After the Meeting That Shall Not Be Named I spent the rest of the afternoon locked in Richard’s office while we turned my ideas into plans. Meanwhile King was doing . . . whatever it is that drivers do when they’re at the factory. In my mind that was sleeping in the corner of a test lab while his pit crew and engineers did things with heavy tools to the skeletons of cars. Who knows? Maybe I was right.

Either way, I didn’t see King again and when I left I was so sick of looking at computer screens my eyes hurt. I didn’t think about dinner until I pulled up at home.

I should explain my living situation because it will probably answer a lot of your questions. The whole crazy journey of getting this job and moving to England started because I couldn’t say no to my mom. Either of them. My mother and her best friend basically raised me. My bio mom invited me over for lunch. I really should have known something was up, but I was hungry and I love food. The next thing I knew I was trapped in my favorite restaurant at a table with Mom and Marcy.

Normally this wouldn’t be a problem. I loved food and both women. But things had changed over the last five years or so. Marcy’s family was in bourbon. As she took over more and more responsibilities at the company I saw her less. She was brilliant and hugely successful so I was happy for her.

Then she got married to this wonderful, successful guy. Honestly I kind of love Luis. He’s one of those very confident guys who is proud of his wife and never feels like his masculinity is in question. They’re basically #relationshipgoals.

The problem you see, is that Luis and Marcy both want the best for me. Anthropology is great and all, but it doesn’t have the highest salary in the world. They came up with a plan. A dastardly plan. One that had me saying yes to working for Luis Evans.

Yep. Evans. As in Braun-Evans. Marcy’s husband is one of the owners of the racing team. In their minds I’d spend the summer living on their gorgeous country estate, fall in love with the job, and agree to make my position permanent.

While I planned to enjoy my summer in England, the slightly better pay, and then to leave them saying I’d given it a fair shake.

I should also mention their dastardly plans seem to keep multiplying because when I got to the estate, the room they’d promised me (because it was just a few miles from the factory, so why wouldn’t I simply stay with them?) was actually an entire guest house, complete with two bedrooms, a working kitchen, magnificent bathroom, sunroom, massive fireplace, television, oh, and access to their swimming pool.

I kind of never wanted to leave.

So as I pulled up outside my gorgeous guesthouse I discovered that I wouldn’t be dining alone tonight. Nope. Marcy sat on the patio at a set table. The minute she saw me she waved a hand, beckoning me over.

“Please come have dinner with us!”

“Us?” I dropped a kiss on her cheek then snagged her glass of wine.

Oops.

“Luis is home for the weekend.” The explanation seemed simple enough but there was some sort of funny look in her eyes I didn’t trust. It reminded me far too much of the aforementioned ill-fated luncheon.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for everything Marcy has done for me—now and over the course of my entire life—but there’s just something about being pushed and manipulated that brings out the rebellious side of my personality. It makes me want to run in the opposite direction, even if I would have chosen the exact same thing if given an unbiased set of choices.

What can I say? Brains are weird.

“Wonderful. Let me just change into something more comfortable. Oh, and I’m keeping the wine.”

Marcy’s cackle followed me all the way inside.

The guesthouse was adorable, by the way. Exactly what you’d imagine an English country estate would look like, but totally modernized. There were lots of wood and stone accents, floral designs, and beautiful artwork. Oh yeah, and my bed was a behemoth four-poster cloud of comfort. Sometimes I pretended I was Princess Aurora living with my fairy godmother because I swear I walked out of my old basement life and into a fairytale.

I threw off my Braun-Evans uniform and slipped into a comfortable pair of leggings and an enormous College of Calhoun Beach long sleeved tee. I also twisted my hair up into a bun because I was sick of feeling it on my neck. When I returned to the patio I discovered Luis had joined us.

He still wore his full suit but his tie was loosened and his hair was rumpled. He was also still typing furiously on his phone as Marcy refilled my glass.

“He’s here but he’s not here.”

“I’m here!” Luis grumbled, then slammed his phone down on the table and grinned at us both. “So how’s the job Isa? Tell me everything. Are they treating you well? Give me the dirt.”

I took a wild guess and assumed he wanted the nice version of reality. “Everything is great.”

As you might assume with a name like Luis, the man had golden skin, a thick head of dark hair, and a serious brow. A brow that was now drawn down. “No, no, no. Tell me the truth. You’re my secret spy now, right? My ace in the hole. My insider. You can tell me what no one else will.”

Did everyone have me signed up for secret jobs? I really wish they’d put this in the job description so I knew what I was in for. “You really want to know?”

“God, yes.”

“Then pass the wine because I’ve got a lot to say.” I spent the next fifteen minutes detailing the jerky sexist managers, the mindless tasks, and the way King was being treated behind the scenes.

Luis was not happy. “We knew there were problems. Women keep quitting.”

Marcy pursed her lips. “And when women are quitting it’s usually the entire office culture. See? You can do good here.”

That was her whole spiel to convince me to take the job. She insisted I’d still be studying culture but I’d be putting it into practice instead of writing about it theoretically. “Do good now. We need it,” she’d said.

She was right. Sure I wanted to be studying vectors of disease in Caribbean nations and yes, that had very important implications to help people now, but sexism in the workplace was also a very real, very pervasive issue.

“I’m also pissed to hear this stuff about King. I’m fucking firing Halifax.”

“I think he may have been fired today, actually. That meeting was a dumpster fire. He came off like the incompetent prick he is.”

The corner of Luis’s mouth twitched up. “Good. I’ll make sure of it in the morning.”

I nibbled on some cheese thinking all was well. I was eating a fabulous meal with two of my favorite people on a beautiful summer evening. Then the sound a motorcycle rumbled the air and my skin began to tingle. The rumble was joined by the throaty sound of an engine. If I were to guess, I’d say some sort of classic muscle car. Maybe a Mustang.

No one said anything as the sounds grew closer and closer. Not until a black motorcycle appeared at the end of the drive kicking up a cloud of dust.

That’s when Luis cleared his throat. “I invited a couple of friends to dinner.” A blue and white Shelby Cobra appeared behind the motorcycle. “As you know I’m King’s mentor. I was the one who sponsored him years ago and brought him up to the team this year.”

Both vehicles stopped behind mine. A tall dark haired man I recognized as Adam Callaway, King’s strategist, exited the car, walking around to the passenger side. A woman stepped out and took his arm. They waited as the other man took off his helmet.

I knew who it was. All signs pointed in the same direction screaming in neon letters. And yet I still held my breath all the way up until the helmet slid free.

King.

Of course it was King.

My entire day consisted of one King encounter after another. (Not that I was complaining.) Still, it was a shock to the system to see his sandy hair ruffled and matted against his forehead, his striking, intelligent eyes searching and finding me despite the distance. He looked good in black leather.

“They’re kind of like family,” Marcy said quietly.

I wondered how well she knew King. Were they friends or just colleagues? “A little warning would be nice next time. I’m in leggings.” I waved at my legs hidden under the table.

Marcy shook her head at me. “Come on. Help us greet our guests.” I got a little flutter in my chest when she said that, as if this were my home too.

She pulled me by the elbow. Luis and Adam hugged, then he shook King’s hand and kissed the woman’s hand. “Isa, have you meet Adam yet?”

I knew of him and had seen him around the factory a few times, but we’d never actually met. “No, but it’s a pleasure to meet you finally. Everyone speaks very highly of you.”

Adam was exceptionally handsome. Not quite King handsome, but damn good-looking. He had a chiseled face and really spectacular hair. He was tall and extremely fit.

“Well that’s good to hear.” He smiled warmly as he shook my hand. “This is my wife, Elizabeth.”

She hugged me, which I found a little odd for someone I’d just met but then she explained. “I feel like I know you already. Marcy talks about you all the time and CCB is my former school.” She waved at my college shirt and I felt an instant kinship to this woman. “Really? What department?”

“I taught historic planning and preservation and consulted with the city.”

“Small world.” I hugged her again. After today I was feeling about as far away from my academic roots as possible and then poof here was a lifeline. “What do you do now?”

“I teach the same classes at Oxford and work with an architecture firm in London.”

Before I thought about the politeness of my actions I blurted out, “Can you show me around the school? Please?”

And then I turned bright red because what was I thinking inviting myself into this woman’s place of work?

“Of course,” she laughed. “I was hoping you’d let me show you off, actually.”

Show me off? “But why?”

Marcy leaned closer. “Because you’re awesome. Just enjoy all the connections you have and make the most of them.”

It was hard to enjoy connections I didn’t know I had. Now to be fair, Marcy flew back and forth from the states almost weekly and Luis was just as busy. I’d only seen them together once during this last month.

King cleared his throat.

“Hi King.” Marcy enveloped him in a fierce hug. The kind a mother gives a son. I knew because they were the kind she gave me. So . . . their relationship was not one of colleagues. Not even friends, really. It was closer than that.

She patted his back a few times then took his face in her hands. “You’re tired. Are you sleeping? Is he sleeping Adam?” She kept her hands on King but started talking to the strategist as if King couldn’t speak for himself.

Adam shook his head. “You know how he is.”

King cocked an eyebrow, taking Marcy’s hands in his. “I’m fine. I promise.”

“You’re not fine. Don’t lie to me. You know you’re a terrible liar.”

He turned her around and started guiding her toward the table that I now realized was indeed set for six. And here I thought they just enjoyed seeing the whole table decked out.

King caught my eye as he spoke. “Besides, that’s what Isabel is here for. She’ll right the ship.”

He said that with such confidence. Confidence I didn’t deserve or understand.

“I’m excited about everything I heard today,” Adam said as he followed us to the table.

“What did you hear?” That was Luis.

Adam helped Elizabeth into her chair then took his own. Wine was passed around followed by bread and cheese. “I heard that Isa finally got Halifax fired.”

“I didn’t get him fired. He got himself fired.” Which was absolutely true. All I did was point out his incompetence.”

“True,” Adam conceded. “But he’s been a problem for a long, long time. He’s so entrenched in the company that we needed a real strong case to get him out.” Adam looked pointedly at Luis. “We still have a long way to go.”

I tuned out their banter. Not because I didn’t care. I did. It was just that the day had already been exhausting. The last thing I wanted was for it to last any longer. The more they talked the tenser I became until a headache started to come on. I knew if I didn’t get some space and relax I’d be in real pain soon.

So I excused myself, saying I needed the restroom. Instead I went right past the guesthouse and into the rose garden. I loved the rose garden. It was a proper English beauty. A lovely green lawn that felt magical under bare feet, hedges and rambling vines, old stone columns, and then the crown jewels, the roses themselves. I wandered over to a wood swing.

Out here the sounds of the dinner party disappeared. The long summer days meant that the sky was still quite bright. I pushed off the ground with my toes and set the swing in motion, closing my eyes and willing my muscles to relax as I breathed in the sweet scent of the roses. I don’t know how long I was out there—definitely long enough to be missed. I knew this because someone sat down beside me. I caught a whiff of familiar cologne just as a large, warm hand closed around mine.