Page 8 of Not So Fast
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m surprised you recognize me without my dick in my hand.”
Simultaneously, they both looked at their intertwined hands.
Mia dropped the connection, certain her face was now every known shade of red. “You heard that?”
“Only a clip. I haven’t actually listened to your show.”
Of course not. Of course he hadn’t.Stay tough, Mia.
“Then how could you say in the press conference that I don’t know what I’m talking about? If you’d listened to my show, you would know I have been a fan of Formula One since I was a little girl. I have extensive knowledge of all sides of the sport. I know the history, the circuits. I know the technical side, the regulations.”
He planted his hand on his hip. “When was the first season?”
He wanted to quiz her? Okay. Game on. She took a step closer. “1950. First race was the British Grand Prix on May 13. Giuseppe Farina won the first World Drivers’ Championship.”
He artfully cocked an eyebrow and narrowed his stare. “Who won the Constructors’ Championship that year?”
Mia let out an insulted snort and took another step closer. “Trick question. The Constructors’ Championship didn’t begin until 1958.”
He pursed his lips. She was winning. She was sure of it. “Youngest driver to win a race?”
“Max Verstappen. Spain. 2016.”
He shook his head. “Too easy. Greatest number of pole positions.”
“Lewis Hamilton. By a mile. Michael Schumacher is second on the list.”
“So you’ve memorized some statistics. Anyone can do that. Why don’t you tell me the purpose of the front wing on an F1 car?”
“It generates downforce, the aerodynamics that push the car down onto the track, allowing it to hug corners while maintaining high speeds. But you already know that because corners have been one of your biggest struggles this season.”
Xander pulled the sunglasses he had hanging from the collar of the fireproof shirt under his race suit and put them on. “It’s cute that you know a few facts about F1, but until you’ve been behind the wheel of one of these cars, you can save it.”
Mia saw out of the corner of her eye that Isabel was shaking her head at him. Meanwhile, Mia’s blood was boiling.Cute? Oh, no.He was not going to get away with using that word. It was not only contemptuous; she was certain he would never have uttered it if she were a man.
“Surely it is possible for someone to understand the sport without having participated in it. The majority of people who work on the teams have never raced. Technicians. Mechanics. Aerodynamicists. Strategists. Are you going to say they don’t know what they’re talking about, either?”
“I’m not going to argue with you, especially while you’re wearing a hat signed by my teammate. I’d like you to stop speaking about me in such unflattering tones. If you can do that, I will refrain from publicly insulting you and we can both go on with our lives as if we’d never known each other. Do we have a deal?”
Mia drew in a deep breath, thoughts tumbling around in her head. She had to stick up for herself and everything she’dbuilt. Her only sliver of success. She wasn’t about to walk away from that just because Xander Bishop was handsome and sexy and inexplicably smelled good after a sweaty qualifying session.
“No. We do not have a deal.”
“Excuse me?”
“My listeners count on me to give my unvarnished opinion about the sport and although it might have been a crude way to say it, I did think you were driving around like you had your dick in your hand.”
Isabel snorted.
Xander let out an indignant huff. “We’re done here.” Just like that, he strode away, looking just as good going as he had coming.
Well, fuck.
“I’ll call you a car,” Isabel said, tapping away at her phone and avoiding eye contact. “We need to get you back to your hotel and out of this heat.”
* * *
