bar.

His eyes ventured south. Okay, so he’d been wrong.

The woman does have curves , he thought as his glance dipped up and over her breasts and descended to the valley of her abs, roaming that tight niche where those bountiful hips blossomed out from her waist.

Really. Really. Curvy. Curves.

He lifted his gaze back to her collarbone. He told his eyes to move on to her face, but he was transfixed by the ridge that ran from shoulder to shoulder just above the neckline of her shirt. He fisted his hands.

Go north , his brain was telling him at the very moment his eyes drifted south, landing on her breasts.

Are those … ?

He bit his lip to stop from grinning.

Yes, they are.

He blinked when her arms suddenly blocked his view. She’d crossed them.

Dario elbowed him, and he flinched. He looked at his cousin with a blank stare.

What?

“Rocco,” Casey said, “this is Nico.”

Oh, that’s what.

She’d uncrossed her arms and was holding out her hand. He couldn’t get a good look at her face with all that hair. Not to mention the fact she was wearing humongous sunglasses. But there was no mistaking the set jaw. He felt pretty certain she was glaring at him.

“Isn’t that a boy’s name?” Rocco sneered.

“Doesn’t Rocco mean dick in Italian?” she responded.

Dario chuckled and nudged Rocco, his voice barely a whisper. “Don’t be a tool. Shake her hand.”

Reluctant, Rocco took her hand. Damn, it was small.

A sudden surge of heat coursed through him when he felt her soft flesh up against his calloused palm.

He gave her hand one solid shake and prepared to let go, but when he loosened his grip, she didn’t reciprocate.

So, he closed his hand around hers and waited for her to loosen her hold.

When she did and tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let her.

He could see she was gritting her teeth. He did likewise.

You’re going to be here a long time, sweetheart, if you think you’re going to dictate when a handshake with me is done.

There was a moment of silence.

Casey clapped his hands. “Okay, well …”

Another moment of silence.

Dario sighed. “I’m going to count to three.” He held his fist above their clenched hands and indicated with a finger as he counted off like a countdown at a boxing match after a knockout. “One … two … three.”

Both of them unclasped at the same time.

She shook her hand and wiggled her fingers.

Was I gripping her hand that hard? Why didn’t she say something?

Another moment of uncomfortable silence.

Dario was the one to break it.

“You looked good out there … on the track.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling.

“Didn’t she, Rocco?”

Rocco was staring at her hand. She was still moving her fingers.

Dario nudged him.

“Huh?” he said, looking over at his cousin.

“I said she looked good out there.”

Rocco glanced at her.

“You’ve raced Formula 3,” Rocco said in a harsh voice.

She nodded. “That’s right.”

“But not Formula 2?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“So, what are you doing here?” he hissed.

Dario and Casey were obviously uncomfortable. Rocco wondered if one of them was going to say something to come to her rescue. It turned out they didn’t need to.

“Hmm,” she said, placing her finger alongside her cheek and then gazing up. He imagined her eyes opening wide but he couldn’t be certain since they were hidden behind those shades.

The shades were fitting, given she was about to throw him some.

“I seem to recall someone else going straight from Formula 3 to Formula 1 without racing Formula 2. Who was that?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right. It was you. So, you tell me. What are you doing here?”