As they tumbled onto the track, fire exploded into the interior of the car. As the crash truck hoses let loose their dousing spray of chemicals, Dallas lay on top of Beau, his eyes closed behind his visor. Safety workers scooped them both up away from the flames and hoses.
“You okay, man?” the firefighter asked as he led Beau away.
Beau shook him off, adrenaline coursing through his veins, blood pounding in his ears. “What about him? Is he alive?” He gasped and coughed at the thick black smoke. Please, God, don’t let him be dead. “Is he?”
A medic removed Dallas’s helmet. He looked up at Beau and yelled over the crowd noise, “He’s alive. He’s out, but still breathing.”
Relief rushed through Beau’s head, thumping and shattering his brain, it was so loud. He flipped off his helmet and the ear-piercing noise increased.
Then he realized it was coming from the grandstands. An overpowering roar of approval.
The sound of his name rocked the speedway as they pounded their feet and shrieked like lunatics. Man, he hadn’t heard that for a while. Slowly, he turned to the grandstands and let the moment wash over him. Shit. Those people were so damn fickle. With a smile he knew they couldn’t see, he gave them his careless salute.
“Guess you’re out of this race,” the firefighter said with a pat on Beau’s back.
“That’s okay.” Beau loosened his Velcro collar and grinned. “I got something really important to do.”
He could still feel the fire in his lungs as he walked toward the pit wall. Crews in a rainbow of team colors were already hurdling over it, preparing for the onslaught of cars that would come in for their much-needed tires during this yellow flag. The race would go on.
Just as life would go on. It just wouldn’t be the same now—because Celeste Bennett had infiltrated his life and his world and his soul. Which was right where she belonged. He couldn’t wait to get home to propose to her.
Inside the safety of the wall, he approached the sea of red suits in front of his pit. Up on the cart, Tony gave him a thumbs-up.
Then Beau froze midstep and stared at the woman next to the pit cart. Honey blond waves spilled out from a red and yellow baseball cap. Her smile was so blindingly beautiful that he almost didn’t look at the rest of her. But a white T-shirt clung to her precious curves, with words that demanded to be read.
Beau Babe.
Ignoring the shouts of the crowd and his crew, Beau ran toward her, every cell in his body focused on that smile and the single finger she used to beckon him. His grin grew wider as he closed the space between them and stopped.
“I tried charm,” she said, reaching up to brush dirt from his shoulder. “I tried guilt.” She lifted her face so he could see under the visor. “But you never told me Plan C.”
“Marriage.”
She held up her left hand, the diamond he’d given her winking in the sun. “I already have the right equipment.”
His heart soared. “That was a provisional.”
She shook her head and closed her hand into a fist, holding tight to the ring. “It’s a winner—and I’m keeping it.”
He put his hands on her waist and pulled her to him. He reached down to kiss her, but she backed away, putting a finger against his mouth.
“Wait. I forgot to tell you something before you left.”
“So did I.”
“I’m first. I love you, Beau Lansing. I love you completely and I’m never going to stop. Ever.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I want to be wherever you are—”
“On a racetrack?”
“Every week.”
“The infield?”
She nodded happily. “In our motor coach.”
Air caught in his gut, squeezing his heart and breathing new life into him. “And I want to be with you,” he told her. “And our family.”
“Team Chastaine?”
He laughed. “Team Lansing. You, me, and as many little quarter-midget drivers as we can make.”
“Really?” Light danced in her eyes as she gazed up at him. “We’ll start with Garrett Jr., and if we have a girl, we can name her Cece.”
He shook his head. “No, babe. There’s only one Cece. And she’s mine.”
He kissed her, holding her against him and imagining that Gil Lansing watched from that big pit cart in the sky, showering them with blessings and happiness and luck and love.
Just as he broke the kiss, the green flag dropped and thirty thousand horses thundered into a restart and a hundred thousand race fans screamed for their drivers.
“I love you,” he said into the brain-shattering noise. But his proclamation had been drowned out by the roar of stock cars and the din of fanatic spectators who insisted that their road warriors race to the edge of insanity.
“I love you!” he yelled again.
She held a hand to her ear and shook her head at the deafening noise, but he knew by the look on her face that she’d read his lips.
That was okay. He’d have a lifetime to tell her again—so he just kissed her senseless, instead.
Epilogue
Travis punched up the volume on the TV to hear Tony answer the interviewer.
“Actually, the number seven Chevy was set up to perfection, so we really thought we had a shot today. But hey, we’ll take it to the track next week.” Tony smiled graciously into the camera. “That’s racing.”
“You got that right, Tony,” Travis told the TV.
“That was quite a demonstration of good sportsmanship from Beau Lansing.” The reporter was practically gibbering with excitement. “It’s doubtful Team Chastaine will go very long without a sponsor after that bit of heroics.”
Tony’s smile just widened. “We’re good for a while. We’re going to take our time and find the best possible partnership.” The camera panned over his shoulder, taking in the whole pit area.
Staring at the image on the screen, Travis’s heart threatened to break with happiness. If that wasn’t a sight for his old eyes.
“Lisie!” Travis hollered into the kitchen. “C’mere! Ya gotta see this!”
Elise came around the corner and looked at the screen.
“Look at them two!” Travis exclaimed. “Lips locked on national TV.”
“Oh, isn’t that sweet?” Elise laughed and held up a longneck beer in a toast. “Here’s to young love.”
“No, Lisie.” Travis raised his water glass and looked at the woman he loved, and lost, and found again. “Here’s to second chances.”
Killer Curves Page 28