by Gina Wilkins
Was Erica hinting that she would like to be among that crowd, herself? “I’m not involved with Kent because he’s a driver, Erica. To be honest, I started seeing him despite his career. Being a race-car driver is such a demanding and time-consuming profession that it requires a great deal of sacrifice on the part of their families. Not to mention the constant scrutiny of living in the public eye. I thought I was prepared for it all at the start, but I have to admit there are times when it’s almost overwhelming. You should know all of this, of course. A crew chief works even longer hours than his driver.”
“There are plenty of rewards,” Erica answered carelessly. “Crew chiefs are well paid, and get plenty of attention if they’re hooked up with a winning driver. I’ve got to admit that I’d rather be in your shoes, but most of the single drivers are just kids these days, and the ones who aren’t like their women very young and very obliging.”
Erica was obviously in a bad mood, and perhaps just a little inebriated, as well. Though Tanya didn’t agree with even half of what the other woman said, she wasn’t going to waste her breath arguing with her, except to repeat, “I’m not with Kent because I want to be a driver’s wife. And I’m sure your feelings for Neil aren’t all based on what he does for a living, either,” she added in case she had sounded too prim.
Erica only laughed cynically. “You really are clueless, aren’t you? Or at least you make a good show of it. A word of advice, Tanya. You and Kent have been seeing each other a long time. Men get restless, especially when they’re surrounded by women who would do anything to get their attention. You better be getting a ring on that man’s finger soon—whatever it takes to make that happen. Even if it doesn’t last, at least you’ll come out with a nice settlement that way.”
Tanya was rapidly losing patience. “I’m not worried about Kent cheating on me. He’s an honorable man,” she said. And she wasn’t just saying that, she realized abruptly. She meant every word of it.
“Yeah, well, they all try to be,” Erica replied wearily. “But, let’s face it, they’re men. Some things they just can’t help.”
Frowning, Tanya zipped her purse. “I’d better be getting back to the table.”
“You don’t like what I had to say.” Erica laughed shortly, the sound a mixture of bitterness and disillusion. “Just trying to do you a favor, Tanya. Believe it or not, I kind of like you—even though I can’t help wondering if you’re really as nice as you seem to be.”
Fortunately, before Tanya had to come up with a response to that rather bizarre comment, two women entered the lounge, laughing and chattering and effectively putting an end to the conversation. Tanya took advantage of the opportunity to escape, heading quickly back to the table. She was extremely grateful that the group separated very shortly afterward, heading back to their respective homes-away-from-home for the duration of the working weekend.
“SO WHAT WENT ON BETWEEN you and Erica in the ladies’ room tonight after dinner?” Kent asked as he closed the motor home door behind them an hour later. “You came back to the table looking sort of shell-shocked.”
Tanya chose her words carefully. “Erica had a few too many cosmopolitans with dinner, I think. She was talking a little…oddly.”
“How could you tell?” he asked ironically, pushing a hand through his hair as he moved toward the kitchen. “Erica is nothing if not odd. You want some tea?”
“Yes, that sounds good.” She settled on the sofa, still thinking about that disturbing encounter with Erica. “Kent, do you think Neil is in love with Erica?”
Kent made a sound that was half laugh, half snort. “I’m not sure Neil knows what love really is. He’s been married four times, remember? Involved in more relationships than I can remember outside those marriages. Every time, he swore this was the real thing.”
Because she knew Kent was fond of his crew chief, she said in concern, “I don’t think Erica’s really in love with Neil. I think she’s only with him because of his connection with racing. She implied that she would rather be with a driver, but she’s settled for Neil as the closest she could get.”
Glancing up from what he was doing, Kent looked at her in disbelief. “Well, yeah. Everyone knows that.”
Feeling almost as naive as Erica had accused her of being, Tanya winced. “Do you think Neil knows?”
“I’m sure he does, whether he’d admit it or not. Why do you think he’s been so moody lately? He fancies himself in love with Erica, knows she doesn’t feel the same way about him, but doesn’t want to take any steps to remedy the situation. As for her, she treats him pretty badly, but every time it looks as though he’s giving up, she pulls him back in somehow, just because she doesn’t want to give up the money he lavishes on her. To give her some credit, Neil isn’t the easiest guy to be with, considering his hot temper and his impulsive behavior.”
She shook her head, not sure whether she was more saddened or appalled by his crew chief’s relationship. It was particularly depressing because she’d had a quick drink that afternoon with her friend, Lucy, who was growing glumly pessimistic that her own relationship with Justin Murphy was not going to last much longer—Justin’s fault, not hers, Lucy had insisted. Were the odds really so high against a long, happy union in this sport?
Because she took little pleasure from gossip and didn’t really want to dwell on the troubles those other couples faced, as that might lead to more contemplation about her own, she changed the subject slightly. “Do you think there will be any problems with the race tomorrow?”
“From Neil, you mean? I hope not. But he knows Dawson’s going to be watching him pretty closely tomorrow, so I have a feeling he’ll toe the line.”
“I hope you win tomorrow. I know how much you want it.”
He smiled as he carried two mugs toward her, handing her one of them before taking his seat beside her. “I always want to win.”
“But this race is special, right? Everyone wants to win the opening race at Daytona.”
He nodded acknowledgement of her point. “That’s true. Dad’s been chasing it for thirty years.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Now I want him to win.”
Kent laughed. “So do I. But only if I can’t.”
“Then I’ll cheer for both of you,” she decided.
“That’s what the rest of the family does.”
They sipped tea in silence for a few minutes, feet up, shoulders almost, but not quite, touching. Tanya felt content in a way that she had not since she and Kent had quarreled the day before.
She had grown so accustomed to having Kent in her life. To just being with him, drinking tea and talking after a long day. And she didn’t want to lose that closeness. Especially if the only reason it was falling apart was because of her own inability to forgive and forget, as Trevor had all but outright accused her.
She gazed at him over the rim of her mug. “You look tired.”
He shrugged. “It’s been a long day.”
“And tomorrow’s going to be longer.”
“Yeah.”
“You need your rest tonight.” She drew a deep breath before saying firmly, “You’ll sleep in the bed, not on this couch.”
He was shaking his head before she’d even finished her sentence. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”
“No.” She rested a hand on his knee, still holding his gaze with her own. “I’m not.”
A light flared in his eyes, both surprise and doubt reflected there. “You have a better offer?”
“I hope so.”
He set down his mug and rose from the couch, holding out his hand to her.
Smiling tremulously, she placed her hand in his. “A much better offer,” she murmured, letting him draw her to her feet.
With a husky chuckle, Kent led her toward the back of the elegant motor home.
KENT WAS UP VERY EARLY again Saturday morning. A long day stretched ahead, beginning with an early interview, leading into the last chance at practice, followed by team meeti
ngs and other events until well into the evening. But he was whistling as he made his way across the pavement, already crowded with media, early-bird fans and racing personnel, toward his hauler.
“Someone’s in a good mood this morning.”
Kent glanced around to see the Branch brothers approaching him and he paused to exchange greetings. Had drivers Bart and Will Branch not already been decked out in their respective sponsors’ colors, Kent would have had a hard time telling them apart. But then, few people could. The twins were both solidly built—six feet two inches of hard muscle—had curly blond hair, bright blue eyes and strong, cleft chins.
Their younger brother, Sawyer, whom Kent had only met a couple of times before, was as different from them as they were alike. Just under six feet and a good thirty pounds lighter than his brothers, Sawyer had black hair, dark eyes and a darker complexion. He wasn’t a driver; Kent believed Sawyer was still pursuing a degree in something, though all of the Branch brothers were known more for their partying than their work ethics.
It was rare to see the three of them all together. Bart and Will seemed to make an effort to maintain their separate identities at the tracks, despite their nearly identical appearance. He figured they’d had a family breakfast or something, but he didn’t bother to ask. “Morning. How’s it going?”
Bart answered for everyone, as he so often did. “Can’t complain. Guess you can’t, either, judging by that foolish smile that was on your face. I take it you had a good night?”
“I can’t complain, either. How have you been, Sawyer? I haven’t seen you around in a while.”
The young man shrugged. “You know. Busy.”
Since that was the extent of the small talk Kent knew to make with them, he nodded pleasantly and wished them all a good day before turning toward his hauler again. He hadn’t taken three steps before he crossed paths with Justin and Hugo Murphy.
Had it not been for the acrimonious family history between them, Kent would have considered Hugo a man to be greatly admired. Big and raw-boned, with broad shoulders and a burly chest, he had the look of a drill sergeant with his crew-cut brown hair and no-nonsense stare. Yet he had almost single-handedly raised three children—a step-daughter, Kim, and his orphaned nephew and niece, Justin and Rachel—after his wife walked out on him years earlier in a scandal that was still whispered about occasionally among racing insiders. He was a tireless, dedicated crew chief—and he had his hands full with Justin.
But there was a history between them, and the unsmiling look Hugo gave Kent showed that he hadn’t forgotten it any more than Kent had. “Grosso.”
Wryly amused, Kent replied somberly, “Murphy.”
The few fans who were out that early, proudly displaying the passes that allowed them access to the garage and hauler area, all seemed to turn to watch the meeting between the representatives of the two famously feuding racing families.
Justin pushed his hands in his pockets. “So, we’ll be starting side-by-side tomorrow.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“Well, good luck out there.”
A bit suspiciously, Kent murmured, “Yeah, you, too.”
“Can’t be easy holding onto your concentration—considering all your other problems,” Justin added over his shoulder as he and his uncle moved away.
Kent whirled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“People talk, Grosso,” Justin replied without looking back.
Kent might have followed to demand more, but he was detained by Neil saying, “The little twerp was talking about me, wasn’t he? Maybe he’d like to say to my face what he’s been hearing…”
Both Kent and Tobey, who’d been tagging at Neil’s heels when the crew chief had overheard Justin’s words, moved between Neil and the departing Murphys. “Let it go, Neil,” Kent said. “He’s just trying to cause trouble.”
“Besides,” Tobey added helpfully, “why would he be talking about you? Everyone knows you’re the best crew chief in the business.”
“Quit sucking up,” Neil muttered, but he looked somewhat appeased, anyway, as both Tobey and Kent had known he would.
Moving toward the hauler with his team members, Kent wondered if Justin really had been referring to the whispers that Neil was struggling with personal problems. Justin couldn’t possibly know that things had been a bit strained between Tanya and Kent lately—at least, until last night—so surely he hadn’t been referring to that.
Maybe Kent’s suspicions had been right. Was it possible that Justin had been behind that disturbing e-mail?
CHAPTER EIGHT
TANYA WAS WORRIED. Something had happened between the time Kent had left her that morning, with a smile on his face and a spring in his step, and when she saw him again right after the last practice run for the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series drivers. She had agreed to join him for lunch at the hauler during the respite between the practice and the start of the NASCAR Nationwide Series race that afternoon. Kent wasn’t driving in the Nationwide race, but he had a long list of obligations lined up for the afternoon, so she wouldn’t see him again until dinner.
She’d heard practice hadn’t gone particularly well. Kent had fishtailed in one of the turns, almost losing control of the car before he’d managed to get it straight. That would have been a disaster. Had he wrecked the car and had to compete with his backup car tomorrow, he’d have been required to start from the back of the field, losing the advantage of starting in third position.
To complicate things even more, the officials had decided Justin and Kent were being a bit too aggressive with each other on the track during practice, leading to a warning afterward. It wasn’t like Kent to get involved in anything like that, so Tanya figured Justin had done something to warrant Kent’s ire. But then again, when it came to Justin Murphy, Kent had a pretty short fuse.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him as she reached his side.
Obviously aware of the many people milling around them, Kent shook his head and forced a smile. “Nothing. Not a great practice, but we’ll have everything under control tomorrow.”
As his arm settled around her shoulders, she leaned into him and asked softly, “Neil?”
He shrugged against her. “He’ll be okay.”
She could tell he wasn’t going to talk to her then, not with so many others around, so she let it go, simply saying, “I’m sure everything will be fine.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “Yeah. No worries. You hungry?”
“Sure. What’s for lunch?”
“I think Mitch has a buffet laid out for us inside.”
Mitch was the hauler driver. Many of the other drivers served as team cooks, as well, serving up near-gourmet repasts from fancy grills and smokers they carried from track to track. While Mitch occasionally grilled burgers or chicken or ribs, he didn’t claim to be much of a cook, so he took responsibility for having meals brought in for the team from the best local restaurants wherever they were. That day’s lunch included boiled shrimp served from a big bowl of ice, miniature steak-and-veggie kabobs and bruschetta.
Kent and Tanya fell into line behind several members of the pit crew, all of whom were joking and talking confidently about the next day’s race as they hungrily filled paper plates. They carried their meals off to eat wherever they could find a relatively quiet spot. Tanya and Kent joined Neil, Tobey and Steve in the hauler lounge. She and Kent sat side by side on the couch, while the other men sat in the three chairs crowded into the cozy area. Dawson was usually around, but he had other lunch plans that day, Kent explained. When Tanya asked Neil politely about Erica, he only shrugged and took another bite of his food, effectively avoiding details.
She sat quietly eating while the men talked about the car. She didn’t understand half of what they were saying, but she hadn’t bothered to learn many mechanical details. She figured she’d done well enough to familiarize herself with some of the regulations and jargon of racing.
“Is there room for on
e more?” Amy Barber asked from the doorway.
Tobey was the first to respond, standing to carry his plate to the built-in desk, where he propped one hip on its hardwood surface and rested his plate on his knee. “There you go. Have a seat.”
Thanking him warmly, Kent’s P.R. rep carried her plate to the chair and settled with a weary-sounding sigh. She greeted everyone else, then commented, “It’s crazy out there today.”
“Tell us about it,” Neil muttered.
The talk drifted back to business again, with Amy joining in as they discussed sponsor and promotional issues. They weren’t deliberately excluding Tanya, but she was content to just eat and listen. This was Kent’s world—his life. Being involved with him meant having racing be a central part of their time together.
Some of Kent’s driver friends had dated women who couldn’t take the life. The constant traveling, the intense pressure, the media scrutiny, the worries and uncertainties. The changing moods of the drivers dependent on how well things had gone on the track. Though she acknowledged the challenges, Tanya could deal with all of that. Her recent issues had been with Kent, himself, rather than his demanding job.
Maybe they were on the way toward getting everything resolved, she thought hopefully. She knew the truth about Kent’s past now, and he had agreed to tell his parents so that unhappy secret would no longer haunt him. He was still a little annoyed with her that she’d called him on his deception, and maybe it still stung her a little when she remembered the blatant lie he’d told her the first time about why he’d left State U. But every couple had quarrels, she assured herself. They’d had a few before, and would certainly have more in the future. This particular disagreement hadn’t really been so bad. It hadn’t really exposed a bigger obstacle between them.
Or so she tried to convince herself, even as an annoyingly nagging little voice inside her questioned her certainty.
“Hey, Tanya, you awake?” Kent teased her, making her suspect he had said her name before.