Chapter 6
Six
“That’s quite a pee, buddy,” Piper said to Gus. It was a bright, breezy morning on the far edge of the drivers’ motorhome
pen for the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix at Imola. At many of the European races, a secret area was set up with high chain-link
fences covered in screening. Or so Piper had just learned in the past few days; a remarkable fact since she considered herself
quite up on most details of Formula One.
There was 24–7 security around the pen, and a collection of drivers brought in swanky motorhomes. Reportedly, they changed
the location of the pens each year, and depending on the race, they mostly went undiscovered. Piper could never imagine this
working in America. Someone would surely devote their entire existence to locating the secret area.
Gus finished up his business and Piper headed back to Emilio’s motorhome, marching through the grass up a hill, winding her
way past everywhere the other drivers were staying, just as the warm morning sun was climbing higher in the sky. She loved
the Italian sun. It felt familiar. That was no small thing. Everything and everyone else around her felt unfamiliar. On one
hand, another inside glimpse of the sport she loved was exciting. On the other hand, she missed her beloved comfort zone.
They’d arrived yesterday for media day, when all drivers were subject to interviews and press conferences. With no on-track
action to watch, Piper had wandered around the paddock for hours. It had been just another quiet day with Gus. But it had
been warm and bright. At this point, that was all she really had to look forward to—the weather.
She and Emilio were back to their old dynamic—the one where he was serious and closed off and she didn’t know what to do other
than smile and offer pleasantries in return. She wasn’t about to match his gloomy energy. It took little fortitude to simply
be herself and let him deal with it. Sunny was her default. Apparently, Emilio’s was storm cloud.
One tactic she’d considered was Emilio’s favorite—keeping to herself. But even more so than the house in London, the motorhome
was a cramped space. It was impossible not to run into each other. That morning, both in search of coffee, they’d arrived
in the kitchen at the same time.
“You first,” she offered. The motorhome had an amazing Nespresso machine and although the idea of decent coffee had her salivating,
she thought she should defer to the guy who was paying for everything.
“No. Please. You’re the American. You probably need it more than I do.”
Piper was only mildly offended. “Thanks.” She popped in the pod and waited for it to brew, trying to sort out what she should
look at, since Emilio had arrived with no shirt and dark gray pajama pants that barely hung on his hips. Piper did everything
she could not to stare at his abs. His perfect chest. Sculpted shoulders. Then back to his abs.
The attraction was there, for sure. She’d have to be dead not to feel something stirring deep inside her. But Piper was sure of one thing—it was all one-sided. Sometimes it felt like
he was only barely tolerating her. She didn’t want to read too much into it. He had to be stressed about the race. The media
and the F1 circles on social media had been all abuzz with speculation about how he’d perform that weekend. He’d been dominant
at Imola last year and everyone was going out of their way to express that there was no way he’d have a repeat performance.
Beyond that was the matter of Victoria. Because she and Brett Lockford, the driver leading in the championship, were now an
item. She was being very public about it, posting kissy-face selfies on her socials and going on and on about how happy she was. Piper was fairly sure Emilio didn’t consume that stuff, but still, it was in the air at the track and it had to
sting. Luckily, Victoria and Brett didn’t seem to be staying in the motorhome pen, but surely Emilio was dreading the idea
that he might run into them.
“Are you heading to the track?” she asked Emilio as she and Gus walked into the motorhome kitchen after their walk. “Gus and
I will grab a ride with you.”
“You said you were bored yesterday. Practice isn’t that much more exciting.”
“But you’re in the car today. That’s what I’ve been waiting for. I’m not the only one. Remember, people pay to watch practice.”
Piper, however, did not have to pay and man, did she feel lucky. She looped her lanyard and paddock pass over her head.
“I’m aware.” He glanced at the counter where Piper had left an open zip-top bag full of Gus’s treats. “Are those what you’re
always baking in my house?”
So he had noticed. “Yes, I—” That was all she got out before Emilio popped one into his mouth.
He half-smiled and half-grimaced, like he was trying to disguise his reaction, while every chew was another moment of discovery.
To Piper’s great surprise, he didn’t spit it out. He swallowed it. “They taste . . . uh . . . very healthy.”
Piper snort-laughed. “Those are dog treats.”
He coughed and grabbed a glass of water, quickly downing it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t give me a chance. Don’t worry. There’s nothing bad in there. Sweet potato. Peanut butter. Whole wheat flour. Egg
whites. It’s pure nutrition.”
“Clearly, no salt or sugar.”
“Never for a dog. You said it yourself. Healthy.”
Emilio grabbed a duffel bag. “You’ve been baking these a lot. How many of these is Gus eating?”
“Only a few a day. I don’t just make them for Gus. I make them for the other dogs we come across when we go for a walk.”
He narrowed his stare. “You make them for other dogs? Why?”
She wasn’t quite sure how to explain this. “You know how some guys will get a dog so they can meet women?”
Emilio shook his head, seeming befuddled. “No. Why would anyone need to do that?”
“Some guys do. Not you. Obviously.”
“Not me, obviously? What does that mean?”
Was Emilio unaware of his profound handsomeness? His otherworldly sexiness? How could he be? “It means you don’t need any
help with romance.”
He shrugged. “You’d be surprised.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. The idea was absurd. Frankly, she was shocked there wasn’t some new woman in the mix now
that Victoria was so publicly dating. If Emilio wanted to, it wouldn’t take much to turn the tables on her.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked.
“You aren’t being serious right now, are you? You know the things people say about you, right? You have a million nicknames.
Eye Candy Emilio. Hot lap Baquero. Speedy spice.”
He pinched his nose and shook his head. “I don’t pay attention to that. It’s a distraction from racing.”
“Right. Sure.” The tone of his voice made her realize that perhaps all the adoration from the fans might make him uncomfortable.
Emilio wasn’t simply serious and stoic—she sensed he was sensitive, too. “Anyway, I bring treats with me, pretty much everywhere
I go. So I can make friends with dogs. I’ve met a ton in the neighborhood since I got to London. Ladybug, Tank, Bones, Peanut,
Barkley, Bitsy. Marshmallow. I know I’m forgetting one . . . Oh, I know. Tasha. Very sassy Pomeranian.”
Emilio gave in to a smile. It nearly made her legs crumple. “You really love your job, don’t you?” he asked.
“Just like you.”
“I have a love/hate relationship with mine at the moment.”
“I’ve heard the Mega car is impossible to drive. Or at least that’s what Mia Neal told me.”
“Mia said that?” He genuinely seemed surprised. “Xander must have told her.”
“It’s no secret he struggled his first year with the car, too. It’s not you. It’s just that you’re having to make a big adjustment.”
“Most people would say I’m paid too much to struggle with that adjustment.”
“They can say all they want. It doesn’t make it any less true.”
Emilio looked at her in way that made her feel unsteady. Had she overstepped? Gone too far? “Thank you. For saying that.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks while relief washed over her. It was like she could feel his appreciation from five feet away. Did he have anyone to talk to about his driving difficulties? Someone who was simply
supportive? After all, she couldn’t offer much in the way of advice. Still, she hoped she wasn’t his only outlet. “You had
such an unbelievable season last year. That’s not a fluke. You’ll get back to where you want to be. I know it. Everything
you need is already inside you.”
“Huh.” He didn’t seem to buy what she’d said. Then his phone beeped with a text. “Our driver is here.”
The three of them hopped into a big black SUV with dark tinted windows—Piper and Emilio on opposite sides in the backseat
and Gus seated in the middle, looking straight ahead like a good boy.
“How do you feel about coming back to Imola? You were so dominant last year,” Piper said.
“I was.”
Just like that, he’d returned to his short answers. The problem was that now she’d gotten him to talk a little bit about driving,
she wanted to know more. “Care to elaborate?”
The quietest of grumbles escaped his throat.
Good, Piper thought. He needs to let something out.
“The race itself, I love. The circuit is great. Very old school. The place, not as much.”
“Why?”
“This is where Victoria and I met.”
Ah. The scene of the crime, Piper thought. “Hmm. Well, I hope this weekend isn’t too hard for you. Since it’s only been a few months since your breakup.”
“It would be easier if she wasn’t dating another driver.”
So she’d been right about that bothering him. She could only imagine having to endure one’s personal life being out in the
open. At least Piper had suffered a private humiliation. “Can I say that’s shitty of her? And of him? Or is that too personal?”
The car pulled up to the security entrance and was waved in. On either side of the gate were massive crowds of fans, waving
at the car, holding signs, jumping up and down, hoping for even a glimpse of the drivers. What a strange world Emilio existed
in.
“It is too personal.”
Right. Piper folded her arms across her belly.