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The sun was blinding, a bright pre-spring white glare that blocked her vision. She didn’t realize they had approached the pit where his team stood with him as their singular focus.
The car was sitting there, winking in the early morning light, with a member of Franco’s pit team walking around it diligently with a clipboard. She stopped in her tracks, not realizing that Franco had noticed her fixation.
He surprised her by placing a hand on her shoulder, heavy and endearing.
“So, what do you think?”
His tone was curious and playful. Violet wrinkled her nose and then cracked her jaw, a facial movement she usually engaged in when under extreme stress. She looked over the car, noticing the way Franco looked at it while resting his hand on her shoulder, the way a lover looks over their beloved lying naked in a tangle of sheets after lovemaking.
The car was smooth and a deep shade of crimson red with bright canary-yellow accents. It had various sponsors imprinted upon the sides of the car and his number painted in big, bold, black lettering.
His scent wafted to her as a small gust of wind passed by. Her stomach was coiled, noticing the presence of that ugly, dead leaves feeling that had rarely shown its presence in her life. Violet was jealous. Jealous of a damn car.
“It’s … wonderful,” she said, forcing a smile.
Violet was glad that one of the members of the pit team, a woman with short hair pushed back, came up to him in an outfit similar to what he was wearing. They shook hands and moved to an area under the awning of the venue to begin the meeting.
Franco gave her a look of approval, which instantly washed away the jealousy. God, she was in trouble.
She lingered beyond the group, standing in a beam of sunlight near the car as the meeting began. Various team members clustered under the awning as the man with the clipboard began to speak.
“All right, folks, so we’ve got several things on the agenda before the big race ….”
The man, team members, and Franco, too, spoke in technical jargon that might as well have been some other language to Violet. She didn’t want to disrespect his passion, so she stood by the car, walking around it slowly while also gazing out at the racetrack.
The track didn’t look very long, but there were several laps involved. She tried to envision it while the meeting went on, only Franco’s voice familiar and faint in the distance.
Violet had no idea how long she had been studying the track and the car when she heard someone, she believed it was the man with the clipboard, say something to Franco and the group. It made her body freeze.
“Hey, Franco, are you going to introduce us to the new girlfriend?”
Violet was thankful she had been facing away from the group when the question was posed. Suddenly, everything was acute, the silence of the people, the smashing of her heart inside her chest, the minuscule blow of dust over the track. She didn’t turn to him because she was terrified of what his answer would be in relation to how he actually felt.
Somehow, even while not standing near him, she felt his mind and heart stirring. It gave her a sickly feeling in her stomach.
After a few fat seconds of horrible silence, Franco chuckled a deep and husky guffaw.
“Oh, that’s Violet. She’s my fated mate.”
Violet remained frozen as Franco came to her, slipping his hand under the arm that held onto her purse for dear life. He guided her toward the group, and her face blushed hotly.
“Everyone, this is Violet Carney.” The way he said her name made her tiger stir. “Violet, this is the team that helps me win all those races.”
The team before her, a handful of men and women around her age and slightly older, let out an awkward chuckle as she was presented. Violet lifted a hand and waved, feeling Franco’s grip on her slowly loosen and slip away.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” she said cheerfully.
They didn’t disapprove of her, she knew that, but they were all in a state of shock. Finally, someone clapped, and that descended into cheers and proclamations of congratulations.
A few of the members approached her and shook her hand, and Violet was thankful, yet she felt like she was moving through water. Why had he announced that she was his fated mate? Was he doing it for her, to reassure her, or did he actually feel that way?
It wasn’t the time or the place to brood over such thoughts because, before she knew it, Franco was guiding her deeper into the awning area. It looked like a smaller version of a mechanic’s garage.
“I’m going to do a few test drives now. You can stay here and watch if you’d like.”
Violet could only nod, glad that he was welcoming her into his world, yet spinning from his announcement.
“That’s fine. I’ve never really watched a race before.”
