Page 49 of Off the Grid

“Oh my God. Will you stop it? Please?” She holds her hands up and is met with my grin.

“Why? I was just about to tell you about the little hearts you’re going to draw all over your calendar.”

Her neck startles like whiplash. “What?”

“On the days you get to see me. You’ll be so excited that you’re going to color in little hearts on the day—fill the whole square full of them—to annotate it.”

She shakes her head, clearly at a loss for how to handle me—which was exactly my goal. “This has been . . .”

“Enlightening. Frustrating. Stimulating? Do you need a thesaurus?” I tease.

“Argh!” she says, and I laugh as she moves toward the door. “I have to get back to work.”

“I thought this was work.” I narrow my eyes and play dumb. “Is it not?”

“No.”

“Okay. I hope you have an excellent rest of your day.” I grin as she meets my eyes one last time. “Hey, Moretti?” She stops at the doorway but doesn’t turn around to face me. “I’ll get you to draw dreamy hearts on that calendar yet.”

com

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Riggs

Power.

It’s beneath me.

Behind me.

All fucking around me.

The difference of three hundred eighty or so horsepower between my F2 car and the Moretti F1 car doesn’t sound like much, but it is. There’s a major difference between going two hundred miles per hour and going two hundred thirty.

Plus everything about my new car is just . . . smooth. The suspension. The ride. The way it takes corners. The way it flies along the straights.

And complex. The telemetry. The readouts. The amount of information my race engineer has on my car from a few laps around the track. The way he can use it to help me drive better.

And things I need to make adjustments to. My molded seat. How I come in to box—because while the cars are similar, there’s still a difference in handling and a difference in personnel. The steering wheel and the car’s reactions to it.

It all feels familiar but new at the same time. Exciting and intimidating. Overwhelming but right.

“Good lap time, Riggs,” my race engineer, Hank, says as I veer toward pit row and the paddock. “I think once you get a better feel for the car, we’ll shave more time off.”

“It felt good. Fast. Just need to feel this car more. Work on my spatial awareness. How quick it responds. What the different tires feel like.”

“Hopefully we’ll get an array of weather so we can try the different variations and you can test with them.”

“Fingers crossed.”

“The team is working overtime on your seat. Should have it in the next two days,” he says, referring to the seat that is essentially molded to my body. It hugs where it needs to hug and props me up where I need to be propped up since we essentially lay down as we drive.

That and the seat is removable so in case of an emergency and they need to remove a driver from the car without injuring them further, they can take the whole seat out with them.

“Thanks. A lot of people are working hard to help make this happen. I appreciate it.”

“Just doing our jobs.”