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Write a love letter to yourself.

Jesus, Mia. That’s how you start your mental health journal? Couldn’t you give me something light and fun like, “What kind of tree are you?” Regardless, the gesture of giving me this journal was quite sweet. And I know you’re serious about me writing in it. Quite serious. But here’s the thing: I’m not sure I see the advantage of writing down my feelings. They are what they are, and I prefer to keep them contained. Plus, you’re here and that makes me happy. Why waste my time writing?

“Y ou’re actually using your journal?” Donning one of Xander’s T-shirts, Mia stepped out of the bathroom, then scrambled over to him like an adorable, excited puppy. “How’s it going?”

Xander, stretched out in his reading chair with his feet up on the ottoman, and wearing only his boxers, closed up the journal and tucked it behind his back. “Still getting my sea legs.”

Mia managed a thin smile. “Oh. Of course. But did it help? Please tell me it helped.”

Merely having her here helped. There was something about her that made his troubles melt away or at the very least, fade into the distance. Partly, it was that she cared to understand his struggles. Nearly everyone around him was in one of two distinct camps—those who felt nothing but pity for him and those who blamed him. In the middle, there was Mia, coming from a place of generosity and kindness while also having a deep understanding of his occupation. Funnily enough, that had been their biggest bone of contention when they’d first met—that she was sure she knew more than he thought she did. And she’d been absolutely right.

“It’ll take me some time to get the hang of it.” He stretched out a bit and patted his lap. Every nerve ending in his body felt more alive in her presence, making him crave her touch on a molecular level. “Come here.”

She stood a little straighter, as though she was steeling herself for an argument. “I don’t want to be a bad guest, but I’ve been here for a pretty long time and you haven’t fed me. I’m starving.”

“Bugger.” Come to think of it, he was quite hungry, too. He’d simply been so preoccupied by sex with Mia that the idea of food hadn’t even entered his brain. He hopped out of the chair. If his father knew he’d been such a poor host and hadn’t fed his guest, he’d be appalled. “Let’s take care of that right away.”

He led Mia downstairs and into the kitchen, a room he could admit he didn’t use nearly enough. It had all the mod cons—stainless industrial fridge and eight-burner stove, but he’d never been much of a cook. Plus, there were many culi nary sacrifices he made in order to stay lean for driving. Too much indulgence and he’d be in big trouble with the team and his trainer. Which was why he’d been so focused on staying upstairs with Mia—that was an indulgence that only burned calories.

“What can I make for you?”

“What do you usually eat for breakfast?”

“Honestly? A protein shake. A handful of almonds. But I did shop for your arrival, so I have much more to offer than that.” He gave a quick tour of the options—a variety of fruit, sausages, eggs, good sourdough, store-bought scones and clotted cream…

“Wow,” she answered. “How about avocado toast? Do you have lemon and extra-virgin olive oil?”

“Both, but I’m not sure if the olive oil has had sex before.”

Mia swatted his arm. “Very funny. Show me?”

He pulled the bottle out of the cabinet near the stove and handed it over. Mia carefully examined the label. “Pretty nice. Sicilian. Cold-pressed.” She opened the bottle and gave it a sniff, then poured a drop onto her fingertip and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm. This will work.”

Xander thought he might pass out from the vision of Mia with her finger in her mouth… “Let me guess. Culinary school?”

She grinned and rolled her eyes. “I thought about it, but no. Just entirely too much Food Network. Now, show me where everything is and I’ll make our breakfast.”

“As your host, I feel as though I should cook for you.”

“After taking a look at the burners on your stove, it’s pretty clear that Mr. Protein Shake doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. There’s no way you’ve used that thing.”

“Guilty as charged. How about I make us some tea? Not sure I can trust an American with that job, anyway.”

“That sounds like a safe undertaking.”

Xander filled up the kettle and plopped two bags of his favorite Yorkshire tea into a pair of mugs. “Mia, how many careers have you had, exactly?”

Mia expertly cut open the avocado with a knife while he leaned against the counter and watched, gently running his knuckles along the channel of her spine. “Too many to count. Several jobs in academia. Student teaching. Admissions. A few writing jobs when I was trying to use my journalism degree. Many, many false starts.”

This was fascinating to him. He’d only ever had one occupation—that of race-car driver—and he’d known from a very young age it was all he wanted to do. Which made the idea of his dream ending much more difficult to face.

“Do you have a hard time deciding on one thing? Are you one of those people who endlessly mulls over the menu at a restaurant?”

“I am one of those people, yes. But that has nothing to do with my aimlessness with career choices.” She scooted the toaster away from the wall, pulled two slices of bread from the loaf and dropped them into the slots. “It’s more curiosity, I guess. I’ve always been interested in a lot of different things.”

“Curiosity is a hallmark of intelligence.”

She glanced at him then returned to her task of mashing and seasoning the avocado. “It also killed the cat.”

“I don’t know. Your smarts seem like they’ve treated you well.” The teakettle whistled and Xander turned off the burner, then poured hot water into the mugs.

“In some ways, being smart has been more trouble than anything. I got teased a lot for it, especially when I was a kid.”

Xander was struck by an image of little Mia being teased for her beautiful brain, and he immediately wanted to pound on all those who’d participated. “Why would anyone do that?”

“I skipped two grades in elementary school. I was just so much smaller and younger than everyone else. And I still kicked everyone’s ass academically, especially when it counted, like in high school. Nobody likes getting outsmarted, but especially not by someone who isn’t tall enough to reach the top shelf of their locker.”

Xander’s heart ached at the thought of her troubles. “No growth spurt by the time you were in high school?”

Mia cast a look in his direction then turned to him and pointed at her glorious chest. “Aside from these two, no.”

He smiled and wrapped his hands around her rib cage, placing each of his thumbs beneath one of her breasts. “I approve. Greatly.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

“Thanks. I picked up on that.” Mia dug her fingers into his hair, keeping his head in place for a moment. How he longed to stay right there.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” He straightened and leaned against the counter again, watching her return to their breakfast. He loved how they were so comfortable with each other already. This was effortless. Everything else in his life required so much work…but being with Mia? It was like a vacation.

“Fire away.”

“Why the podcast? It sounds like you could do anything you want. Be a physicist or an astronaut or a surgeon. Absolutely anything at all.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“Does she not approve?”

“She’s warming to it, but it’s a struggle. She would’ve preferred I chose something safe and normal like a job with a newspaper.”

He nodded. “I get it. My mum hates the racing. She and my whole family support me in it, of course, but she gets so nervous.”

“Of course she does. You’re her son. And people have died doing what you do.”

“I know. I just don’t take the time to think about the dangers.”

Mia reached for the pepper grinder. “As for me and the podcast, it was supposed to be a side hustle. My best friend, Jasmine, suggested it because she knew I was such a huge fan of the sport. And it ended up striking a chord. It’s the only time I’ve ever been successful at something.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s the truth. Which is part of the reason why I’m so devoted to it. I built it on my own. It’s not like I went to someone and asked them to give me a job or hire me. I hired myself. And that’s pretty damn satisfying. Plus, it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. I don’t think I’ve come close to reaching the limits of what it can do.”

“Something worth sticking to.”

“Exactly.” Mia presented their breakfast, artfully plated and looking absolutely amazing.

“I haven’t even taken a bite and this is already so much better than anything I could make.” He placed her steaming mug of tea in front of a place at the kitchen island and pulled out a bar stool. “But I did do all right with the cuppa.”

“And I thank you for it. Now, you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not able to climb up here in a particularly ladylike fashion.” She hoisted herself up onto the seat, wiggling her hips back and forth until she was settled.

“I could’ve helped you up.”

“You already carried me to the bedroom. That was real romance hero stuff, you know.”

He smiled, thinking back on that moment. It wasn’t romance—he’d been too damn impatient. Too much blood flowing to lower parts of his body coupled with too much eagerness to give himself over to nothing but Mia and pleasure.

She took a generous bite of her toast. “Damn. I did well.”

He tucked in, too. She’d done better than well. It was fantastic. “Why is this so good?”

“Salt. The answer to that question is salt.”

“Tell me more about your mom. Are you close?”

Mia shrugged and wiped her mouth. “It’s been just the two of us since I was eight. I love her to death, but it’s complicated. I mean, she was always there for me when I was growing up. She always told me I shouldn’t be embarrassed that I was so good in school. She always told me I could do anything I wanted to do.”

“That’s wonderful.” Xander would be nowhere if his family hadn’t told him the same thing and supported him in the same way.

“Except it isn’t really true. Because I’m doing something I really want to do right now, and she thinks I’m selling myself short. She thinks podcasting isn’t a real job. And she’s also not a fan of Formula One.”

“Doesn’t like motorsports?”

“It was something my aunt got me into when I was young, and those two have a never-ending rift so it’s more that than anything.”

He hated that Mia was receiving so little encouragement from her mother. His family was immensely important to him, and he never could’ve gotten as far as he had without their support. Mia’s success was a real testament to her drive and determination. “Maybe I can turn around your mother’s thinking on the subject. If I ever get the chance to meet her, that is.”

“Maybe in Austin? Although, I don’t know how we would ever get her to the track. I’d probably have to trick her. Tell her there’s a flea market or a craft fair.”

Xander laughed. “That’s several races away. We still have Austria and Silverstone before that.”

“Right. Plenty of time to figure out how to trick my mother.”

With some chitchat about F1 and the upcoming Austrian Grand Prix, they finished their breakfast, and Xander took care of the dishes.

“Can I give you more of the tour?” He didn’t mention that he planned to end it in his bedroom, so they could get back to enjoying each other’s company in the way that was far more fun in person than over the phone.

“I’d love it.”

It didn’t take long—just another peek at the mudroom and laundry, a quick walk through the chronically unused dining room, then into the great room at the back of the house, where he kept much of his book collection and enjoyed a glass of whiskey most nights.

Mia ran her fingers along the spines of the books, carefully scrutinizing the titles. He couldn’t help but be on edge about it. She was so smart she was surely well-read. Dickens. Jane Austen. Harper Lee. Did she think he was uncultured because so much of his collection was modern-day fiction with a heavy focus on sci-fi? He hoped not.

“Oh. Cool. You have a copy of Race Car Vehicle Dynamics . I love this book.” She removed it from the shelf and began thumbing through the pages.

Xander snatched it out of her hand. “You’re making fun of me. I realize it isn’t high literature, but it’s actually quite a fascinating read.”

She snatched it right back. “I am not making fun of you. I have this book at home. I’ve read it like twenty times. I love it.”

“Why in the world would you have this?”

“When I said I know a lot about the sport, I wasn’t kidding. I saved up and bought an early edition when I was ten or eleven.” She shrugged and put the book back on the shelf. “I was curious about how the cars work.”

How he loved that she looked at the world with her eyes wide open, eager to take it all in. He could learn a lot from her, and not simply facts or information. He was so focused on Formula One and his career that he often had tunnel vision. Stepping back and taking in a wider view might be good for him.

“You’re full of surprises.”

She grinned and peered up at him. “You are, too. Because I can’t figure out where you keep all your trophies.”

“You don’t want to see those.”

“But I do. I just figured you’d have them all over your house. Or in a big display case. A super-obvious one in the middle of your living room. Apparently not.”

“They’re upstairs. In my office.”

“Show me. Please.”

“Okay. It might be a little messy in there, but sure.” Xander led the way upstairs and all the way down the long hall to the very end. “They’re in here.” He opened the door, confronted by the sad state of his office. A desk and chair were in the middle of the room and a few mostly empty bookcases were along one wall, surrounded by stacks of cardboard crates.

Mia stepped inside. “Xander. What the fuck? Are you telling me your trophies are in boxes?”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t build this house until two years ago and I guess I just haven’t had any time to unpack. I only have a handful of Formula One trophies.” Xander opened one of the containers and peered inside. “A lot of this is from Formula Two and Three. And karting stuff. Stuff that doesn’t matter.”

Mia fished a bundle of brown paper from a box and unwrapped one of his awards. “Why doesn’t it matter?”

“This is just how I got to where I am now. It doesn’t represent where I want to be. It doesn’t represent the ultimate goal I hope to achieve, which is becoming a world champion in Formula One.”

Mia dusted off the trophy, then walked it over to one of the bookshelves and placed it. “As the person who told you not to look back, I understand what you’re saying, but these are accomplishments. Big ones. That lots and lots of people in the world would wish they had achieved themselves. You should be proud of them. It shows how hard you’ve worked. Don’t diminish that.”

It sometimes felt like Mia had a portal into his heart and soul. How did she see right through him? “But you’re always diminishing your degrees.”

She cast a look at him over her shoulder. “It’s not the same. Anyone can go to school. It’s a much smaller subset of people who do what you do.”

“It doesn’t mean you should minimize your accomplishments. You know, you’re very good at dispensing advice, but I’m not entirely sure you listen to it yourself.”

“I definitely don’t.”

“Maybe we can work on these things together.” He went up behind her and stooped down, wrapping his arms around her rib cage and lifting her breasts. He kissed her neck softly. “I can think of some other things we can work on together.”

Mia turned in his arms and stood on her tiptoes so she could reach up and clasp her hands behind his neck. “Are we going to spend my entire stay in your bed?”

“I’ve already shown you the kitchen and my office. So, no.”

“Okay, good. Because I would like to get to know all parts of Xander Bishop. Not just the exciting ones.”

* * *

Late-morning trips to bed led to a few midafternoon rendezvous on the couch in the living room, which led to long nights where neither Mia nor Xander were getting much sleep. The days blurred into each other, a lovely haze of hours and minutes that simultaneously felt long and short. There were early-morning trysts started by nothing more than Mia’s innocent nudge of her nose against his cheek, or in Xander’s case, a not-so-innocent nudge of his erection against Mia’s bare ass. Mia had never been hot for a guy the way she was for Xander. Every minute with him had an undercurrent of sex, as if their bodies were silently conspiring with each other to find a way to get naked again.

Tell me you’re having sex , Jasmine texted her one day.

Maybe. ;) Mia replied.

OMFG. A lot?

Mia hugged her phone to her chest, not wanting Xander to see. Fortunately, he was dead asleep next to her in bed.

I think I wore him out. He’s sleeping. Right next to me. Right now.

You bitch. You have to tell me everything when you get home.

For an instant, Mia delighted in the thought. She and Jasmine loved sharing the juicy details of their romantic entanglements. Granted, there had been way more of that from Jasmine’s side of their friendship. Mia and love? Most of the time, it never got past the first date.

She began to type out a response, but just as quickly, she realized what was going on between Xander and her felt like far more than a hookup. With any other guy, this would be the moment at which she’d tiptoe out of the room with her clothes clutched to her chest. Panic would have taken over. Questions would have flooded her brain. What are you doing? What does this mean? Are you in love? Is this a good idea? You haven’t even done a background check on this guy.

None of that pertained to Xander. Maybe she was exhausted. Maybe it was because she was an ocean away from home and had no clue how to get back to Heathrow. Or maybe it was because he somehow soothed her most extreme tendencies. He had been so damn sweet and understanding when she’d shared those embarrassing stories about being teased in school. She wasn’t sure another guy had even bothered to listen .

I’ll share the broad strokes. That’s it.

From the sound of it, there have been many broad strokes.

You’re not wrong.

Xander and Mia did manage to squeeze in a few nonsexual activities. There were meandering muddy walks on the property, where they spotted wild pheasant and Xander told her all about his great-grandparents’ hardworking and humble history as sheep farmers.

“Where are the actual sheep?” Mia asked as they stood in the middle of a field, the afternoon breeze blowing his hair in every direction. “I was hoping to see them.”

Xander shook his head. “We don’t have any anymore, I’m afraid. It’s so much work. I don’t have time to do it, obviously, and my parents have other worries to deal with.”

“Other worries?” Mia didn’t want to pry, but she was curious, especially since she knew how close he was with his family.

“My mum was diagnosed with MS a year ago. Not long after, my parents took early retirement.”

Mia reached for his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

He slipped his hand into hers. “That’s life, isn’t it?”

Mia had to wonder about the timing. Perhaps some of his struggles this year had to do with the stress of his family situation. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You’re sweet, but not right now. We’re enjoying ourselves too much.”

Mia left it alone, but later in the walk Xander spoke about the sacrifices his parents and younger siblings made so he could become a Formula One driver. “Imagine being twelve and having everything…the household finances, weekend activities, family vacations…all of it dictated by my obsession with racing,” he said. “I’m so thankful my parents believed in me. But I know it was selfish.”

“You were young and you had a dream. They wouldn’t have done it if they didn’t love you,” Mia insisted. “And I think the families of every professional athlete have similar stories of sacrifice.”

“I know. But it eats at me,” Xander said in response.

Again, Mia was left wondering about the larger issue here—the things he felt he owed his family and how that played into his troubles on track.

Over pints of beer, there were heated chess matches, and over glasses of whiskey that made Mia’s throat burn, there were even more serious games of gin rummy, in which Mia handily kicked Xander’s butt. She often couldn’t help herself and delivered a post-game critique outlining his strategic mistakes.

“I can’t believe you played the Queen. You had to know I had the King and Jack,” Mia said.

“I was too distracted by your cleavage in that tank top.” Xander did fixate on her breasts. A lot. And she loved it.

“Next time, I’ll wear a different shirt.”

“Or just wear that and I’ll keep losing. Plus, I can’t help but think you’re playing at a higher level than I am. You won fair and square. Despite your magnificent boobs.”

Mia’s smile was impossible to contain at that moment. Was there actually a man in this world who wasn’t intimidated by her brain? She was starting to think there might be.

He even convinced her to work out with him, a humorous endeavor to say the least. Essentially, Mia did a gentle half-hour stint on the elliptical while Xander ran his ass off on the treadmill. Then she stretched and did a few crunches while Xander grunted his way through pull-ups while he held a medicine ball between his knees, and push-ups where his hands and feet were on small rubber balance balls, and then did medieval-looking resistance exercises for his neck. She was flat-out amazed by the physical sacrifices he made for his chosen sport. Having to stay lean and muscular…not too bulky, but also not too slim. It was a careful balance requiring discipline Mia simply did not have, nor did she care to. Life was too short not to enjoy ice cream whenever one felt like it. End of story.

One night they went to the pub, where they sat in the back corner and the locals stopped by to offer their thoughts on his season. Most folks were charitable well-wishers, but one man in particular was not, telling Xander he’d better get his bloody act together, lest he get released by the team and embarrass the entire town. That was Mia’s cue to announce she was tired and wanted to go back to his house.

“Are you okay after all of that?” she’d asked in the car.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” he answered, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

For what felt like the millionth time, Mia felt bad for the role she’d played in the chorus of voices critical of his driving form of late. And that left her a bit worried about how he might perform at the next race. If he did poorly, people would expect her to criticize him. But she knew far more about his struggles than her listeners did, and she couldn’t share any of it.

“You’re on an upward trajectory. You can tell that guy to sod off in a few months.”

“He’s the mayor, so I probably shouldn’t.”

Oh. Wow. “Maybe wait to see if he gets reelected.”

Time hadn’t stopped for Mia’s career, either. She was somewhat regretting having given Heather, the president of the newly minted NSF fan club, her cell number. Heather was very eager, delivering updates at an almost too-regular pace.

Up to 327 members! Yay! What do you think about doing a special fan club T-shirt? I could work on some designs if you don’t have time.

Great idea. Can we talk about it next week, maybe? I’ve been super busy.

Sure thing! Whatever you want. I’m here for you. Also, when will there be a new episode? People have been wondering.

Having brought along some of her equipment, Mia recorded two podcast episodes—one a preview of the upcoming Austrian Grand Prix and before that, a more in-depth look back at everything that had happened in Monaco. “I’ve rewatched the race twice. From everything I saw, the setup for the Mega Racing car in Monaco left both Xander and Dirk with a ridiculous amount of oversteer. The team overcorrected in the wrong direction. It’s no big surprise that Xander lost the rear of the car heading into Portier. It could’ve happened to Dirk just as easily,” she’d said.

Later, Xander said in the living room, “I heard you recording. Dirk didn’t lose the end. Only I did that.”

“It could have happened to either of you. That’s my point. Maybe you just had a bit of bad luck.”

“Maybe.” He set aside his book and with a pat on the cushion next to him, invited her to join him on the couch. “I did appreciate your assessment of the race. You really know your stuff, Mia. It’s so impressive. I wonder if perhaps you aren’t selling yourself short when you employ snark and sarcasm to speak about the sport.”

Mia didn’t take a seat. Instead, she stood right before him, hands planted on her hips. She didn’t particularly like the words coming out of his handsome mouth. The podcast was her creation, and the way she’d done it up until that point had been a verified hit.

“I give my listeners what they want. They like a bit of snark and sarcasm.”

“I understand that, but I’m more concerned about you and your career than the whims of your fans.”

“If I don’t give them what they want, they’ll move on to someone else.”

His forehead did that wrinkly thing it did whenever he doubted something. “Further evidence that they might not be as serious about this venture as you are.”

“I got this far. I’m staying on this course I’ve set for myself. Keep growing the podcast. Grow my listenership.”

He nodded and took in a deep breath. “Okay, then. Just keep looking ahead, right? Don’t look back.”

“Enough career advice, okay? You keep promising me an ATV ride, but it hasn’t happened. Can we go now?”

Xander looked over his shoulder through the windows at the back of the house. “It’s been a few days since it’s rained. I’m guessing it’s dried out enough.”

“Awesome.”

Outside, Xander unlocked the last garage bay, then stepped inside and opened a tall black metal cabinet. “Hold on one second. I’ll get you a…” He was being noticeably cagey, shielding Mia’s view of what was inside.

“I’ll help,” she said, then grabbed one of the doors from him and pulled it open. Inside, there were signed photos of old-school Formula One drivers, including one that made her freeze. “Is that who I think it is?” She pointed at a photo of a good-looking young driver. A Dutch driver—Dirk Van Dijk in his prime. The print was even signed. To Xander.

“Yeah. That.” Xander blew out a long breath, contorting his lips into all sorts of strange orientations. “I can explain…”

“I would ask if it’s a joke, except it clearly isn’t since it’s signed to you.”

He nodded. “Dirk signed this for me when I was twelve. My dad and I went to the British Grand Prix and we waited outside the security gates for hours, just so I could meet him.” Xander folded his arms across his chest. “He was my favorite driver.”

Mia blinked about fifty times. “Does he know this?”

“No. He does not. And I would very much like this piece of information to stay inside the unspoken cone of silence we have established between us. Or at least that I hope we’ve established.” He looked her right in the eye, everything in his expression pleading with her. “Please don’t say anything on your podcast.”

“God. Xander. Of course I won’t. But he’s such a jerk to you. That’s got to make what you’ve been going through so much harder. All he does is kick you when you’re down.”

Mia again felt torn that she’d accepted Dirk’s invitation to Miami—she wished she’d never contributed to his ability to troll Xander. Then again, if she hadn’t gone, she and Xander never would’ve met.

“You know, when I was young, I thought the fact that he was known for playing mind games was so next-level. He was ruthless. Untouchable.”

“Why do you think he was like that?”

“Things were different in the sport then. There was no pretending to be nice to your teammate. It was all-out war from the word go. And Dirk’s a calculating guy, so he extended the competition to the garage.”

“Pretty next-level stuff.”

“Yeah. Now that I’m on the receiving end of it, I don’t think it’s quite as cool.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’d like to think that maybe it makes me stronger.”

“You should tell him about this picture. About how much you admired him when you were young.”

“Absolutely not. It’s humiliating. He would never let me live it down.”

“If he has any shred of humanity, it’ll make him be nicer to you.”

“It’ll just make me sound like more of a loser.”

“Xander. You are not a loser. You are one of the most amazing drivers on the grid in quite some time. You just haven’t hit your stride yet this year. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. All drivers struggle.”

“Some more than others.”

“If anything is making you stronger, you are doing that for yourself. And I would argue you don’t need to be any stronger. You’re plenty strong.” She rolled her hand over the top of his shoulder, then trailed her fingers down his biceps.

He reined her in closer and kissed the top of her head. “Not sure what I did to deserve your generosity of spirit, Mia, but I’ll take it.”

She looked up at him, marveling at how sweet he could be. “It’s just my natural reaction to you.”

“Come on.” He handed her a helmet, then closed the cabinet. “Let me show you the real definition of speed.”

“You aren’t going to kill me, are you?”

“I won’t let a single thing happen to you or your pretty little head.” He strapped on his helmet, effortlessly swung one long leg over the beast of a motorized vehicle, then offered his hand. “Need some help?”

Mia wiggled into her helmet and buckled the chinstrap. “I think I’ve got it.” She stepped up onto the side platform, then climbed on board.

“Mmm,” he said, reaching back for her leg and hooking his hand under her knee. “I like feeling your legs wrapped around me.” He started the engine. It sputtered then roared to life, with a relentless rumble between Mia’s legs that had her nearly as hot as Xander. “Hold on.”

Mia reflexively wrapped her arms around his waist and gripped his hips with her thighs, clamping down hard. With a jerk, they roared out of the garage and down one of the many dirt roads on his property, bumpy as fuck, jostling her like nothing she’d ever experienced. He took no time getting up to speed and that made the ride a bit smoother, probably because they were now flying over every little imperfection in the road. Excitement bubbled up inside her and a musical laugh burst from her mouth. That made him go faster, which made her cling tighter. Excitement turned to delicious danger. She sensed the daredevil in him, the parts he kept locked away until race day… Witnessing it firsthand was dizzying.

He slowed down and came to a stop atop a hill with a wide view of the countryside. Xander killed the engine, then waited for Mia to climb off. She didn’t want to let go of her grip on him, but she was happy for a moment to catch her breath, unclench her legs and allow her internal organs to settle back into their original locales. Xander removed his helmet, shaking out his hair, which obediently fell into disarray. It was one of the sexiest things she’d ever witnessed.

Together, they climbed a few yards up to the highest point and stood for a moment in silence, surveying the kaleidoscope of green in the patchwork of this land, marked by crisscrossing lines of trees and low stone walls cutting through in graceful swoops. Straight ahead, the sun was slowly dipping toward the horizon. Birds chirped.

“It’s so lovely here. So peaceful,” she said.

“I know. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“Do you feel left out by not living in Monaco?” The majority of drivers had their home base there, partly to avoid taxes.

Xander remained fixated on the view. “I always feel at least a little left out of this sport.”

“You aren’t saying that because you’ve been struggling, are you? You deserve your seat. You can’t listen to what the mayor said.”

He laughed and looked over at her, his eyes full of certainty, like he could see right through her. “You just love to take a thought and run with it, don’t you?”

She pressed her lips together tightly. “It’s my superpower.”

Xander directed his gaze to the ground. “It’s more my background. Most of the other drivers walked into the sport with incredible sums of money behind them. Fortunes. Sponsors from a young age. Or with some sort of legacy, like a father or grandfather who’d raced before them. I had none of that. I guess that has just stuck with me. That feeling like I’m looking in from the outside.”

Mia could relate to that statement like nothing else. Her whole life she’d felt as though she was on the outside of everything, with her nose pressed to the glass. That was one of the things she loved so much about her podcast. It was her world because she’d created it. She would always belong there, no matter what.

“That’s one of the things I admire about you, Xander. You’ve gotten as far as you have without all those advantages. It’s so impressive. You defied the odds.”

“Let’s hope I can defy a few more over the course of my career.”

“You will. I know it.”

“We should probably head back. It’ll be dark soon and the light on the ATV is terrible.”

When they turned, she spotted a house in the opposite direction. “Who lives there?” She pointed to a quaint ivy--covered home, standing alone, off in the distance.

“My family. That’s the house where I grew up.”

“Oh, wow.” It was several days into her stay and although they’d talked about his family and she knew from her general knowledge of the drivers that his family lived nearby, she hadn’t known their house was so close. “Do you see them often?”

He nodded. “Once a week or so. It depends. More during the offseason.”

Mia kept waiting for more, like perhaps an invitation to meet them, but it didn’t come. Which was fine. Meeting someone’s family meant things were serious, when as near as she could tell, what she and Xander were doing was merely fun. A brief respite from the stresses they had both been living with lately. She needed to remember that, even when it left her feeling vulnerable. She wanted more of him. So much more. And she’d probably always be left feeling like her time with Xander had never been enough.

“I’ve been thinking.” He took her hand. “You’re already over here. If you want, you could come to the next race. In Austria.”

Funny how one minute ago she’d been wanting an invitation, and then she got cold feet when one arrived.

“So here’s the thing. Of course I would love to go. I’ve never been to Austria and you know I’m always down for a race. But I really don’t want another repeat of Monza. Would I actually get to see you? The races are no fun by yourself.” She sucked in a breath just to give her brain a bit more oxygen before it overheated. “But I don’t know how we go together and keep our—” Mia realized she’d stumbled into a trap. Emotional quicksand. How, exactly, was she to label what was going on? “—er…romantic entanglement a secret? We’ve already talked about how there was blowback when you bought my ticket to Monza. And I sincerely doubt Isabel would want to deal with whatever the press might say, and Reginald Huff will likely be lurking nearby. Then there’s the simple fact that I’m the podcast person who was mean to you. How’s that going to look?”

“So you admit you were being mean…” He slid her a sly grin.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. And I’m just standing here, watching your thought process play out in real time. It’s exhausting. I don’t know how you do it.”

She didn’t know, either, but her mind and mouth were fully engaged now and there was no stopping them. “And I can tell you right now that a decent chunk of my listeners would freak out. I mean, some of them would love it, but there are others who would absolutely criticize me for this. For you. For us. Being together.” She waved her hands back and forth between them. “I hope that doesn’t sound horrible.”

Xander blew out an exasperated breath. “If you don’t want to come to Austria, just say so. I won’t be happy about it, but I can cope.”

When he put it like that, she sounded like an absolute idiot. “I told you I want to go. I do. I’m just looking ahead and laying out the potential pitfalls. The things we need to be aware of.”

“I officially hate that we have to think about any of this.”

“You’re a Formula One driver, Xander. This is part of your job.”

He nodded. “Okay. Here’s what we do. We’ll rent a motorhome rather than stay in a hotel. We’ll be off in the motorhome pen with some of the other drivers. There’s an unspoken rule that we don’t talk about each other’s partners, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“You don’t think they’ll talk shit about you if they see me?”

He shrugged. “We’ll be careful. And they’re already talking shit about me.”

That made her stomach sour. “As long as we try our hardest to be quiet about it.”

Xander stepped closer and leaned down until his mouth was right at her ear. “Are you saying no sex? Because you were not quiet this morning, Mia. Not even close.”

Mia swallowed hard, wondering what she was getting her self into, while simultaneously admitting to herself that she would pretty much go anywhere if Xander asked her.

“I’m not saying no sex. But you might need to hold your hand over my mouth.”

He bounced his eyebrows at her. “Challenge accepted.”