Page 40 of Lights Out (Love in the Paddock #1)

The first thing Caleb does is reach for me, sliding a hand underneath my hair, his fingers cradling the back of my head. “Christ, Isla, I’ve missed you,” he says, drawing me closer. “So bloody much.”

His lips brush softly against mine, and I melt into him, tasting the mint on his tongue and feeling the caress of his fingers in my hair. I move my hands to his face, feeling his freshly shaven skin and drinking in every bit of this kiss that I can.

As the driver’s door opens, Caleb breaks the kiss but keeps his hand on the back of my head, still cradling it.

“Are you ready, Mr. Collings?” Peter asks.

“Yes, Peter,” he says, briefly directing his attention to the driver’s seat. “Everything we’ve discussed, please. And thank you.”

Peter nods, and a privacy screen is raised to separate us from the front seat. We’re alone now.

“Hi,” I murmur to Caleb.

“Hi,” he says, drawing my mouth closer for another kiss. I melt into it, my tongue dancing with his. His other arm moves along mine, stroking the bare skin, and he groans. “Your skin feels so soft.”

I relish the feel of his strong, rough hand moving over my arm. We kiss again, and finally, I pull back, as I have things I want to say.

“I missed you,” I confess as the car pulls into traffic. “I was counting down the days for Montreal, and it seemed like forever until I could see you again.”

I stroke the side of his face with my hand, and he clasps it and bring it to his lips, kissing it.

“I’m so glad you decided to stay in London until you leave for Montreal. Thank you for doing that.”

“There was no other choice,” Caleb says.

“No other choice?”

“You were here. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

My heart somersaults in happiness. “So how are we doing a tour of London and dinner?” I ask.

Caleb inclines his head toward the picnic basket on the floor of the car. “Dinner is in here. We’ll eat whilst we take in London from the car. So kind of a picnic and evening tour.”

“This is amazing!” I cry in delight.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, opening the lid on the basket.

“There’s champagne to celebrate your new job.

Lobster-and-crab cups. Mini beef Wellingtons.

Crackers and cheese. We can eat whilst Peter drives us around.

I gave him an itinerary of all the places you need to see.

And I tried to do a fine-dining-type experience for you. ”

I’m touched by the thought he put into this. “This is a perfect first date in London,” I say softly. “Thank you for this.”

Caleb pulls out the champagne and looks at me. “So you’re okay with this? I know it’s not dinner somewhere posh or dancing at a club. It’s not even a touristy ride on the London Eye. I can’t give you those things.”

“Those things,” I say firmly, “can wait while we get to know each other. Just spending time with you is all that matters to me. It’s all I want, Caleb.”

I can tell he’s touched by my words. “That’s all I want, too,” he says. Then he nods. “Okay, would you like some champagne?”

“I would, thank you.”

Caleb retrieves the bottle and begins to uncork it, and I peek inside the lavishly packed basket. He grins. “I’m probably going to spill this all over the back seat.”

“There’s no need to spray me for landing the show on The Downforce Network,” I quip.

He chuckles.

“We can have water instead,” I say. “I see some in the basket.”

“Nah, leather can be cleaned,” Caleb says, uncorking the champagne.

POP!

The cork comes out, and some of the fancy champagne bubbles up and spills onto the floorboard. I hold up a glass for him, and he pours the bubbly inside of it, then pours another one. He sets the champagne bottle aside and then raises the glass to me. “To your new home. Welcome to London.”

We clink the glasses together and each take a sip. Then Caleb retrieves the lobster-and-crab cups, and we dive in. As we eat, he tells me the agenda for the tour.

“We’re going to see everything from the Royal Albert Hall and Buckingham Palace to Big Ben and St. Paul’s Cathedral. And Tower Bridge and the Tower of London.”

“See, that was what I wanted on the drive earlier today!” I say excitedly. “But this is better because I get to share it all with you.”

He smiles at me, and it lights up his whole face. “I like that I get to be the first person to show you London.”

“And you’re really going to be here until you leave for Montreal?”

“Yes. I’ll fly out next Tuesday. Have you received your itinerary yet?”

I shake my head. “No, not yet. I have a meeting on Thursday morning, so I think I’ll get my next assignments and travel arrangements then.”

“I’m working out how we can see each other in Montreal,” Caleb says, wiping his lips with his napkin. “But I’ll get it sorted.”

“I can’t imagine being in the same place and not seeing you anywhere but at a function or on the track.”

“Same. So I’m working on it.” His jaw gets that determined set to it, and I have no doubt Caleb will find a way for us to be together in Montreal.

“Are you ready for a beef Wellington?” he asks.

“I’ve never had one, so yes.”

I watch as Caleb fixes me a plate and passes it to me. I pick up the handheld bite and taste it. “Oh my God, where has this been all my life?”

He flashes me a smile. “Good?”

“Very!”

We continue eating, and before long, the London I have dreamed of and seen on television comes into view. I see the old architecture blended with the new. “Oh!” I cry excitedly, looking out the window. “Kensington Gardens!”

“You saw the street sign, didn’t you?” Caleb teases.

I giggle. “Well, yes.”

The tour goes on, and I start to see amazing things.

The Victoria and Albert Museum. Harrods.

I feel Caleb lace his fingers through mine as he leans in and tells me everything I’m seeing.

I marvel at Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey, so beautiful lit up at night.

I can’t get enough of the red double-decker buses, the black taxi cabs—just everything!

“Are you upset with the lack of car showrooms?” he jokes.

I turn and smile at him. “Cheeky, aren’t you?”

“Already picking up the lingo. Nice.”

“But I do have a question.”

“Go on.”

“Why so many chicken shops?” I ask. “And what kind of chicken is it? They’re like everywhere!”

Caleb stares blankly at me. “You mean the fried chicken shops?”

“Yes. You Brits must be obsessed with fried chicken. I noticed it this afternoon, and I’m seeing just as many now. What’s up with that?”

An amused grin passes over his face. “You know, I never thought about it.”

“So it’s where you go for fried chicken?”

“You have a strange interest in chicken shops.”

“I’m a reporter, I need to dig into this.”

“Chicken shops?”

“Maybe I’ll go to one. Just to experience it.”

“They have other stuff, too. Like peri-peri chicken, burgers, wraps, wings,” Caleb says, running his hand over his jaw as he thinks. “But yeah, it’s fried chicken and chips. Fries for you.”

“I definitely have to go,” I say.

He pushes a button on the side of his seat, and the privacy glass lowers down.

“Yes, Mr. Collings?” Peter asks.

“Peter, I have a huge favor to ask,” Caleb says. “We’re going to pull over at a chicken shop. I’ll find one and let you know.”

I can’t contain the smile spreading across my face.

Caleb squeezes my hand, and I squeeze it back.

“Yes, of course,” Peter says.

“Right. Give me a second to locate a chicken shop.” Caleb retrieves his phone and searches. I lean into him, watching the results come up.

“Looks like Box O’ Chix is it,” he says, tapping on the website icon. He navigates to the menu. “What do you want?”

I look at the menu. “I have to get the two-piece box of chicken and chips.”

“Good girl.” Caleb grins.

Suddenly I have a vision of him saying “good girl” during sex, and OH MY GOD, did it just get hot in here?

No. No sexy thoughts of Caleb. Focus on the chicken.

Wow. Talk about two thoughts I’d never have thought I’d ever link together. I burst out laughing.

“What?” Caleb asks, and he begins to laugh without even knowing why.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“So we’ll get a two-piece fried chicken and chips box,” he says. “I have to watch what I eat so I’ll just have a bite.”

“And you can probably have one chip,” I joke.

“Yes. I’ll go crazy and have a chip. What else?”

I look over the rest of the menu. “Ooh, can I get a Biscoff shake too?”

“I don’t know. Can you?” he asks, his eyes sparkling at me.

“May I?” I correct.

“Yes. Although I’d get Oreo.”

“Oh, is it better?”

“I have no idea, I’ve never eaten here before. But I prefer Oreos over Biscoffs.”

“I want to get something you can at least try. I can be happy with Oreo.”

“Get Biscoff. I can only have a sip anyway.”

“Then it will be Oreo,” I say firmly.

The corners of his mouth lift up in a cute smile. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. This is our date. Our chicken shop experience. I want you to have a bit of everything before I devour the box.”

Something registers in his expression at my words. I can see him digesting it and taking it in, but he doesn’t say anything, as if he’s keeping that thought tucked away for himself.

Why is that sexy and heart melting at the same time?

“I’ll run in and get the order, too,” I volunteer. “Then if Peter has to move the car, he can.”

“I wish I could go in with you.”

“No, Box O’ Chix is not worth it,” I remind him.

I swear he almost sulks. I giggle. “Caleb Collings, there is no reason to be upset that you can’t go into a chicken shop with me.”

Now he looks embarrassed.

“I mean, what are you going to miss? Coming out smelling like fried chicken?”

I pause. Oh great. Now for the rest of the date, I’m going to smell like fried chicken.

“I’m going to miss seeing your reaction when you take it all in. I don’t like missing moments with you. I miss enough as it is.”

My eyes fly to his. He stares at me as the car pulls to a stop in front of the bright neon lights of Box O’ Chix.