Page 10 of Kiss & Collide (Racing Hearts #2)

Spielberg, Austria

“S ee, now this is much better.”

Violet waved her phone in his face as Chase zipped up his gray race suit. No, not gray—silver, because the Pinnacle livery colors were silver and pewter . They looked like light gray and dark gray to him, but what did he know?

He scowled at her phone, at a picture of himself at the press conference two days ago. “What’s much better?”

“Your clothes . You look hot. I told you that stylist knew what she was doing.”

That stylist had taken one look at the pile of clothes in his hotel room and declared it a total loss.

Overnight, the closet had been repopulated with expensive jeans and jackets, fancy dress shirts, Italian shoes, and high-end suits.

The T-shirts alone had probably cost more than his entire old wardrobe.

He couldn’t really see much difference, but Violet seemed to think the T-shirt and designer track jacket he’d worn to the press conference were a huge success.

“It’s just clothes, Violet. All that really matters is what I’m about to do out there.”

Qualifying was about to get underway, his first behind the wheel for Pinnacle.

He wasn’t quite sure how to identify what he was feeling.

Excitement? Dread? Considering how quickly he’d come on board, no one in the Pinnacle garage expected much of him today.

Show up and don’t crash the car. But he’d set a personal goal for himself—do better than Dieter.

Then everyone would know he wasn’t there to keep the seat warm for the rest of the season.

He was there to compete, and he’d do it to the limits the Pinnacle car would allow.

So far, his simulator sessions hadn’t been promising, but he’d do the best he could with the car he was driving, just like he always did.

“Just clothes,” Violet scoffed. “Check out the comments.”

“Violet—”

She pushed her phone into his chest. “Just look .”

He sighed and took it from her, scrolling down.

Who is this?? Where has he been all my life??

Chase Navarro is

I have a new favorite driver!

Social media was the worst.

“Great. Nice to know they’re already fans before they’ve even seen me race.”

“You have got to get better at this. Of course the racing is the most important part, but believe me, this part matters, too.”

She took her phone back, scrolling through the comments and smiling to herself, so he took a moment to surreptitiously check her out as he secured the closures at his neck.

Most of the staff in the paddock was wearing Pinnacle team gear—gray polos and T-shirts.

Not Violet. Skin-tight black pants, black heels, and a black drapey shirt strategically fastened on her shoulders in a way that left her arms bare.

Her only concession to the fact that they were spending the day in the sun was the big black sunglasses currently holding her hair off her face.

She probably wouldn’t be caught dead in a Pinnacle polo shirt.

Which was fine, because she looked hot as fuck like this.

“What’d you do with Reece?” he asked, glancing around the garage. Everybody on the team was busy getting ready for his first qualifying stint, but their team principal was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s over in hospitality getting loaded with some reps from Rally Fuel.”

“Probably the best place for him,” Chase muttered.

Violet glanced up at him. “I’ll do my best to keep him corralled.”

“Appreciate it. I have enough to deal with without that distraction.”

“Hey, Chase.”

He turned around. Speaking of fucking distractions …

“Hey, Liam.”

They’d crossed paths plenty of times before now, but since Chase had been an F2 bottom-feeder and Liam had been a Formula One rising star, Liam usually pretended not to see him. Which was fine. It wasn’t like he had anything to say to the fucker anyway.

“Congratulations on Pinnacle,” Liam said in a flat, unreadable tone of voice.

“Thanks,” Chase said, equally neutral.

Liam was suited up in his yellow Solaris race suit, sponsor logos splashed all over it.

This was his third season in Formula One.

He’d come in second overall in the driver’s championship to Will Hawley last season, but Solaris had redesigned the car for this season, and it had hit the track full of gremlins they had yet to shake out, so Liam wasn’t nearly as high in the rankings this year.

Chase was petty enough to admit he was enjoying watching him struggle.

Beside him, Violet was looking from him to Liam and back again.

“Hi!” she finally interjected, sticking her hand out. “I’m Violet Harper. Pinnacle PR.”

Liam smiled broadly at her and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Violet. I’ve seen you around, right?”

Fucker. That smile made his skin twitch, because he’d seen it before and he knew what it meant. And he held on to Violet’s hand longer than he needed to.

“I was at Lennox until recently,” she said.

“That’s right.” Liam’s eyes cut to Chase. “Well, have fun at Pinnacle.”

“I didn’t know you guys knew each other,” she said, eyes darting between him and Liam.

He shifted a step closer to her. “Oh yeah, me and Liam go way back,” he said easily, locking eyes with him. “All the way back to Hansbach’s young driver academy, right, Liam?”

Liam stared back at him. “That’s right.”

“How’s Sophie?” he asked, reveling in the flare of heat in Liam’s pale blue eyes.

Liam scoffed softly before answering, “She’s great. Sophie’s just great. So … guess I’ll see you out there?”

“Guess you will.”

“Okay, then. Good luck.”

“You, too.”

He watched Liam walk away and felt like kicking something.

Violet rounded on him. “What the fuck was that about?”

“What?”

“You, and the fact that you hate Liam O’Neill’s guts. Pretty sure he loathes you, too. What’s the story?”

He shrugged. “No story.” At least, not one he had any interest in sharing.

Violet crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you have any idea how good I am at digging up dirt?”

“Dig away,” he muttered, fastening the straps of his suit around his wrists. There was nothing to find. Nothing official, anyway. Just a lot of personal shit that didn’t even matter anymore. And a woman who left him for someone she thought was better.

He could feel her gaze still on him, but he kept his eyes fixed on the closures of his suit, even though he’d double- and triple-checked them all.

“You sure you’re okay?” she said at last.

Now he did look up, shooting her a grin. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me, Violet.”

She scoffed and shoved at his arm. Then she blinked, her hand clamping down on his forearm. “Oh my god, there’s Clive Pennington.”

“Who?”

“He’s … never mind. Just wait right here. I’m serious. Don’t move .”

She darted away and inserted herself in front of some guy walking past in the pit lane. Fifties, salt-and-pepper hair, sports jacket. He watched, confused, as she chatted up this random stranger. Then she hooked her arm around his and led him back over to the Pinnacle garage.

“Chase, I want you to meet Clive Pennington, head of marketing at Arrow Beverages. Clive, this is Chase Navarro, Pinnacle’s new driver.”

Clive shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Chase. Violet’s been telling me your story.”

He shot Violet a look. What story?

“Quite the thing, making it to Formula One like this.”

“Ah, yeah, it’s been a wild few weeks. But I’m excited to be here.”

“Your new team principal is throwing a party on Sunday after the race, right?”

“I guess?”

“Come find me there. Let’s have a drink.”

Over Clive’s shoulder, he could see Violet, eyes wide, nodding furiously. “Ahh, sure thing.”

“I’ll let you get back to qualifying. Good luck out there.”

“Thanks.”

Clive Pennington left and Chase turned to Violet. “What was that about?”

“That was me getting you a sponsorship deal.”

“He didn’t say anything about sponsorships,” Chase said, sweeping his hair off his forehead in preparation for pulling on his balaclava.

“Of course he didn’t. And he won’t until you chat him up a little more.”

He was more confused than ever, like Violet had heard an entirely different conversation than he had. “You think he really might be interested in sponsoring me?”

“I think he was intrigued by the story I pitched him.”

“What story?”

“You know, plucky American kid from the hardscrabble streets of Chicago—”

“We lived in the suburbs.”

“—moving to Europe as a teenager, living with his elderly grandma in the Spanish countryside, all to pursue racing—”

“My grandma lives in Madrid. She’s a lawyer—”

“—driving reserve for half a dozen teams—”

“—three teams—”

“—before being plucked from obscurity and offered a seat in Formula One.”

“Okay, that part is true. But Violet—”

She grasped his upper arms, staring into his eyes intently. Good god, her eyes were pretty. “Listen to me,” she said. “I crafted a narrative that intrigued him. I baited the hook. At the party tomorrow night, you’re going to reel him in. Got it?”

He chuckled. “You are so devious.”

“I’m good at my job. So tomorrow?”

He saluted her. “Whatever you say, General.”

She opened her mouth to complain, but just then Imogen popped up behind her. “Um, Mr. Navarro—”

“Imogen, I told you to call me Chase.”

“Okay, Mr. Chase Navarro. Emil says you need to get ready.”

He inhaled deeply. “Right. Let’s go.”