“So what put banana bread in second?” I ask.
“It’s banana bread. Good, but you know what to expect. But cannoli-stuffed french toast? Come on now, it’s got the filling of a cannoli in it. That’s got to be first.”
“It is first,” I confirm. “And I ranked my others just as you predicted. This race was uneventful.”
He chuckles, and for some stupid reason, I like the fact that I’m making him laugh this morning.
I take a sip of my coffee and remind myself this is business. “I know you must have a pretty tight schedule today. What time would be best for me to film some content in the garage?”
Caleb finishes another bite of oatmeal before answering. “I’ve got an engineering meeting at ten, so I can take you down for a bit after we eat. At quarter to eleven, I’ve got to make an appearance at a sponsor brunch, but then I have about an hour before I need to be on the track for practice. That’s usually when I grab a snack and do some preparation stuff. Like kicking around a football.”
“What?” I ask, intrigued by this. “What do you mean, kick around a football?”
“Exactly what I said. Before every track practice session, I skip rope, do some neck stretching, and kick around a football. It’s my ritual.”
“This is so interesting. I’ve been following you since you came up, and that information is nowhere to be found.”
Caleb quirks a brow. “You followed me?”
“Not just you. I follow all the drivers in F1 and F2,” I say smartly. “But I never heard about the football before.”
“Maybe you’re just good at pulling out all my secrets, Isla.”
I’m too young to have hot flashes, but shit, I think I’m having one right now. But before I can think too much about it, Caleb is speaking again.
“Anyway, I’ll take you to the garage after we eat and you can get in my car, film some stuff, talk to some of the crew if you want. That will be great content for your channels.”
I nod eagerly. “I’m so excited to have this kind of access.”
“So what drew you to create content for F1?” Caleb asks, taking another bite of his oatmeal.
I cut another piece of the cannoli french toast with my fork. “I’ll only answer if I get to ask you a question in return.”
Caleb stares at me, a serious expression on his face. “Off the record?”
He really doesn’t trust the media, I think. Which makes the fact that he invited me here all the more incredible.
“This whole conversation is off the record,” I promise. “Down to your third-place finish for poor jelly-donut french toast.”
His expression lightens with my words. “Okay. I’m going to trust you.”
“Caleb, it’s up to you if you trust me or not. I can only give you my word, which I value very much. I know this isn’t something you normally do, trust someone in the media. So go ahead. Test me. Talk to me and plant a fake story to see if I report it, for all I care. Because no matter what you tell me, it’s not going to end up on my channels. Or The Downforce Network. I can’t exactly take a lie-detector test for you at the moment, but if you asked me to, I would.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your position,” I continue. “To not only have people discussing your job performance online, but trying to pry into your personal life. Throwing the fact that you are an heir to Collings Motors in your face. Making up lies about you to get clicks or ratings. Or following you when you go out for a run in Monaco or showing videos of you driving around in your car. I’ve never shared content like that on my channels or discussed your life off the track. That’s not the kind of journalism I want to do. Nor is it the kind of person I aspire to be.”
He stares at me, and I can’t quite read the expression in his eyes. A lock of his black hair falls across his forehead, but Caleb makes no move to push it away. It’s like the only thing he’s aware of are the words I just spoke from my heart.
Finally, he says, “I don’t trust people easily. But my gut tells me you’re different, Isla. Not only as a reporter, but as a person.”
Despite everything I’m telling my body to do—as in not respond to this man—it defies me once again with these words.
Because I’m beginning to believe he’s different, too.
He clears his throat. “What assignment do you have next for The Downforce Network?”
“None, so far. I think the one assignment was a fill-in for another reporter. But my hope is I’ll make a lasting impression and get some more work with them down the line.”
Caleb looks at me expectantly. “You did a great job, Isla. They’re idiots if they don’t contact you again. Even more so after you get this exclusive content for your channels today.”