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Describe yourself in three words.

Dammit. I have been waiting for this prompt because I had the perfect answer—shy disco ball. That’s me. The wallflower who secretly wants to sparkle. I’m no disco ball today. Today, I am confused, dehydrated and exhausted, which are not anywhere near as interesting or clever. Also, this flight has not been like a trip to the spa.

T he running dialogue in Mia’s head for the entirety of her flight back home: oh, my God oh, my God oh, my God oh, my God. Not the optimal spa soundtrack. A spa suggested relaxation, when in reality she was wound so tight after that kiss she might snap in two.

What the fuck, Mia? One of the hottest men on the planet kisses you and you reject him? For someone who people generally regarded as smart, she’d been remarkably stupid.

That being said, she was not shocked by the manner in which her reflexes had taken over. That had always been her reaction to romantic intimacy. She needed to tiptoe her way into those waters, taking time to check in with herself and the other person. Are you okay? Is this okay? It meant she’d had very few relationships. Most men she’d met didn’t have that kind of patience.

She’d always suspected love wasn’t for her, largely because one was expected to fall into it. Mia despised the imagery. First, there was very little one could do once falling. Once you started, momentum took over. Physics. That hardly seemed fair. Plus, the notion of falling suggested you’d tripped first or at the very least lost your balance, and that made it sound like an accident.

Mia wanted to float into love, like on an inner tube down a cool, clear river on a warm summer day, advancing inches at a time, dangling her feet in the gentle water without a worry on her mind. The thought of being thrust into anything, well, it had never worked for her. Her brain got in the way and she contorted every situation into something it wasn’t. She ruminated over every word and stolen glance until it was all ground into the dirt and became a muddy mess. Who was she kidding? She was not built for kissing a Formula One driver, especially one as sexy as Xander Bishop.

Regardless of her overthinking, as soon as she got back to her apartment—via an Uber because Jasmine was busy—she knew she had to tackle her next episode. This one would take more work than usual since she’d recorded soundbites and mini interviews with so many drivers. It would require her absolute best editing game. After sorting through clips and refining her outline, she decided the episode would be a two-parter, culminating with the big story that Xander appeared to be back in form. Were his troubles behind him? Surely her listeners were expecting her opinion on exactly that.

Just as she’d put the final polish on part one, she walked into her bedroom, where she kept her phone to minimize distractions while working. She expected mostly social notifications, but instead she was greeted by the one thing she never, ever expected.

A text from Xander.

Get home safely? (This is Xander, by the way.)

She slowly sank down to perch on the edge of her bed, drumming her fingers against the side of her phone. Her initial reaction? Shock. Second? She couldn’t lie—a bit of glee. Xander freaking Bishop was texting her. But why? Of course, her innate skepticism crept in. Was he fishing for intel? Wondering if she would keep their kissing secret? He had to know she was already working on her Monza episode.

Regardless of his intentions, it wasn’t like she wasn’t going to respond. Seriously. She had to at the very least figure out what he was up to.

Yes. Flight was lovely. You were right, although I’m wound too tight to enjoy any spa sensations.

Ha ha. Glad you liked it. I’ve traveled enough to know the ins and outs.

Mia snickered at ins and outs , then she admonished herself. Why did her mind have to go there? Focus!

Back home in the Cotswolds? Or straight to Monaco?

England. How did you know I live in the Cotswolds?

She smiled at her phone and settled back against her pillows, wondering if she was in a dream or at the very least, a sleep-deprived stupor. In what world did she get to have a cordial back-and-forth with Xander?

Hello. F1 nerd alert.

LOL. Home is Texas for you, right?

Austin. As the person who booked my travel, you should know the answer to that question.

Didn’t want you to think I’m a stalker.

Never.

Austin is one of my favorite races.

Me too. For obvious reasons.

Three dots appeared, but they seemed to blink forever with nothing coming through. What was he thinking? What could possibly take so long to say? The questions were maddening.

I’m very sorry for what happened after the race. I pride myself on being a gentleman and I failed. I only hate that we had to say goodbye under those circumstances.

Mia’s heart sank. It even broke a little. Who hadn’t surprise-kissed someone? Well, Mia hadn’t. But only because her height put her at a disadvantage. And her brain got in the way. But had she thought about it? Of course she had. Dozens of times, including at least two or three times while she was hanging out with Xander in the park in Monza.

If it helps at all, I would also like to apologize. I’m very sorry.

Why?

I panicked.

Go on… Please.

Could she be so vulnerable with Xander? Part of her felt like she owed him the unvarnished truth. Thankfully, she was not only pretty good at saying what was on her mind, but this was also something that would be easier to say over text.

I never expected Xander Bishop to kiss me. I don’t know if I can draw a parallel for you. Maybe if King Charles showed up at your house and invited you to the pub? Even then, it probably wouldn’t faze you.

I’m a normal guy, Mia. Don’t put me on a pedestal.

It’s cute that you think you’re normal.

But I am.

Okay. Mr. Delusional.

I’m glad you’re home safe. I have to run. Take care.

You too.

Mia reread the exchange at least a dozen times over the next forty-eight hours. Had she managed to piss him off? Or was he simply busy? He did live a crazy life. Maybe that would be the extent of their back-and-forth. An apology. A bit of chitchat. She appreciated that he’d wanted to make it right. Even if she wanted more.

Listened to the Monza episode , he texted two days later. It’s very good. You got some great interviews.

Thanks! Not everyone was avoiding me in Italy.

Emilio got pretty flirty with you.

And he won. Maybe that’s a new strategy for you.

As soon as she typed it, she regretted it and scrambled to unsend. But it was too late.

My mistake. Flirting with you after the race. Next time: before.

Mia’s cheeks turned into fields of red-hot embers. A lava flow from an active volcano. What in the ever-loving fuck was happening right now?

That would require me being at another race.

There’s always Austin. Or maybe before? Have to run for a team Zoom call. Talk soon.

Why did he have to give her so much to think about, then make a quick escape? Xander was an expert at brain baiting.

Okay. Talk soon.

She endeavored to focus for the rest of her day with podcast business, doing a few social media collabs with other creators and a sponsor, and of course, responding to the never-ending stream of comments, especially since part two of her Monza episode had dropped. The overwhelming majority of things people said were positive, but she couldn’t help but notice a negative tone creeping in, including one exchange between two people that made her downright queasy.

formula1girliegirl @mianealnotsofastpod my imagination or are you being way nicer to Xander now? Seems weird. He’s only had one halfway decent race. He’s still sucking.

dirkisstillhotashell @formula1girliegirl Remember he paid for her to go to Monza. She admitted it in the episode after Miami.

formula1girliegirl @dirkisstillhotashell Oh right. I forgot. I thought she was just a fan like us. If she can be bought with a plane ticket, her podcast will die a quick death.

dirkisstillhotashell @formula1girliegirl IDK. If Xander offered to fly you to a GP, would you go?

formula1girliegirl @dirkisstillhotashell yes. Obvs. But I’m not a podcaster.

Mia didn’t know how to respond. So she didn’t. Between this and her run-in with Reginald in Italy, it was now crystal clear that people were watching and paying close attention. And in the case of her listeners, they cared about her loyalty to them.

She put her head down and returned to her work, designing new T-shirts and tote bags, spending hours to sincerely answer emails from her listeners, and taking RSVPs for her upcoming Monaco watch party. The guest list for that event was getting shockingly large—nearly up to one hundred in-person attendees. For someone who intentionally kept her social circle small, the thought of hosting that many people made her break out in a cold sweat. But she’d heard from another podcaster that in-person events were the best way to keep loyal listeners close. A little face time was supposed to turn them into superfans who would spread the word about Not So Fast . Which was why she’d scheduled the watch party in the first place, and now that she had a pile of RSVPs, she couldn’t back out.

The next day, Mia decided to initiate the conversation with Xander. She wanted to test these waters, mostly because she still couldn’t believe they were real.

Only problem with your flirting theory is that I’m not good at flirting back.

Not true , he replied moments later.

What had she started? I think you have the wrong idea of me.

I think you might have the wrong idea of yourself.

As if Mia needed anyone to give her more to think about, that little gem kept her brain occupied for days. She was like a dog with a bone. What did he mean by that? She had to put the question to Jasmine when she came over Friday night.

“No fucking way. He kissed you? How are you still alive?” Jasmine cracked open a beer, then plopped down in one of two mismatched camping chairs on Mia’s tiny apartment balcony.

Mia shook her head in disbelief, looking out over her building’s parking lot, the Texas night air hanging heavy and the memory of Xander’s kiss humming on her lips. “I know. It’s a miracle.”

“And to think you gave me shit for flirting with our waiter. Meanwhile, you’re making out with one of the hottest men in the world.”

“We didn’t make out. I panicked and pushed him away then ran off.”

Jasmine patted Mia’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

That was a real comfort—Jasmine had way more game than Mia. “Weirdly, it doesn’t seem like it dissuaded him.”

“Let me see the texts.”

Mia gripped her phone tightly for a moment, feeling strangely protective, then handed it over. Jasmine’s insight was worth far more than keeping this private.

The ambient light from the screen lit her up in profile. “Dude. He’s hot for you.”

“Me? He’s hot for me. How does that make any sense?”

“Girl, do not make me explain all the reasons you are awesome. You’re smart and hilarious and probably just as obsessed with his sport as he is.”

“I’m obsessed with F1 a normal amount.”

“If you say so.” Jasmine handed over the phone. “Also, I’m regularly jealous of your boobs. So, yes, he’s hot for you and I am not surprised.”

Mia glanced down at her cleavage. She was packing some above-average heat. “So I’m not reading this wrong?”

“It’s only a matter of time before you two are having phone sex. My advice? Do not do it over FaceTime. It’s not as hot as it sounds.”

Mia’s stomach did about fifty somersaults. “What? No. I don’t think that’s where this is going. Why would he do that?”

“Like I said, hot for you.”

Turned out Jasmine saw something in those texts that had eluded Mia. The next night, Xander upped the stakes.

Tell me what you were really thinking when I kissed you.

Mia instantly went into panic mode, which was not good since she was trying to wind down and had hoped to get some sleep.

Gentlemen first.

The dreaded dots appeared. They kept going and going and going while her pulse only matched the rhythm.

I was thinking that I’m made of metal and you’re a magnet. It felt like I had no free will.

Oh, shit. Could he have said anything more devastatingly sexy? No. The answer to that question was no.

Yeah right.

I’m serious. You’re one of the most beguiling women I’ve ever met.

Beguiling? Who used that word in a text exchange? Actually, Mia was known to bust out such gems as superfluous and plethora. How she loved a man with a top-notch vocabulary. It was such a turn-on.

Now you , he said.

Fuck. Okay. Brain, it’s time to do your best , she thought, then started typing something sarcastic.

When you kissed me, I was thinking one of the sexiest men in the world might have suffered a brain injury.

Stop it.

Why did she always resort to humor as her defense mechanism? The answer was simple. She wasn’t good at this. Xander could be with anyone he wanted. A model or an actor or someone with a big fat trust fund and connections. Someone famous. It was certainly what most drivers were drawn to. At minimum, he could flirt with someone who hadn’t insulted him.

I was thinking that I wished my brain wouldn’t get in the way. I wanted to give in to the moment, but I couldn’t.

What does giving in look like?

Mia sighed and sank down farther in her bed, allowing her eyes to drift shut. Her body warmed as she returned to that moment in her mind, the heat starting in the center of her chest and radiating outward, to her breasts and down her belly. That few seconds of magic they’d shared was simultaneously easy to remember and so far out of reach. His impossibly strong arms around her. His soft, warm lips on hers. The delicious scratch of his chin stubble. Why couldn’t she go back and have a do-over? How she wished she could try again.

What did you want to happen? he asked before she’d had a chance to respond . No judgment. I just want to know.

I wanted to wrap my legs around you and kiss you until my lips were raw , she typed before she had a chance to second-guess herself.

Her heart sat in her throat while every other molecule of her body screamed for him. She ached, even when it was the most irrational thing in the world. Even when he was taking forever to respond.

Are you alone right now?

Mia sat straight up in bed. Holy fuck. Y-e-s , she typed as fast as her fingers could manage, all to outrun her brain.

Can you talk?

“Isn’t it super late there?” Mia asked when he answered the phone.

It was so damn nice to hear her voice, especially after days of texting. “It’s 3:00 a.m., but I don’t really care.” He hadn’t been sleeping much at all, so it didn’t matter what time it was. His mom was having a rough patch, and he’d had a shit day on the simulator back at Mega Racing headquarters. Despite his good showing in Monza, texting with Mia had been his only real bright spot since the race.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked.

“We’ve been flirting over text for days, Mia.”

“Well, I don’t know,” she blurted. “Maybe you do that with dozens of women. Maybe that’s just a normal day for you.”

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, then he took a sip of whiskey and put the glass down on the coffee table in his living room. He settled back on the leather couch. “I don’t. In fact, if you must know, before I kissed you, it had been more than a year since I’d kissed someone.”

“No way.”

“I’m dead serious. I would not lie about that.”

“That’s so weird.”

He laughed again. “Why? I’m a busy guy. I don’t have time for things like romance.”

“The other drivers do.”

“Maybe they’re better at time management than I am.”

Mia sighed. “I’m not good at whatever it is we’re doing. I wish I was, but I’m not.”

Her honesty was so endearing. She didn’t try to put on a show for him.

“I’m not, either. And before you say something about how I’m lying, I’m not. Mia, most of the time, all I do is work and take care of the things I need to take care of. I’m not some international man of mystery, traveling the globe and picking up women at every race. I’m just a normal guy who apparently has a real weakness for women who can give a good neck rub and be ever so slightly mean to him.”

“I have a weakness for men who are honest, just so you know,” she said, breathless enough to make heat plume in his belly.

“I need a good poker face to drive in Formula One, but I’m otherwise a terrible liar.”

“Your face is too pretty to be playing poker.”

There was something in the things she said that buoyed him like nothing else. “You have the most beautiful eyes, Mia. Warm and rich. I could get lost in them for days. If I close mine, I can see them. I think you imprinted on me.”

He allowed his own eyes to drift shut, bringing up the memory of the moment before he kissed her. The moment when everything changed.

“It’s embarrassing to admit, but no one has ever said anything like that to me before.”

“And that is a travesty. I’m glad I could remedy the situation.” He cleared his throat, gathering the nerve to ask one nagging question. “Can I trust you, Mia? I feel like I can, but we’re wading into complicated waters here.”

“Because we’re flirting?”

“We both know it’s more than that.”

“Fair enough.” She let out a quiet sigh. “But as a woman who earns her living from your sport, I have a lot to lose if anyone found out about this. As I recognize you do, too.”

“We have to trust each other.”

“Yes. Whatever transpires during this or any other phone call between us needs to stay exactly there—between us.”

How he hoped that proved to be true. “Where are you right now?”

“In bed. I was just lying here texting you.”

He groaned softly, picturing her luscious brown hair against a crisp white pillow. “I’m on the couch in my living room. Thinking about you. Tell me what you wear to bed, Mia.”

She giggled. “Seriously?”

If only she knew how serious he was. “Yes.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Usually just a T-shirt. Actually, I’m wearing a Mega Racing shirt tonight.”

“Which one?” He had to plant the full picture in his mind.

“The one with the Union Jack on it. And this year’s car.”

Oh, yes. He knew exactly what she was wearing, and the vision materialized with zero effort, the way her curves would fill out every soft, cottony inch of the garment. “Panties?”

“No.”

“Good. I like that.”

He smoothed his hand across his stomach and lifted the hem of his T-shirt, imagining her fingers running across his skin. His cock responded by growing impossibly hard in his jeans, blood and heat rising in his skin. He unbuttoned his pants, then drew down the zipper. The ache between his legs was immense. He needed release.

“I want to take my pants off, but only if we’re going to take this all the way. If you don’t want to, I won’t.”

The other end of the line went quiet for a moment. “I’m already touching myself, Xander. So yeah. I’d like to take this all the way.”

She was killing him. In the best way possible. Cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder, he raised his hips and shucked his jeans and boxers. His erection sprang free, full and hard.

“Remember that thing you said about me on your podcast? The thing that made you famous?”

“Are you doing that right now?”

“I am. I have my dick in my hand.” He stroked hard up from the base, rubbing his thumb over the tip.

“I bet you have a glorious cock.”

He groaned harder, the pressure building. “Perfect for burying myself in you.”

Mia gasped. “I want that, Xander. I want you.”

He stroked harder and harder. “Tell me how you’re touching yourself.”

“I’m…uh…well…”

“Just say it, Mia.”

“I’m rubbing my clit. In tight little circles.”

“And?”

“Every now and then I stop and put a finger inside myself.”

“How wet are you right now?” He cupped his balls with the tips of his fingers, choking the base of his cock and rubbing it up and down with his thumb.

“Dripping.”

“Are you going to come for me?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “But I want you to come, too.”

“Oh, I will. I just need to know when you’re ready.”

“I’m so close.”

“I am, too.”

“You lead the way. I’ll follow.”

She hummed her appreciation into the phone and he kept his eyes clamped shut tightly, pumping his hips as he stroked his cock, all while imagining what it would be like to thrust into her over and over again. The pressure coiled so tightly in his body he thought his head might snap off. Over the line, Mia’s moans were the sound of pure bliss. He wanted to listen to her make that noise forever.

“Talk to me, Mia.”

“I’m so close. So close. I just need a little help.”

He wasn’t sure he had much more dirty talk in him before he rocketed into space, but he wasn’t about to let her down. “I wish you were straddling me right now. Riding my cock so hard. I wish you could lean down and kiss me so I could spread my hands across your ass. I wish I could lick your nipples—”

From the other end of the line came a sudden loud gasp and he knew she was there. He pumped his cock only two more times, then the release came hard and fast, all over his stomach. Thank goodness for wipeable furniture. He took a moment to compose himself, his chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. He could still hear Mia humming her appreciation.

“Wow,” he finally said.

“I know. I’ve never done that before. Honestly, I always thought it sounded improbable, but that was super hot.”

“It was.”

It also wasn’t enough. All the frustration in his life, everything he was holding on to in his body, would be there again tomorrow. All his hard work kept leading to results that simply weren’t enough. Every sacrifice he and his family had made could end up having been for nothing. He couldn’t take the pressure anymore. He needed to hold on to something good.

“When do I get to see you again, Mia? Can you come to Monaco? I’ll book your flight right now. I’m one of the only drivers who doesn’t have a place there, but I have a suite at the H?tel de Paris Monte-Carlo. We can do this in person. I’d like that if you want that, too.”

“Do you have any idea how badly I want to say yes?”

“Then do it. Say yes.” He hated how much hope pinged around in his body.

“I have a race watch party scheduled that Sunday. For my podcast listeners. At a bar, here in Austin.”

And there it was—his old friend. Disappointment. “Right. You talked about that on your podcast, didn’t you? I’m guessing that’s important.”

“It is. Almost one hundred of my listeners have RSVP’d. People are driving in from Dallas and Houston. One woman and her best friend are flying in from LA.”

It sounded like a big deal, and he couldn’t blame her for putting that ahead of an invitation to Monaco. His career took center stage for him, too. “Sounds amazing. I’m sorry I won’t see you, but I understand.”

“We can figure something out, right? And I’ll definitely see you when you come to Austin. I mean, if that’s what you want.”

Austin? That was five or six weeks away. He had no clue how he’d make it that long.

“Yes, Mia. That’s what I want.”