Page 5 of Away We Go

“Thanks,” I say as the doors close behind us.

He raises his sunglasses and looks around. “You can find Serena back there. She’ll be your point of contact while you’re on the team.”

I tip my head back and smile up at him. “But you’re still the boss?”

His gaze sharpens on my face and my stomach does that swooping thing it does when he’s around.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

I watch him walk away, wondering at the gritty tone in his voice.Does he not want me here? Has Matt forced me on him? Is this a pity job?

Drowning in a pool of self-doubt, wondering if my brother’s best friend is already regretting having me here, I turn to find a stunning woman with caramel skin and the most enviable dark ringlets dancing around her perfect face, smiling at me.

“Hi, I’m Serena,” she says in a posh British accent that makes me want to swoon. She sounds like Kate Winslet and I have a crush on her already.

“Hi!” I wave and immediately feel stupid.Why am I this way?“I’m Cherry—I mean Cherie Brenner.” My cheeks flame as I stumble over my name, and I wish I could start the day over.

Serena’s smile widens, and she pulls me in for an unexpected but welcomed hug. “I’ve heard so much about you, Cherry.”

She has?

“You have?” I’m dumbfounded that someone who looks and sounds like her has even heard of me.

“Of course,” she laughs, a deep husky sound I adore. “Your brother spoke about you all the time.”

Well, that makes sense. Matt had been part of the team since the very beginning. Of course he’d have mentioned me over the years.

“We’re so happy to have you join the team. Nicky showed me your Instagram page and I’m impressed. You’ve got talent, girl.”

I grin at her, her praise dousing the flames of insecurity flickering deep within me. “Thanks, but it’s just a hobby.”

She shakes her head. “Not anymore.”

What?

“Um, pardon?” I look around, searching for a clue, a vowel, or a hint of what she’s talking about. I’m here as part of the social media team. What’s my personal Instagram got to do with that?

Serena puts her hand on my shoulder and guides me to a small room off to the side. “Welcome to my office.” She waves her hand around the space with a sunny grin. “Actually, this will beouroffice.”

I look around, wondering how one person could work in here, let alone two.

“Great,” I lie, mustering up a wonky smile.

She laughs again and the tightness I’ve had in my chest all morning loosens. The woman in front of me feels more like a friend than a foe.

“It’s not much, but we’ll hardly be in here. It’s a place to get a reprieve from the craziness of the weekend. Which,” she looks at her watch with a grimace, “has already started. Put your bag here and follow me.”

I do as she says, placing my backpack under her desk. “Do you have your camera with you?” she asks from the doorway.

“Yes.” I always have my camera with me.

“Good, bring it along. I’ll explain everything as we walk.”

Once again, I do as she says, skip-hopping to keep up with her longer legs as she power-walks us out of theVortex Motorsteam trailers and into a dark tunnel.

“This leads to the drivers’ garages. Which is where the action happens. Today is media day, so the drivers will do press conferences and interviews all day.”

I nod. I’ve followed Nicky’s career over the years and know exactly how an F1 race weekend unfolds.

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