Page 22 of Lights Out (Love in the Paddock #1)

It’s a glorious Saturday afternoon in Northern Italy.

Puffy white clouds stretch across the blue sky over the Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix, and I marvel at the magnificent place I find myself in.

The racecourse is nestled in the valley, and the setting is beautiful, with trees surrounding a track with nineteen turns and significant elevation changes.

Homes with terra-cotta roofs dot the landscape around the track, and the scene is just breathtaking.

So much has happened since Wednesday. The interview I did with Caleb aired during Friday’s race-weekend preview show, The Gear Box , and it not only got monster numbers, but it went viral on the website.

I’m clipped everywhere . I’m on Threads.

YouTube. Connectivity. TikTok. All because the elusive Caleb Collings decided to finally sit down for a one-on-one conversation.

The views The Downforce Network is collecting online are HUGE.

I crushed it with a key demographic the network is desperate to grow.

Women .

I knew Caleb and I knocked that out of the park as soon as we recorded it.

The numbers only confirmed my gut instinct.

I’ve also received great reviews for my fun and unconventional interview style.

The network immediately contacted my agent to work out a contract to host a half-hour online interview show like the one I did with Caleb—a mix of soft racing questions mixed in with completely irreverent ones—with all kinds of people working in F1, from drivers to race engineers to team principals.

So that’s being negotiated now, and I can hardly get my head around it, everything is happening so quickly.

They also want me to do social media content and stuff for F2, like the grid walk I’m doing tomorrow. In fact, I’ve attended F2 practice sessions, qualifying, and press conferences to prepare for my big debut on the grid.

I will be traveling with the network to cover F1.

And I will be in Monaco next week for the Monaco Grand Prix.

Which means I have a dinner date with Caleb.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

But putting thoughts of that aside, I can’t believe mere weeks ago I got one shot at a motorhome tour for social media content.

Now I’m getting to report on F2 and host an interview show for the network.

Not to mention the sponsorship deals that are coming in.

I know I’m getting these opportunities because of Caleb. I know my talent is pushing them through, but the door wouldn’t have opened as quickly—IF EVER—without him.

And here I am, about to watch the F1 qualifying session to determine pole position and spots on the grid for the race tomorrow—and I’m going to be in Caleb’s garage for all of it.

Butterflies dance in my stomach. I could tell myself it’s because I’ve watched this race on TV so many times, and it’s surreal to be here, on this historic track, for a Grand Prix weekend. Or because I’ll be doing live TV on this very track tomorrow.

But I know those would be lies. The butterflies have never truly gone away.

They’ve been there since I saw Caleb for the first time here in Italy.

We haven’t seen each other since that night.

We’ve both been busy with work. But I watched his press conference back in my hotel room on Thursday night.

I bite back a laugh when I think about it.

He might have told me all about the joys of foam candy, but when it came to answering the questions from reporters?

The same tight-lipped Caleb returned.

I don’t know if he’ll ever change, and I can’t say that I blame him.

And it once again reenforces how huge it was that he offered to sit down and speak with me.

About everything.

Catherine is waiting for me outside the door. She’s going to be my hostess for the day. If anyone asks, she’s the reason why I’m in the garage.

“Hey! How was the press conference?” She smiles brightly at me.

“Oh, no fireworks in this one,” I say. “Very standard questions and answers.”

I didn’t ask any questions. I was there to listen and learn as much as I could, so I was in super-absorbent-sponge mode.

Catherine takes me inside, and it’s just like what I saw in my first garage tour.

It’s nearly identical to the one they had set up in Miami, with everything in the same place.

It’s so cool, yet weird at the same time.

The garage is full of activity as they prep Caleb’s car for the first qualifying session.

The goal is to make it out of round one—being one of the top fifteen cars out of twenty.

Then the goal becomes to make it out of round two by placing in the top ten.

The third and final round determines the best positions on the grid.

Which means if you are in the final round, you have a chance of earning pole position, the most coveted spot on the track.

Caleb and Xavier were very close in their times in the last practice session, with Caleb having the fastest time of 1:18:607 on a lap.

Xavier was right behind him with a time of 1:18:988.

Mason was on pace to beat both of them, but when he was coming down a hill, he had a bit of an understeer that led to an oversteer to keep control of the car, which cost him critical, hair-splitting time.

As I study Caleb’s car in front of me and look around the garage waiting for him to appear, I think about how much I have talked to him, even though I haven’t seen him. Caleb and I have exchanged some long text strings, including one that I fell asleep during last night.

I retrieve my phone and pop open that thread, smiling as I reread it:

Isla, have I bored you to sleep?

Hmm. No reply. I’ll take that as a YES.

My game is obviously shit if you’ve opted to go to bed.

You expect more from me.

And when we go to dinner in Monaco, I promise you’ll get it.

That sentence about Monaco sent eagerness zipping through me. I finally replied when I woke up:

You have a great skill for having a texting conversation with yourself, Caleb.

Then he messaged me back:

You make it sound like that’s weird or something.

The thread goes on, but I look up when I hear Catherine speaking. “He’ll be coming out soon.”

I quickly drop my phone back into my bag and nod. “Okay.”

Not that I think Catherine would look at my screen, but I’ll be standing close to a lot of people in the VIP section once everyone settles in to watch qualifying.

It’s one thing if someone sees me looking at F1 statistics. It’s another if they see a private message between me and Caleb.

“And speaking of Caleb, there he is,” Catherine says, inclining her head to the left.

I follow her gaze. Caleb has entered the garage, and I feel the air leave my body when I see him.

The black-and-white racing suit is unzipped, hanging sexily off his hips.

His black fireproof shirt is on, stretching across his lean and toned body.

He rakes a hand through his dark hair as he talks to someone on the Collings Motors crew.

He has a water bottle in his right hand, and his full lips lock around the long straw as he takes a sip of water.

My God. I’ve never wanted to be a straw so bad in my life .

He must feel my stare because his gaze shifts in my direction. I magically regain the ability to breathe again the second I make contact with those blue eyes. Caleb finishes his conversation and then heads our way.

“Right on time,” Catherine says.

“I’m always on time when it’s important,” he says, staring straight at me.

My body immediately flushes with heat.

“If you have any questions after qualifying, let me know,” he tells me.

“Are you promising me insider information?”

The corners of that sexy mouth pull upward into a smile.

Damn, that’s so freaking hot, and I’m in danger of combusting whenever I see it.

“Perhaps. It depends on the question,” he says.

Then Caleb turns back and walks over to the section of the garage that has a space for his helmet and gloves, which are right next to Mason’s. Mason has the other half of the garage, and I see he’s already in his car.

Caleb slips in his earpieces, known as Driver Comms, and then reaches for his balaclava and pulls it over his head.

It shields his hair and most of his face, the fireproof protective covering merely leaving a spot for his eyes and nose to be visible.

He puts on his silver racing helmet and walks past us, his eyes meeting mine for a second before he looks straight ahead.

SWOON.

He gets into the cockpit of his car as the crew continues to work on it. He pulls on his gloves, and his steering wheel is snapped into place.

Catherine glances at her watch. “He’ll pull out in about ten minutes or so.”

I nod. I have headphones so I can hear all the conversations between Caleb and JP, his race engineer.

I’ve listened to these conversations before during races, thanks to the driver cam on The Downforce Network app, but there’s something about being here that makes the experience different.

The air is thick with anticipation. An eagerness to see the car fire up, exit the garage, and head out to the track to see just how fast it can go.

I want to hear that familiar noise of the engine, feel the vibrations of the car as it pulls out, and watch Caleb show why he’s one of the best drivers in the world.

The Downforce Network has a cameraman at the edge of the garage, aiming his camera right at Caleb. I turn to the monitor that is showing TV coverage, and OH MY.

It’s a close-up of Caleb in his helmet. His visor is up, but all you can see are his eyes, fringed by long, inky-black eyelashes, and the strong line of his nose.

I swallow hard as I see the fierceness in his gaze. He’s dialed in and ready to attack that track, and I think it’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.