Page 1 of King of Wands

Chapter 1

Gods and Mortals

The best part of interning for the Braun-Evans Racing Team wasn’t that I got to spend my summer in England. Nope. It was the gym. And while, yes, I was in fact having a great time being abroad, adventuring through the country and slipping down to Oxford to get my geek on, it paled in comparison to the Braun-Evans fitness center.

I can explain this reasoning to you in four words:Hot. Sweaty. Male. Bodies.

Usually in some state of nakedness. To be specific, these were very fit, mostly naked bodies. And these guys weren’t even the rich and famous drivers. They were the pit crews and engineers (sometimes), the software engineers, management, and public relations (usually.) And they all had one thing in common: a company-wide directive to be in peak physical shape.

It was like I’d died and gone to heaven.

I generally enjoyed working out. I liked a nice endorphin high as much as the next gym rat, but really I simply had a mild fixation on being strong and healthy. Meaning, it was not a hardship to agree to the physical part of my contract. I considered it a nice bonus.

I had no idea.

No. Idea.

Optics were a big deal in Formula One. So in addition to the cutting edge gym equipment there was also a company stylist that scheduled everyone’s hair cuts, waxings, and uniform fittings. Everyone—interns included—were expected to fit the perfect Braun-Evans image.

It was like working for a certain Mouse. Trust me on this. My first summer internship took place in a theme park that shall remain nameless. When your job is to look like a specific character it comes with all kinds of crazy requirements like not going out in the sun (because your skin color might change), keeping your weight within a specific zone, and not being allowed to change your hair style.

I hated that job.

But Ilovedthis one.

Case in point: my current view from the elliptical machine allowed me unencumbered ogling access to the weight lifting area where three members of Kingston Reynolds’ pit crew were currently doing back squats.

Shirtless.

I really can’t emphasize this enough.Shirtless.

My phone buzzed and lit up on the cradle in front of me with a text message from my friend and fellow intern, Jessica Crosley.

Jess:You’ve been staring thirty seconds too long.

We had a system to keep us from being fired. Namely, we worked out together and when one of us got caught in the trance of rippling muscles and perfectly groomed beards, we made sure to put a stop to it before we got reported.

I tore my eyes away from the glistening forearms—because one of the finest body parts of a man who lifts wheels and heavy equipment for a living is his perfectly defined forearms—and tapped out a reply.

Isa: Thank you ...

Jess: No problem. Let’s hit the bench after they clear out.

I gave her a thumbs up since she was watching me from her treadmill. Jess was a runner. She jogged a minimum of five miles a day while Ihatedrunning and found new and creative ways to improve my cardiovascular fitness.

Like watching the pit crew do leg presses. Talk about getting your heart rate up.

The other great part of the fitness facility was that I never had to worry about any of the guys hitting on me. There was a strict no-fraternization policy for the interns at Braun-Evans. Also, they were so focused on completing their workouts they didn’t spend a lot of time talking to me. It wasn’t that they ignored me or acted like I was invisible. It was more like I was insignificant.

Which was fine by me. It gave me plenty of space to enjoy the gun show. And by gun show I obviously mean muscles.

I was just starting my cool down—something I’m not terribly graceful at is reducing my speed—when everything changed. The entire room suddenly took on an electric feel. The hair on my arm rose up. I glanced around the room to determine what strange phenomenon might have caused this reaction when I noticed everyone had turned toward the doorway. They were all smiling. Excited. Vibrating.

And that could only mean...

Oh damn.Why did I look? Even more importantly, why didn’t my legs seem to work? I stumbled mid-stride, just barely catching myself on the stupid handgrips as the elliptical steps zoomed past my balance point.

King Reynolds.

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