Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Lex didn’t chastise Ronan for his crass remark but tossed a thumb at me. “Posey Evans. Reporter. Writing a big article about Crown Velocity. We have to be on our best behavior.”
“Screw that,” Ronan said in his posh British accent as he eyeballed me, and that was the end of his acknowledgment of my presence.
Since then, Lex and Ronan have mingled around the club, danced with various beauties and returned to the table on occasion to slam shots. They’re currently bumping and grinding with two blonds who are so drunk they’re in danger of falling over, and I watch with interest, waiting to see what happens.
“You must be the reporter.”
I turn to see a handsome man in his mid-twenties sliding into the seat next to me. I recognize him right away because I know all the FI drivers. I sip my club soda and reach my hand across the table. “Posey Evans.”
“Carlos Moreno,” he says with a warm smile.
“Yes, I know. Number one driver for Union Jack Motorsports based right here in the UK,” I say as we shake hands.
“Looks like someone did their homework,” he says with a laugh.
“There’s a lot to absorb,” I admit sheepishly. “It was a little daunting trying to memorize twenty drivers’ names, faces and statistics.”
In truth, it happened over time as I binge-watched the documentary series about FI racing. There are ten teams in FI and each team has two drivers that race at the same time. They’re technically driving against each other since it’s an individual sport, but there are many times where they will make strategy decisions and maneuvers on the track in the spirit of teamwork because in addition to the individual driving championship at stake, they have the Constructor’s Shield which is the prize that the team ownership really covets.
Carlos was one of my favorites to watch in the documentary because he’s one of the nicest and humblest of the drivers. He’s just as handsome as Lex and Ronan, maybe even more so. His dark hair is wavy, and his brown eyes are warm, gleaming with a mixture of humor and intensity. His build is more muscular than Lex and Ronan and he wears a trim goatee that highlights the angular lines of his jaw and cheekbones. His skin is the warm, rich color of bronze under the pulsing light and his eyes are framed by thick black lashes and brows that give him a striking, expressive face.
“Tell me what you want to know about any of them,” Carlos says mischievously, his Mexican accent rich with a lilting, romantic quality. “I’ll spill all the dirty.”
Laughing, I look out at Lex and Ronan. “Those two seem like the bad boys of the sport.”
Carlos looks toward the floor, his lips quirking with amusement. When he resumes eye contact, he winks. “We’re all bad boys to some extent, no? But those two are double trouble sometimes.”
As if they knew they were being talked about, Lex and Ronan come to the table and there are fist bumps and backslaps with Carlos. They sit around and talk racing, their conversation filled with technical jargon that flies right over my head.
I stay silent and watch while I sip on my club soda. Carlos ends up with Ronan and Lex on the dance floor, although to his polite credit, he asked me to join them. I declined. My dancing skills aren’t completely lacking, but they are not up to par with these glamorous people.
I glance around the club, taking in the scene, trying to think of how I’m going to capture this in my book without sounding like I’m completely out of my depth. Through the strobing lights I see Lex’s face appear in the crowd, impossibly handsome, laughing because he doesn’t have a care in the world. As if he knows I’m watching, his gaze lands on me and locks. I hastily look away but when I glance back up, I see him walking my way.
He collapses into the seat next to me, face flushed, his hair even more perfectly tousled than before. He grabs his drink and takes a long sip, then glances at me with a sly smile.
“Not your scene, I take it?” he asks, his eyes flicking down to my outfit.
“No, not really,” I admit, trying not to sound defensive. “But clearly it’s yours.”
He sweeps his hand out. “My domain.” I roll my eyes, unimpressed, and it only makes him laugh. “Oh, come on. This is what race car drivers do. All professional athletes actually. We party, we carouse.” Lex’s gaze slides out over the floor and lands on a beautiful woman dancing near the edge. He stares at her, rubbing a finger over his bottom lip in contemplation. “We take all that is offered because when you’re as good as we are, we’re offered the world.”