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“Do I know you from somewhere?” I ask while shaking his hand.
“Um, not that I’m aware of,” he replies, his eyes darting to the small office. A man about six-foot-three emerges with a hand full of papers, his head bowed down.
“Ah, and this is your car chief, Saint Matthews,” Hunter says as the man glances up from the papers.
The man looks vaguely familiar, and from the look on his face, I believe he recognizes me, although I’m not sure how. I hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you. My name is Haisley,” I offer, waiting for him to respond. It takes me a minute and a nudge from Elle to realize where I know him from. He was the guy from Saturday night. Saint shoots a glance to Mac, the other man from that night, and I chuckle. “So, it is you?”
Hunter looks back and forth between the two of us. “Am I missing something? Do you two know each other?”
I shake my head. “Not really. We ran into each other the other night, that’s all,” I answer and turn my attention back to Saint. “Isn’t that right?”
Hunter slaps both of our shoulders. “Small world, huh?”
Saint forces a smile. “Something like that,” he replies as I see Mac’s face drop.
“So, Saint, what do you do specifically?” I ask, drawing out this tension. Saint looks to Mac and Hunter before returning his eyes to mine.
“I’m the car chief. I build the car,” he states surveying his clipboard. “Which I need to get back to. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving.”
I chuckle as I watch him step around me and head in the opposite direction of us. Mac is still standing next to the car with a stunned look on his face.
Hunter clears his throat and the crew scramble away. “So, Ms. Meyers, how’s the tour so far?”
“It’s wonderful, Hunter. So, what’s next?” I inquire, giving Elle a quick look.
“Let’s go finish the paperwork we need to and then the day is yours. I believe we need you tomorrow for seat fitting and meeting with the team, but besides that, it’s free time for you to get to know the team and Wadsworth racing,” he answers quickly as he directs us both back up to the stairs.
“Sounds good,” I reply, throwing a last look at the car and the crew working on it. I’m not sure I like my car chief so much, but that’s typical of older men in the racing world. They are egotistical assholes.
