I help her out of the car and start guiding her with one hand on her back and the other holding her hand. I’m caressing her hand gently and notice goosebumps on her arms.
“Cold?” I ask, and she shakes her head, making me smile.
It’s good to see that she’s feeling just as affected as I am.
We reach the spot, and I slowly remove the scarf from her eyes. She quietly gasps when she sees what I’ve set up.
There are sandwiches, crackers, cheese, strawberries, chocolate, and many other snacks laid out in a basket. Beneath it are plenty of blankets and pillows, and the city lights of Baku cast a romantic glow.
A romantic picnic with good food, drinks, and a romantic atmosphere. I skipped the roses this time and decided to try something else.
“Oh wow, Luke, I don’t know what to say. This is wonderful.” I exhale a relieved breath, knowing she likes it. I hoped she would, but you can never be certain, and I really wanted her to like it.
Part of me was nervous it might be too much too soon. Her reaction calms my nerves, and we sit down, settling in comfortably on the blankets and pillows. I hand her one of the sandwiches as she gets comfortable, wrapped in a blanket over her legs.
“Let’s play a game,” I say, my voice husky from looking at her. Jessica’s eyes widen, and I get the feeling she thinks I mean something quite different.
“Relax, it’s not sexual; we’ll wait with that at least until date number three.” I wink at her, and she relaxes.
“Okay, what kind of game then?”
“We each ask a question, and the other has to answer the same question.” She narrows her eyes slightly before agreeing to the game as we start going back and forth.
At first, it’s the typical stuff.
I learn that Jessica’s favourite colour is red, no surprise there. Red is quickly becoming a favourite of mine as well.
She has one brother who is three years older than she is. Her parents love each other, making her a hopeless romantic waiting for the right man to sweep her off her feet, just like her dad did with her mom.
She enjoys running and doing yoga to clear her mind, but if she really wants to release some tension, she books a kickboxing class at the nearest gym. The image of a sweaty Jessica working out her stress in a kickboxing class made me feel some type of way, but I’m trying to be a gentleman and calm my libido.
I tell her that my favourite colour is black, which irritated her, as “black isn’t really a colour,” so I have to pick a new favourite colour. I chose green, just like her beautiful eyes.
I tell her about my little sister Lily, who will visit in about three weeks when we are racing in Australia. Like Jessica’s parents, my parents are still happily married and living in Monaco, where I stay when I’m not on the road.
We gradually start exploring more in-depth conversations, and Jessica tells me that her original dream was to create herown sports magazine.
When she started college, she realized that the dream seemed too far off, but sports journalism and reporting would be enough for now.
Maybe in the future, when she’s made her mark, she’ll branch out and make her own magazine.
I tell her that I wanted to be a baker when I was little, which makes her laugh because the idea of me baking seems absurd to her.
“How old were you?”
“Like 24,” I say, and she laughs even harder.
I actually enjoy baking; it relaxes me and is one of the hobbies I can do while on the road.
When we calm down, I tell her that I got into carting when I was around eight years old and never looked back.
“Do you ever want to be something or someone else?” She curiously asks me.
“It all depends. Most of the time, I feel grateful for the life I have and the opportunities I’ve had to follow my dreams. Other times, when I want to impress a certain reporter whilst having microphones stuck in my face, I want to be normal,” I tell her, and she smiles softly.
“Sure sounds like quite the reporter.” She jokes, and I just say,
“You have no idea.”
