High Octane by Lisa Renée Jones

all about.”
    â€œChange will require a complete overhaul of our system,” Sabrina said. “My input was a bleep on the neverending screen of the political dysfunction embraced by some of those working inside it.”
    â€œUnless your father is running for President.”
    Discomfort twitched through Sabrina, partially because of the truth in Calista’s statement. Her mind chased a memory: she’d been at a party with her parents, talking to her father. A staunch supporter of her father’s had waited until she was alone and then proceeded to tell her she was ruining her father’s career. He’d insisted that unless she stepped down from her position at the Prime —something her parents, despite frequent conflicting opinions, would never ask her to do—her father would not get the nomination for his party.
    â€œYou know, Calista,” Ryan said dryly, his voice snap ping Sabrina out of the past and back to the present as he continued. “Probing Sabrina about things she doesn’t want to talk about isn’t exactly the way to convince her to…”
    â€œSpeak of this event we’re having. Sorry, Sabrina,” Calista said, having the good grace to be apologetic. “I shouldn’t have pushed. Please know it’s because I’m a fan, and letting go of your column must have been painful. I was certain your interest in my brother had some political angle.”
    â€œJust pure racing bliss for the fans, I hope,” Sabrina clarified.
    â€œWhy don’t you explain to Sabrina what it is you want her to do, Calista,” Ryan suggested, ever the one to get right to the point. A quality Sabrina decided could grow on her quite rapidly.
    â€œRight,” Calista said. “The city council is organizing a political-ideas discussion, all parties, commentators, journalists will be invited. And I’d be honored if you would consider speaking.”
    A part of Sabrina burned to say yes to the invitation—this was familiar territory. Who didn’t want to feel as if they were valued? Appreciated? She wanted to do good things, to stand up for people, but she didn’t know how to do that, and really make a difference. No, she’d hit an emotional wall over the constant conflict her involvement created. She’d made her decision, and she knew she needed a change, at least, until she figured out how, and if, she could contribute in a positive way.
    Resolve formed. “As much as I am flattered by your invitation, there is no doubt such an event would pluck me from the obscurity I’ve come here to find. I can’t let that happen.”
    â€œYou know I want to pressure you,” Calista said.
    â€œBut you won’t,” Ryan said firmly, casting Calista a meaningful look. “And that’s wonderful of you.” His cell rang before he finished the last word.
    â€œRealtor,” he told Sabrina after a quick inspectionof the phone. “I’ll take this outside.” He dismissed himself. Sabrina watched him leave, warmed by his brawny protectiveness. She had friends who’d defended her work at the Prime , her editor Ava being one of them. But Ryan’s protectiveness wasn’t about her work, it was about her.
    â€œFrom politics to extreme sports, I see,” Calista commented. Sabrina refocused on the other woman as Calista sipped her coffee and winked. “I guess I see why you want out of politics.”
    Had she been drinking her coffee, Sabrina would surely have choked. Playing coy, she pretended they were talking about Calista’s brother, Marco. “I wasn’t aware race-car driving was considered extreme sports.”
    â€œNo,” Calista agreed. “But jumping out of an airplane with that man sure was. I don’t know how I got talked into that. Have you tried it?”
    â€œNo,” Sabrina said. “I came close but thankfully, you and Marco showed up that