Revved(3)

And Carrick Ryan is the playboy from Ireland, but he’s one insanely talented driver.

He’s way too handsome for any woman’s good. He’s a total womanizer and party boy. He’s in the press more for his late-night antics and bedroom play than he is for his driving abilities. He acts more like a rock star than a Formula 1 driver.

He doesn’t seem to have a sense of discipline that can be seen from other drivers. But his talent is unmistakable. His advancement in racing was so quick that he was making his debut with Formula 1 at twenty and taking home the trophy that same year. Now, five years later, he’s only lost one championship.

I’m going to be working on Carrick’s team, thanks to Uncle John. One of their mechanics quit suddenly a few weeks ago, and Uncle John offered me the job.

If you haven’t guessed, I’m a mechanic.

Ever since I started working for the Brazil Stock Car team three years ago, Uncle John has been saying that I should come and work in Formula 1, and the minute he got an opening, it was mine.

He wasn’t kidding, and here I am.

Formula 1 jobs don’t come up easily, especially not on Carrick’s team. He keeps everything close-knit, so I know how lucky I am to get the position.

“How’s your mum doing?” Uncle John asks.

“She’s okay…struggling with me leaving. Worried. You know how she is.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I know how Katia gets.”

“Uncle John…you haven’t told anyone at Rybell who my dad was, have you?”

“No. You asked me not to, so I haven’t. I get why you want to keep it a secret, but honestly, I don’t think it’s necessary.”

For me, it is. My dad is regarded as one of the greatest drivers of all time. He was like the Messiah of Formula 1. People in the industry worshiped him—they still do—especially here in the UK. And I don’t want people thinking that, as a twenty-four-year-old female mechanic, I got the job off the back of my father’s name. I’d rather them think I was hired for my looks than that. So, while I’m here, I’m using my mother’s maiden name, Amaro, and telling no one that I’m William Wolfe’s daughter.

“I just want to prove myself without people knowing who my dad was.”

“Not necessary,” he reiterates.

I give him a look. “It is necessary. People will think I got the job because of my surname.”

“No, they won’t. You got the job because you’re one hell of a mechanic and no other reason.”

“You know that, but other people don’t. I just want the chance to prove myself before everyone knows who my dad was.”

“Okay.” He lets out a defeated sigh. “It’s your call. I’ll keep my mouth shut until you tell me I can open it.”

“Thank you.” I smile appreciatively at him.

Uncle John knows almost everyone in Formula 1, so asking him to keep this a secret is a big ask.

Uncle John has been with Carrick since he started karting when he was fourteen. That’s how Uncle John ended up back in Formula 1.

After my dad’s accident, Uncle John left Formula 1 and went to work in karting. I think being there, after my dad, was too hard for him. It was hard for everyone.

But when Carrick progressed and Uncle John saw the talent in him, Carrick and Owen Ryan—Carrick’s father and manager—persuaded Uncle John to move back to Formula 1 with them, so he did.

Working for Carrick is going to be such an honor.

Am I concerned about his reputation? Sure I am. But lucky for me, I’m used to horny drivers. Being a woman in a man’s world, I have to be. I’ve worked around men for long enough to know how to put them in their place. Getting involved with a driver is not an option for me.

After seeing what losing my dad did to my mum, I’m not exactly a relationship person. I tend to date here and there—a couple of months, maximum. It’s not that I’m averse to having a boyfriend. I just haven’t found anyone who I want to spend a lot of time with. And with my job, I travel around a lot, so it’s not really viable.

I’m either with other mechanics, who are all male—and I don’t get involved with coworkers, too messy—or I’m around drivers.

And I definitely don’t ever get involved with drivers. Ever.

They’re a slippery slope to heartbreak.

Uncle John comes to a stop outside a car I recognize instantly because I spent a lot of time driving around in it as a kid.

“Is that…your old Ford Capri?” I smile wide.

Uncle John had this car when I left for Brazil. A 1987 black Ford Capri with a red racing stripe down the side. I can’t believe he still has it.