Race To The Altar

by Patricia Hagan

  Arriving at the track, they went first to the credentials office to get all the passes needed for the team. Then they parked out front to wait for Bobby to arrive with the truck and the crew.

  The media was also starting to come in. Several spotted Rick and waved.

  “See? She’s made a star out of you,” Mack teased. “Otherwise, you’d be just an also-ran.”

  Rick didn’t bother responding. He knew Mack was worried that if he and Liz didn’t get along, she might just quit. And he couldn’t tell him that wasn’t going to happen. Not now. So he let him rave on.

  “I realize you had a name before you came on the Grand National circuit, Rick, but nothing like now. And you really do owe it all to Liz. I mean, heck, I’ve seen PR guys who only do what they have to. Liz goes above and beyond the call of duty.”

  Rick wished Bobby would hurry up. They needed to find their assigned garage space and get unloaded so he could take the car out and shake it down. If any adjustments had to be made before qualifying runs tomorrow, there would be time to do them, and—

  “Hey, Castles.”

  Abruptly Rick came out of his musings.

  Mark Higgins was standing next to the open window on Rick’s side of the car.

  “How’s it going?” He asked as if he didn’t really care and, in the same breath, said, “When’s Liz getting in?”

  Rick bit down on the inside of his jaw to keep from registering anger. He didn’t like Higgins…didn’t like his sneaky little winks. “Friday,” he said curtly.

  “Oh, good. She’ll be here in time for the big party. I’m going to see if she wants to ride with me. It’s on the other side of town.”

  “What party?” Rick was fast getting rankled and knew that was dangerous.

  “Oh, one of the Atlanta writers always throws a party at his house on Friday night. He has it catered, hires a band. It’s for media only. She needs to go and meet some new people.”

  “Well, I’m afraid she won’t be able to. We’ve got a grand opening to do for my sponsor.”

  “So?” Mark shrugged as though it were no big deal. “I can take her there, and then we can go to the party.”

  Rick chose his words carefully, not wanting to offend Mark. After all, he was a big writer for the Charlotte paper and had done several stories on him. Neither did he want to give away his annoyance over the possibility of Liz going out with him. “Well, suppose you call her and discuss it with her. Do you have her cell phone number?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Rick noted that Mark drew his reporter’s pad from his hip pocket in a fast draw that would have made Wyatt Earp envious.

  He gave him a number, and Mark scribbled it down.

  “Thanks, buddy,” he said. “I appreciate this.”

  Rick watched him walk away, head high, arms swinging. Real happy he was.

  “You don’t care if Liz goes out with him?” Mack asked quietly.

  Rick turned to him with mock wonder. “I don’t care who she goes out with.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “Then why,” Mack said with a sly grin, “did you give him the wrong number?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Rick had qualified in the top ten for the Atlanta race and ultimately finished in fifteenth position. He was leading in rookie points and flying high.

  He and Liz did not have a private moment together all weekend. She had been kept busy writing press releases and escorting VIPs around. And when they were at the same functions, there was always a crowd.

  Rick had tried not to look at her when she was around, because if anyone noticed romantic sparks flying between them, then the rumors would start for sure. When it came to gossip, racing was like a small town.

  At the track Saturday Mark Higgins had come up to him and said the cell phone number he’d given him for Liz was wrong.

  Rick had feigned surprise. “Really? Well, you must have written it down wrong, and right now I don’t remember. Check with her.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Mark said, disappointed. “But I really wanted her to go to that party with me.”

  “She wouldn’t have gone. Like I told you, we had to be at a grand opening for my sponsor, and she stayed the whole time.”

  “I’m sure she did,” Mark said, sounding a bit miffed. “You know, Rick, she does more for you than other PR reps do for their drivers. She’s always going to functions with you that she doesn’t have to. She needs to get out and mingle more…make contacts.”

  Rick was checking spark plugs with a magnifying glass. “Well, you know I don’t have anything to do with that, Mark. She does what she wants to, and I have nothing to do with her private life.” He paused to smile. “I just drive race cars.”

  After the race ended, Rick and the crew had wasted no time loading up and returning to the shop. They only had three days to get ready before leaving for Darlington.

  Late that night, Rick tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep. He wondered if Liz had made it back to Charlotte from Atlanta okay. He’d overheard her telling one of the VIPs from Big Boy’s that she would be glad to take him to the airport after the race.

  Several times he reached for the phone to call her but changed his mind. Maybe it would be best to let it go…let her go. After all, she hadn’t made any effort to be with him during the weekend. They had stayed at the same hotel. She could have called him and invited him to her room but hadn’t. And he could have done the same to get her to his but felt it wise to give it a rest.

  He reasoned that what had happened between them actually had no substance…no meaning. They had been trapped in a predicament not of their making and fallen into each other’s arms. The fact that he’d gone rushing over to her apartment right after they got home was just reaction to the tempestuous flight together. They had kissed and made out like kids, and he hadn’t been able to shake being aroused.

  In short, he had to scratch that itch again.

  He swore at himself in disgust.

  That kind of thinking made it all seem so dirty, and that’s not how it had been…and not how it was. But maybe he needed to take that attitude. Otherwise, he would find himself getting in over his head.

  Sometimes in a race he’d be about to pass somebody in a tricky situation. He would be right up on their bumper when instinct told him if he didn’t back off he would take them both out of the race.

  That’s how it had to be with Liz.

  Instinct was telling him to back off before they wrecked.

  Liz stared glumly at the phone. It was nearly three in the morning. She had finally gotten everyone to the airport who needed to go, and then the drive back to Charlotte had taken nearly four hours. She was exhausted.

  She had checked her messages the minute she walked in the door and was disappointed there was nothing from Rick. She had thought after they hadn’t had a second alone together all weekend that he would have wanted to see her as soon as he got back.

  She told herself she was being silly. The man had just finished a grueling six-hundred-mile race and was bound to be worn-out completely. The last thing he would feel like was making love.

  But why did it have to be only for that, she wondered miserably. If he cared anything about her, he’d want to just be with her.

  She was, however, forgetting that he did not care about her and never would, and they were only having a good time whenever they could with no strings.

  She had no right to expect him to call and knew she should be glad he didn’t. After all, feeling as she did about him, things could get out of hand before they both knew it.

  Keep it casual. Keep it cool. Stop thinking about him. And when it happens, it happens. Then forget about it till the next time.

  It was the only way to keep going.

  The only way to keep the promise she’d made to herself.

  But as she finally drifted away to sleep, she couldn’t help wishing the phone would ring.

  When she arrived
in Darlington midweek, Liz had given herself so many pep talks she knew her new set of rules by heart. She would not avoid Rick but neither would she seek him out. And when they were around each other, she’d be full of smiles and laughs. Nothing serious.

  So the first thing she did when she got to the track was go straight to the garage to test herself. She had plenty to do, what with the big barbecue and square dance on Friday night, but she needed to know she could be around Rick and pretend it didn’t matter that he hadn’t called.

  “Hey, Liz, glad you made it here okay,” Mack greeted. “How do you like South Carolina?” He was helping Jake and Bobby install a new windshield.

  “Thanks. It’s a pretty state and a nice drive.”

  She noticed Benny working on the right rear quarter panel and walked over to him. When she saw the crumpled sheet metal and huge black stripes, fear coiled like a spring. “Oh, my God, he crashed.” She glanced about wildly for Rick. “Where is he? Was he hurt?”

  The whole crew laughed, and Benny said, “The only thing hurt is his feelings. He got his rookie stripes, that’s all.”

  “And that means?” She turned to Mack, whom she could always count on for straight explanation without clowning around.

  “That he hit the wall coming out of turn four.” He motioned her around to the rear bumper, where she was puzzled to see yellow stripes had been painted.

  “Those stripes indicate this is his first time to race here. All the rookies have them. It lets the other drivers know to be extra careful around them, because Darlington is a mean track.” He pointed to the black asphalt, gleaming in the late March sun. “She’s called the Lady in Black and shows no mercy.

  “And those—” he pointed to the black marks on the car “—are Rick’s personal rookie stripes. You only get them when you kiss the wall at Darlington.”

  “Which means,” Benny added laughingly, “that Rick proved what he is here—a rookie.”

  “And you’re sure he’s all right?” she was driven to confirm.

  Mack said, “Yeah, yeah. No problem. He was here a minute ago. I don’t know where he went. Oh…” He pointed to the chain link fence that separated the garage from a section of the infield. “He’s over there. Signing autographs.”

  Satisfied all was well, Liz said, “Well, if you guys don’t need anything, I’ve got some things I need to do.”

  She walked away but paused to look at Rick again, and that was when she saw him kneeling beside the fence talking to a little boy who looked to be around seven or eight years old. Rick signed his souvenir program, then stood to take off his cap and toss it to him over the fence.

  The boy let out a loud whoop of joy and took off running, no doubt to tell everyone he knew and show off his treasure.

  It was a very hot day without a cloud in the sky, but still Rick stood there talking to his fans.

  Liz remembered she had a Big Boy’s cap in her car, and Rick could sure use it as he stood there in the sun. She quickly went to get it, but when she returned, he was no longer signing autographs. She met him as he walked toward an infield concession stand.

  He was not looking in front of him, instead watching a car out on the track. He would have bumped right into her had she not thrown up her hands. “Whoa, there, cowboy. You’re about to ride right over me there.”

  He blinked in recognition. “Oh, Liz. Sorry about that. I was watching Jack Blevins.”

  Jack, Liz knew, was breathing down Rick’s neck in the rookie points chase. “So how’s he doing?” she asked, eager to focus on something besides Rick’s ruggedly handsome face.

  “Rumor has it he’s running fast enough to qualify in the top ten.”

  “And how about you?”

  “Oh, I was doing great,” he said effusively, “till I smacked the wall.”

  “Yeah, I know. You got your rookie stripes.”

  He lifted one eyebrow in surprise. “You know about that?”

  “Mack told me. But he said not to worry about it. I have to admit that I…” She quickly trailed off to silence. She had been about to confide how she’d nearly freaked to think he might have been hurt. That would have been a real no-brainer. So far, she’d managed to hide the fact that every time he went out on the track she felt as if she’d swallowed butterflies.

  “I was a little worried about the damage,” she finally concluded.

  “Well, you should have been here. When I pulled in, you’d have thought I’d won the pole. All the other pit crews jumped up on the retaining wall to yell and wave because I got my stripes. Still, it was embarrassing.” He shook his head and looked toward the fourth turn wall. “See? I even left marks up there. This is some track.”

  She wanted to ask why it was different from any other.

  She also wanted to ask why he hadn’t called her or made any effort to see her—be with her—since the night they returned from Las Vegas.

  She opted to say nothing except, “I’ve got a lot to do. Do you need anything?”

  Rick knew it was her stock question whenever she walked away. She meant it as being a part of her job, but, right then he stupidly chose to interpret it as something else…and longed to say that yes, he did need something—in a big way, because she was all he could think about.

  Maybe that’s what he’d been doing when he hit the wall.

  No, he vehemently denied. He was a professional. Maybe he did think about her most of the time, but when he was behind the steering wheel it was different. And the day he did allow personal feelings to distract him out there, he’d hang up his helmet. Regardless of the turmoil he might have going on inside him, he’d never jeopardize the lives of other drivers by losing his concentration, even for an instant.

  “Rick?” she prodded, puzzled by how he just stood there staring at her and not saying anything. “I asked—”

  He cut her off. “Yeah, I heard you. Just thinking about Blevins again. And no, I don’t need anything.”

  She remembered the cap she was holding while trying very hard to keep her hands from shaking. “I brought this. I saw you give yours to that little boy a while ago. That was nice of you, Rick.”

  “I’m a nice guy,” he said, putting the cap on and giving her a cocky salute. “When are you gonna realize that?

  “Can I buy you a cola?” he added. “I was just on my way to the cafeteria.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” she teased, wanting to lighten the moment, because the tension of being with him was starting to get to her. “You aren’t near the hot dogs.”

  He gestured as if he was about to cuff her on her chin. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you? You’re going to remind me of that every chance you get.”

  She teased right back. “That and a lot of other things. Has NASA been around to find out about the toilet you invented in your car?”

  “For that,” he said, wrapping his fingers around her arm, “you are buying.”

  Laughing, they went into the cafeteria.

  Liz had not eaten lunch and took a ham sandwich from the counter as they went through the line. Rick ordered a hamburger, and she said, “Hey, that’s not fair. I was only supposed to get stuck with paying for your cola.”

  From behind, an arm reached out to snatch Liz’s sandwich from her tray. “Well, I’ll pay for this so you won’t wreck Big Boy’s budget.”

  It was Mark Higgins. He nodded to Rick. “Got any quotes for me about getting your rookie stripes?”

  “Sure,” Rick responded without hesitation. “You can say I’m glad I did it, because now I’m no longer intimidated by the infamous Lady in Black.”

  Mark snapped his fingers. “Good quote. I’ll use that.”

  They reached the end of the line, and Mark took Liz’s tray and walked to a table where other writers were gathered.

  Rick left them to join some of the drivers, and Liz found herself wishing Mark hadn’t shown up when he did, because Rick might have been leading up to asking if they could get together later.


  So much for that, she thought dismally. And maybe it was for the best.

  Rick was not happy over where he ultimately qualified. Two starting positions behind Jack Blevins was disappointing, even though they both made the top fifteen. Rick knew he was going to have to stay on his toes all season, or Jack would best him for the title.

  Rick also wished his sponsor wasn’t hosting the biggest event of the race weekend for drivers, crew and media. Everybody was talking about it and looking forward to it, because Liz had done a super job of getting out the invitations and spreading the word.

  Not only was it to be catered by the best barbecue restaurant in the state of South Carolina, but she had also arranged for a popular bluegrass band to provide music.

  He hadn’t seen much of her since that day Mark Higgins had horned in on them. Things had been going well at that point, and Rick had dared hope while they were having lunch she might give him some indication she’d like to see him later. She’d been so standoffish since Last Vegas, and he felt she was avoiding him on purpose. He’d planned to ask her about it but never got the chance.

  A time or two he had thought about ringing her room at the motel where they were all staying but decided against it. If she was trying to back off and end it, or if it had been something born of circumstance and didn’t mean a hill of beans, it was best to know it now.

  He had also worried that maybe he shouldn’t have gone to her apartment that night. She might have thought he was being overzealous, wanting to get heavy into the relationship. After all, she had made it clear her career was first and foremost and she wasn’t about to be sideswiped by anything or anybody. So she might’ve gotten turned off thinking he was going to get heavy on her.

  No way.

  He still wanted her, all right, but intended to be really careful not to let things get out of hand. The question was, however, whether or not she cared to see him again.

  So it was with a lack of enthusiasm that Rick went to the barbecue. However, he made up his mind to have a good time and appear very appreciative of the fact his sponsor thought enough of him—and racing—to go to so much expense and trouble.