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"Thank you," Jasmine said sweetly, making no effort to disguise her flirtation as he took a beat before sidling off.

"Speaking of monsters, you're terrible."

Jasmine shrugged. "Flirting is my only form of fun. Work is a nightmare right now." She was a receptionist and scheduler at a high-end salon. "And I hate my boss."

"I'm sorry." It was one thing for Mia to struggle with her work. She didn't want anyone else to be in the same boat. "If I could hire you, I would."

"That's sweet, but let's focus on you staying on an even keel. If you could go a whole year without blowing up your life, that would be great." Jasmine dug into her chicken enchiladas.

Yeah, Mia had a habit of radically changing course, but she was done with that. Not So Fast was her baby and she was going to nurture it until it built her some real security. This glimmer of success was only the start. She knew it.

"Like I was saying, now that it's doing well, I need to refine things. Work on keeping my listeners engaged." Mia took a generous bite of her smothered carnitas burrito. It was cheesy and comforting, like a big pork-stuffed hug.

Jasmine wiped her mouth with a napkin. "I say you just keep insulting that one driver. The hot one."

"All the drivers are objectively hot. I could create a pitch deck on the subject, complete with charts, empirical evidence and an entire photo gallery. Even better, I'd construct it from memory." She tapped her temple. "It's all up here."

"You know who I'm talking about. The Brit. The tall one." Jasmine looped her fork in the air and bounced her eyebrows. "With the hair. And the eyes. And the chin."

Just like that, Xander Bishop sauntered into Mia's mind, with all the head-above-the-crowd superiority that came with being him. Tall and trim, muscular but not overbuilt, with a perfectly imperfect head of thick, messy, light brown hair, complicated deep blue eyes that made Caribbean waters pale by comparison and a jawline that could slice paper. But well beyond his physical attributes, Xander had been Mia's favorite driver from the moment he came into Formula One. He had swagger. He'd seemed hungry, exceeding all expectations his first two seasons. He was highly intelligent, often questioning the team's strategy during the race, a tactic that had led him to exciting finishes. And he was known for digging deep into data and telemetry—what was hotter than that? His mountain of attributes landed him at Mega Racing, one of the most high-profile teams on the grid. And that was where, inexplicably, his performance on track went sideways. Mia hated that he was struggling, but she did not feel sorry for him. After all, he was beautiful and made a fortune as a race-car driver. Plus, his poor showing had given her a level of success she'd always dreamed of, but never thought would actually happen.

"Xander. Bishop." Mia gulped the rest of her margarita. The tequila made her face flush. It was definitely the tequila. There was no other explanation.

"That's the one. He's your meal ticket, isn't he?"

Mia bristled at the idea. "I'd like to think that my insight on the sport is most important."

"How's your mom dealing with all this?" Jasmine asked with a leading tone. "Has she come around about the podcast?"

Mia's mom, Amy, was a journalist and had been for more than thirty-five years. She'd had high hopes for Mia when she earned her first master's degree, in journalism. But Mia never found a job she liked in that field, despite her mom pulling out all the stops to help her find one. So Mia went back to school and got a master's in psychology. Sadly, that was another degree she hadn't really used. The sheer abundance of Mia's career choices was a sore subject with her mom, to say the least, but it was the distinct lack of journalism work that irked her the most.

"She's warming to it. Slowly, but I'll keep working on her."

"Good." Jasmine gathered her napkin and placed it on the table. "Running to the bathroom."

"Cool. I'll pay the check when it comes."

"You sure?"

Mia nodded eagerly. "Yep. My treat."

It gave her immense satisfaction to take her best friend to dinner. There'd been too many times when Jasmine had needed to spot Mia a few bucks. As soon as Jasmine was out of sight, Mia quickly pulled her phone out of her bag and checked her social accounts. She probably cared a little too much about them, but the chatter was fun and a boost to the ego—her numbers were skyrocketing, and she had tons of comments on every post, especially from female F1 fans who seemed to appreciate Mia's approach to the sport.