He likes me.
Properly likes me.
And he’s vowed to make me change my mind about going out with him.
I shake my head, trying to get off this endless loop of thinking about what happened with Caleb at breakfast. I’ve got to focus on what I’m doing in the garage today.
And decide what I’m doing about Italy later.
I didn’t give Caleb an immediate answer to his offer to interview him there. I don’t feel I’m in the right headspace to make the correct decision about it. I told him I’d consider it and give him an answer later today.
Catherine continues talking as we head down pit lane, where crews are working on the cars that are going to practice and qualify for the sprint race that will be run tomorrow. The first practice starts at twelve-thirty, and it’s approaching ten o’clock right now.
I can’t help but be distracted as we walk by the garages. Each driver has his picture and number over the top of the bay where his car is, and I pass by some I’ve followed for years, both in racing and on social media. I move past the navy-and-pale-blue cars of Hoffman Racing, their crew dressed in shades of blue as they prep Xavier William’s car, and that of his teammate in the other bay.
“Just so you know, I did clear everything with communications for your visit today,” Catherine says. “Normally Arthur would be on hand to make sure everything runssmoothly, but Caleb told them I was going to be the media liaison today.”
“Oh? How did that go over?” I ask, curious.
She grins. “Let’s just say it’s the one time he’s used our last name to get what he wanted. Mason was fine with it, and because of the whole Arthur situation, everyone thought it was best that I handle it.”
I bet,I think wryly.
“I still can’t believe Caleb is letting you sit in his car,” Catherine says, getting my complete attention. “Caleb just doesn’t do these things. He always keeps to himself on race weekends.”
My stupid blush is back, and my scalp grows hot. I feel even more guilty about my accusation of him leveraging an interview to, as he put it, get into my knickers.
I try to act like I’m oblivious to the rapidly developing pink flush on my skin as we pass by the garage for the red-and-black cars of Drago Racing. “He’s been very generous with me.”
“You mean like offering an interview during the next race weekend?”
I stop walking. “He told you about that?”
“We’re close,” Catherine says simply. “We share a lot of things.”
DOES SHE KNOW HE LIKES ME?
Then I inwardly scowl. Crap. Why am I acting like I am sixteen?
Catherine smiles, and I have no doubt if I could see behind her sunglasses, her eyes would be dancing at me. “You should take the opportunity. Caleb never gives interviews like what he’s going to give you. It will skyrocket your career. But the fact that you are taking time to consider it tells me a lot about you.”
“Like what?”
“You’re careful. You don’t jump into things, no matter how good they appear on face value,” she says as we resume walking. “I respect that. Especially in this scenario because most reporters would leap at the chance to sit down with Caleb. But you want to make sure it’s right for you. At least that’s how I’m reading this—am I right?”
I pause before answering, deciding on how much I should tell Catherine. She’s Caleb’s sister. His assistant. But they’re obviously close, and I suspect she knows he has an interest in me.
And about the conversation we had in the motorhome this morning.
I decide to be as honest and direct with her as I was with Caleb. “I had to be sure we’re both doing this interview for the right reasons. I don’t want Caleb to regret giving it to me just because he likes me. And I had to be sure he understands the only thing I’d be in Italy for is the interview. I want to think about it before saying yes. And to be honest? I want him to rethink it, too, after hearing what I had to say.”
“May I speak on Caleb’s behalf? As his little sister slash assistant?”
“Of course.”
“Caleb doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. He’s granting you this interview because he wants to. Nothing attached to it. I mean, it’s a chance for you to get to know him better, but that’s it. He respects you, Isla. Caleb doesn’t respect most of the media, except for a handful of F1 reporters who are fair and intelligent in their reporting. But he hasn’t offered even the few he respects this kind of opportunity. Caleb—much to my own frustration—keeps himself buttoned up. But something in you makes him want to open up, which I’ve never seen before. Also, he sees something unique in you, and he knows he can help you.”
My stupid heart is giddy at the idea that I’ve sparked this kind of response in Caleb, even though we’ve barely spent any time together. My annoying brain reminds me it could be attraction driving his reactions and decisions, however.