Page 5 of Lights Out (Love in the Paddock #1)

“Because of my wins? My name? The supposed conflict I have with Mason?” His eyes darken as he speaks, and I can tell he’s got some hot buttons here.

In fact, all of them seem to combine to form one major hot button in itself. If you press on any one of these topics, they all link together in his brain to cause him to be cautious and skeptical about the media.

But for some reason I don’t yet understand, he’s revealing them to me.

“Your name is part of your story,” I say, holding my gaze steady on his.

“Your family owns Collings Motors. They are a legacy team in F1. You are the first Collings to ever drive for Collings Motors. So of course that’s a story.

And I assume it’s a lot of pressure, to have that name on your back every time you get behind the wheel.

You face a level of judgment and scrutiny that other drivers do not have to deal with, and that has to be hard. ”

I pause for a moment, and I see his gaze is no longer dark, but curious.

“You have to fight the image of nepotism, even though you had an incredible season in F2 two years ago, deserved your rookie season last year, and you’ve proven yourself by getting on the podium this season multiple times, winning once, and we’re only on the sixth race of the season.

That’s another big story. You’ve been incredibly successful on the track.

Now, about your situation with Mason? I’ve never commented on that on my videos because I have no idea if it’s true. ”

“It’s fabricated media rubbish, ” he snaps.

“I don’t have a problem with Mason. Is there tension between us sometimes?

Yes. It’s racing , we’re both wired to be hypercompetitive people, we’re deeply passionate about driving, and we both want to win.

The team is still figuring out how to balance having two number-one-level drivers.

But that doesn’t mean we don’t like each other, despite what you might hear on car radios during the heat of a race. ”

My mind clicks back to the Australian Grand Prix, where there was a questionable decision to not prioritize Caleb over Mason, even though his car had better pace.

There were some words exchanged between Caleb and his race engineer.

And Mason had comments after the race. Of course, nepotism was flung about in the media, with some saying Caleb wasn’t a team player with his demands.

I never saw it that way, however. His car was better, he should have been prioritized, and Collings Motors made the wrong call.

“Well, you know how you could get rid of that image?” I ask. “Do more social media content with Mason.”

Caleb’s full lips draw tight into a line. “I have a complicated relationship with social media,” he confesses.

Intriguing. I wonder what caused these feelings. And again, why is he telling this to me?

“I think every human does,” I say softly.

“Yours is more complicated, I’m sure, by your name and family history, but you could work it to your advantage.

Let people get to see you like they will in the video you just did.

I’m sure the Collings Motors social media team would love to promote you like they do Mason. ”

Caleb doesn’t look convinced.

I shrug. “Just the opinion of a woman in her rookie year of reporting and second year of content creation. Take what you will from it.”

“I think,” he says slowly, “I’ll take it under advisement.”

Ooh!

“I have one more question,” I say. “Why are you sharing these things with me? Off the record, of course.”

“You’re authentic,” he says simply.

“What?” I ask, surprised by his answer. “Why do you say that?”

“You were pretty fearless back in that conference room. You didn’t let Arthur get away with his offensive comments.

You called him out on it. You didn’t ignore it or sweep it under the rug.

You stood up for yourself, even if the consequences could have led to you not getting your break.

Something tells me that is authentic to who you are.

You’re always going to be honest and truthful. Am I right?”

I’m completely taken aback by his assessment of me. I’ve always been taught to stand up for myself—and for others. To do the right thing, even if it might be painful or awkward. Being honest is important to me, in my career and my personal life. It’s something I value in myself.

And in others, too.

Just like the way Caleb is being honest with me right now.

“I appreciate your words,” I say. “Yes, that is how my parents raised me. I don’t cower.”

He gives me a smile. “They did a good job.”

“Thank you.”

A silence falls between us, and I clear my throat. “I suppose I should get my tote from Catherine. I need to edit this video and submit it to The Downforce Network.”

“I’ll take you to her desk.” He checks the massive silver watch on his wrist and frowns. “And I’m sure Catherine will want to make sure I’m prepared for the drivers’ press conference.”

I can’t help but smile. “Part of the job you don’t like, isn’t it?”

His blue eyes light up. “More like loathe. I don’t mind a good racing question. But so many of the questions are just repetitive. Or stupid. I hate that.”

“Yet you answered questions about your coffee order for me,” I point out.

He chuckles softly. “That wasn’t a repetitive question.”

“It was a silly question.”

“No. I don’t function without it, so you tapped into a very important area of my life. And I revealed how I feel about tea, which is going to cause quite the controversy.”

I laugh at that. “I had no idea what I was stepping into today.”

Caleb pauses at the door. “No, you didn’t,” he says, his voice low.

A shiver whips down my spine from the way he’s looking at me.

There’s no denying Caleb Collings is more gorgeous in person than he is on TV, and that’s a thought I couldn’t fathom until this morning.

The Miami breeze ruffles his hair, and a lock falls across his forehead.

He reaches up and pushes it back, then tears his gaze away from me and opens the door for me to walk through.

“Thank you,” I say.

Caleb leads me back to the second floor and pops open the door to the administration room, where I see Catherine working in front of a laptop. She glances up as soon as the door opens, and smiles when she sees us.

“I was about to text you,” she says to Caleb as she rises from her seat. “You are scheduled for your press conference at one-thirty, but we have our sponsor brunch ahead of that.”

“You always bring me so much good news, Catherine,” he says wryly.

“That’s my job, sharing good tidings and joy,” she says, her eyes dancing mischievously.

“Isla is here to get her bag,” Caleb says.

“How did everything go? Outside of the conference room, I mean?” Catherine asks.

I flash her a smile. “It was better than anything I ever could have hoped for. I think The Downforce Network is in for a bit of a shock when they see who escorted me on the tour.”

Catherine bends down and unlocks a drawer, reaching for my tote and handing it to me. “Oh, I’m glad that we could help.”

“The thanks are all mine,” I say, taking my tote and placing my phone and mini mic inside of it. “I really appreciate getting the opportunity to film today. This is huge for me, and it could lead to a career in F1. So I’m beyond grateful.”

“Is that your end goal? F1?” Catherine asks.

I nod. “Yes, I love the sport. I’ve been doing my own F1 content creation on social media. That’s how The Downforce Network found me. Because I live here in Miami, they decided to give me the chance to do this segment. I have to pinch myself to believe this is real, actually.”

“Interesting,” Caleb says slowly, assessing me.

The shiver down my spine returns again.

But this has to be a normal female reaction to him. He’s gorgeous. Smells divine. Caleb stood up for me and went out on a very uncomfortable limb to help me out today. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t notice these things about him.

Right?

I decide to ignore the other possible answer to this question.

“Isla, may I get your phone number?” Catherine asks. “I’m sure HR would like to follow up with you about what happened today.”

“Oh, of course.”

She hands me her phone, and I type in my contact info.

A pause falls between the three of us, and I smile at both of them. “Well, I should get going. Thank you again for everything today, you’ll never know what it means to me.”

Caleb is studying me once again, but this time, there’s a questioning look in his beautiful eyes. “I’ll walk you out,” he offers.

“Oh no, I know you’re busy, I can find my way out.”

“I have time,” he insists.

I turn to Catherine and shake her hand. Then Caleb leads me through the motorhome, and when we hit the ground floor, he pauses next to the coffee bar. “Would you like a hazelnut mocha to go?” he asks.

“No, thank you, though.”

“Coconut-passion fruit french toast?” he prompts.

I chuckle at that. “Now you’re speaking my language, but editing must be done.”

“French toast is your language?”

“If french toast could come in a language, I would be fluent.”

“So if you go to any restaurant for breakfast or brunch, your order is french toast?”

I furrow my brow.

Caleb mirrors my expression, furrowing his own. “What?”

“You’re having a conversation with me about french toast.”

“It’s a conversation I haven’t had before,” he says, his mouth tugging upward in a smile.

“Yet you are trusting me with it.”

He quirks a brow. “I think I can take the risk on french toast.”

I can’t help it. I laugh, and now he’s smiling fully at me. As soon as I see it, I almost have to suck in a breath. Caleb’s smile is beautiful. It reaches his eyes, and they crinkle in the corners.

I’ve never seen him do that on TV before. And I’m the one who has made him smile like this.

Okay, Isla, I tell myself. Don’t be ridiculous. Caleb is smiling at you. He’s being conversational and charming and that’s it. I’m getting a side of him nobody else gets, but it’s purely a comfort level because of my pushback on Arthur. That’s it.

Caleb escorts me all the way outside. We stand under a brilliant blue sky, and I watch as the sunlight dances across his black hair.

Gorgeous.

I clear my throat and refocus. “Thank you again, Caleb. I know this was way out of your comfort zone, but I appreciate it so very much.”

He smiles gently at me. “You don’t have to tell me again, Isla. I know you’re grateful. That’s all the thanks I need.”

I nod. “Well, thank you.”

“What did I just tell you?” he teases.

I shake my head. “Sorry.”

“I’ll let that slide,” he says. Then he clears his throat. “May I get your number? I’d like to get a link to the feature when it’s up.”

“Yes, of course.”

Caleb retrieves his phone and hands it to me. I find my fingers fumbling as I type in my number.

Which didn’t happen when I typed it in for Catherine.

I ignore that and then Caleb types on his phone. “I just sent you a text, so you have my number.”

His text comes through, and I see it simply has his name on it. “Got it. Thanks,” I say.

“This is your only assignment for The Downforce Network this weekend, right?” he asks, leaning against the side of the motorhome. “I think that is what you told Chip.”

“Yeah. This was the only assignment I was given.”

Caleb folds his arms. “I see.”

“Now you can understand why you giving me the tour means so much to me.” I smile. “And I won’t thank you again, I promise.”

He smiles in return, and then his phone buzzes.

“I’ll let you go,” I say. “Pleasure meeting you. And good luck this weekend.”

Caleb nods. “Likewise, Isla.”

“So you’re wishing me good luck this weekend, too?” I tease.

He laughs now. “I think you speak another language other than french toast.”

“Smartass?”

“You said it, not me.”

I flash him a wicked smile. “Goodbye, Caleb.”

“Goodbye, Isla,” he says.

As soon as I walk away from him, strolling through the paddock with all the F1 crews bustling around, the events of this morning hit me. I got an interview with Caleb Collings . He will barely speak to reporters who have been covering F1 for years and years.

But I’d be a liar if I said that was all that was causing these reactions in me.

It was the way Caleb treated me. Looked at me. Gave me those hints of smiles that turned into full ones.

And the one special smile that caused the crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

I can’t think like this, however. It was a tour. That’s it. I mean, I hope I see him again—in a professional capacity. Ideally, as a correspondent for The Downforce Network.

That’s a huge leap, from one motorhome tour to correspondent.

But I’m determined to find a path in F1, and this segment can help. It might not lead me to The Downforce Network, but getting Caleb Collings to speak more than one sentence?

It has to get someone’s attention.

My phone vibrates in my hand, and I flip it over. It’s an unknown number. But when I read the first line of text, I abruptly stop walking.

Because the text I’ve just received is from Caleb.