CHAPTER 5 #3
With her heart in her mouth, Anna watched the riders in their bright colors whiz by, often too fast for her to follow who they were.
She couldn’t take her eyes away from the screen.
The noise remained constant as the riders staggered themselves into position around the track.
She’d have to learn the teams and their numbers to follow them better.
She found herself getting into the racing spirit, even if Isaac wasn’t on the screen very often.
Vince and Luka were on the screen about half the time, because watching them was such an exhilarating show.
She knew little about racing, but the men on bikes were incredible.
Motorcycle racing wasn’t just daring; it was also athletic.
No wonder the riders had to be fit. The idea of asking Isaac to go to the pool with her flashed through her mind.
Since Catarina had suggested it, the possibility had stayed with Anna.
Each rider’s best lap time appeared on a ranked scoreboard.
Vince stayed consistently in the top three, as was the brash Australian she’d met last night.
Vince, Austin Spencer, and Luka Catala jockeyed for top position while Isaac hovered between eighth and tenth, sometimes higher briefly before being knocked back to tenth as everyone’s times improved lap by lap.
When he returned to the pit after twenty minutes, the crew sprang into action, removing his used tires and replacing them with new ones on his main bike while he sat on a chair and discussed tire selection and the curves with Angel.
There were no flirty looks now. He was in a different zone—entirely focused on his job.
She was prone to hyper-concentration herself.
Perhaps this was what it looked like from the outside.
Everyone in the box let Isaac and Angel talk, keeping busy with their own duties. She had nothing specific to do yet, so she stayed out of the way but drifted closer to follow their discussion. This debrief was another facet she found fascinating.
Isaac stayed in the box for only a couple of minutes before he remounted his bike, once more swerving his way up pit lane and zooming onto the track.
Several other riders had come in and gone back out, too.
It seemed to be part of the process. Ride.
Debrief. Ride more as the countdown from forty-five minutes ticked toward zero.
Next door, another rider arrived, revving his engine much louder than the others. He stopped his bike with a shout and threw something, perhaps a glove, across his box, where it smacked against the thin partition that divided their garages.
Anna’s eyes opened wider at the stream of fluid Spanish cursing that erupted from the emotional rider.
Translating the gist of his tirade, she learned his bike was crap, the track was dirty, the engine was too slow, his tires were wrong, and he didn’t like the brake settings.
That was quite the list of problems. She wouldn’t have understood, except that he repeated his opinions several times at full volume.
It had started in front of his bike and included expansive hand gestures as his rant continued deeper into his box.
His crew remained quiet, perhaps shocked or offended, as they listened. Maybe it was a regular occurrence, though it seemed peculiar behavior. She wanted to peek and get a better look at who was acting this way so she could steer clear.
The boxes on the other side had been quieter. She couldn’t hear Yoshi, with whom they shared a garage, or Luka and Vince. She glanced around Isaac’s team. Isaac hadn’t acted like that when he’d returned, even if he’d suggested adjustments to the bike. Which was normal?
Miguel, the young man with the ponytail, caught her eye and mouthed the name, “Xavi Martinez.”
She crossed to crouch beside the mechanic and whispered, “Does he yell like that a lot?” It bothered her that this Xavi would be so abusive to his team.
Even hearing that level of frustration made her bite her lip and her breathing raspy.
Directed her way, she’d have been triggered.
She couldn’t imagine Isaac reacting that way if he was unhappy. If so, she didn’t want to deal with it.
The young man threw back his head and laughed. “Pretty much always. His team lets him get the emotion all out before they talk to him about their suggestions. It lasts about five minutes, then he calms down. You watch, on race day he’ll be totally different. Cool as a cucumber and all business.”
Given the volume and length of the outburst, Anna was skeptical. She’d have to see it to believe it.
After an intense forty-five minutes, FP1 ended, and she found herself wound tight from the tension of the practice.
Her shoulders ached, so she stretched and unclenched her fists.
If she was this swept up from practice, she’d be a wreck on race day.
Vince finished second and Isaac tenth. He congratulated the team when he returned to the box to debrief once more with his crew chief, seeming pleased, if she read him right.
Isaac seemed easier to read than most people, perhaps because she paid better attention, or maybe he just didn’t mask his emotions.
From his hand gestures, he and Angel discussed his approach into several of the corners, which he knew by both name and number.
“Anna, can I get your help?” Isaac said once he’d finished.
She hopped up from the chair where she’d been sitting, her folder under her arm.
He gave her his helmet, and she placed it on a shelf near the TV beside a second one.
He handed her his gloves and a tall plastic water bottle, and she followed him out the back through a short maze of winding turns that opened up outside.
“How can I help you? You didn’t need me to carry these,” she said when they stood behind pit lane in front of a long row of trailers painted with various team colors.
She shuffled her feet, not looking at Isaac.
Was she supposed to go back inside now? The expectations were unclear, and she didn’t want to do something wrong.
Plus, without the distraction of the others around, she was very aware of how her body reacted to Isaac’s proximity.
She felt an insistent attraction being so close, and she didn’t want to do something embarrassing.
“I thought you might want a break from the noise,” he said, removing his earplugs with a heart-stopping smile. “Or something to eat. Since you ate little at breakfast.”
He’d noticed her rush at breakfast? She took out her earplugs and looked around.
She hadn’t paid attention until he mentioned it, but it was much quieter here. The first free practice had finished, and another was about to start. Her schedule said the Moto2 bikes would soon have the track.
“This one’s mine,” said Isaac, indicating a white, blue, and green trailer with a set of steep stairs with a white handrail leading up to a metal door.
Now that she was paying attention, his team colors and logo marked the trailer.
“You can come here anytime, whether or not I’m here.
Even just for a break from the noise.” He hesitated and looked down, his boot scuffing the sand from the asphalt.
“Want to come in? Do you want a Coke or some water while I get changed? Maybe lunch?”
She nodded, and he turned and climbed the stairs.
She hesitated before following with a smile.
It seemed like more than an offer of friendship, something not extended to a regular employee, but there shouldn’t be any harm.
She liked Isaac and was excited that they could hang out for more than book club discussions.
Luckily, there had been nothing in the information packet about rules restricting friendship, or even dating, between team members.
The inside of the trailer had been designed like a camp trailer, with a slim foldaway table opposite a sink and a narrow counter with a row of overhead cupboards.
Beyond the sitting area, the back opened into a bedroom with a double bed.
He could nap while waiting for the next practice.
It must be nice to have a room on wheels, so he didn’t have to go back to the hotel to change or rest.
“Help yourself,” he said, waving to a small fridge under the counter as he retreated down the hall and closed the bedroom door.
He soon returned in his team shirt and shorts, making them a matched set.
Anna liked the idea, feeling somehow satisfied that their clothes went together.
They had a few hours before the next session, and she hadn’t been sure how she would fill her time; read perhaps?
Her schedule had said lunch and a three-hour break until the MotoGP riders were once again on the track for FP2.
“Want to watch the Moto3 practice with me after lunch?” Without looking at her, Isaac took a platter with sliced deli meat, chunks of orange, yellow, and white cheese, and chopped vegetables from the fridge.
He added two bottles of water and removed two plates from a top cupboard and set them on the table before looking at her.
It looked like he wanted her to stay and warmth filled her face.
“Don’t I have to report back to Angel?” She wanted to stay, and not just because the array of food looked appetizing, but she didn’t want to get in trouble.
Isaac raised his eyebrow. “What does your schedule say?”
Her voice was quiet. “That I’m free until FP2.
” Butterflies flitted back and forth in her stomach as she met his chocolate-colored eyes.
They were a soft brown, more like milk chocolate than dark—friendly compassionate eyes.
Isaac had brought enough lunch for two. He’d planned this, and she wanted to stay.