by Day Leclaire
He pulled back, his voice dipping low and rough and hungry. “Oh, yeah. We’ll definitely get it right this time. We’re not kids anymore. We both know the score.”
He felt a ripple of tension skitter through her and a hint of a frown pinched her eyebrows together. “Just so I’m clear…what score is that, Lucas?”
“We’re adults. Neither of us is married. Who’s to care if we indulge in an affair? We’ll get whatever’s going on between us out of our systems once and for all.”
“Get it out of our systems,” she repeated. “Like it’s a…I don’t know…a virus that needs to run its course? Is that how you’re looking at this?”
He regarded her warily. “Not a virus, no. Call it chemistry, if you rather. Whatever it is, it’s strong and it’s physical and there’s absolutely no reason why we can’t indulge.”
“Until it runs its course.”
He hardened himself to the hint of pain that underscored her comment. “That’s what happens with affairs. You know that. They start out hot and heavy, but time cools the flames. If we go into this with our eyes open, it won’t interfere with the business end of things.”
“While our affair lasts.”
“You’re ticked off.”
“Aren’t you the observant one,” she marveled.
He laughed, the sound short and harsh. “Hell, and here I didn’t think I could be blindsided by you again.” He planted his hands on her shoulders and leaned in so she wouldn’t miss a single word. “You haven’t changed at all, have you, Kellie? You’re still into fantasy. And here I am right back in the middle of it. Well, pay attention, sweetheart. You want to scratch your itch, I’m the man. But if you’re still looking for that white picket fence and happily-ever-after ending, look somewhere else.”
“Thank you,” she said with a haughty formality that had him seeing red. “I’ll do just that. In the meantime, I want you to take your hands off me. And I don’t want you to touch me ever again. I don’t care if I’m about to fall off the war wagon into oncoming traffic, keep your hands off me. Clear?”
“Oh, yeah. Perfectly.”
“Excellent.” Ripping free of his embrace, she bent and picked up the papers he’d handed her earlier. She made a production of smoothing them out. “I’ll be certain to give these the attention they deserve. And I’ll also consider what you had to say about Lucky.” She took two entire seconds to scan his list before balling the papers into a wad and lobbing them toward the nearest trash can. “There. I’ve considered and filed them where they’ll do the most good. And just so we’re clear, Lucky stays on as Jamie’s crew chief.”
“Careful, Mrs. Hammond,” he warned. “I only allow someone to push so far. And then I start pushing back.”
He didn’t bother to wait for her response, which was probably a good thing since he suspected the word she uttered as he slammed the door wasn’t a compliment. He also suspected it was one he richly deserved.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“WITH FANS LOOKING forward to the roar of Bristol, one question on everyone’s minds is, ‘Who broke the Hammond family mirrors?’ Jamie ‘Jinx Junior’ Hammond has broken hearts and boundaries, but so far he has yet to break the infamous Hammond Curse, started by his father, late racing legend Jinx Hammond. If this young driver wants to step out from the shadow of experienced teammates Cole Whaling and Lucas ‘Bad’ Boyce, he’ll have to clean up his act, pull out in front of the pack, and be the first to stop that black cat from crossing the track.”
“DON’T LET THEM get to you, Jamie.” Stephanie caught his hand in hers as they strolled through Bristol’s garage area. “You’re not a jinx.”
“It’s not that.”
How could he tell her what was really going through his mind? How could he tell her how he’d agonized all day over Cole’s suggestion that he put Lucas in the wall at some point during the race?
She fixed him with an unblinking stare, her dark eyes seeming to see straight through him. “Then what’s wrong?”
He shrugged uneasily. “Just something Cole and I were talking about earlier,” he said.
A hint of worry crept into her expression. “Do you want to go out clubbing with him again?”
Jamie paused midstride and tugged her to a stop. He cupped her sweet face in his hands and stared down with utter sincerity. “I’m not even a little interested. I promised you I’d never do that again and I won’t.”
“It’s your choice,” she hastened to assure him. “I won’t try and stop you.”
“I know you wouldn’t. But that’s not the point, is it?” He’d worked so hard to earn her trust again. Did she really think he’d do anything to jeopardize that? “I know that if I were that stupid again, you’d break up with me. And I wouldn’t blame you, either.”
Relieved, she offered a quick, teasing smile. “Well, you’re right about one thing. You can’t piggyback wrestle with other women and have me, too.”
“Other women don’t interest me. You’re the only one I want.”
She returned to her original question with infuriating tenacity. “So, if this isn’t about going out with Cole, then what’s bothering you?”
Jamie shook his head in amused exasperation. “If my focus were as good as yours, I’d have won a race already.”
She lifted up onto tiptoe and snatched a quick kiss. “You’ll win. I don’t have any doubt at all. It’s only a matter of when. Now talk to me.” She caught his hand in hers and started walking again. “What has Cole said or done this time?”
He couldn’t bring himself to tell her, couldn’t risk seeing that starry-eyed warmth cool into the look he’d seen after his night out with Cole. “He was just giving me race advice,” Jamie offered evasively. “I’m not sure I want to take it.”
She shrugged. “Then don’t.”
If only it were that easy. But ever since their talk, Cole would catch his eye and give him a man-to-man nod of approval, almost as though putting Bad into the wall were a done deal. As much as Jamie wanted to help his mother, he also wanted Bad Boyce’s respect, as well as the respect of the racing community. There was only one way to get that. He’d have to earn it. And putting a teammate into the wall wouldn’t help him accomplish that goal.
“I have an idea, if you think it would help,” Stephanie offered diffidently. “Why don’t you ask yourself what your father would do about whatever’s bothering you?”
It wasn’t a bad suggestion. And it didn’t take much thought. His father would do whatever it took to protect his mother. Of course, that didn’t explain why his dad had put her in this predicament in the first place. But maybe his illness had prevented him from realizing how much trouble his decision would generate.
“Everyone keeps asking about the jinx,” he mentioned, deliberately changing the subject.
To his relief, the comment worked in redirecting her focus. “Weren’t you listening earlier? I’ve told you there is no jinx. Not unless you believe there is.” She tilted her head to one side. A smile flirted with her mouth, making him long for another kiss. “Do you think you’re jinxed?”
“I’m trying not to…” he began. He broke off and shook his head. “No. There is no jinx.”
She rewarded him with another swift kiss, and in that moment all was right with his world again. “You’ll see. You’re going to do fine.”
He would do well. He knew it on an instinctive level. He also knew what he’d have to do in order to protect his mother. When the time came, he wouldn’t shy away from it.
LUCAS HAD ALWAYS enjoyed the uniqueness of Bristol’s short track with its dips and ridges. He liked the aggressiveness needed to get ahead and stay ahead. He liked the blistering speeds they managed to attain, even on a half-mile track. The constant turns and traffic, combined with that speed required total focus from the driver.
The bumping and banging reminded him of his dirt track days, especially when he was on the giving end rather than the receiving. Most of all, he appreciated the enthusiasm o
f the fans. Their mountaintop seats rose all around like a Roman arena, while their shouts joined with engine roar to make Bristol one of the loudest venues they attended.
There was no place like Bristol.
During the first half of the race, Lucas concentrated on staying on the lead lap, wrestling to keep the car from skating up the steep banking. “If it weren’t for all these cautions, we’d be in serious trouble, Dip,” he reported to his crew chief. “The handling’s been off since they dropped the green.”
“It’s the cold front that’s dropped down. We were thinking warm and instead it’s colder than a witch’s—”
“Careful,” Lucas broke in. “First one who gets caught on a language violation is going to pay the penalty, personally.”
Dipstick laughed. “How about…colder than a witch’s bumpers.”
“That’s low, Dip.” Time to get down to business. “Let’s get the setup figured out. I want a Thunder Valley win.”
The next hundred laps showed a steady improvement, with Dipstick working his usual magic. On lap 420 Lucas slid under Jamie and into the top ten, just behind Cole. He was going to do it, he decided. He could feel it, that bone-deep certainty that this one was within reach. After two decades racing, he’d learned to recognize and trust the instinct that told him he had a car capable of getting him to the checkered flag ahead of the rest of the field. It rarely steered him wrong.
He keyed his mike. “Start the betting pool,” he ordered Dip. The phrase was one he’d used for years to signal that he was not only going for it, but was as close to positive as a driver could be that he had a shot at a win.
“Yahoo! See you in Victory Lane,” Dipstick howled.
When the hit came, it totally blindsided him.
KELLIE ESCAPED the war wagon and ran flat out for the infield care center. She reached it almost at the same time as the ambulance carrying Lucas. The wait for the doctor to examine him seemed to take forever, and Kellie noticed that her heart rate barely calmed while she paced. It was a minor hit, she reassured herself. No reason to be scared. Outside the medical building she heard the roar of engines reverberating around the speedway, signaling that the race was underway once again.
Finally, the door opened and Lucas emerged. After a beat she started to breathe again. He paused in the process of fastening his uniform when he saw her. “What are you doing here?”
She struggled to recover her usual calm. “That was a nasty hit. I was concerned.”
He dismissed the comment with a casual shrug. “You should be watching your other drivers, not here with me.”
She ignored the comment. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve taken worse.” He lifted an eyebrow. “What’s going on, Kellie? I can understand your rushing to Jamie’s side. But you and I don’t have that sort of relationship.”
“I always check on Cole after a wreck,” she explained evasively.
“That was when you only had one driver and Jinx was still alive to cover the pits and garage.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Look, Kellie, I’m flattered. But spill it. What am I missing?”
Truth time. She eyed him anxiously, not certain how he’d take this next part. “I think it was Jamie who took you out.”
Lucas released his breath on a short laugh. “That’s rich. Taken out by my own teammate.” He thrust a hand through his damp hair, schooling his expression to patience. “Let me hear it. What happened? Is he hurt?”
“No. He’s fine. His car has some front end damage they’ll have to bang out.”
“But—”
She hesitated. “But, it looked like he moved you.”
Lucas stared in disbelief. “The kid hit me on purpose?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had a conversation with Paps or Lucky about it, yet. But…” She blew out her breath. “Yeah, it looked deliberate from where I was sitting.” She started pacing again, aware even as she did so how much it gave away.
He bit out another laugh. “Cocky. I like that. Of course, I’d like it better if it had been someone else. But it’s good that the kid isn’t intimidated by anyone.”
“Not even Bad Boyce?”
His grin faded. “Oh, he’ll be intimidated by me. You can count on it.”
“Lucas—”
He shook his head. “Don’t defend him. I’ll review the tapes and if I agree with your assessment, Jamie and I will deal with it, man-to-man. I’m not going to have you interfering, and your son wouldn’t appreciate having his mother try.” A sardonic light crept into the blackness of his eyes. “Don’t worry, momma. I’ll go gentle on the boy.”
“He’s not a boy.” Did Lucas catch the hint of sorrow behind that realization? Based on the amused slant to his mouth, he probably did. “Okay, fine. You deal with it. I’ll stay out.”
“I’m glad you agree,” he said drily.
She decided her best option was to ignore the comment. “You’ll take a hit in the points, but it shouldn’t knock you out of the top twelve.”
He waved that off with a surprising lack of concern. “Next week’s Martinsville. I’ll pick some up there.” He shot her a wry look. “Assuming your son doesn’t decide to take me out again.”
TWO SHORT TRACK RACES and two unfortunate wrecks in a row for Lucas had Kellie wondering whether the jinx wasn’t contagious. The heaviness in the pit of her stomach told her this didn’t have anything to do with a jinx, and it was something she would have to deal with sooner or later. Sooner, it appeared, as she caught sight of a visibly angry Lucas storming toward Jamie, who suddenly looked like a little boy playing dress-up in his daddy’s racing uniform.
Kellie quickened her pace through their Charlotte shop in order to reach her drivers before things turned ugly. “Boys,” she called, letting them know that she was there, and ready to jump in, if necessary.
Lucas’s focus never shifted from Jamie. “I want to know what happened,” he demanded. “Did you hit me on purpose?”
Kellie tried again. “Why don’t we go to my office and—”
Lucas cut her off without compunction. “Forget it. We do this here. In the garage where it belongs.” His gaze switched back to Jamie. “Well? First Bristol and now Martinsville. Explain how you just happened to get into the back of my bumper two straight weeks in a row.”
“It was just short track racing,” Jamie claimed.
“I watched the videos. NASCAR watched the videos. And then they hauled your backside into the trailer, along with mine.” Lucas folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t like having my backside hauled into that trailer. Do you?”
The teen fixed his gaze on his sneakers and kept them there. “No.”
“This was your sixth race in the NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Series. That means you’ve wrecked me in one third of the races you’ve run to date. I don’t particularly like those odds.”
Heat blossomed up Jamie’s neck and turned his face a brilliant shade of red. “I’m sorry, Bad.”
“I have two questions for you. I don’t care what you’ve told everyone else, I want the truth. First, are you going to keep wrecking me?”
Jamie shook his head. “It was an accident.”
“And second—you sure it was an accident?”
“I—” Jamie’s gaze darted to Lucas and then back to his sneakers again. “It was an accident.”
“Oh, Jamie,” Kellie whispered in dismay. “Do you think we can’t tell when you’re lying? We only have to take one look at your expression to know. What’s gotten into you?”
Jamie lifted his head, sheer misery reflected in his face. He turned to Lucas. “I didn’t hit you on purpose this last time,” he said. “I know the videos make it look like I did, but I swear it’s not true.”
Lucas’s mouth tightened. “But you did at Bristol.”
Jamie nodded. “Yes.”
“Why?”
The teen’s hands balled into fists. “I don’t want you to win the NASCAR Championship. I don’t want you taking HRI away from my
mother and firing her or something.” A hint of belligerent anger crept into his voice. “I won’t work for you. Not without her.”
Kellie could see the effort it took Lucas to moderate his voice and keep his anger from lashing out at her son. “You’re not going to be working for anyone much longer if you keep pulling this sort of stunt.”
Lucas turned to confront Jamie’s crew chief. “You in on this?”
Lucky forked his hand through his hair, his fingers revealing a notable tremor. “Of course not.”
Lucas wasn’t buying it. “You’re either lying or drunk,” he retorted. “Either way, you just called your last race. Pack your gear.”
Kellie opened her mouth to object. One look at Lucas had her closing it again. Lucky glared at her. “You gonna let him do this? You gonna let him fire me after all the years we’ve worked together?”
She took a deep breath and steeled herself for one of the hardest jobs in the business—to fire an employee she genuinely liked and respected. “You’re drinking again, Lucky. I can’t have that. More importantly, I can’t take that sort of risk with Jamie. And I guarantee you, Jinx wouldn’t have either.”
“He’d never have fired me!”
“Yes, he would have.” Compassion spilled over into her words. “He’d have hated the necessity. But he’d have done it, anyway. Darn it, Lucky, he’d have fired you for the drinking alone. If he’d thought for one minute you’d been involved in deliberately taking out a teammate—”
“Check the audio, if you want,” Lucky insisted. “I wasn’t a party to it.”
Jamie came to his rescue, his voice meek and eyes downcast. “It’s true. Lucky didn’t have anything to do with it. It was my decision and mine alone.” As he spoke he looked up and Kellie heard her little boy’s voice gain the resolve of a man’s.
Kellie spoke to Jamie, but directed her final point toward Lucky. “You’re old enough to know that alcohol abuse creates problems for the team and safety concerns for the drivers. I won’t allow this to go on any longer.”
A mix of surprise and disgust bled into Lucky’s voice. “If Jinx were still alive, he’d have thrown the lot of you off the Hammond property before he’d have let me go.” He swiveled to confront Lucas. “As for you, Boyce, I hope you enjoy your legacy as the man who drove Hammond racing into the ground.”