Page 5

Which of the four elements do you identify with? Explain.

Today, I identify with fire, because frankly I am a little pissed off. (And yes, I know I’m filling this out late in the day. I’ve been busy.) The race is tomorrow and I haven’t seen Xander once. I know now that his invitation to Italy had nothing to do with me. It was all his ego. Bright side: Monza is lovely, even when you’re by yourself. I could stay here and eat pasta forever, as long as I had someone to hang out with.

A fter a day of running around the paddock and the excitement of qualifying, Mia needed fresh air. And probably pistachio gelato. She checked to make sure she had her room key, then stepped out into the hall, only to run right into the man who’d proven himself elusive since she’d arrived—Xander.

He came to a stop, dressed like he didn’t want to be seen, wearing jeans and a plain black T-shirt, his glorious hair tucked into a baseball cap. “Oh. Hi.”

Don’t sound so fucking disappointed. “Headed out?” she asked, then started down the hall ahead of him.

“I am,” he said, walking behind her.

“Would you like me to wait for the next elevator? Or take the stairs? You’ve spent the last two days avoiding me.”

The elevator doors slid open, and she didn’t wait for an answer, scurrying onboard. To her great surprise, Xander followed and stepped to the back. She stayed to one side, away from him, while frantically jabbing the button for the lobby. What was she feeling right now? Her frustration with him was entirely self-made. He owed her nothing. Absolutely nothing. She closed her eyes and begged for strength.

“I’ve been busy.”

In the quiet confines of the elevator, his rich voice bouncing off the walls, it was as if he was wrapping himself around her. Somehow, she could feel his warmth and it made her want to experience it in real life. Just once.

God, he’d really wormed his way into her psyche.

“I have, too.” She made a point of looking straight ahead and not letting his presence get to her. “I’ve talked to quite a lot of the drivers. Got a few quick interviews, even. It’s been lovely. Everyone has been so nice to me.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Part of her wanted to turn and confront him, tell him he’d hurt her by ignoring her for her entire stay. Part of her wanted to pin him against the back of the elevator and kiss an apology out of him.

“Congrats on qualifying,” she said instead. “I hope the race goes well tomorrow. If I don’t see you, have a nice life.”

She forced her feet to carry her forward. Meanwhile, her heart pounded at the base of her throat. Why in the hell was she having such a visceral reaction to him? She had no attachment to Xander Bishop. They’d been in each other’s company a sum total of twenty minutes. This was so like her, running away with the circus because she’d built something in her head that wasn’t there.

She couldn’t be around him anymore. She needed to stay in reality. Her reality, not his. She hightailed it across the lobby, headed straight for the door.

“Mia. Wait.”

She came to a halt. Apparently, her determination to stay strong was no match for his voice.

“What?” She turned, confronted with his chest as he stepped right up to her.

“Where are you headed?”

“Out for some air and to walk through the village. My flight home leaves at the ass crack of dawn Monday morning. Whoever books travel on your behalf is a real wanker.” Why was she suddenly spouting British slang? Xander’s effect on her was ridiculous.

“The connection times are better on that early flight. Plus, it’s a much nicer plane than the one you took over here. First class will be like a trip to a spa. Trust me.”

“How do you know this?”

“I’m the wanker who booked your travel.”

“Xander!” A shout came from the far end of the lobby, in a British accent Mia recognized. It was that troll of a reporter, Reginald Huff.

Xander turned in Reginald’s direction and seemed to make a split-second decision to grab Mia’s hand and yank her out the door and into the night air.

“Hurry.” He rushed around the side of the building, then ducked through a narrow metal gate. They spilled out into the street behind the hotel.

“Where are we going?” She trotted double-time down the sidewalk to keep up with his long-ass legs.

“To get away from that man.” Xander employed his lightning--fast reflexes and turned down a narrow side street.

“I met him in the media center. Well, not so much met him as was accosted by him. He saw you wave at me after the press conference. He figured out who I am and he knew that you paid my way here. He grilled me about it.” After that long explanation while power walking, Mia was breathing hard.

“Why did you feel the need to divulge that I invited you to Monza on your podcast?”

Mia was struggling to keep up, literally and figuratively. “You listened?”

“Yes. I listened. You don’t have to tell everyone everything.”

“I try to be forthright with my listeners. That’s all. I want them to know what’s going on.”

“People like Reginald Huff will exploit your honesty until you regret it.” Xander took a right down an even narrower side street, this one entirely residential-looking, with laundry hanging from lines overhead, an orange cat sitting in a doorway and a silver-haired woman leaning out of a second-story window. “He is not a good person. Stay away from him.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Just stay away from him, okay?”

“Got it. Where are we going?”

“There’s a park at the end of this street. I like to go there when I’m here. It’s quiet. And private.” He let go of her hand, but he already had her fully convinced. She wasn’t going any where except precisely where he was. “If you come with me, there’s one condition. This is just us talking. I don’t want any of this ending up on your podcast.”

Mia knew she’d earned that comment. She deserved to be put on notice. “Promise. Plus, I got so much material in the paddock today it was kind of ridiculous. I think I’ve talked to every single driver on the grid. Except for you, obviously.”

“I’m sorry if it feels like I’ve been avoiding you. I needed to keep my head down. I can’t afford to lose focus.” Behind them came the sound of laughing. A group of people in Mega Racing gear were approaching. “Bugger.” He took her hand again and they hustled around a corner, then across a quiet alleyway. Ahead was a stone wall covered in ivy with a wrought-iron gate to one side. Xander opened the latch and ushered Mia inside.

As she crossed the threshold between the street and the stone pathway, it was like stepping into a secret garden—a lush expanse of grass edged by carefully kept hedges bordered by a thick canopy of trees crowning the space, leaving an opening in the center that framed the cobalt night sky. The air was so much sweeter here, filling her lungs and lazing over her skin. Time suddenly slowed down. Moments were ticking by at an entirely different pace.

“What is this place? Are we even allowed to be in here?”

“It’s a public park. Not many people know about it. I discovered it the first time I raced here and I make a point of coming every time. It’s nice to have a break from everything.” He strolled over to a bench and sat. “I’m sorry about the cloak-and-dagger routine back there and in the hotel. I didn’t want to deal with either Reginald or fans. They’re just going to ask about tomorrow, and well, I don’t want to think about it too hard.”

“I’m amazed at how much you all get hounded. I witnessed some of that while I was chatting with the drivers in the paddock.”

“They all want a piece of us. It’s exhausting. I realize the sport wouldn’t exist without them, but it’s still a lot to deal with.”

“I’m a fan, too. Before I started the podcast, that’s all I was.”

“You don’t really seem like a person who would chase a driver down the street.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

He laughed quietly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course,” she answered a little too eagerly.

“Sometimes I wear a disguise. I even have a fake mustache.”

“Seriously?”

“Sometimes it’s the only way I get a moment to myself. Some semblance of privacy. Just so I can bloody think.”

Mia heard the strain in his voice, the way it got thin and wobbled at the end. She saw the pressure on his handsome face, forming deep creases between his eyes and wrinkles on his forehead. Good God, the man was stressed, which left her feeling so sad. This wasn’t right. He’d been struggling all season, but he’d done amazing in qualifying that day. He should be floating on air, feeling as though tomorrow was filled with endless opportunity.

“Makes perfect sense to me. I don’t know how you deal with the pressure. Having to smile and be nice all the time. And you never know who’s watching. Who’s got a phone pointed at you. All of that on top of the actual job has got to feel impossible sometimes.”

* * *

Xander sat quiet. How long had it been since someone had acknowledged that what he did was fucking difficult? It felt like a lifetime. He took a seat on a wood bench and gestured to Mia with a nod of his head. “Come. Sit.”

“You sure?”

He peered up at her. She was stunning in the moonlight, dark hair framing her softly lit face. “I’m sure.”

Sadly, she was hesitant when she sat next to him. Like she was worried he might bite her or yell at her.

“So, was the baseball hat and plain T-shirt one of your various disguises?” she asked. “You had to know that was never going to work. You’re seven feet tall. It’s hard to miss you.”

“I’m not seven feet tall. I’m six-three.”

“Well, I’m five-two, so I’m rounding up.”

“Is that all?” Funny, but he’d never thought of her as short. Her personality was larger than life. “The hat’s because my hair is a disaster today.”

“Uh. I’ll be the judge of that.” She slid him a sly look, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Go on. Take the hat off, Bishop. I’d like to see what exactly the most epic head of hair in Britain looks like when it’s less than perfect.”

“The most epic head of hair in Britain belongs to Harry Styles.”

“Fair point. Now, stop stalling.”

He smiled and removed his cap, brushing his hair back from his face. “See?”

“You are so full of shit.” Mia shook her head in dismay, turned toward him and reached out to touch his hair.

“Don’t. It’s gross.” Purely out of reflex, he grasped her wrist. Her skin was so soft. So warm. Something in his stomach went weak. He scanned her face, looking for some sign that she wanted him to let go, but she didn’t show it. Meanwhile, his eyes were drawn to her lips. They were the most perfect shade of deep pink. If things were different, if he didn’t have so much to lose, he might kiss her. “I haven’t washed it properly.”

“Oh, pfft.” She wrenched herself from his grip and combed her fingers into the hair on the side of his head.

He sucked in a breath when the heel of her hand brushed his cheek. What was the draw of Mia Neal? He didn’t understand it. Mere weeks ago, she was his public enemy number one. But there they were, sitting together in a park while she touched his hair. If he was honest, he’d gladly let her do it all night.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about. Looks pretty epic to me.” She pulled her hand back and settled it in her lap. “So, fan to driver, how are you feeling about tomorrow? Are you nervous?”

He drew a deep breath in through his nose and stared off into the park, watching the trees bend with the breeze. He normally disliked this question, but when Mia asked, she delivered it without judgment. It felt like nothing more than pure curiosity. “I don’t like to say I’m nervous.”

“The things you say and the things that might be true can be two different things.”

“Nerves are for amateurs. I’m a professional. I can’t afford to be anything less than on it and fully prepared.”

“You’re also not a robot. Just because you’re a professional athlete doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings.”

“Part of my training is learning to compartmentalize. Set things like feelings aside.”

“Hmm.” She did not seem convinced. At all. “Why do you think you’re struggling this year? Is the car difficult to drive?”

“He’s not easy to drive. I’ll tell you that much. The understeer is horrendous. Sometimes it’s like driving an ironing board.”

“He?”

He laughed quietly. “Charles. I call him Charles.”

“Weird. That’s my dad’s name.”

“Really?”

“I would not lie about that.”

He turned to her and held up a finger. “Please don’t tell anyone I told you that I named my car.”

“Is this like when guys name their penis?”

“No. This is not like that.”

“Which raises the follow-up question, since you were so quick to answer that no, the two are not the same, have you named your…?” She pointed at his crotch and made a circle in the air.

“You really will say anything, won’t you?”

“I don’t think that’s true. I just start talking and my mouth gets ahead of my brain. Don’t worry. I will live to regret that I asked you that question.”

“Maybe not. It doesn’t necessarily bother me.”

“Oh. It’ll bother me . Later.” She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t think you can force trying to become one with Charles. It’s like a relationship. Either it’ll happen or it won’t.”

“Except that a mountain of money and my career are on the line.”

She slowly shook her head. “It is a lot of pressure, isn’t it? I don’t think I’d last a day with that kind of pressure.”

“It’s part of the sport. I can’t do anything about it, so I try not to think about it.”

Facing him, she pulled her leg up onto the bench, leaving her knee right near his hip, sending a warm reverberation through him. How odd that he found so much comfort in her presence, but he did. “Have you seen any footage of yourself walking around this year?”

“Walking around?”

“In the paddock. Footage that the media catches, like when you arrive for a race.”

“No. Why would I? I study my onboard film and I study data.”

“You’re carrying a lot more tension in your body this year compared with the last.”

“Well, sure. Things were a lot easier last year. I had amazing results on a regular basis. Everyone loved me.”

“It’s got to be hard to take such a bad turn. No pun intended.”

“Is this your master’s in psychology speaking?”

“Good memory. And it’s merely the art of observation.” She got up from the bench and walked around to the back until she was standing right behind him. “Let me try something.”

“You aren’t going to crack an egg on top of my head, are you?”

“Good Lord, no. Why would I do that?”

He shrugged. “Because you hate me?”

“Xander. I do not hate you.” She cleared her throat. “Quite the opposite. Remember, you’re my favorite driver. So, no, I’m not going to crack an egg on your head.”

“Good to know.”

“Now, close your eyes.” She placed her hands on his shoulders. “And think about becoming one with Charles.”

“I thought you said not to force it.”

“We aren’t forcing it. When you become one with someone or something, it should be effortless. But you still have to see it in your mind as a possibility.”

“Okay…” He closed his eyes and imagined himself in the car, hands on the steering wheel and feet on the pedals, his butt perfectly cradled in that seat built for him. It wasn’t hard to conjure the feeling, but the sensation of Mia’s hands on his shoulders made it difficult to hold on to the image. Her fingers kneading into his muscles, working away the tension. He kept feeling like he was being pulled away…or maybe being pushed toward her.

“Now, don’t think about the way you were with any other car in the past. Forget the past. Just think about you and Charles and the future. Your relationship today isn’t perfect. How can you get closer to Charles? Understand him better?”

She continued to knead his upper back, right at the base of his neck, which made it incredibly hard to focus. Her fingers? Pure magic.

“You’re making me regret that I ever told you his name.”

“Shh. Just focus.”

“Why shouldn’t I think about the past?”

“Because that’s magical thinking. You can’t stay wedged in last year or the year before. Sure, they were great, but life doesn’t work like that. You’ll never again be that person you were last season or the season before. So don’t even entertain the notion. Just think about tomorrow, looking ahead and staying positive. Think about a flow of good energy.”

“This is all leading to you telling me that my struggles are stress. Or a mental block. Just like on your podcast.”

“I can’t believe you listened.” Her voice reached a high pitch and she stopped kneading, which was such a disappointment. Still, he could hear how much it meant to her.

“Yes. I listened. Just to the one episode. After Miami. You could’ve skewered me, but you didn’t.”

“I didn’t have the heart. Not after I witnessed firsthand what a jerk Dirk is.”

“Well, you’re wrong about me. It’s not in my head. Half of what I do is keeping a strong mental state. I’ve spent years honing that skill and I’m very good at it. I have zero problems on that front.”

She planted both hands on his shoulders. “Interesting. Tell me more about that.”

“Now you sound like a therapist. You don’t believe me. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Do you have a sports psychologist you work with?”

“I do not. I don’t need one.”

“I just want to understand how you think you can go about changing your thinking if you don’t have any help.” Mia returned to kneading, rubbing away the tension in his neck and shoulders. It made him lightheaded, but he lapped up every second of it. He couldn’t begin to remember how long it had been since a woman had touched him like that.

“It’s about strength. That’s all. My mind is strong. This is something I never, ever question.”

“Maybe you know what’s wrong and you’re just not ready to admit it to yourself.”

“Or maybe you’re wrong.”

“You definitely don’t want to admit it.”

Honestly, he would admit all sorts of things if he could simply sit there and let her hands rove over his body. Let her massage away all his pains.

“You realize I pay a physiotherapist a ton of money to do this for me and they’re not anywhere near as good.”

“I went to school for massage therapy.”

She was full of endless surprises. “Do you practice?”

“Nope. I got the training and the license, but never did anything with it.”

“What about psychology? Did you use that?”

“Nah. Being a clinician didn’t feel like a good route for me. Sitting in an office all day.” She sighed a heavy sigh. “Now, I did self-publish a mental health journal. Every day you fill out a page that starts with a different prompt. Things like ‘Today, I feel…’ It helps you keep in touch with your emotions. Sometimes simply acknowledging your feelings is enough.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Do you want one? Because I have about fifty in my apartment. They weren’t exactly a big seller. I write in one every day but it’s going to take me a lifetime to fill all of them.”

Again, he laughed. “You are a mystery to me, Mia Neal.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of a mystery to myself, too.” She patted him on the shoulder then walked back around until she stood in front of him. “You should probably head to bed, mister. You have a big day ahead.” She reached out her hand as if to help him up.

He accepted the gesture, even though he didn’t require the assistance. He liked touching her. Hell, he was even starting to like her .

“Why are you being so kind to me, Mia? I’ve left you to your own devices for days.”

She blinked her big, beautiful eyes. “Not sure why, but I like you.”

For a moment, he forgot that he was a race-car driver and she was a podcaster who’d criticized him in dozens of different ways. Again, he wanted to kiss her. Part of that was curiosity. He had a feeling a kiss from Mia wouldn’t be like a kiss from anyone else. But he couldn’t afford to be curious right now. It wouldn’t help him get where he so desperately wanted to be. He needed to stay on the straight and narrow.

“Come on. Let’s get back.”