Page 55 of Lights Out (Love in the Paddock #1)

I call Caleb as soon as I’m safely inside my apartment. His face pops up immediately on my screen, and I can’t help but giggle.

“Were you anxiously waiting for my call?” I ask as I sink onto the sofa.

“Yes,” he says seriously. “What did they say?”

“I think I want to start with what I said first.”

“Okay. What did you say?”

“I laid out my case. What I want for my career, how I didn’t date you in exchange for content or accessibility—although I know bored keyboarders will run with that theory.”

He scowls.

I wish I were there to kiss that scowl away.

“I told them what I bring to the network, how I’m not gaining access to be able to break big stories—that’s not how I built my platform. It’s by talking about the fun and interesting things.”

“Exactly. So what happened?” Caleb asks, and I can tell he’s anxious to hear the decision.

“I’m not done yet.” Nervousness swirls in my stomach, but I want him to hear the words I said today.

“I told them I was not the kind of person who would break the unwritten rules. Never. But that all changed because of the kind of man you are. I told them what I was looking for in a man. How you supported me. Made me laugh. You’ve helped me grow as a person.

I said it had nothing to do with you being a driver, but everything to do with who you are as a person.

And I would risk everything for a chance to be with you. ”

His expression goes completely soft. Gone is the anxiety. It’s been replaced by something else, something that makes my heart skip a beat, something wonderful and new in his eyes. I force myself to not be distracted by dissecting that look and continue.

“Michael pointed out there are other ways for me to report on motorsport,” I tell Caleb. “Like rally or MotoGP.”

A curse escapes his lips. “That is bull—”

“But he said he doesn’t intend to reassign me,” I interrupt.

“He … doesn’t?”

I smile. “No. I’m staying on F1.”

Caleb doesn’t respond right away. In fact, he looks shocked. “You are?” he finally says.

I nod. “I am! I understand this limits the type of reporting I can do, but it aligns with the brand I’m already building. So I’m still on F1.”

“Isla, you scared me!” Caleb begins to laugh. He rakes a hand through his hair. “With the way you were talking, I thought you were going somewhere else!”

“Nope!” I tell him happily. “You’re stuck with me. Round after round.”

“I’m so damn proud of you. My girl has balls,” he declares.

I laugh at that. “Thank you.” Then I grow serious.

“But we’re still taking baby steps with this.

I’m not reading comments on my accounts.

I’ll post my content and move on. We’ll go out, but no obvious PDA.

The speculation can start, they can say I’m sleeping with you to get stories, your out-of-control fans can come after me, and then we can all move on. ”

“My out-of-control fans?” Caleb asks, his black brows drawing together in confusion.

“You’re going to have some who are very upset you have a girlfriend.”

Dawning lights in his eyes. “Right. People who have never met me.”

“Right? Like these people don’t even know your flaws that might be a complete turn-off!”

“What?” he asks, chuckling.

“Like you keep your penthouses at subzero temperatures, and you won’t stay up late enough to DJ at a club.”

He bursts out laughing. “ What? ”

“Xavier said he could never DJ with you because you keep grandpa hours.”

“Maybe I just don’t want a picture of me celebrating in a club splashed all over the internet,” Caleb challenges.

“Fair. But if you win the Drivers’ Championship, promise me we’ll go out and celebrate,” I say. “And stay out past midnight.”

His mouth curves up in a happy smile. “For you? If that’s what you want? Yes.”

I love him so much.

And I can’t wait for the day I feel confident enough to tell him that, too.

* * *

“I want you to be honest,” Caleb says. “How do you feel about all of this?”

I take a sip of my wine and look back at him.

I’m staying in his suite in a luxury boutique hotel in Austria, and we’re having dinner together before the race tomorrow.

This hotel was once a small castle, situated in the picturesque Murtal Valley, surrounded by the Styrian mountains.

There’s a lot of unspoiled landscape here—beautiful forests and hills, with everything lush and green this time of year.

It’s breathtaking.

As is the man sitting across the table from me.

I meet his gaze, his eyes intense and concerned as he stares at me.

This is the weekend we soft launched. I accompanied him to the paddock on Thursday morning.

I had breakfast with him at Collings Motors.

Pictures circulated on social media, but nobody thought it was too strange until I showed up for qualifying in the garage today.

Hadleigh and Catherine have been monitoring it, and speculation and comments are now flying.

Which will only intensify tomorrow when I’m in his garage for the race itself.

“Caleb, I know what is being said,” I reassure him. “I don’t care. My job is secure with The Downforce Network, no matter if a portion of the population thinks I’m in this to bang you and nothing else.”

His jaw clenches. “I hate this.”

“But we knew it would be this way. I’m not looking at my comments. Hadleigh is commenting on things that I would normally comment on, like if someone asks me what lipstick I’m wearing or who made my pants. I’m not even looking because I don’t care.”

“But it’s the first few days,” Caleb counters. “It’s going to get worse.”

“I know. And then it will be the norm, and they’ll move on.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” he asks.

“Part of it is we planned it,” I say thoughtfully.

“What happened with your parents was a shock. Your mum got caught, and your dad was blindsided. Then a firestorm followed it. But we’ve planned for this.

I’m not jumping out there and holding your hand or kissing you.

There’s still speculation about what we even are.

You have Catherine monitoring your socials, so you don’t have to read anything.

I have the same with Hadleigh. I post my content and move on.

This isn’t going to be the same as what you went through as a kid.

Just like what you talked about with Jason during your therapy session. ”

He absently rubs his finger up and down the side of his glass of water, considering my words.

Caleb told me he’s been working through his feelings about the media with Jason, and how to reconcile his past with the present.

It’s been good for him. Not that I expect him to suddenly love interacting with the media, but he’s moving toward a better relationship with them, and that will be better for him in the long run.

“Fair,” he says.

“It’s more than fair. It’s the truth. And again, it’s all in the early stages of speculation. We’re not giving them the money shot, so to speak.”

Caleb leans back in his chair and exhales. “I’m glad about that. I feel better knowing there’s that bit of protection around you.”

I don’t need it, Caleb , I think . I work in the media. I know I can handle this.

All because I get to love him.

“So tomorrow I will be getting up earlier than you,” I say, blotting my lips with my napkin and putting it aside. “I have my F2 grid walk. But I don’t want to disrupt your race-day routine, so I’ll just slip into the garage before you go out.”

“You wouldn’t bother me,” Caleb insists.

I quirk a brow. “Come on now, Roo. I know you’ve got a specific routine you follow. You even eat the same lunch before every race.”

“Stalker.”

I giggle at that. “No, I did a story on it once for my channels. It’s amazing how much you can find with Google, though.”

“So what’s my meal?”

“Pasta with chicken and a simple tomato sauce.” I make a face. “Boring.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m not a fan of chicken with my pasta,” I confess. “Mason has an infinitely better meal. Avocado toast with ham.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No, that’s not better,” he insists. “But you wouldn’t be bothering me.”

“You have enough to think about. You don’t need me distracting you. In fact, I’m not even sure I should stay here tonight.”

“Oh, you’re absolutely staying here tonight.”

“But tomorrow is race day. You need sleep and routine.”

“I’m adding a new component to my routine that is very important to me,” he says slowly.

I grow hot, as there’s no mistaking the look in his eyes. “Oh?”

“I think it’s important that I have sex the night before every race.”

I giggle at that, and he does, too. “Are you sure?”

“About sex? Of course I’m sure. I’m always sure about sex with you.”

“No,” I say, rolling my eyes and drawing a chuckle out of him. “That I’m not a distraction.”

“Owl, I’m a driver. When I’m getting ready, I’m only thinking about racing.

When that visor goes down, I’m not thinking of how Mason is my teammate or Xavier is my friend.

I’m thinking about winning. That’s it. I will even put thoughts of you aside when I do my job.

Because trust me, I don’t take driving an F1 car lightly.

It needs all my attention. If you can’t do that, then you shouldn’t be behind the wheel. ”

I know he’s right. When drivers are in their cockpits, speed and quick decisions require the brain to focus solely on driving the car for the next two hours.

“Okay. But I’m still only going to show up in the garage. For now,” I say.

The scowl flickers across his face. I know he’d like to see me, but he also knows it’s better to keep things on the speculation side.

“Okay,” he says, picking up his fork and taking another bite of his salmon.

“Are you worried about the rain tomorrow?” I ask, digging back into my beef tenderloin.

“No. I love driving when it’s wet,” Caleb says. “It’s a challenge I’m good at.”

“Wet is one thing. I don’t see how you guys drive when it’s storming.”

He grins at me. “Because we’re crazy.”