Racing Hearts

I smiled, turning to the side as the cameras flashed.

“I really can’t take you anywhere.” My best friend Lizzie sighed, underneath her breath.

I pulled her closer, linking our arms.

“Hey, at least the world is getting to see your talented make-up skills.”

She sniffed, flicking her long, glossy red hair over her shoulders.

“They always write it’s your natural beauty. If only they knew the truth... How hard I really work to get you looking that hot.”

I laughed at her teasing, shaking my head as we walked away from the photographers.

“You’ve got top-quality canvas to paint on.” I joked, although it was kind of true. My parents had given me good genes. Dad was a hot British rockstar who stole hearts in the 80s, 90s and even now. He might be getting older, but his looks were standing the test of time. As for my mom, she’d been a stunning supermodel. No matter what she had done, it had always caused a media frenzy. Something I seemed to have inherited as well.

“Heather, wait! Do you have any comments on your ex, Richie Clinton, and his new girlfriend?”

I bit down on my bottom lip, resisting the urge to suggest she invested in a vibrator. My casting in a new movie was about to hit the news, and there was already Oscar buzz surrounding it. PR had drilled into me the importance of keeping my mouth shut, something I didn’t find easy. Talking about sex toys was a definite no no.

“Come on, let’s get a drink. Grant has got us a table in the Stone Racing hospitality tent.” Lizzie said, squeezing my hand.

I nodded, my high ponytail suddenly feeling way too tight. I couldn’t put all the blame on it for my tension, though. Richie fucking Clinton had done a real number on me. Keying his brand new Ferrari had only scratched the surface of the pain I wanted to cause him.

“Who cares what they say! Your tits look amazing and Richie is a loser.” Liz piped up, as we followed the security team through the busy race track.

I laughed, grateful for my boosted tan and low v neck t-shirt. Richie hadn’t been too kind about me in a recent interview, which wasn’t a surprise considering he was probably high during it. I’d escaped to Hawaii as the media storm around my breakup had exploded. He was on tour, which meant he was on stage every night talking shit about me. It hadn’t been the easiest thing to deal with, but I was getting there. Especially now I was in the UK. I could spend some time with my dad, as well as my best friend Lizzie.

“Thanks, but I doubt anyone will notice. You’re always telling me that to get attention around here you need two wheels and a massive engine.”

She laughed.

“Maybe, but a blonde bombshell movie star might be a distraction.”

I snorted, placing my shades back over my eyes. The last thing I felt like doing was being here, but Lizzie had insisted. Her and Grant had been so awesome to me over the years, I didn’t want to let them down. My visibility at this event would create media attention, and I knew Grant was hoping that would help bring in some new sponsorship deals.

“You know, I’ve never been to a motorsport event before. My dad is a huge fan. He was excited when I told him I was coming today.” I said as we wandered through a set of glass doors into a building.

“Today is really exciting and important. Stone Racing could win the championship if Jason can finish first in both races.” Lizzie said, waving to several people.

I could feel multiple sets of eyes on me as we headed to the outdoor area. There was a great view of the track from here, as well as a large screen showing every moment of action.

“I mean, it sounds exciting, but I don’t know that it’s my kind of thing.” I said, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Just you wait! Once we have a drink and the action starts, you’ll be hooked!”

“Oh, my God!” I yelled, grabbing Lizzie’s arm. “How did he not come off?”

She shook her head, reaching for her glass of champagne.

“I don’t know how they lean the bike that low. I’m so glad Grant doesn’t race anymore. It makes me feel sick with nerves.”

Everybody gasped as two bikes nearly collided. It turned out I’d underestimated how completely fucking insane you had to be to race a motorbike.

“If Jason wins this then that’s it. The championship is over!” Lizzie squealed, as the bikes started the final lap.

I smiled at her excitement. She’d often talked about her husband and the team, but it was something I hadn't shown much interest in. Now, though, I got it. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins just watching. It was gripping.

“Fuck… Yes!” Liz screamed, as the bikes crossed the line.

I pulled her into a hug as she squealed.

“Come on! We need to go down to the podiums.”

I followed her lead as she spoke to a security guard, who guided us down onto the track.

“Baby!”

Liz had engulfed in her husband’s arms, who then pulled me in to join them.

“It fucking unbelievable!”

I jumped up and down with him, the celebratory mood contagious.

“You having fun, Heather?” He asked, squeezing my arm.

“Yes! It’s been brilliant. I never thought it would be my scene, but I’m kind of hooked now.” I replied, the roar of engines drowning out my voice.

He smiled, nudging his head to the podiums.

“Want to give out a trophy?”

I stared at him in surprise, gazing up at the stage. The champagne I’d been knocking back had given me enough of a buzz to consider it.

“Don’t you have someone already doing it?” I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, grabbing my hand

“Nobody that is as gorgeous or famous as you. What do you think, Liz?”

She squealed, patting me on the back.

“Get up there girl! I can sort your face out. You look really sweaty.”

You could always rely on a best friend to keep your ego in check. Before I could object they were both pulling me towards the stage.

The sun was beating down on me as I tried to pay attention.

Everything had happened so quickly. Liz had powdered my face as Grant had spoken to one of the event organizers. They’d liked his suggestion, and now I was awarding the trophy for first place. Which happened to be a rider in Grant’s team.

The crowd cheered as the first rider came out, taking his place on the podium. The guy in second place looked less happy, in fact, I’d say he was pretty pissed.

“Now, please welcome your race winner and champion of 2022, Jason Jones.”

I joined the applause of the crowd, but as he made his entrance, my heart raced. He exuded undeniable sex appeal. His dishevelled black hair complemented his face perfectly, giving him a striking appearance. This man should not be covering a face like that in a crash helmet... He could be a model. I gulped, captivated as he leaped onto the podium, enthusiastically waving and cheering at the crowd beneath.

Everything about him was effortlessly cool. I watched in interest as the British national anthem began to play.

“Alright, love. I’ll pass you the trophy and you walk right over with it and hand it to Jason.” An older guy said, patting my arm.

I nodded, suddenly wishing I hadn’t agreed to do this. By the time it was my turn my stomach was fluttering with butterflies. The feeling grew stronger as I walked across the stage. Jason was watching me intently, adding to my self-consciousness.

“Congratulations.” I muttered, struggling to hold his gaze.

“Thank you, beautiful.” He replied, with a thick Northern accent. Leeds. The same as my dad.

Unsure what to do next, I froze. He leaned forward, his blue eyes full of warmth.

“Best stand to the side, else you’ll get a good coating of champagne over that gorgeous outfit.”

My mind felt slow as I realized what he meant. Of course, podium celebrations involved spraying bottles of champagne. Even I knew that.

I had just taken a step back when I felt the cold, fizzy liquid enveloping me. I screamed, desperately trying to evade the spray as I found myself getting thoroughly drenched.

“Pack it in, Gino,” Jason intervened, positioning himself in front of me to shield from the disgruntled second-place finisher.

“Thanks,” I muttered, conscious of the camera flashes capturing our brief exchange.

He remained silent, opting to take a swig directly from the champagne bottle. I contemplated walking away, but he swiftly grabbed my hand, halting my departure.

“Want some?” he asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes which made my blood heat.

“I can’t!” I whispered, acutely aware of the intimate touch between our hands. “I shouldn’t still be out here.”

“Well, that’ll make it taste even better.” He replied, lifting the bottle to my mouth.

I closed my eyes at the taste of chilled sharp liquid filling my mouth. It tasted amazing, even though I was sure I’d had much better quality stuff.

Jason pulled the bottle back, his grin electric.

“Ok, well, I hope you have fun celebrating.” I said. “And thanks for the unconventional toast.”

He winked at me.

“Anytime, beautiful. Sometimes you’ve just got to shake things up a bit.”

Before I could respond, the crowd’s cheers intensified, drawing our attention back to them. Another racer, the one who had finished third, was now spraying the celebrating people underneath us.

“Best get back to it.” He said, before running over and hoisting his bottle in the air.

I made my escape, accepting the towel from a man waiting off the stage. As I dabbed away the champagne, I couldn’t shake off the electrifying energy that lingered from the celebration.

Something told me that wouldn’t be the last I’d see of Jason Jones...