Page 10 of Not So Fast
“But it’s not your fault you had two slow pit stops. The crew didn’t have your tires ready the first time. Then the rear left wheel gun jammed. I do question the team’s choice of the medium compound to finish the race. The hard tire was performing so much better, and this circuit eats tires. The degradation was so high. Did they explain their thinking to you?”
He shook his head. He’d wondered about the medium tire as well. He’d argued with his engineer about it. And he’d stupidly relented. Mia really did know her stuff.
“Look. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it still comes down to me.” He gave her one last look. She was gorgeous, and the absence of yesterday’s hat was a big improvement. Her dark brown hair was lustrous and lush, her cheeks flushed with radiant pink, but he’d walked away from plenty of beautiful women. One more wasn’t going to kill him.
“Goodbye, Mia.” He took his strides extra long, if only to escape more quickly.
“You’re my favorite driver, you know,” she called.
Her statement stopped him dead in his tracks. Her favorite driver? Maybe he was a glutton for punishment, but he had to know more. Part of him liked the way she was so brutally, brutally,brutallyhonest.
He turned back. “What’s the punch line?”
“It’s not a joke. I swear.”
He glanced around. “Maybe a prank? Are there hidden cameras somewhere? Are you recording me?”
“It’s a podcast. No cameras. And no, this isn’t a gotcha moment. Plus, I would tell you if I was recording you.”
He hated his own curiosity about the subject. “How does someone who purports to like me as a driver turn around and poke fun at me for their own personal gain?”
She nodded slowly, her haunting eyes seeming to process his question. “Fair question. Would it make sense if I said my criticism was born from genuine admiration?”
“Not entirely. No.”
“All I can tell you is that I admired you from the beginning. You had so much confidence when you came up inFormula Two. And of course, your first two years at Hughes were lightning in a bottle.”
He exhaled slowly. She seemed as enchanted with his start in F1 as he had been. Something about her bearing witness to his history had him intrigued. She may have said terrible things about him, but at least she knew he’d once been great at his job.
“That still doesn’t explain the line about driving with my dick in my hand.”
“I only said that because I was thinking it. I wanted you to snap out of it. Drive better. Take advantage of the amazing opportunity you have with Mega.” She stepped closer and he experienced the strangest sensation in the pit of his stomach as she peered up at him with those haunting eyes—wide and curious andunforgettable. “I hate that you’re struggling so much this year. Is it the car? Or the pressure? You do seem super stressed this season. It’s got to take a toll on your mental health.”
He shared a fondness for the questions she was asking, if only because he would’ve enjoyed answers to them as well. “Pressure is for amateurs, Mia. And you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe in pop psychology.”
She held up a hand. “First off, the notion of pop psychology is a bit of a misnomer. Most people have some natural understanding of how the human brain works and human behavior as a larger topic, so I like to think thatpopreally only means it’s widespread because we all have the inclination for it. Second, I have a master’s in psychology. So I’m not just spitballing here.”
“Spitballing?”
“Like bodging? I once went through a big Anglophile phase and learned some British slang. Never been to England, sothis is the first time I’ve really had a chance to use it. I guess you could say I’m right chuffed.”
He laughed quietly, shaking his head. Mia Neal was atrip. Out of the corner of his eye, Xander spotted Dirk approaching with an absolute shit-eating grin on his face. Just when Xander was starting to not hate his interaction with Mia, Dirk had to be a reminder of how things had gone horribly for Xander during the race, while Dirk had done just fine.
“Mia!” Dirk exclaimed.
She turned in his direction and waved.
Xander’s stomach sank. “I should go.” He didn’t understand how it felt wrong to say that, but it did. He’d been committed to getting out of there; why couldn’t he make himself do it?
“Mia, come to Monza,” Dirk called. “I think you were my lucky charm today.” He cast a look in Xander’s direction, punctuated by a wink. An infuriating, godforsaken wink. Dirk was needling him, reminding him that once again, Dirk had proven today that he was the better driver.
Xander couldn’t allow him to keep the upper hand in everything. “Too late, Dirk. I already invited her.”
Bloody hell. Why in the hell did I say that?
Mia whipped around and bugged her eyes at him. Her ridiculously enchanting eyes.
“Right,” she croaked, then cleared her throat. “You asked me just a few minutes ago. And I said I’d like to fly first class. And you said sure.”
