“I’ll be proud to have you on the grid next to me, and it will have nothing to do with what you’re wearing. Besides, I’ve never had my own umbrella girl. You’re a big step up from Miguel or my mom. That’s who held it most of the time last year.”
She looked at his face to determine if he was serious. “Your mom?”
He laughed. “She most certainly didn’t wear a crop top, either. Wear what you’re comfortable in. Text Catarina right now. Ask. It’ll make you feel better, won’t it?”
She picked up her phone from the bench beside her.
“My grid outfit is too skimpy. Isaac suggested you might help modify it. Please?”It seemed too formal and stiff, but she hitSend.
“Of course,”came the instant reply.“Hanging with Isaac, huh? Good work, girl.”
Anna’s face burned again as she put her phone back and looked at Isaac, who sat crunching celery with that raised eyebrow. “She’ll help. Thank you.” She didn’t explain the blush.
“Finished eating?” At her nod, he said, “Ready to watch Moto3? We can stand on the wall and watch for a bit. Then maybe walk on the path outside of the fence so you can see more of the track. The grandstands aren’t full tonight, but there’s a sizeable crowd up there. By Sunday, the grandstands will be packed.” His excitement was infectious.
At her nod, he got up, checking the time. “They should start soon.” He held out his hand, and she took it without thinking as they left the trailer. Her skin tingled at the contact in a pleasant way. He didn’t release her hand until they climbed the wall that overlooked the home stretch. From there they watched the smaller bikes, most of them ridden by younger riders, as they whizzed around the track, buzzing like a swarm of bees as they moved around the track in clumps, often three or four abreast as they sped into corners. It looked wild.
She took Isaac’s hand again, when they headed out around the track. Several times he waved to the spectators in the grandstands, and as they ambled, he talked about his Moto3 days when he was younger—his teammates, his favorite tracks, and the highlights. Through all of it, she couldn’t help but think how pleasant it was to walk and talk together.
This friendship, or whatever it was, was progressing rapidly. She smiled and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Wasn’t this why she’d taken this job—at least in part?
CHAPTER 6
Isaac
Vince might be annoyed, but Isaac hadn’t been attracted to someone like this in ages. Maybe ever. Anna had asked smart questions at the track and seemed to be observant and a quick study in the box. She was becoming a racing fan in front of his eyes. Warmth filled him. Maybe his love of racing could be something else he could share with a partner. He’d always emulated Vince in keeping racing and dating separate. Perhaps that wasn’t necessary. Maybe he needed something different than his brother.
Isaac sat with Anna and Catarina for dinner and when they returned to their rooms, he joined Vince for a movie. They’d watched thousands of movies like this together over the years. It had become something they could do in their downtime on the road when their energy was spent. It took little thought and was comfortable.
This particular action movie didn’t hold his interest, though Vince seemed engrossed. Should Isaac bring up the topic of Anna? His brother hadn’t said anything about her since the day they’d met, but that didn’t mean anything. They were guys. In the end, Isaac said nothing and watched the explosions and action sequences on the screen. If Vince had seen them holding hands, he would have already asked what was going on if he cared. Knowing Vince, he might wait until they were home, orfor Isaac to talk to him about Anna on his own. Isaac suppressed a sigh, turning it into a yawn. Eventually, he’d have to talk to his brother.
The next day’s practice sessions were similar, and Isaac squeaked into Q2 for the first time in a long time for a dry race. Qualifying had never been his strong suit, but this bike was faster and smoother than anything else he’d ever ridden. He loved how it held speed on corner entry.
Anna helped for all four practices and was much more than just a decorative umbrella girl—more like a general assistant. She helped engineers, mechanics, and Angel as well, making her an extra set of hands, indispensable in a dozen small ways. It was hard to believe she’d never done anything like this before. She always seemed to be in the right place to help, even with the media events and crowds.
Isaac’s heart skipped a beat when she came out Sunday evening before the races, wearing a modified team T-shirt with the sleeves removed, a navy-blue skirt that fell to her knees, and white knee-high socks. Instead of stilettos, she wore black loafers. The look suited her. Catarina had outdone herself. They’d assigned Anna to hold the Row 3 sign for both the Moto3 and Moto2 races and his eyes tracked her movements until it was time to focus.
Anna was clearly taking her job seriously and didn’t speak to him on the grid, holding his umbrella steady and providing shade. Not that he needed it for a night race, but he didn’t complain. Even in racing mode, it was pleasant to have her nearby.
Minutes counted down before the race, and Isaac went into his pre-race routine, inserting his earphones to listen to music and block everything else out. His world shrank as he visualized the track, the twists and turns. With two minutes left, he switched to earplugs and tugged on his helmet for the sightinglap. Returning to the grid, he maintained focus, waiting for the warm-up lap. By the time everyone cleared the grid, his focus had narrowed to getting a fast start.
He sat in ninth position after qualifying; at the bottom of the third row. Both guys ahead on his side of the track were fast starters. He planned to follow them up the outside as they shot toward the front. Making gains on the first lap and getting away from the grid without a crash would be the real trick, as everyone aimed for the same stretches of free tarmac.
With his eyes riveted on the starting lights, the world moved inward again, and his heart rate skyrocketed. Blood pounded in his ears and sweat dripped down his face inside the helmet. But that was inconsequential. There were only the lights, the track, and his bike.
When the red lights disappeared, his bike shot forward as he stuck to the plan, following Spencer on his Yamaha and Vince’s Honda up the far right, going around several riders with more sluggish starts—those who hadn’t timed the start to perfection. He slotted himself into fifth by the first corner, getting away with the lead pack.
It was one of those rare days when Isaac became one with his machine, an extension of the bike. Adrenaline pumped through him as he fought for position, to keep what he’d earned. He traded places twice with a Ducati, keeping in front by the smallest of margins, but eventually pulling away through a tight twisting section. The buzz of another bike followed, hot on his rear wheel as they flew down the home stretch. An automatic part of his race, a quick check of his pit board, which flashed at the edge of his vision. Xavi was the rider on his tail.
The laps flashed by and they stretched the field, leaving the main pack behind though the leaders had cleared off in front, running a pace too fast to follow. Though places to overtake remained rare on this track, and Xavi couldn’t show him a wheel,the race results remained uncertain. Isaac couldn’t afford to deviate from the main racing line where the track became dirty, slippery. The fiery Spaniard must be waiting for Isaac to make a mistake. Isaac gritted his teeth and stuck to the racing line, keeping his race mistake-free.
All of a sudden, ahead of him, Spencer tucked the front of his bike, and slid off the track in a spray of sparks headed for the gravel trap. Isaac avoided the resulting dust cloud and continued, hoping Spencer wasn’t injured, though he didn’t watch to find out. He’d be the next on the ground if his concentration lapsed.
Only three riders remained in front of him, Luka, Fabiano Perotti—one of the factory Ducati riders, and Vince. Right at the edge of the track, Isaac’s pit board read P4, L2. Xavi 0.4. Fourth position, lap 22 of 24—two laps to go. He must have put a bike length between himself and Xavi if the other bike was almost half a second behind. He braced himself. Xavi would have another go before the finish line. Isaac needed to be ready to defend his position with two laps remaining.
The top three were too far to catch, but fourth was a fantastic result if he could keep it. Vince and Luka were so far gone he couldn’t see them except in the distance on the home straight as he flew past the teams and the packed grandstands. The teammates wore the same colors and were indistinguishable at this distance. He couldn’t tell who was ahead, but he hoped it was Vince. Refocusing, he leaned in perfect synchronicity with his bike as they went into turn one for the last lap.
When Isaac crossed the finish line, he couldn’t believe it. He glanced up at the screen to be sure. Vince had won, but Isaac had placed fourth. He pumped his fist skyward. That would show the doubters.
