Page 14 of Drive Me Crazy
“Our hotel rooms are next to each other,” Ella reminds me. “Her name is Natasha, by the way. She’s really hoping you call her. We took the elevator down together the next morning.”
The waiter appears and asks for our orders. Ella takes her sweet time asking about their different kinds of pancakes and what veggies they have for their omelets. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’s some sort of restaurant critic.
I’m still speechless when Ella says, “Now what’s your next question?”
Who is this girl and why does she throw me off my game?
“Uh, yeah, okay.” I cough awkwardly, trying to recover. “Why do you think I’m a bad driver?”
“I don’t think you’re a bad driver. I think you’re an extremely talented driver.” She gives me a funny look. “Not sure if you listened to the episode or not, but I spent about ten minutes talking about how flawlessly you adapt to whatever conditions you’re thrown in, no matter who your competition is.”
“You questioned if it was me or the McAllister car winning.”
“I questioned it. I didn’t say that’s what I thought. But I’m sorry.” A faint flush tinges her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh, and I apologize. So, can we call a truce?”
She moves her hand in front of me and sticks up her pinky. Is she seriously about to make me give her a pinky promise? I look at her, trying to gauge if she actually expects me to do it.Bollocks. As much as it kills a tiny piece of my soul to admit this, maybe Theo was right and I just need to give her a shot. The issue is that the closer Ella gets, the more harm she’s able to do, and the easier it is for her to see how damaged I already am.
Sighing deeply, I wrap my pinky around hers, cementingthe promise. The look she gives me in response sends a bolt of lightning straight to my dick.Traitor.
She answers the rest of my questions thoughtfully. Based on her résumé, writing, and George’s glowing review, I know Ella’s smart. But hearing her talk confirms it. We’re sort of like Millie’s favorite movie:Beauty and The Beast. A gorgeous, independent woman forced to spend time with a selfish, arrogant prick. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you look at it—for Ella, I’m not equipped for the emotional roller-coaster of falling in love. And sadly for me, she’s not interested in the ecstasy of falling in lust.
SEVEN
Ella
IT’S NOT that I had high hopes that Blake was going to be the easiest person to work with, but suggesting we fool around was out of left field. He said it so casually that he may as well have been asking me to split an Uber with him. When I told Poppy, she said I was an idiot for shooting the idea down. She kept going on and on about how it’d be great if I could include his skills both onandoff the track in the book.Whatever.
I wasn’t lying to Blake when I said I couldn’t do casual sex. I’ve tried and it doesn’t work for me. I like emotional intimacy too much. To his credit, he took my refusal with grace and hasn’t made me feel uncomfortable in the slightest since.
Our conversation did allow me to pass whatever weird test he was giving me. He’s sticking to his pinky promise and finally allowing me to spend time with him. We’re walking around the Canadian Grand Prix circuit, something Blake likes to do before each race, when he asks me the highest speed I’ve ever driven.
“I once went ninety mph and got pulled over,” I reveal as we near the end of the track. “The officer let me off with a warning, but I haven’t sped since then.”
“Haveyou ever been on a hot lap?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
A hot lap is pretty much the closest an average person can get to feeling even a quarter of what a Formula 1 driver does when they’re on the track. I’m sure the experience costs more than the car itself, and that’s saying a lot.
“How can you write a book about me without having experienced what being in a Formula 1 car is like?”
“Taking a hot lap isn’t in a Formula 1 car, though,” I point out.
“Close enough.” He stops walking and turns to face me. “You need to experience it in order to accurately write about me.”
“It’s called research. People write about astronauts without going to space. They write about presidents without having been elected.” I’m on a roll. “Do you think Eric Carle went through metamorphosis to become a butterfly before writingThe Very Hungry Caterpillar? No. He did research.”
“Ella.”
“Blake.”
Not a single bone in my body has any desire to go 250 mph in a high-performance sports car with Blake behind the wheel.
“Some people pay upwards of eleven thousand pounds to take a drive with a Formula 1 driver,” he says as if this will sway me.
“Yeah, but those people are clearly on crack.”
Blake looks at me with the confidence of someone who’s used to getting their way. He waves over Josie. She’ll have to side with me. McAllister doesn’t want to be culpable for my death, right?
