Page 7 of Drive Me Crazy
“Who cares about that when Blake still hasn’t pointed out who George’s lovely writer is,” Theo says, eyeing the room.
He and Lucas both scan the crowd, pointing out a handfulof old, grumpy-looking men. I’ve failed to tell them about Ella. The amount of shit they’re going to give me is not something I’m looking forward to. PlayMedia is the end all be all of everything sports-related in America, and Luc’s an avid listener of Connor Brixton’sTrash Talkand Ella’sCoffee with Champions. He’s the entire reason I even heard her Formula 1 episode.
“I bet it’s that one.” Lucas points to a short and stout bald guy.
“Oh! Good guess.” Theo nods while running a hand through his nut-brown hair. “I love his handlebar mustache. I was thinking it’s the bloke by the door. The lanky one that sort of looks like a green bean?”
“You’re both so wrong,” I grumble resignedly.
Scanning the room for Ella, I find her easily. She’s quite impossible to miss; I’m surprised I’m just now noticing her.
“Wait.” Theo chokes, placing his pink drink on the bar. “She’s the journalist?”
I give a short nod, unable to take my eyes off her. She looks absolutely stunning in a floor-length black dress with her dark brown hair falling in loose waves down her back. The outfit she wore to our meeting the other day hid the fact that she’s got a great body with curves in all the right places. It’s one I wouldn’t mind having naked underneath mine. She’s the perfect combination of sweet and sultry, and it seems like I’m not the only one who’s noticing.
She’s deep in conversation with Josie. It’s no surprise that Josie’s taken Ella under her wing. She’s been with McAllister for a few years and knows everybody and everything. I like Josie. We’re not the best of friends, but we’re friendly enough. Theo’s tried getting with her, but she’s loyal to her boyfriend, Andrew. One of my favorite pastimes is watching her shut my driving partner down.
“Dude.” Lucas’s jaw drops to the floor, his usual cool, calm,and collected demeanor disappearing. “Do you know who that is?”
“Blake’s writer, duh,” Theo answers with an eye roll. “He just said that, mate. Listen up.”
“That’s Ella Gold … as in the host of theCoffee with Championspodcast.”
I don’t bother mentioning that the podcast is no longer around, so she’s no longer the host.
“The one who said epically hilarious things about Blakey Blake?” Theo nudges my arm. “When the hell were you planning on sharing this with us?”
“Never,” I mumble under my breath. Clearly, that was wishful thinking.
My friends sip their drinks, giving Ella a look I know all too well.Hell no.I momentarily tear my gaze away from her to glare at them. “She’s off-limits, mates.”
Theo tilts his head at me in amusement. “Are you staking a claim?”
I roll my eyes and ignore the question. I don’t do relationships and my friends damn well know this. I’ve been walked away from too many times to think anyone would want to stay, so hit it and quit it tends to be my strategy. I’m more than satisfied. If there’re no expectations, no one gets hurt.
Lucas and Theo aren’t able to pester me for much longer before we’re herded to our respective tables. I’m stuck sitting on the end next to Marion while Ella’s place card seats her between Theo and Andreas, our team principal. I watch from across the table as they talk amongst themselves.
The dinner is just as boring as I remember. The head of the FIA makes a speech, some sponsors talk, and a few team principals make a toast. Shortly after dessert is served, Ella sits in Marion’s now-abandoned seat and greets me with a sexy-assin smile. Her eyes are the color of the caramel apples I used toget with my sister at Camden Market growing up. A swirling mixture of green, brown, and gold.
Apparently, she’s decided to pretend our entire conversation from the other day never happened. George wasn’t fucking around when he said she doesn’t tolerate big egos. I’m more than happy to put that to the test, though.
“Good first night back?” she asks.
“Mm-hmm.” I eye the glass in her hand. “I didn’t peg you for a rum and Coke girl.”
“That’s because I’m not.” She shakes her head as color blooms across her cheeks. “Last time I drank rum, I tried getting into my apartment with my credit card instead of my key.”
A chuckle vibrates through my chest.
“It’s Coke Zero,” she confirms. “I’m more of a Diet Coke girl, but I’ll take what I can get. Since I’m a lightweight and this is my first big event … I figured it’d be best to stick to pop.”
“Pop?”
“Soda. Sorry, Midwest habit. I’ll most likely call your trainers gym shoes at some point, too.” She takes a sip of her drink, the pink lip gloss she’s wearing leaving a mark.
“So,” she says, leaning forward like she’s sharing a secret. “Were you pretending I was the chicken?”
I stare at her with fascinated confusion.Huh?I was definitely looking at breasts, but they were hers, not the chicken’s. From the way her dress accentuates her chest, it looks like she has a great rack. Perky and firm. I wonder if her nipples are classic pink, pale coral, or cherry red.
