Trackside Temptation (On the Grid, #1)

Chapter Seventeen

FRANCESCA

When Matt's mum said she'd heard a lot about me, I figured Matt had painted a rather unflattering portrait of me to her. I mean, I was the bane of his existence according to that one phone call with her in March, which I could clearly hear through the thin walls of my hotel room. But as she stood across me with that sweet motherly smile, I didn't think she hated me one bit.

I sat on a barstool while she chopped up some vegetables on her white, marble bench. Her house was modest, but it had the most gorgeous interior... with a giant kitchen, generously-sized lounge, and north-facing balcony. It was the home I lived in in my dreams.

"So, Matt tells me you're from New Zealand?" she began. "What part exactly?"

I took a sip of my wine. "Christchurch, born and bred."

Ellen stopped chopping her vegetables. "Christchurch? Oh, I love that city. I went there during my exchange as a college student."

My eyes lit up. I had yet to meet anyone on this job who'd been to my home before. "That's amazing. How long were you there for?"

"Two years," she said, adding her chopped vegetables to a pot of boiling water. She cracked a few rounds of salt into the stew. "You have done an awful lot for Matt, and I want you to know how grateful I am. He is, too."

I felt warm inside, and it wasn't from the wine. It felt good knowing that I was finally doing my job well. "Thank you," I said. "Is there anything I can help with?"

Ellen looked at the wine bottle. "Just make sure our glasses stay topped up."

I giggled. Gosh, she was lovely. She reminded me of my own mother, at least from what I remembered of her. They had the same look in their eyes, the kind that made you feel like you were doing something right.

"So, what made you want to join the De Rossi team?" she asked. I'd been asked that question a few times recently, but my answer was always met with scepticism. Whenever I mentioned wanting to help people, I often faced doubtful looks. I'd encountered plenty of misogynistic attitudes in my career, but nothing compared to the assumption that I was here just to sleep around with the drivers.

I gave Ellen the same answer I gave everyone. She nodded in approval. "I understand that. I was a receptionist at a physio clinic for five years in my early twenties. Almost every client came in with pain and walked out feeling as good as new. So many people try to say physios are just a scam, but they're there to point us in the right direction, not magically fix us like a surgeon."

"I could agree more," I said, feeling a sense of validation. "So, have you lived here for a while?"

Ellen nodded as she glazed a bunch of chicken wings. "Yes, I've lost count of how many years it's been now. When I divorced Matt's father, I decided to stay here. It's been the best decision I've ever made. I work for a small accounting firm down the road."

I smiled. "That's awesome. My dad owns a practice."

Ellen widened her eyes in shock. "In New Zealand?"

I nodded, and Ellen placed her freshly washed hands on her hips. She looked up at the roof as if she were trying to recall something buried deep in her mind. "Your dad isn't called Don, is he?"

I laughed, feeling an odd sense of surprise. "He sure is."

Ellen covered her mouth in shock. "I met him when I was in Christchurch. I'd attended the university for a year, and we were in the same courses. I can't believe he now owns a firm. I always knew he'd go far."

I couldn't believe how small the world was, truly. Out of all the people I could have been having dinner with tonight, I was talking to my dad's old friend, halfway across the world.