Page 6 of Kiss & Collide (Racing Hearts #2)

A s soon as Chase was away from the Pinnacle factory, he made the call he’d been dying to make all day. His father picked up almost immediately.

“Chase? What is it? Are you all right?” Dad’s Spanish accent always got thicker when he was caught off guard.

“I’m fine, Dad. Are you at work? I have some news.”

“Your mother and I both work from home on Mondays now. What is it?”

He had to force the words out around the tightness in his throat. “Dad, I did it. Formula One. I’m driving for Pinnacle for the rest of the season.”

Through the phone, he heard his father inhale sharply. “What … how?”

He gave his father the short version, ending with his arrival at Pinnacle this morning. “So that’s it. I’m in. Thirteen races left in the season.”

“My boy! I’m so proud of you!” He could hear the tears in his father’s voice, and it made his throat get tight again. He blinked away the burning in his eyes. “I told you, Chase. Didn’t I tell you you’d make it to Formula One one day? You were born to drive! I’m so happy!”

He chuckled. “You did, Dad. Every day since I was four.”

His love of racing had come straight from his dad.

His earliest memories involved sitting on Dad’s lap watching Formula One online as he explained the intricacies of the sport and the cars.

He’d grown up worshiping Michael Schumacher and Ayrton Senna the way other Chicago kids worshiped Michael Jordan.

“Nic!” his father called away from the phone. “Come talk to Chase. He has news.”

“No, Dad, don’t bother her if she's working—” Chase protested, but it was too late.

He listened to the familiar sounds from back home—his mom calling down from the upstairs landing, the thud of her bare feet on the stairs, his parents’ brief discussion as Dad passed off the phone—and felt a tug in his chest.

His parents were devoted to each other. He’d grown up believing that one day, inevitably, he’d find a relationship like his parents’, and at one point, he’d thought he had. Something real and honest when every other relationship around him seemed cynically transactional.

But he’d been wrong. Not only was his relationship transactional, but he’d been traded in for a more valuable player.

That was the first time his instinctive trust in others had been abused, but it wouldn’t be the last. So he’d sworn off hunting for The One.

Maybe that shit only happened once in a millennium, and his parents were the lucky two.

As long as he was racing, he didn’t have the time or energy for dating anyway. For now, transactional relationships suited him just fine. A little fun, a lot of pleasure for both parties, then everybody goes their separate ways with no hard feelings. It worked for him.

Dad put Mom on the phone and he related his news all over again.

Mom was thrilled, of course, but not like Dad had been.

His dad was the one with the love of racing, a passion he’d passed on to all three Navarro kids.

Mom was supportive, but she joked that racing had stolen her family, which wasn’t entirely untrue.

“I’m going to call Sam and Tyler,” Dad said when he got back on the phone. “They’re going to be so excited. And your grandmother. And my sisters.”

“Dad, it’s late here. I’ll call them all tomorrow. I promised to meet some of the guys from Engineering for a drink. I gotta go.”

“You go,” Dad said. “Have fun and celebrate. Chase, we’re so proud of you. We love you, my boy.”

Those words were more meaningful than the call from Pinnacle. “I couldn’t have done this without you guys. Love you too.”

When he got off the phone with his parents, he pocketed his phone and headed into Wetherspoons.

Leon had asked him to join him and some of the engineers for a drink after work and he’d jumped at the chance to get to know the crew better.

Leon was right. He’d always preferred hanging out with the mechanics.

He paused inside the door, scanning the room for Leon. He saw him and the rest of the group in a booth on the far side of the room, but then he also saw her … Violet, sitting alone at the bar with a tumbler of vodka.

For a beat, he hesitated. He could head straight over to Leon’s table and ignore her.

That’s probably what she’d prefer. But there was something so dejected about her hunched shoulders, a kind of weary defeat that he’d never seen in Violet before.

And instead of celebrating her new job and getting to know her new coworkers like he was, she was drinking alone.

Some stupid instinct told him he should check on her.

She’d probably just hand him his ass, but at least he’d know he’d made the attempt.

He waved at Leon and held up a finger, then headed over to join her. When he slid onto the barstool next to her, she turned her head and scoffed when she saw him.

“Of course,” she muttered.

“Nice to see you, too, Violet.”

The bartender stopped in front of him. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a Guinness. And another for the lady.”

“I buy my own drinks,” she snapped.

“Come on, just one. Celebrate with me.”

She swirled the ice cubes in her empty glass. “To be honest, Chase, I’m not seeing much worth celebrating right now.”

He looked at her curiously. “Are you kidding? Do you know how long I’ve worked for this? I moved to Spain to live with my grandma when I was fifteen , just so I could race.”

That caught her attention, and she cast him a curious glance. “You did?”

“I did. All for a shot at this, and now it’s here. I’ve made it.” He smiled at her. She did not return it.

The bartender set their drinks down in front of them, and Violet scowled at hers, but she still picked it up and took a sip.

“Look,” he conceded, “I know this team’s not the best on the grid—”

“They’re the worst .”

“Right now they’re the worst. But we can turn this around.

I have to believe that. If I stopped believing I could do that, I’d have quit years ago.

I’d be …” He waved a hand in the air. “I don’t know.

Running a go-kart track back in Chicago, boring all the kids with stories about how I almost made it to Formula One.

But I didn’t quit. I stuck it out. And now I’m here. ”

“Look, I’m super glad that all your dreams have come true. Just don’t go looking for miracles.”

“You really don’t think we can turn it around?”

She half pivoted on her stool to look at him.

“Did you see what I saw on that tour today? Oscar Davies hasn’t had an original idea in two decades and is probably a nightmare to work for, because Rabia and Leon seem to be running a shadow government in that place.

The new team principal is a clueless knob, and his assistant is too busy bursting into tears to keep control of him.

The dysfunction in that factory would keep them from staging a successful fire drill, never mind a successful Formula One season.

So, no, I do not think we can turn it around.

My plan is to stay here just long enough to make it count on my CV and then get the hell out. ”

She turned away and took a long swig of her drink.

He considered her for a moment, wondering when this young, gorgeous girl had gotten so angry and jaded.

Her face was surprisingly delicate for such a spiky thing, with big eyes that were so dark blue they were almost the color of her namesake flower.

She probably thought her dramatic dark eye makeup made her look tougher, but to him, she just looked mysterious and sexy.

Her full lips were still stained with the remnants of the blood-red lipstick she favored.

It occurred to him suddenly that he hadn’t kissed her that night in Monaco. Well, not on her mouth, anyway.

“Yeah, I saw all that. But here’s what I know, Violet.

” When he said her name, she turned her head to look at him again.

“Not one of those people got into this sport because it was just some job to pay the bills. Every one of them got into racing because they love it. They love the cars and the tracks and the technology and the strategy and the speed . They loved all of that enough to try for it, even though everybody tries and almost no one makes it.” He folded his arms on the bar in front of him.

“And, yeah, we’re last on the grid. But we’re on it.

I’m going to do my damnedest to turn this around.

And I guarantee you, every other person here will fight to turn it around, too.

Because we’re all here for the same reason. Because we all fucking love racing.”

Violet blinked, then turned away and tossed back some of her vodka. “Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

She waved her hand in his general direction. “The can-do spirit, the plucky optimism.”

He chuckled and took a swig of his beer. “I guess I don’t like conceding defeat before I’ve even started. I’d rather pitch in with the team and try.”

She let out a soft huff of laughter. “See? Can-do spirit.”

Bringing up Monaco was probably the last thing he should do at the moment, but he couldn’t resist teasing her about it a little bit.

Nudging her elbow with his, he murmured, “My can-do spirit worked pretty well for you in Monaco.”

She kept her eyes fixed forward, but her lips parted slightly and she let out a breath.

“All things considered, I think we’d better forget Monaco ever happened.”

He paused for a beat, then leaned closer. “You sure? I’m pretty sure we could improve your mood. No strings attached.”

He knew that’s what Violet preferred. And yes, what he preferred, too.

She turned her head to glance at him. Their eyes locked and his teasing smile faded.

Attraction crackled between them, as clear as a lightning bolt in the night sky.

Forget teasing. He was almost painfully invested in this, desperate to have a chance to touch her again, to kiss her finally.

He could almost feel her lips against his, almost taste her tongue with his.

One corner of her lips curled up in a slight smile, then she threw back the rest of her drink in one go. For a split second, he thought she was game, and adrenaline flooded his body. Yes . God, yes.

But then she hopped off her barstool and clapped him on the shoulder. “Trust me, Chase, the last thing I’d ever expect of you is strings. But the answer is no. Have fun celebrating. I’m going home.”

He watched her stride across the pub, that long sweep of black hair swaying from side to side, matching the movement of her hips.

It took several long minutes for his body to unwind.

Okay, he was bummed she’d turned him down.

Bummed didn’t begin to cover it. Right now, he’d crawl on his knees over broken glass to get her back into his bed.

But she’d said no, and that was that. He took a sip of his beer and turned to join Leon and the rest of the crew.