At Full Sprint (A BBW Shifter Romance) (Last of the Shapeshifters) (7 page)

He met her eyes again. “Nope,” he said. “No boyfriend or husband. Not really my thing.”

“Fair enough,” Circe said. She looked around. “Wait! Stop the car!”

Miles braked quickly, pulling over into a shoulder. “What is it?”

“I saw a kangaroo!”

“Where?”

Circe pointed forward, and Miles peered up at a ridge looming over the next turn. Sure enough, he saw the head of a kangaroo poking out through tall blades of grass. He laughed. “This is the first time I’ve seen one in the wild.”

“First one I’ve seen, ever.”

Miles climbed out of the car, and walked around to the other side, opening the door for Circe. “Come on,” he said. “I could use a break. I noticed a small road just a bit back going up, and we might get high enough to get a better look.”

They turned off the main road, and walked up a small narrow path, but the tree line prevented them from getting a clear view at the kangaroo.

“That’s a shame.”

“It’s probably gone by now, anyway.”

They turned to descend back down the steep hill when he spotted movement in the gum trees above him. He touched Circe’s arm. She turned quickly, looking first at his hand, then at him. He pulled his fingers away, and smiled, pointing upward.

Above them in the gum trees was a baby koala, and it had evidently spotted them for it was climbing up and down repeatedly over a set of branches.

“Oh my God!” Circe gasped. “A wild koala.”

“Never seen a wild koala before, either, and I’ve been driving down this road seven years now.”

“It’s showing off!” Circe squealed. “How old do you think it is? God, it’s so cute.”

Miles walked a little off to the left, peering into the gum trees. “That could be its mother,” he said, pointing at a large koala nestled in the nook where a thick branch met the thicker trunk. It was apparently asleep, head ducked down and eyes closed.

Sure enough, the baby koala made its way to its mother, who promptly collected the infant into her arms.

“I wish I brought my phone,” Circe said. “It’s in the car! I want to take a photo.”

Miles turned to her. “Why? Just remember it.”

He shrugged and walked off back down the hill, looking over his shoulder once to see Circe still staring at the embracing mother and child.

*

“Would you consider yourself a private man?” Circe asked on the drive back. They had eaten a brunch of sorts together at Apollo Bay before driving down to the Twelve Apostles, which was absolutely breathtaking. The tide had started to come in as well, and as Circe had looked out at the isolated bits of rock that had been eroded off the cliff face, she could almost imagine she was seeing the erosion in action each time a swell crashed against the jagged, jutting spires of land.

She imagined that it was similar to the way a glacier carved, only over tens of thousands of years.

“Yes.”

Circe yawned. “God, I’m off my game today. These questions suck.” She looked down at her pad. She had been asking exactly the type of muesli-and-bananas questions that Ms. Jennings didn’t want; that wouldn’t sell.

“You tired?”

“It’s been a long day,” Circe said. The sun was already setting. She could hardly believe she’d spent the whole day out with Miles. All in all, it had been pretty fun, and surprisingly comfortable, though she was beginning to get a bit bored with the Veyron’s cramped seat and the engine’s ever-present roar and rumble.

“Tell me about it. I don’t think I can feel my arms anymore.”

“Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t enjoy driving this long. Why did we leave so early this morning, anyway? I mean, besides watching the sunrise.” Circe rolled her eyes. Somehow, he didn’t seem the sentimental type, but she conceded that she had only met him the day before.

“A part of it was to see if you were serious or not.”

“About what?”

“Painting a truthful picture of me, or making it either boilerplate or sensationalist.”

Circe took offense. “Just because I’m an intern doesn’t mean I’m unprofessional.”

“No,” Miles said. He lifted his hand off the steering wheel, and to Circe it looked like he had meant to reach over and touch her hand, or perhaps reassure her by patting her on the thigh, but he didn’t. It was a strange movement, and a viscous awkwardness filled the space between them.

She had to admit… the day had been comfortable, though oddly tense. They got along… quite well, in fact, but he had kept himself at arm’s reach. She knew that she had, too. Were they both just being protective? Guarded? He had laughed easily, but she felt it was a cover, or just a way he shielded himself. She needed to break past that. His ‘attraction’ to her – and she was still trying to decide if he was just messing around and teasing her, or if it was genuine – seemed the most real in that small movement his hand had just made.

“I meant that your boss might have an agenda and be forcing your hand.”

“Well, how would my coming out with you today mean I’m serious?”

“Because it means you’re interested. You didn’t have to. None of this was in the agreement.”

“You know, Miles, you’re a bit strange.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. Especially for a racer. I mean, when you’re at the pits, teasing your competitors and full of swagger… that’s what I expect. But today, you’re different. Interview-mode again, but tell me: Is it all an act?”

“Isn’t everybody always acting?” he deflected. “I mean, aren’t you?”

Circe didn’t know what to make of that. Did he know what Ms. Jennings had said to her? Impossible!

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“No, it’s not an act. But you’re not my competitor.”

“Did you always know you wanted to race?”

“Yes. Well, I mean, not always. It was probably the first time I actually saw a race.”

“Oh?” Circe said, perking up. “When was that?”

“Let’s not do this now.”

She sighed. “Why? Why is it whenever I ask about your past, you sidestep? I thought this was all-access.”

He tilted his head the side. “Fair enough. The first race I ever saw was just a drag race on the street outside my house. Two men who had two cars wanted to race, and since we lived on a bit of straight road, they did it there.”

“Oh,” Circe said. “I thought you meant professional race.”

“Disappointed?”

“No. But how thrilling can watching two blokes go head to head on a bit of road? I mean, what were they racing?”

“It wasn’t the competition. I don’t do it for that. It’s the speed. The control. The limits.”

“So, in other words, the thrill?”

“You could say that.”

“Do you thrill-seek in other ways?”

“Like what?”

“Skydiving? Rollercoasters?”

“God, no.”

“Why so specific, then?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. But talking about all of this is starting to give me ideas. Want to really hear the engine roar?”

Circe looked down, remembering the engine was in the middle of the car, pretty much right beneath them.

“We’re at the limit, aren’t we?”

“So what?”

He sped up, and though she wanted to chide him because it was dangerous, found that she embraced the thrill instead. Holding on tight, her stomach was taking turns between rising up into her chest, barging aside her lungs, before sinking into her guts. She heard the engine indeed, but paid more attention to Miles. He regained some of his energy, and his smile became easy again as they weaved down the winding road at thirty above the speed limit.

*

“Night cap?” Miles offered as they walked up the stairs to the first-floor landing. “My treat.”

“Isn’t everything your treat?” Circe asked him, looking around. “It’s on your tab.”

“So that’s a no?” He watched as she pondered the question, before finally shaking her head.

“Sorry, it’s late, and I need to check in with Ms. Jennings.”

He nodded. “No worries. Oh, by the way, tomorrow I’m going home.”

“Home?”

“Yes,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I don’t always live in hotels, you know.”

“Where is home?”

“Depends on where my next race is.”

“Okay, where is home when your next race is in Malaysia?”

“Bali.” He grinned when she balked.

“You’re kidding.”

“No. Right on the beach, too. Beautiful house. Everything is made of glass.”

She made a face at him. “So no privacy, then?”

“Curtains. Want to come?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Circe,” he said, stepping closer toward her. He wanted to take her hand, and was mildly alarmed that he had been feeling these urges for physical contact all day. “You’re doing a job, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not my prisoner.”

She laughed. “Of course not, Miles.”

“So, if I go home tomorrow, how will you do your job?”

“Well, I can write up what I’ve already got, and then wait until next race.”

“Okay. Or, you can come with me, spend a couple of nights at my house – you’ll get your own room, of course. And you might just get some interesting material that way.”

“Why?” Circe challenged, putting up her chin. “What’s in your Bali glass house?”

“More of me, of course!” he joked. “We leave in the morning. Ticket’s already booked. First class, of course. Good night.”

“I never said I would come,” Circe said to his back.

“Then don’t,” Miles lobbed over his shoulder. “You’re choice.”

*

Miles wants me to go to his house with him in Bali. I need to email Ms. Jennings about that and ask what to do.

Also, I can’t believe I saw both a wild kangaroo and wild koala today! I mean, what are the chances of that? Miles hasn’t seen either, and he’s been driving down this road for seven years running now.

The baby koala was so cute.

I want one.

I wonder if they’ll let me take one.

Ha!

Didn’t get a great look at the kangaroo. Wish I got some pictures I could send Mum. She loves animals.

Makes me wonder why we never had a pet. Probably because both Mum and Dad worked.

The drive was pretty nice. Can’t believe I rode in a Veyron. Not that comfortable, though. Don’t really think a skinnier person would have a better time, either. Probably just feel the rattle more.

It was a bit awkward, though. I don’t know what the hell is going on there, but definitely awkward.

Is it me? I know I’m not exactly the smoothest person on earth.

But he doesn’t seem like it either.

Could have been worse.

And that pastry we shared at Apollo Bay! Yum!

*

Circe Cole wrote:

Ms. Jennings,

Miles has asked me to go to one of his (apparently many) homes with him. I’m not sure if this falls under my job description? Actually, I have to tell you the truth. I’m becoming a bit confused as to what I’m even supposed to be doing. What is it exactly you want me to do, aside from compiling the interview? It’s just that everything seems so unconventional. I mean, is there a code of conduct? Rules of engagement?

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Circe

----------

To: Circle Cole

From: Stephanie L. Jennings

Circe,

Yes, definitely go to his house! Are you kidding me? You have an opportunity to really look into his personal life. Find out what makes him tick! What time does he wake up? Is he a slave to routine, or does he just wing it all the time? What drives him, and is that why he drives?

Right now, things are a bit awkward, I understand. This is not a ‘conventional’ job by any means, so stop thinking of it like one. Think of it instead as investigative journalism. Think of it as though you are under deep cover. Remember, he’s got an agenda here, too. Why would he offer to give an ‘all-access’ interview now? And why pick you, specifically? The latter question should be fairly obvious. He no doubt likes what he sees. Use that to your advantage. Find a crack, and pry it open.

Remember, this is the first interview he’s ever given. It absolutely cannot flop.

No pressure, dear.

I understand in the grand scheme of things, he’s just an athlete. It’s not terribly important. But in our industry, this is huge.

Don’t forget that, Circe. And don’t let me down.

Ask if you need anything, including money.

Also, send me what you’ve got so far, in short hand. If you don’t want to type out your notes, just take a photograph and send them by attachment.

S

PS. I notice you called him ‘Miles’ – that’s good. Get close to him. I want to know who the man is behind the racer.

I
t was muggy in Kuala Lumpur on the day of the Malaysian Grand Prix, just two weeks after Cheat Cohen had taken his dramatic first-placed finish during the last lap in Melbourne. Circe was seated on a stool in the team garage situated behind the pit lane of the Grand Prix track. Miles was standing with members of the crew, watching a digital graph readout on a computer monitor.