Page 21 of Lights Out (Love in the Paddock #1)

His eyes light up. “Now that’s another question from you that I’ve never been asked before.”

“I think it gives good insight into a person,” I say.

“When I was at college, I talked to my mom every day. I talked to my dad a lot, too—not every day, but at least once or twice a week. I also have a best friend, Hadleigh. We talk multiple times a day, every day. Even when I was at Georgia and she was at the University of Miami for school, we talked all the time.”

“I talk to Catherine multiple times a day, and not just about work stuff. We get on really well, not only as brother and sister, but as friends,” Caleb says. “I talk to my parents quite a bit. When I do online sim racing, I’m chatting with Xavier and other friends, too.”

“So your mom doesn’t have to go on social media to tell you to respond to messages,” I say, thinking of the story he told me about Mason.

He grins. “No, she doesn’t.”

“May I ask you about your family?” I ask, kicking off my shoes and tucking my legs up underneath me. “It’s okay if the answer is no.”

“I meant it when I said you could ask me anything on camera,” Caleb says. “So you can certainly ask me now.”

“How did your parents’ marriage survive that scandal? Moving past an affair is hard enough, but going through that with the media storm must have been incredibly difficult.”

I study his face as he digests this question. His lips twist for a moment, and I hope I haven’t overstepped by asking him this. But I brought it up because I want to understand his parents better.

Because I know that’s a key to understanding him.

“Mum moved to Paris after the story broke,” Caleb says, shifting his gaze down to the pattern imprinted on the carpeting as he relives his past. “Lars, of course, was terminated from the Collings Motors racing team. My dad remained in London with Catherine and me. Both my parents were devastated by it. The media interest was ridiculous. They were on every tabloid, every breakfast TV show, trending topics on social media. My family became a meme and the butt of late-night TV jokes. Every time I was on the track, I had cameras shoved in my face asking about it. Photographers wanted to get a reaction out of me, so they’d shout stuff about my idol screwing my mum, how did I feel about my mum cheating on my dad, stuff like that.

“It was god-awful,” he says, his voice dropping.

“It took everything in me not to respond in the way I wanted to. My dad was gutted. He refused to take Mum’s calls, and so did Catherine, but I didn’t.

Which made me feel like a traitor to my dad, but despite everything, I was a kid who needed his mum, you know? ”

Caleb lifts his eyes to meet mine, and my throat tightens when I see the depths of sadness there.

“It showed me how ugly the media could be. How the same people who were writing puff pieces about me the week before were ready to rip open my soul if they could get an emotional response on camera to get more clicks. It got into my head, something that had never happened before, and my driving suffered. Badly. So I told myself I would never trust them again. Ever. Screw them and what they wanted. I was going to be the best race car driver, and that was all they would get from me. They’d get my performance on the track.

They’d get my answers in mandated press conferences.

That was it. I would never give them the power to hurt me like they did back then. ”

I grow angry as I think of how the media treated his whole family. But especially Caleb, who was a kid. He had nothing to do with the situation between his parents, and never ever should have been dragged into it. I can’t imagine how painful and humiliating that was.

“You have every right to feel that way,” I say. “What happened to you was wrong . Disgusting. Completely unnecessary. I hate that you had to go through it. And more than anything, I hate that I’m part of the industry that made you feel that way.”

Caleb is silent for a moment, and I wonder if he’s changing his mind about getting to know me. If bringing up the past has reminded him of all the reasons why he shouldn’t be here with me, a member of the media.

“Yes, you’re part of the media. But you’re different.

You’re the first member of the media whom I’ve trusted since that happened.

I trusted you because you came into that conference room, in front of everyone, and called out Arthur.

You didn’t give a damn if you were going to lose the assignment or not.

Your integrity mattered . I made a split-second decision to trust you because of that. And I’m glad I did.”

My heart leaps. “I had to make a decision to trust you, too. This is dangerous for my career. I know I should have told you no to tonight. I should keep you separate because of the career I desperately want and what you do for a living. But I’m so glad I told you yes.”

I practically hear my heart beating out of my chest.

Then I clear my throat. “I’m sorry. I sidetracked you. You were telling me about your parents.”

“Right. Okay. Well, despite that affair, Mum and Dad really did love each other. They had drifted apart. Dad was immersed in running Collings Motors and the F1 team. Mum felt alone, even though she traveled with the family. She was vulnerable, and she found the attention she craved in Lars. I hated him so much at the time, because he was my idol. I wanted to be him, you know? I was gutted to find out he was part of the reason my family was nearly destroyed. but I’ve let that go now.

They both messed up. Lars lost his girlfriend over it. Mum almost lost her family.”

“But she didn’t,” I say.

“No. They went to therapy and worked it out. It took a toll on me, and a different one on Catherine. She couldn’t forgive Mum for a long, long time after that. But eventually she did, and we’re all okay now.”

Now I’m the one who is quiet as I’m digesting this information.

A wry smile passes over his face. “See? You hit the interview jackpot this afternoon. All you had to do was pull the lever, and this story would have been yours.”

I shoot him a look. “No. That was never on the table.”

His eyes meet mine, this time sparking with intensity. “I wasn’t testing you with it. I would have told you everything I said just now if you would have asked the question.”

“I know you would have. But I didn’t want that story for the world. I only wanted to hear it off camera, with no pressure put on you to share it.”

Caleb falls silent, this time assessing me with something different in his eyes.

“That means more to me than you could ever know,” he finally says, and I know I’ve touched him. “Thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. Now, let’s go on to more vital questions. Do you like owls?”

Caleb laughs. “ What? ”

“Do you like owls. How you answer is very important.”

“Sure. I have nothing against the owl. Why?”

“Because they’re my favorite animal. And if you hated them, that would have been a deal-breaker.”

The expression of joy that spreads across his face causes my heart to skip a beat.

“No, the owl won’t be a deal-breaker. But I need to confirm that you like kangaroos. Because that’s my deal-breaker animal.”

He likes kangaroos.

And I couldn’t love his answer anymore if I had written it myself.

We go on to talk for hours, getting to know each other better.

We’re both competitive people who hate to lose, even if it’s playing a board game.

We both like dancing. Caleb hates having to attend sponsor galas like the one he went to tonight and finds them incredibly boring.

I tell him I can’t resist cake of any kind, and I always have a slice of my leftover birthday cake for breakfast the next day with a big cup of coffee.

We talk about our childhoods. Our families.

World events. How we both jog, with me running along the coast in Miami Beach and him running the hills of Monte Carlo.

And with each little thing I learn about him, I find my crush on him growing.

Because this is a man worth taking a risk for.

No matter how big of a risk it might be.

“Are you into horoscopes?” I suddenly ask.

“You have the most abrupt shifts in topics,” Caleb says. “One minute I’m talking about jogging in Monaco, and then you want to know my zodiac sign.”

“I know you have quick reflexes, so I have complete faith in your ability to keep up.”

He grins at that, and I find myself grinning back at him.

“I’m a Scorpio,” I tell him.

“I have no idea what that means, but I’m a Cancer. And I have no idea what that means either.”

Oh my God. Those are two signs that are perfectly suited for each other.

“You know what it means, though. I can tell.”

I blink. He’s so incredibly observant. More than any other man I’ve ever met.

“Astrology-wise, we’re a good match,” I say. “If you believe in that kind of thing.”

His eyes lock on mine. Butterflies dance in my stomach.

“I do now,” he says.

Ooh!

“I believe I met you for a reason,” Caleb says. “I barely know you, and you’ve already changed me. Because of you, I’m trusting someone in the media. I never thought that would be possible.”

“I never thought I’d sit here with an F1 driver on a date,” I admit.

“That was a distinct line I never thought I’d cross.

But when I’m with you like this, I see you as Caleb .

Not the driver, not the Collings Motors heir, but the man who made me a friendship bracelet and likes kangaroos and hates to lose padel games to Xavier.

This should be wrong. But I don’t see how it can be when I feel this way about being here with you. ”

The only sound in the room now is the jazzy background music playing from Caleb’s phone as we sit with each other’s words. I can feel the chemistry between us, it’s so palpable.

He rises from his seat. “We should go. It’s really late.”

I nod in agreement, hating that this evening is coming to an end.

I slip my heels back on, and as soon as I’m finished, Caleb extends his hand to me.

I put my hand in his, and he pulls me up.

We’re now mere inches apart from each other, and he’s still holding my hand in his.

Then Caleb lets go of my hand to trail his fingers down to the friendship bracelet on my wrist. I suck in a breath as I feel his fingertips brush over the beads.

“I need to see you again,” he says. “But I know how the media can be, and I’m going to do everything in my power to protect you whilst we get to know each other.”

His jaw is set. His eyes are determined. I suddenly have a sexy alpha male standing in front of me.

And while hotel conference rooms are known for subzero temperatures, I’m feeling very, very hot.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Come to the qualifying and the race this weekend. I’ll get you a pass so you can be in the garage. We can say you are going to hang out with Catherine. You just did an interview with me, and you spent time in our garage in Miami, so if you are with her, I can’t see it raising red flags.”

He hooks his thumb underneath the bracelet, and I feel his calloused skin brushing directly on mine, causing me to grow hot. “I would like that. And I’ll tell everyone Catherine invited me.”

“Good,” he says. “Now the next thing.”

“Yes?” I ask, practically holding my breath.

“Have dinner with me next week. In Monaco.”

I stare at him, stunned. Caleb has just asked me out for a dinner date.

IN MONACO.

I have to repeat the question, just to make sure this isn’t a bizarre fever dream or something.

“Have dinner with you in Monaco?”

“That was the invitation, yes,” Caleb says.

“But I’m not going to Monaco. The Downforce Network hasn’t booked me for anything else besides this weekend in Italy.”

I wait for Caleb to digest this. I’m sure it never crossed his mind that I wouldn’t be at the Monaco Grand Prix.

“You’ll be there,” he says confidently.

Okay, so it didn’t cross his mind but for a completely different reason. He’s confident I WILL be there, even if it hasn’t been arranged yet.

“Let’s say they don’t ask me to do work for Monaco an—”

“They’re not that bloody stupid. You bring in numbers in a desired demographic. They’ll ask you.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, let’s pretend, for the sake of this conversation, they don’t. And don’t you dare suggest that you will fly me over for dinner because I wouldn’t accept that.”

“You realize that me buying you a first-class ticket to France is the equivalent of me paying for your Uber to a restaurant, right?”

Well, there’s that.

“But I also know,” he says slowly, “that you wouldn’t even let me get you an Uber, so I won’t offer it. I don’t need to. You will be in Monaco. So the only question is, will you have dinner with me or not?”