Winning It All

by Wendy Etherington

  Bryan headed back to his office with Cade, Rachel, Isabel and Sam. They were going to discuss Cade’s appearance schedule for the remaining races and decide the benefits and consequences of each event. It was important to ride the wave of success and keep sponsors happy, to let those financial partners share the ride to the top, since those rides didn’t come along very often.

  But Cade had to be rested, alert and ready to race every week. The slightest misstep could cost him the championship.

  “Where’s Dad?” Cade asked.

  Bryan opened his office door and let everybody precede him inside. “Don’t know. He said he already had lunch plans today.”

  Rachel frowned. “That’s weird. I asked Mom to come, and she said she was busy, too.”

  “Maybe they’re on dates,” Cade suggested.

  Rachel took her place at the conference table. “With each other?”

  Cade waved his hand. “Nah.”

  “Could be,” Rachel said.

  “There was something going on between them at Richmond,” Isabel added, sitting in the chair Cade pulled out for her. “Some kind of tension. It made me wonder if they were sleeping together.”

  Cade stared at his wife. “What?”

  Rachel smiled. “Do you really think so? How great would that be?”

  “Do we really need to consider Mom and Dad and…that?” Cade asked. “It kind of grosses me out.”

  Isabel rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Where do you think you came from?”

  Cade’s face whitened.

  Shaking his head, Bryan sat at the head of the table. “I’m sure Sam is fascinated by our family’s love life, but can we get back to the small, insignificant matter of the championship now?”

  Sam cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, I think your mother is an amazing woman. She and Mitch belong together.”

  Bryan, along with everybody else in the room, stared at their usually reticent crew chief. It occurred to Bryan, like it must have occurred to his siblings, that their parents’ divorce had affected a great many more people than just them. The long-term employees had been there when Mom balanced the books and Dad, who’d just retired from racing, ran the shops. They’d built the business together, from their life savings, a crowded trophy case and sheer force of will.

  Many years later, they had championship trophies, multiple teams, hundreds of loyal employees—and a heartbreaking division among the founders.

  What was left to do but move on? The company had. Mom and Dad had. Bryan had. Darcy had.

  Shaking off the personal track of his thoughts, he addressed the more immediate concern of Cade’s schedule. “I guess Parker’s willing to be flexible?” he asked, his gaze going to Isabel.

  “Sure, but he’s given the lion’s share of the sponsor dollars to this team. His employees deserve some recognition.”

  “What if postseason we organize an employee retreat?” Rachel suggested. “Whether Cade gets the trophy or not, it’s been a great two years. We could do two different weekends, rotating as many people as possible. Cade could sign autographs and do Q&As.”

  “Where, exactly, would this retreat take place?” Cade wanted to know.

  “The hotel in St. Croix is pretty amazing,” Isabel said, then offered Rachel a dazzling, out-of-character smile.

  “How are we going to get hundreds of people to and from St. Croix?” Bryan asked, thinking of the scary columns of red ink—signifying negative cash flow—that might entail.

  “We could always do New York or Charlotte,” Rachel said. “Have the New York appearances when we’re there for the banquet.”

  “There’s too much going on that weekend already,” Sam said.

  “Okay,” Isabel said, holding up her hand. “I was kidding about St. Croix. How about we do one weekend in Miami—or maybe a Monday/Tuesday after the last race—and do another in New York, sometime before Christmas? We could entertain all the executive staff that way and easily fly in anybody else.”

  Grateful, and not for the first time, for Isabel’s decisiveness, Bryan glanced at Sam. “That work for you?”

  Sam shrugged. “Racing’ll be over by then.” His gaze swept the table. “As long as you don’t interfere with the winter work schedule.”

  Cade groaned. “Can we focus on this year? The one so pressure-packed, I’m about to climb the walls?”

  “Tell that to the engineers and fab guys already building your cars for 2010,” Sam said matter-of-factly.

  The rest of the shuffling wasn’t so easy. Isabel and Rachel vowed to make deals and promises that would likely keep Cade so busy next season he’d be lucky to make it to qualifying each week. When his brother simply laid his head on the table, Bryan called a halt to the plans.

  “What about bribes?” he asked the group.

  Rachel blinked. “Bribes?”

  “Gifts,” Bryan said. “Autographed cars, hats, T-shirts, pictures, dog leashes, firstborn children—anything that doesn’t require Cade zigzagging across the country every other minute.”

  “Gift bags aren’t a bad idea,” Isabel said, tapping her pen in consideration. “We could send a DVD with a personal message from Cade and record those in one afternoon. We could apologize for Cade’s crowded schedule, thank them for their dedication and send along some signed merchandise.”

  “And food,” Rachel said.

  “Food?” Bryan echoed.

  “Sure.” Rachel nodded. “Ooh, Darcy could make those amazing chocolate cupcakes.” She glanced at Bryan. “Though maybe we should check with her first.”

  “I can ask her,” he said, wondering why he hadn’t been offered any cupcakes.

  Isabel and Rachel exchanged a glance. “Consider that done,” Isabel said.

  “Why’s that?” he asked.

  Since both of the women seemed reluctant to enlighten him, Cade spoke up. “Wow, dude, are you clueless?”

  Bryan leaned back in his chair. “I guess I am.”

  “She’s completely crazy about you,” Isabel said.

  Rachel patted his shoulder. “She’d make cupcakes for every team in the garage if you asked her.”

  How they’d worked their way from Cade’s schedule to his personal life, Bryan had no idea. He’d do anything in his power for Darcy, and it was nice to hear other people thought the same about her, but now didn’t seem to be the right time to talk about it. He definitely wasn’t about to pour out his feelings and worries to his entire family.

  “What are her plans for next season?” Isabel asked, her direct gaze meeting his.

  “I—” He had absolutely no idea. Technically, their employment agreement ran through the last race of the season. He was as strong and recovered from his injuries as he was ever likely to get. Even now, he didn’t really need her to work out with him or tell him what he should and shouldn’t eat.

  “I’m not sure,” he finally said.

  “I suggest you find out,” Isabel said. “We could use her.”

  “We could?” he asked.

  Rachel glared at him. “Bryan Garrison! You’re not just fooling around with her, are you? She’s an amazing woman, who has done wonders with your snarly self. You should run, not walk, straight to the altar with her, and I can’t believe you—”

  Sam lurched to his feet, his chair jolting backward. “I have dyno numbers to look at.” He practically ran from the room.

  Bryan felt heat rise up his neck. “Thanks, Rach.”

  But his sister, as usual, was undaunted. “You are serious about her, aren’t you?”

  “I only wanted Isabel to give me some concrete reasons why Darcy was good for the team, so I could tell her when I offer her a new contract.” Was he going to do that? He certainly hadn’t considered next season before this moment. He also noted Rachel’s glare hadn’t budged. “And I’m as serious about her as I can be about anybody.”

  “Is this going to turn into a relationship therapy session?” Cade asked, his eyes bright with amusement. “I could be spe
nding this time keeping sponsors happy, after all.”

  Bryan rose. “Meeting’s over.”

  To say the least, the dispersion was awkward. Cade was way too gleeful to escape without a firm schedule in place, and Rachel was still annoyed.

  Isabel stopped at the door. “With or without cute gift bags, bargains and chocolate cupcakes, we’re not going to completely eliminate personal appearances over the next few weeks, especially if Cade climbs into the top spot.”

  “I know.”

  “Why don’t we let Parker help? Maybe he can throw one of those fancy, cross-sponsor parties, Cade can breeze in for an hour, and everybody will be happy.”

  “That’s a good idea. Thanks.”

  She started to turn away, then glanced back. “With a huge sense of déjà vu, I’ll say I’m here if you want to talk.”

  “Déjà vu about what?”

  “Barely a year ago, Rachel and Parker didn’t know what the hell to do about being in love either, but I helped clue them in.”

  Ignoring the way his heart rate sped up, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Who says I’m in love? In fact, I don’t really believe in love.”

  Her eyes reflecting sympathy, she patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Why?”

  “Repressing your feelings and living in denial never works. Trust me.”

  I’m fine! he wanted to shout after her as she left his office.

  He stomped to his desk. He was terrific, in fact. Everything was great between him and Darcy. They were happy. Why couldn’t everybody let them enjoy each other? Not only did they not need commitment and flowery speeches about tingly emotions, they didn’t want them.

  Irritated, he went back to work. He called Parker, who was spending the day at his office in Manhattan, and set up details for a multiple-sponsor event. The smooth style, the outright class that was so much a part of his brother-in-law had intimidated him in the past, but never more so than thinking about his family’s…What was it they’d really expressed?

  Pity, he decided. They pitied him for not climbing on the happily-ever-after train they’d all boarded.

  He’d tried that route, and it had been a flaming disaster. While he could say he’d simply picked the wrong girl, nobody would acknowledge Mom was the wrong girl, and look what had happened to his parents.

  Of its own accord, the framed picture of the win at Indy drew his gaze. It would hang there for years, and he’d known that when he’d asked Darcy to pose beside him. Had he unconsciously been making a commitment to the future with her?

  No. Ridiculous. It was just an impulse.

  He wasn’t repressing or in denial about his feelings. What a crock.

  His annoyance never abated. He snapped at people all afternoon and finally shut the door to his office, refusing to take calls.

  When a brisk knock sounded on his door just after six, long after the office staff had gone home, he stormed across his office and flung open the door. “Look, I told you—”

  “Hi,” Darcy said.

  “Hey.” Trying to put aside his irritation, he stepped back and waved her inside.

  When he closed the door behind them, she snagged his hand and placed it around her waist, then she looped her arms around his neck. “Long day?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  She hugged him tight, and he closed his eyes, grateful for her touch. “The Chase. Cade. Strategy meeting. Schedule shuffling. I’m not even going to ask. What do you want for dinner?”

  “Are you crazy about me?”

  Leaning back, she had a slight smile on her face, though she also looked a little puzzled. “Sure.”

  “Would you do anything for me?”

  “Of course.”

  She didn’t even hesitate. And, for some reason, he felt like a jerk. But he’d do anything for her, wouldn’t he?

  Even love her? his conscience—which mysteriously spoke in Isabel’s voice—asked.

  Maybe not. He seemed to be out of stock on love.

  “Dinner, Mr. Garrison,” Darcy said.

  “I don’t know—cook, takeout or go out?”

  “You seem to be in a pretty impatient, and—can I add?—strange mood.” She released him and crossed to the phone. “How about pizza?”

  His lousy mood, which had risen the moment he’d seen her, jumped even higher. “Pizza?”

  “Thin, whole-wheat crust, all organic toppings, which will mostly be vegetables.”

  He barely resisted the urge to say yuck. “How about a side of spaghetti?”

  She sighed, but only a little, and picked up the receiver.

  “And I want a chocolate cupcake for dessert.”

  AS DARCY PULLED a batch of cupcakes out of the oven at Bryan’s house, she wondered where Kick-Butt Darcy had gone and what alien race had replaced her with Sappy Darcy.

  “At this rate, he’s going to put the weight back on before the end of the season,” she muttered.

  But then he’ll need you, won’t he?

  She turned away—from the stove and her conscience. What more did she want? They were a declared, monogamous couple. They practically lived together. He gave her his full attention when they were alone, and she often caught him staring at her when they were surrounded by other people. He spent as much time with her as possible, even amid the chaos of the Chase, and Cade finishing only marginally the last few weeks, barely hanging on to third in points, while Chance had won the last two races in a row and solidified his hold on the top spot.

  This weekend the races were both close to home and taking place Friday and Saturday nights. The teams would have a rare Sunday off—the only one, in fact. She knew Bryan couldn’t resist going down to the shop for at least a little while that day, but he’d promised they’d spend the afternoon and evening together, doing whatever she wanted.

  With that kind of relationship, what could her heart do but simply fall a little harder every day?

  The secret of her feelings, the love that she felt glowed from every pore, remained unspoken. They didn’t talk about the future. They didn’t discuss what their relationship meant except on the most superficial of terms.

  She was as happy as she’d ever been in her life, but when she stood still, when she had a few moments of quiet reflection, she swore she heard a clock ticking.

  When the doorbell rang, she was in the process of setting the cupcakes on a cooling rack. She called Bryan’s name, but then heard the shower running.

  She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, then walked down the hall toward the front door. They were due to leave for the Concord track to cheer on GRI’s NASCAR Nationwide Series team any minute along with Cade and Isabel, who lived down the street from Bryan, but they usually just gave a courtesy knock, then walked right in.

  A man in a blue jacket and khaki pants stood on the porch, holding an envelope and clipboard. “Bryan Garrison?”

  “He’s not available right now. Can I help you?”

  “Are you…” he consulted his clipboard “…Darcy Butler?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Sign here, please.”

  He handed her the clipboard, which she signed, noting the name at the top—Lakeside Messenger Service.

  Confused, she handed back the board, and he handed her a sealed envelope made of fine and weighted cream-colored paper. “I—” She glanced up at him, knowing she needed to give him a tip. “Let me get my purse.”

  “The gratuity’s included, ma’am.” He nodded. “Have a nice evening.”

  As he turned away, she shut the door and stared at the envelope. Both her and Bryan’s names were printed in elegant, hand-lettered calligraphy. It was sealed at the back with a gold label.

  Should they open it together? Who could the note be from? And hand-delivered on a Friday afternoon? That must have cost somebody a mint.

  She wandered up the stairs toward Bryan’s bedroom. As she walked through the door, he strolled out of the bathroom. With nothing but a towel wrappe
d around his waist, his dark hair turned glossy black, his broad chest scattered with drops of water, she halted and stared, the envelope forgotten.

  Wow. Swallowing, she let her gaze drift down his body.

  Would he always stop her in her tracks this way? Would she always have the privilege of holding him against her? Would there be an always at all?

  “Darcy?” he said, his voice deep, familiar and arousing.

  She continued staring at his chest. “Uh-huh?”

  “Do you need something?”

  She watched a droplet of water roll down his shoulder. Definitely. “Ah, well…”

  “Did you burn the cupcakes?”

  She shook her head.

  “What’s that in your hand?”

  “Ah…” She glanced at her hand, blinking without recognition at the envelope she held.

  He moved toward her, laid his finger beneath her chin, tipping her face up for his kiss. “I invited you into the shower with me, if you remember. You said you’d burn the cupcakes.”

  She laid her hand against his warm, bare chest. She really hoped there was an always.

  That murky, scary future she’d avoided facing for so long was taking shape, and Bryan Garrison was standing right in the center.

  With a great deal of will, she shook aside that image and held up the envelope. “This came by messenger.”

  He took the envelope in one hand, then grasped her hand and led her over to the bed, where they sat side by side. It wasn’t the bed he’d shared with his ex, she thought vaguely as he broke the seal. The rest of the immaculately decorated house was pretty much the same as when she’d lived here, but he’d told her he’d completely refurnished the bedroom with darkly stained oak, a navy bedspread and cool gray walls. She wasn’t sure why that mattered, but it did.

  Inside the envelope was an engraved card.

  Mitch Garrison requests your presence for a late dinner on board Victory Lane. Lake Norman Marina. 10:00 p.m. this evening. Casual dress.

  Bryan looked at her. “What’s going on?”

  “I have no idea. It came by a hand-delivered messenger, so I guess it’s pretty important. A celebration for Cade maybe?”