Page 19 of Kiss & Collide (Racing Hearts #2)

T en minutes later they were seated at a table next to the sidewalk, overlooking the river, with people streaming past.

“This place is so … pretty. The people, the architecture, the food .” He gestured at the table next to them, where someone was dining on the most delicious-looking steak he’d ever seen. His stomach grumbled.

“Yeah, I love Paris.”

“So you said. You spend a lot of time here?”

She fidgeted in her seat. “It doesn’t—”

“Violet, are you a spy or something? Why can’t you ever talk about yourself?”

She smiled slightly and looked away, that closed-off, edgy thing she did when she was uncomfortable. “You’re not the first person to say that. Mira and Will like to say that I might be an international assassin.”

He nodded. “That tracks.”

“Guess I give off big murder energy.”

“Only when you’re hangry.” He nudged the bread basket toward her and she laughed. He was in good form today. He’d made her laugh twice.

He started again. “So.”

She plucked a piece of bread from the basket and tore it in two. “So.”

The waiter had left a carafe of red wine on the table so he filled a glass and slid it across the table to her. “Paris.”

She swiped it off the table and took a sip. “Ian. The, um … guy you met.”

“At Silverstone. Yeah, I remember.” Like it hadn’t been running in a loop in his imagination ever since.

“He’s in a band. Revenant Saints.”

Of course he was. Nothing had ever been more obvious. “Never heard of them,” he said, taking some petty pleasure in the fact that at least Ian wasn’t a successful rock star.

“They’re not really your scene.”

“I’ve seen your record collection. I figured. Guess they’re not that well-known?”

“Promising, but still mid-level. No movie soundtracks and stadium tours. Not yet.”

“So, this band … Ian …” he prompted again.

“He and I dated.”

“I figured that part out, too.”

“You’re so clever.” She shrugged dismissively as she tore her bread into increasingly tiny pieces.

“I was on the road with them for a few years. Three years, more or less. I met him when I was eighteen. And then I started with Lennox when I was twenty-one. So between the two.” Her face clouded over.

“I feel like you’re leaving a lot out.”

“I am.” She gave him a quick, challenging look that he was starting to think of as pure Violet.

“Anyway, they did pretty well in France. We came through Paris a few times.” She let out a sudden huff of laughter, like she’d just been surprised by a memory.

“Kiz fell into the Seine right over there. I forgot about that. Kiz was the drummer. He was drunk. Well, we all were. And we were lost, but Kiz swore he knew the way back to the van. And Astrid was arguing with him, because she said it was in the other direction, and she grabbed his arm and he lost his footing and, boom. Straight over into the Seine. They had to call the gendarmes to fish him out.” Her whole face softened—he could picture her, younger and edgier, drunk and laughing with her friends.

“And Astrid was standing there on the bank yelling at him the whole time, while he splashed around and shouted back at her.” She paused, staring off into the middle distance.

“I haven’t thought about that night in a long time. ”

Even her eyes had gone soft, and he wondered how much of that tough-girl armor was a recent thing for her. Maybe, back then with Ian’s band, she’d been different. He doubted Violet had ever been cuddly, but she probably wasn’t always sharp edges and glossy surfaces you could never get a grip on.

“Sounds like you guys had some good times.”

Violet inhaled and just like that, the wall came back down hard. “Yeah, well, it was a long time ago and it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

He didn’t call her on it, but that was one big fucking lie. Outside of Mira, she’d never mentioned friends … a group that she was a part of. But it sounded like she’d had that once.

His jealousy turned to anger. It seemed like that asshole Ian was the one who’d stolen that away from her.

The waiter arrived and slid their plates in front of them.

“So what happened?”

“I thought you were starving. Eat.”

“I can multitask.” He cut into his white fish, no sauce. There’d been a lot more interesting stuff on the menu, but his diet during the season was uncompromising. He was already pretty tall for a driver. He couldn’t afford an extra ounce behind the wheel.

“Uh-uh. Your turn.”

“What do you want to know? Unlike you, I’m an open book, Violet.”

“So you said you moved to Spain when you were fifteen.”

“To live with my grandmother, so I could compete in European open-wheel racing.”

“Your family is Spanish?”

“My dad is. He came to the US for college. Met my mom and stayed. His family is all back in Spain.”

“So do you speak Spanish?”

He looked up and locked eyes with her. “Eres el postre perfecto despues de cena.”

Violet blinked, her lips parting slightly, and he grinned. That one always worked.

“Making a mental note of that ,” she murmured. “Your parents were okay with that? You quitting school to race?”

“Mom made me get my GED online, but yeah. My whole family races.”

“There are more of you?”

“My sister, Samantha, and my brother, Tyler. Both younger.”

Violet set her fork down with a clatter. “You have a sister who races cars?”

He nodded. “Sam is driving in the European Le Mans Series right now. Tyler’s just getting started in IndyCar back home. He’s only nineteen.”

“ GQ is going to love you,” she murmured.

“So how’d you get into racing? Was it after the band?”

She kept her eyes on her plate as she pushed a green bean around with her fork. “Um, no. I’ve always been into racing.”

“Really? Since you were a kid?”

“I, um, used to watch with my father.”

He grinned. “Just like me.”

Her eyes flicked up to his but she didn’t return the smile. Apparently she didn’t have the same sentimental feelings about those days.

“So what’s your family like?”

She shrugged, eyes back on her plate as she cut that green bean into increasingly tiny pieces. “You know. Family.”

“You’re doing it again, Violet. International woman of mystery. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Nope, it’s just me.” There was something behind those words.

“And your parents didn’t mind you running off to tour with Ian’s band?”

She stabbed a potato with more force than necessary. “The sperm donor was too busy raising his new family, and my mother was too busy obsessing over him to notice or care what I did.”

“Wow. That sounds—”

“It is what it is. Eat your fish.”

Chase hesitated, but she’d turned to her own plate, one of those delicious-looking steaks, and taken a huge bite. Family conversation over.

“We’re on the other side of the river,” Violet said, directing him toward a pedestrian bridge over the water.

It was a warm summer night, and it seemed like the whole world was out walking around Paris.

The pedestrian bridge was filled with people.

Some were camped out playing music, or talking.

Others were lining up for the perfect selfie with the river behind them.

Here and there, couples kissed or cuddled, looking out at the lights on the water.

“That’s where we were this afternoon, right?” He stopped at the railing to look.

“The ?le de la Cité. Yeah. And that’s the Notre-Dame.”

“I recognize it from pictures, but it’s different being here, seeing it in person.”

She leaned on the railing beside him, looking down at the river. The breeze ruffled her hair, and the lights reflecting off the water made her pale skin glow. For a second he glimpsed that younger Violet, before she’d strapped on all this armor.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

She shrugged, eyes on the river below. “Sure.”

“Why did you hate me so much last season?”

“I didn’t hate you.”

“Uh, yeah, you did. You hated me until that night in Monaco. And for a while after that, if we’re being honest.”

Violet was silent for a minute, considering. “Do you remember two years ago in Budapest?”

“What about it?”

“Compendium Banking’s after-party. We were both there. I was talking to Caroline Hayes and you interrupted.”

He remembered the night now. It was a flashy F1 party, but he’d scored an invite from one of the Hansbach engineers.

He’d gone mostly because there was free alcohol.

He remembered seeing Violet on the other side of the room chatting up some girl.

He’d recognized her from around the track, of course, but that night had been different.

She’d been in a tight black dress and heels and she’d looked … amazing.

“Caroline’s a big sports influencer. I was pitching her, trying to get her to spend a weekend in the Lennox garage posting content. Then you sailed in and started flirting with her. You blew the whole thing.”

He shook his head, laughing. “You and I remember Budapest very differently.”

Violet turned her head to stare at him. “Did you just quote The Avengers to me?”

“It was a joke. I didn’t realize Caroline was a work thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. You were just thinking about getting laid and Caroline was pretty.”

“Not her. You.”

She swiveled to look at him again. “Excuse me?”

That night he’d looked up and seen Violet across the room, and before he knew it, he was heading straight for her, like she was a magnet.

“I went over there for you. I wanted you.”

“You did not,” she scoffed, but there was a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“I did . But you looked at me like I was something you’d just scraped off your shoe—”

“Because I was in the middle of a work thing!”

“I know that now. But then? I just figured you weren’t interested. So I started talking to Caroline. She was nice.”

“I’m sure she was.”

“It all worked out in the end, right?” Without really thinking about it, he reached out and slid a hand up under her hair, squeezing the back of her neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Touching you.”

“Why?” She froze.

He shrugged. “I like to. And it’s not like I haven’t done it before.” He leaned in closer. “I’m pretty sure I’ve had my hands and mouth on every inch of your body at this point, Violet.”

“That’s different.” But she didn’t shrug him off, so they stayed like that, watching the Seine.