Page 14 of Heartbreaker

“How do you know I rode dirt bikes? You wouldn’t be looking into me, would you?”

“You think a driver’s gonna come in here with no name, no prestige, ready to shake the industry up, and I won’t look into them? Hell no.”

“What else did you find?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow. I give her my cocky grin, the one the cameras get most often, the one that usually has women going googly-eyed around me. The one that seems to bounce right off of her.

“I saw you look great in a bikini. Spring break in Cabo?” She reaches for something in her cup holder, grabs a hair clip, and tosses it at me. It bounces off my forehead, and I rub at the spot, laughing. “I also saw you’ve been out of the circuit for some time. How’d you end up here?” She shrugs, looking beyond me, her eyes shifting the slightest bit. Normal people wouldn’t see it, I’m sure—but I do.

I do, because like recognizes like, and I can spot when someone is purposely closing down, preparing to show a version that isn’t their true self.

“How everyone else did, I suppose: I got the call. Years ago, I applied, but never got far. Seems they were looking for a woman to bring in a new crowd, trying to temper all of the gross testosterone around here. They reached out; I was between gigs, and it sounded like a fun time.” I stare at her for a moment, but decide I’ll let her have this lie.

If there’s one thing I can understand, it’s wanting to bend the truth to fit in better.

Before I can say anything else, though, she asks her own question. “What had you so pissed before?” I lift an eyebrow, unsure what she means. “You were punching that bag like it had someone’s face on it.”

“So you were watching me?” Her lips tip, and she adjusts the treadmill again, taking her to a slow walk.

“It was hard to miss. Plus, I never said I didn’t like the eye candy.” I grin at her, and she rolls her eyes.

“So? What was it?” I contemplate giving her an easy answer, something fabricated or surface-level, but then I take in a breath and tell her the truth. Maybe it will help to talk to an unbiased person about this. Lord knows I haven’t had someone like that in years.

“I had a call with my dad this morning, and it didn’t go the way I wanted it to.” She doesn’t speak, just keeps walking, that ponytail swinging as she moves, and I find myself hypnotized by it. It must be why I keep going. “I’m supposed to be on my best behavior to get back into Indy, but shit keeps happening that’s making that harder and harder. People keep trying to fuck with me to get a reaction out of me.”

“The clothes,” she says, and I nod, watching her turn her machine off completely. “Do you know who took them?”

“No idea,” I say, even if I have a laundry list of people who would want to make me look bad.

Tyler, because he’s still pissed I made it into Indy when he didn’t.

Jordan, annoyed that I made him look like an idiot before the race.

Liam, because he wasn’t promoted to full-time when they brought me in.

And those are just the obvious ones.

“I’m an asshole, you know. Who wouldn’t want to put me in my place?” She stares at me for long, silent moments, assessing me in a way I don’t know how to feel about before she shakes her head.

“No, I don’t think that’s right,” she says. I let out a self-deprecating laugh, running a hand through my hair.

“I can assure you it is. Everyone tells me I’m an asshole.”

“Oh, no, that part—that part I believe. Everyone thinks you’re an asshole. But the reality of it?” She shakes her head. “No. It’s not real. It’s not you.”

“I’m as real as they get,” I say, trying to sound much more confident and assured than I am.

“You keep telling yourself that, pretty boy. But from one bullshitter to another, I can see through you.” My heart begins to race, and I slip my hands into my pockets, looking up at her and trying to get her as off-kilter as she seems to make me.

“Are you a bullshitter, Lana?” She looks at me, assessing, and I cling to the silence hanging in the air, eager to hear the lie, to try to dissect it the way she’s doing with my own words.

But before she can answer, there’s a loud clunk to my left, forcing my eyes from Lana’s, where a woman two treadmills down has just fallen, one that I’m pretty sure has been listening to our conversation all along. On instinct, I move to help her, along with the few other people around.

It isn’t until a hotel employee takes her down to the lobby for an ice pack that I realize Lana left without a word.

NINE

By far, the meet and greets are my least favorite part of this mission, not because I don’t enjoy talking to people or because it’s awkward, which it is, but because it puts a spotlight on just how much I don’t fit in here. While Rome, Tyler, and the other drivers who have been here for a while have long lines of excited fans, I usually have just a handful, mostly people who feel bad that my line is empty or don’t want to wait in a longer line.

It doesn’t help that this time, I’m stationed next to Rome, so not only do I get to stand there awkwardly, but I also get to watch women fawn over him incessantly. Ten minutes in, I’m checking my phone for the time and groaning at the realization that we have almost an hour left.