Liz had made arrangements with the speedway officials to have the event at the country club in nearby Florence. The evening was perfect. Not too warm, with a gentle breeze flowing in off the Santee River.
Tents had been set up, and the tables beneath were again covered in black-and-white-checkered cloths to mimic the coveted victory flag.
The air was thick with the smell of succulent ribs, pork loins and chicken cooking over a charcoal pit.
There were kegs of ice-cold beer, as well as a full bar inside the clubhouse.
Racing people, Rick pleasantly mused, knew how to have and enjoy parties.
He was amused to see the favors Liz had provided at each place setting—magnets shaped like miniature pizzas attached to coupons for free ones at Big Boy’s, one of his souvenir T-shirts and, of course, a press kit.
The band was all wound up, and couples were dancing on the terrace.
The crowd was getting bigger by the minute as more and more cars drove in. Rick found himself becoming an impromptu greeter as everyone seemed to gravitate toward him. He wondered where Liz was. He had been there nearly a half hour and there was no sign of her.
He spotted Mack and asked had he seen her. “Seems she’d be here to get things organized. Everybody is just drifting around not knowing what to do.”
Mack said she had been there earlier to make sure everything was set up. “But she had to leave to go to the airport. She said Gary Staley called at the last minute to say he’s flying in. She wasn’t sure when she’d be back, because he said they had to go somewhere once he arrived.”
“That’s strange. I hope she didn’t have to go all the way to Columbia to meet him.”
“No. There’s a private airport in Florence. He was coming in on one of his smaller jets and could land there.”
Rick murmured enviously, “Must be nice to have your own jet.”
They were standing near the barbecue pit, and Mack had sneaked himself a rib to munch on. “Well, it could happen. Most of the big drivers have their own planes. This is just your first season. Give it some time, and you’ll be hanging right in there with them. Besides, you’ve got to remember, till this year we were still hauling a race car hooked on a trailer behind my pickup truck. Now we’ve got a big rig.”
“That we do. And I’m grateful. But I wish Big Boy’s would spring for an RV. Just about every team’s got one.”
“I guess we’ll be flying to Texas.” Rick was glancing all around in search of Liz. There was a podium set up, with microphones. People were getting restless wanting to eat. If she wasn’t back in time, was he supposed to get up and say something? He sure hoped not.
Mack confirmed Liz had said they would, indeed, fly to Texas and the other races out West, like California and Arizona. “But we’ll drive to the others, like always.”
“And wouldn’t it be nice to do that in an RV?” Rick stared wistfully at the expensive motor home that belonged to Jack Blevins. He had a big-buck sponsor, all right—his father. Blevins Transport probably kept more eighteen-wheelers on the road than mosquitoes on the Santee River. So Jack had the best of everything, even his own plane.
Mack slapped him on the shoulder. “Listen to you. After you got your rookie stripes you don’t really think you deserve an RV, do you?”
Rick shook him off but wasn’t angry. Mack was just clowning around. They’d talked about it a lot, and he knew Mack wanted an RV as much as he did. It would come in real nice when Mack’s kids were around.
There was a sudden stirring in the crowd as all heads turned to the patio.
Rick also looked and promptly swallowed hard and told his heart to go into low gear.
Liz was walking out of the door and onto the patio with Gary Staley beside her. But no one was looking at him. They were struck by Liz’s cuteness…including Rick.
She was dressed in homespun fashion, perfect for a barbecue and square dance. Her jeans were cut just low enough to reveal her navel, and the tail of her bright plaid shirt was tied beneath her perky bosom, cleavage showing by a few buttons left undone. She also had on cowboy boots and a straw hat over beribboned pigtails.
Rick was holding a can of beer and, at the sight of her, crushed it in his hand without realizing it. Quickly, nervously, he glanced around and was relieved no one had noticed.
She stepped up to the microphone. With a big grin, she waved to the applauding crowd. “Hi y’all,” she called to their delight. “I’ve been down South long enough that I’ve learned to say that instead of plain old ‘hi.’”
There was a round of laughter.
She motioned Gary to come forward. “I believe you all know Gary Staley—the proud and respected CEO and founder of that great chain of pizzas known as Big Boy’s.”
Everyone dutifully applauded.
Searching the crowd, she found Rick and beckoned to him. “Please come up here.”
Clapping with everyone else as Rick made his way forward, she stepped back, conceding the limelight to Gary.
He shook Rick’s hand and slapped him on the back. “Get the rest of your crew up here, too, will you?”
When Mack and the team were lined up behind them, Gary said, “I want you to know I came here especially tonight to express my appreciation, along with everyone else at Big Boy’s Pizza, for the job you’ve done for us. You’re leading in rookie points, and we’re confident when the last checkered flag of the season waves at Atlanta in November, you will be the winner of the rookie championship.”
Someone from Jack Blevins’s crew hollered out good-naturedly, “Hey, we might have something to say about that.”
Everyone laughed, including Rick, and Liz was again impressed by the camaraderie in racing. No matter how they dueled on the track, tempers sometimes flying, when it came down to it, they were all good sports.
Gary continued, “And as a token of our appreciation and a gesture of our continued confidence, we have something for you and the team.”
At his signal, a gleaming RV came driving across the parking lot, stopping at the edge of the rolling lawn.
Everyone gasped, then broke into another round of applause as Rick and the team converged on Gary to thank him.
Liz knew that an expensive motor home was no big deal to the bigger, richer teams, but for a rookie’s sponsor to provide him with one his first season was special.
She had known about it for nearly a week and had made arrangements to have a photographer take pictures. She also had the story written to go with it and ready for immediate release.
Someone announced the serving lines were open. People began moving toward the food, but Liz couldn’t wait to get to Rick and the team.
“You knew about this?” he said happily when she joined them. “And you were able to keep it a secret?”
“Of course, I did. Mr. Staley insisted it be a surprise.”
“And was it ever.” He was walking around the outside of the RV, Liz right behind him. “This is great. We’ll get a lot of use out of this, for sure.”
“Didn’t I tell you it would happen?” Mack cried, happily pounding Rick on his back. “I just didn’t know it would be so soon. Now you’ve got to win that title.”
“Oh, he will,” Liz joined in. “And if he drops behind in points, we’ll lock him out of it.”
Rick grinned and playfully shook his fist. “Just try it. This baby is mine.”
Liz urged, “Come on. Mr. Staley expects you to sit with him at the head table. You’ll have plenty of time to check it out later.”
“Right. Because I’m driving it back to the motel.”
“And us, too,” Mack called, falling in step behind Rick and Liz.
“Want to come along?” Rick asked her.
“Can’t.” She shook her head. “I’ve got to take Mr. Staley back to the airport. He has leave tonight.”
She left them to mingle and make sure everything was running smoothly, all the while wishing she could be with Rick to share his excitement.
After everyone had eaten, including Liz, who found time to feast on the delicious barbecue, the dancing began.
She found herself the most sought after partner, because she knew how to call a square dance. It was something she had enjoyed before she became engaged to Craig, but he had hated it, saying it was backwoods and hillbilly.
In between conducting tours of the RV after he had familiarized himself, Rick watched Liz dancing. She was so cute, so full of life, and he wished he could get right out there with her. But he didn’t dare. It just wouldn’t do for them to be together like that in front of everybody, because he was afraid they might give something away.
Jack Blevins came up to politely congratulate Rick and said, “You’re a lucky guy, Castles. In lots of ways. You got a great sponsor, probably the hardest-working PR rep on the circuit, and a hell of a team.
“It’s just a shame,” he went on with a mischievous leer, “that you won’t win rookie title.”
Rick hooted, “Get outta here, Blevins. I’m gonna blow you away, and you know it.”
They continued to exchange good-natured barbs, but all the while Rick was glancing beyond Jack at Liz. It was as though he were bewitched, unable to keep his eyes off her…unable to stop thinking about her.
Liz walked into her motel room, threw her briefcase and bag onto the bed, then collapsed in a chair.
Everything had gone extremely well…except for not being able to accept Rick’s invitation to ride back in the RV. She had seen it parked in the very back of the parking lot when she drove in. Maybe she could go along when it was taken to the track tomorrow. Of course, it wouldn’t be the same as being with Rick, but, too often lately their responsibilities kept them apart, it seemed.
No, that wasn’t it, she thought miserably. Rick just wasn’t making the time. But what could she say? They had no commitment to each other.
She jumped as someone knocked. With the chain fastened, she peered out to see it was Rick, then quickly opened the door. “Is something wrong? It’s nearly two o’clock.”
“No. Everything is fine. I’ve been watching for you. I didn’t call, because Mack has the room on the other side of me, and these walls are paper thin. Come on.” He reached for her hand.
She did not hesitate to take it. “Where are we going?”
“I’m going to give you a private tour of the RV. You deserve it.”
Happily they skipped across the parking lot hand in hand.
“Isn’t this the greatest?” Rick said when they stepped inside. “You could live here. Fully-furnished, self-contained, fancy kitchen. It even has a computer station with a hookup for the Internet, plus a fax machine and scanner. This is really something.”
Before she could respond, he kissed her, then held her away from him, and smiled and said, “Thanks, Liz. I know you’re behind this.”
She protested, “No, I’m not. It was Mr. Staley’s idea.”
“Yeah? You mean you didn’t drop a hint how badly we wanted one?”
She didn’t think so, then recalled when they had discussed a budget should Big Boy’s continue sponsorship next season, she had mentioned how useful an RV would be to the team. She said as much to Rick, adding, “but it was totally his idea.”
“Because you got him to thinking about it.”
He locked the door and moved to draw her into his arms. “Boy, I’ve missed you,” he said raggedly.
He was about to kiss her, then paused. “This thing has curtains. I think we’d better close them.”
Liz was doing the ones in the bedroom, when he came up behind her to put his hands on her breasts. She yielded against him as he began rubbing her nipples, which had tightened at first touch.
The pleasure was exquisite, and she closed her eyes and reveled in it.
Then he was gently turning her about. She swayed against him as he lowered her to the bed.
She was still wearing the outfit she’d worn to the barbecue, and he swiftly unbuttoned her blouse. Her breasts spilled into his eagerly waiting hands, and he lowered his mouth. His lips closed over a nipple, sucking so strongly that she came up off the bed, back arched.
Still devouring her tender flesh, he opened the zipper to her jeans. She helped get them off, and he was out of his own clothes in seconds. “I can’t wait,” he said huskily. “I want you so bad, Liz.”
He positioned himself on top of her, and she wrapped her legs about his hips, sighing deliciously as he guided himself inside her.
She felt a shudder from head to toe and he pushed slowly, rhythmically, within her. She felt herself squeeze against him in eagerness, waves of delight coursing throughout her body. Gasping, she held on to him tightly.
His hands cupped her buttocks, bringing her closer, giving him control of her undulations. Her flesh felt as though it were on fire as she radiated the heat of her intense desire.
She relished how his chest hair brushed against her heaving breasts. He was deep inside her, and her nerves were convulsing, wanting him to completely fill her, to consume her.
“Now,” she whispered as the walls of her belly began to quiver. “Come with me, Rick…come with me now….”
And he did so, driving hard, plunging deeper and deeper until their bodies seemed to meld together.
For long, tender moments in the sweet afterglow, they held on to each other, their breathing harsh, labored, and hearts beating wildly.
“It just gets better and better, sweetheart,” he whispered against her ear.
“I know,” she whispered tremulously, frightened and worried to know she had broken her own vow.
Because there was no denying she loved him.
Chapter Thirteen
Like the band of gypsies Rick likened to drivers and crew, the schedule moved them onward into the season.
He was running well. He had finished every race through the spring and into the summer. Then, his luck changed in California, when they raced in Sonoma in June. The engine blew, but he was able to get off the track without hitting or being hit, which he always considered a blessing.
Things went a bit downhill from there, and he failed to finish the next few races. Still, he and Jack Blevins were running neck and neck in rookie points, because Jack wasn’t doing any better.
Rick and the crew were flying back from California to Charlotte, anxious to get ready for the race the next week in Daytona. Liz was sitting directly across the aisle. She was sleeping, and he wished she was right next to him, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her.
They hadn’t had any time alone together in California. Hotel rooms were at a premium in Sonoma that week, and he’d had to bunk with Mack. And he hadn’t dared sneak out to go to her room during the night, afraid Mack would awaken to find him gone and ask questions he didn’t want to try to answer.
He watched her as she slept and cursed himself once more over how he’d stupidly let himself fall in love with her. She didn’t know it, of course, and he wasn’t about to let her find out.
He was also worried over how she reacted to things that happened on or around the track concerning him…just as he had feared she would do once they became involved. For instance when one of the writers misquoted him about a spinout, in which he made it appear Rick was blaming it all on another driver, Liz went straight to the writer and chewed him out. No one thought anything about it except Rick, who knew she’d reacted because of personal involvement.
She was making things subjective instead of objective, and that really bothered him. Next she’d be freaking when he wrecked, and he couldn’t have that. And, yes, sooner or later, he was afraid she’d start making noises about how nice it would be if he could find another line of work.
He told himself he was the one overreacting now. She wouldn’t go that far as long as their relationship was casual.
But that was the problem.
He hadn’t wanted a relationship, but it looked as though they had one, whether he liked it or not.
He also worried that maybe he was ge
tting in so deep that his own emotions were apt to get carried away where she was concerned. And he couldn’t let it happen.
Bored, wanting to stretch, Rick unbuckled his seat belt and wandered to the rear of the plane. The very last row was empty, and he sat down to stare glumly out the window.
There was nothing to see, just a blanket of white and gray clouds stretching forever.
He continued to stew over Liz, because something had to give. The more he was with her, the more he longed to be.
As far as they knew, no one suspected anything was going on between them. If it got out they were sleeping together, it could be bad for Liz, working as she did primarily with men. It was best to keep professional life separate from personal.
But Rick had his own reasons for wanting to keep things secret, figuring Liz would come nearer to keeping her emotions in check if she couldn’t let on she had a personal interest. But he didn’t like thinking like that. It made him feel he was being conceited to assume she would go all to pieces should he wreck, or that she’d go ballistic if she saw him with another woman.
He recalled a race at a half-mile asphalt track in Savannah, Georgia, one summer. He had been dating a girl named Wanda Guthrie from Atlanta. She made it to all the races she could. On that particular night one of the trophy queens came on to him after the race in the shadows of the infield. He wasn’t interested and was trying to disentangle himself from her arms, which she’d thrown around him, when Wanda came out of nowhere, screaming and yelling that he was “hers.”
It got nasty before it got better, with the girls exchanging blows. Rick had been embarrassed, and, of course, never went out with Wanda again.
Now he hated even remotely thinking Liz was capable of doing anything like that. Wanda had been a good-time girl. Liz had class. Still, they were women, and experience had shown him over and over that women were basically the same when it came to emotions.
And, man, he wished it didn’t have to be that way.
Race To The Altar Page 18