Page 7 of Lights Out (Love in the Paddock #1)

All the kinds of things I never talk about for social media content. How can anyone ever know things like that? It’s crazy to me how people analyze footage and photos and declare something as fact. Like, “Ooh, look at the way Caleb is looking at Xavier! The bromance is over!”

I’ll never get it.

I try to focus again. I think I’ll send Caleb a text and let him know how the feature was received and thank him once again for doing it.

Just as I reach for my phone, it buzzes in my hand, and I see it’s my best friend, Hadleigh. I tap it open and read:

OMG WHAT IS GOING ON AT THE TRACK? Did you get the feature? Did you see any hot F1 drivers? TELLLLLLLLLLLLL MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

I grin. Hadleigh and I have been friends since our senior year of high school and remained friends during our years apart while she was at the University of Miami, and I was at Georgia.

She has a good job doing data analysis for a large shipping and packaging company, and has her own apartment in Miami, so we see each other all the time. I immediately text her:

HADLEIGH. Emergency catch-up session tonight. I not only met drivers, but got one to give me a tour for my shoot! Also, the same driver has asked me to go back to the track tomorrow so I can film content for my channels!

Hadleigh Vanderberg is typing …

OMG! Isla, this is AMAZING!!! I can’t wait to hear all about it! This all sounds LIFE-CHANGING!!!!

Life-changing.

Funny, that’s the same thought I had, too.

The second I think it, Caleb’s gorgeous face flashes through my mind. I can see his jet-black hair. The piercing blue eyes. The long lashes and full lips …

My cheeks grow warm, and I try to shake the thought from my head. But really, it’s okay that Caleb popped into my brain just now. His appearance in my feature was life-changing. And his invite for me to go to the garage tomorrow and film more content is definitely life-changing.

It’s natural for him to pop into my head.

Caleb is also drop-dead gorgeous, so it’s entirely natural I would think of how he looks. And I was about to send him a text, so all of this is a normal response to have.

Reassured by my logic, I pull up our text thread and send him a message:

Caleb, just wanted to let you know The Downforce Network loved the tour feature. They can’t believe I got you to do it. They’re not only going to air it on social media, but on the network in pre-practice coverage tomorrow, too. I one hundred percent owe you one for this. Thank you.

I put my phone aside and get up. I move over to my closet, open the door, and begin flicking through my clothing, thinking of what I can wear tomorrow.

I have to dress up, but it has to be something I can climb into an F1 race car in, too.

I’ll film a “Get Ready With Me” video first. My followers like those, but I fully anticipate getting numbers like I’ve never seen when I’m in the Collings Motors garage tomorrow.

EEK! I cannot wait for tomorrow. It’s going to be more free form, because I don’t know who I’ll be talking to or what I’ll be able to film, but regardless, it’s going to be fantastic.

Buzz!

I hear my phone vibrating on my bed just as I’ve retrieved a gorgeous black asymmetrical jumpsuit with one shoulder. Ooh! This is perfect! I bring it with me and lay it across the end of my bed, then pick up my phone.

Caleb has responded to my message.

I ignore the tingling in my stomach and tap open his response:

That’s brilliant news, Isla. You deserve it.

Caleb Collings is typing …

However, you told me you would not thank me again, but you just did.

I find myself smiling at that. I’m about to reply when I see that Caleb is still typing. I wait for his next message to drop in, and finally, it does:

Maybe I need to ask you to stop thanking me in a language you do understand. Like french toast.

My grin grows wider as I text him back:

I wasn’t aware french toast could communicate to me to stop showing you gratitude.

Caleb Collings is typing …

Fair point.

I laugh at that.

Caleb Collings is typing …

Do you want to know what I think, Isla?

WHY YES, CALEB, YES, I DO.

I reply:

I think you’re going to tell me whether I want to know or not, Caleb.

Caleb Collings is typing …

I’m ignoring that smart remark.

I smile as another message drops in:

I think you need to be told again how much I do not want your gratitude. Meaning I tell you in English but make the argument more persuasive by providing your favourite language of french toast whilst doing it.

My heart stops as I read his words. Is Caleb suggesting what I think he is?

Suddenly my phone rings, and with a jolt, I see Caleb has decided to call me.

OH MY GOD WHY IS THE MAN CALLING ME?

I answer the call, pausing for a brief second to calm myself before speaking.

“Did you get tired of texting?” I manage to ask.

“Yes. I’m about to do this bloody press conference, but my question to you is more important than anything they’re going to ask me.”

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I regroup. “Right. Like questions about your coffee order. Only esteemed members of the press pose questions like that to you,” I say smartly.

He chuckles, his voice low and seductive sounding. I swear it’s reverberated through the phone line and right through me, it’s so sensual.

“I told you, I found that question entertaining. I like entertaining.”

So do I, I think as I listen to him.

He clears his throat. “Anyway, here’s my question for you. I obviously didn’t communicate my wishes about gratitude clearly, as you insist on continuously thanking me, so I need to try again. I will combine my language—English—with your favorite language—french toast—to get the point across.”

I feel my mouth fall open. WHAT? WHAT IS HE ASKING ME?

“Isla,” he says, his voice low and rumbling, “meet me in the paddock tomorrow. And allow me to make myself clear over breakfast.”