by Alison Kent
“C’mon, then,” Trey said, pulling her with him. “Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Where were you anyway?” she asked, as they hurried to catch up with Jeb.
“I left my boots at the house. I didn’t realize it until I was halfway here.” He smiled down at her, his dimples carved deep. “You didn’t want me to risk burning my toes, did you?”
She looped her arm through his. He felt so good at her side. “No, but a phone call would’ve been nice.”
“Yeah, well, about that,” he said. “Seems I left my BlackBerry’s charger in the Corley hauler. I’m outta juice until I pick up a new one.”
Cardin laughed. “I was wondering how you were going to fit in with the Worths.”
“And your verdict?”
“Perfectly. In an absent-minded way.” They slowed down as they reached the others, staying just out of earshot. “As my fiancé, I want you to know something.”
“What’s that?”
“If you’re not already crazy, my family’s going to make you that way. I mean, look at them.” She waved one hand, an encompassing gesture taking in the three people besides Trey she loved most in the world. “My mother not wanting my father to drive. My grandpa saying it’s up to Eddie, while being well aware of his son’s condition. And Eddie trying to prove God knows what to the both of them.”
“They’re all talking. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I keep telling myself that it is,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“Then I’d say your job here is done. Whatever happens with your family’s going to happen. Time to focus on you now.”
Trey’s comment brought her back to what she’d been thinking earlier, and she shared her chagrin. “I think all I have been doing is focusing on me. I haven’t been a very good fiancée.”
“What do you mean? You’re the best fiancée I’ve ever had.”
“I thought I was the only fiancée you’d ever had.”
“Oh, yeah. You are.”
She pulled back, thought about punching him, and instead cuddled close again—a display of affection for her benefit alone. “I know this is no time to talk, that you’ve got to get your head in the race, but I worry that we rushed into this and didn’t really think it through.”
“Which part did we rush into?” he asked, tucking his boots tighter beneath his arm. “Your fake engagement, or my real one?”
It wasn’t one or the other, it was the whole thing. “You came here to pack up your place and leave, and now you’re tying yourself to the town. To me. To my lovable but lunatic family.”
“Cardin, look at me,” he said, stepping in front of her, his knuckles beneath her chin nudging her head up, bringing her gaze to meet his. “I’m not tying myself to anybody or anything. Not in the way you’re making it sound. Making things official. Making them real…” He paused, brushing her bangs from her forehead. “That was my choice. My want. My need. I love you, Cardin. Being with you for the rest of my life is going to be an adventure. And I plan to enjoy every minute of it.”
He made her so happy. God, he made her happy. But she still had to know. “Even with my family butting in and wanting everything to go their way?”
“Hey, every good story needs some crazy sidekicks.”
She glanced toward her family, surprised to see things had calmed, and that all of them were looking at her—Jeb leaning on the four-wheeler seat, and her parents side by side, Eddie’s arm over Delta’s shoulders, Delta’s around his waist.
Crazy sidekicks just about covered it. Arguing one minute, loving the next. They made her smile.
Trey swatted her on the bottom. “I think they’re waiting for me.”
“They can wait another second or two.” She grabbed hold of both sides of his jacket, making sure she had his attention. “You go out there and win, Trey Davis. You forget everything except being safe and taking that car down the track as straight and as fast as you can.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said before dropping a hard kiss on her mouth, then jogging over to where Jeb and the others waited.
She followed more slowly, watching him snap on his neck brace, pull on his helmet and his gloves. He gave her a wink, most of his face hidden behind the protective gear, then climbed into the driver’s cage and fastened the harness that would keep him in his seat.
Eddie hopped on to the back of Jeb’s ATV and they advanced in the staging lanes. While Cardin and her mother rushed back to watch from behind the cement barrier separating the track from the stands, Trey rolled White Lightning into the burnout box.
Tater, acting as crew chief, stood in front of Trey on the track, using hand signals to guide him into the grooves left by the cars that had run before. The smell of scorched rubber that rose as the drivers spun their tires in water for traction left Cardin feeling as if she’d swallowed a charcoal briquette.
Trey eased the car forward, breaking the prestage beam, and the prestage bulbs lit up to indicate his distance to the starting line. Once his tires were positioned, the yellow stage lights on his side of the Christmas Tree lit up. The second driver did the same. With their crews out of the way, having given them the thumbs up, the two drivers revved their engines.
Cardin held her breath. The large amber lights flashed, followed by the green, and the cars blasted forward. The crowd around her roared, and Cardin slammed her hands over her ears as the cars exploded down the quarter mile track. Seconds later, the parachutes deployed, the drivers cut the engines, and the cars coasted to a stop.
She looked up the signs at the end of the track, saw that Trey had reached a speed of 158.02 miles per hour and run the quarter mile in 4.686 seconds—the best time of the night so far.
Cardin whooped and hollered, jumping up and down, waving her arms in the air. She watched as at the end of the track, Eddie and Jeb tethered White Lightning to the ATV and pulled it back to the pits.
Leaving her mother to follow, Cardin hurried from the barrier in front of the stands back to the pits to join them. She didn’t care about the numbers the remaining cars would post. She didn’t care if another car beat him. She just wanted to get to Trey.
By the time she reached him, his helmet was off, his jacket hanging open, and he was surrounded by autograph-seeking fans. Eddie and Jeb were already wrapped up discussing the car’s performance, and all Cardin had a care for was the man who had driven it.
She couldn’t wait to get him home.
24
TREY DIDN’T WIN THE Moonshine Run. Artie Buell, the sheriff’s son, did. Though the loss stung, Trey hadn’t expected to come away with the best time of the night. He’d spent an afternoon under the Nova’s hood, but wasn’t familiar enough with the motor to test its limits.
He’d first agreed to drive because Jeb was Cardin’s grandfather, and at the time he’d been asked, he wasn’t above scoring points. Working with Jeb would put Trey closer to finding out the truth about the fight—or so had been his thinking at the time.
He’d decided to drive in the end because he missed racing. He really missed racing. The smells, the sounds, the feel of an engine firing. And because Jeb was still Cardin’s grandfather, and stepping up was a way to have everything he loved—two birds with one stone, and all that.
But, winning? Well, it just wasn’t in the cards. That didn’t make the Moonshine Run party any less fun. It did, however, make Artie Buell that much more annoying.
Leaning a shoulder into one of Headlights’ support columns while listening to the band playing from the corner stage, Trey watched Artie show off the trophy Jeb had reluctantly awarded him. If Trey had lost to anyone else, he doubted Jeb would’ve been so peeved at turning over the title, but it was no secret that he didn’t think much of the Buells.
Lifting the longneck he’d been toying with more than drinking, Trey turned his attention to the rest of the crowd, most who’d gathered to celebrate his and Cardin’s engagement more than the race. There was music, ther
e was food, there was drink and all of it on Jeb’s tab.
To the right of the stage, where the picnic tables had been pushed aside, Eddie and Delta Worth were dancing as if they were the only people in the room…her eyes closed as she rested her head against his chest, his eyes cast down to where he stroked a hand over her hair. If they hadn’t already reconciled, it looked to Trey like they were headed down that road, and it was a good thing to see.
Wondering if Cardin was watching her parents, he sought her out, finding her near the ice house’s kitchen with Tater and Pammy Mercer, who’d gotten real cozy real quick the last hour. It appeared Tater had finished up his thing with Sandy, too. Trey had seen her tell Tater goodbye earlier with a kiss on the cheek, her fingers lingering on his before she’d walked out the door.
As he looked around at the crowd trying to make themselves heard above the band and the din of their own conversation, Trey was struck with the realization of how things had changed since he’d first arrived in Dahlia. Learning what fueled the fight between his father and Jeb Worth had let him finally forgive himself for not keeping in touch with his father.
But the biggest change was from admitting how much he loved Cardin. That he’d always loved her. That he always would. How he had done without her all this time, why it had taken him so long to figure things out…He raised his beer to his mouth and emptied the bottle, thinking he was one slow son of a bitch, and the luckiest one alive.
“It’s going to be hard for folks here to see Cardin go. Her own folks especially.”
Trey glanced to his side, and took in Jeb Worth standing there, his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, the tails of his western cut jacket flaring behind him. “I’m sure it will be.”
“They’ll understand, of course. They love their girl, and know being with you is what she wants. What makes her happy.”
Trey kept quiet as he’d learned to do with Jeb. The older man took his time getting around to his point. Even now, he rocked back on his bootheels as if it helped him order his words. “’Course, should you want to stay in Dahlia, I can think of a good reason.”
“What’s that?”
“Andrew Fisk has put the Speedway up for sale.”
Trey snorted, tossing his beer bottle in the garbage cans set aside for empties. “Like I can afford to buy that.”
“You can with a little help from Diamond Dutch Boyle.” Jeb pulled his right hand from his pocket and offered Trey an aged red velvet drawstring bag with the word “Hopscotch” in faded gold lettering across the front.
Trey hesitated. The bag was weighty, bulky, filled with what felt like marbles. Frowning, he opened it up and peered inside. Not marbles. Diamonds. Small, large, dozens, if not hundreds. “What the hell, Jeb?”
Jeb gave a brisk nod, went back to rocking on his heels. “I found ’em when I found the car. They were jammed in the casings of the Plymouth’s headlights.”
“You’ve had them all this time? And have never done anything with them?”
“Once in awhile I’ll head over to Knoxville, or ride up to Lexington, or even down to Huntsville and sell one if I’m running low on funds, but I’ve kept the biggest. Figured to put them to good use some day.”
“And buying the Dahlia Speedway is good use?”
“It is if it gives you and my granddaughter a way to make a living and a reason to stick around. Since they belonged to a gangster, I never saw the need to turn them over to their rightful owner. A law and order type might do just that, but I figure you using them to buy the Speedway works for the common good.”
Trey didn’t even know what to say. Since asking Cardin to marry him, he’d thought more than once about staying in Dahlia, settling down to raise a family where the two of them had grown up.
But giving up his crew chief position with the Corley team? Losing that connection to drag racing? Yet as owner of the Dahlia Speedway he wouldn’t have to lose the latter, and he could probably convince “Bad Dog” Butch to give the town a second chance.
“I’ll have to think about this. Talk to Cardin…” He tightened the bag’s drawstring, too stunned to finish the thought.
Jeb cleared his throat, his gaze cast down. “Did you do any thinking about what I told you the other day?”
Trey nodded. “I did.”
“And?”
It hadn’t been an easy decision to reach. Trey had turned over his options and weighed the possible outcomes more times than he could count. In the end, it had been Tater’s questions about justice and revenge that had made up his mind.
He didn’t want revenge, and justice wasn’t his to mete out. “I found what I came for, the cause of the fight. It’s not my place to turn you over to the authorities. The rights and wrongs here you’ll have to decide for yourself, and do what you need to accordingly.”
“Well, then,” Jeb said, taking a deep breath. “I’d best get this party started.” He brought a shaking hand down on Trey’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.” Trey bounced the bag on his palm before tucking it into his pocket, then headed for the tub of iced longnecks. He needed another beer, needed to talk to Cardin, and had just pried off the bottle cap when Jeb slashed his finger across his throat to stop the band.
The music wound down, and the crowd hushed, turning as one to face the stage. Jeb settled his hat before speaking, his gaze sweeping from one side of the ice house to the other. “Tonight was supposed to be about celebrating Whip Davis driving White Lightning to a win in the Moonshine Run. But we’ve got something even better to celebrate—”
“Since Whip didn’t win,” came a heckle from Artie Buell’s corner.
Jeb ignored the outburst. “Tonight, we celebrate the best news this old man has had in awhile. Whip, come on up here. And where’s Cardin? Eddie? You and Delta, too.”
The crowd applauded as Trey made his way to the stage, shaking Jeb’s hand but staying on the main floor and waiting for Cardin. She came behind her parents who were holding hands, peeking at him over her mother’s shoulder, and grinning.
Finally she was beside him, and he kept her there with an arm around her waist and a quick kiss she couldn’t escape. Tears welled in Delta’s eyes, and Eddie’s weren’t much drier. When Trey looked up at Jeb, he saw a man content at last, a feeling the two of them shared.
“For any of you dumb enough not to know why we’re really here, let me tell you. Whip Davis is engaged to marry my granddaughter Cardin.” Cheers rose from all corners, along with whistles, whoops, hoots and hollers.
It took Jeb a good three minutes to quiet the room. “I can’t think of a man I’d rather welcome to the family, or one better suited to being my grandson-in-law. Now, let’s do some dancing and some drinking and turn this shindig into a party worthy of Dahlia, Tennessee!”
The raucous cacophony started up before Jeb even got off the stage. The band began playing “I Fooled Around And Fell In Love,” the singer crooning how he’d gone through a million girls, but since meeting his baby, that love had him in its hold. For Trey, it sure as hell did, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Cardin looked stunning. Her hair was down from the ponytail she usually wore, her fringed bangs as dark and thick as her eyelashes. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her in a dress, and this one was pure temptation, her waist cinched in with what looked like a cummerbund between the beaded halter top and the skirt that flowed around her knees.
When she looped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his, he swore there hadn’t been a more perfect moment in his life. He didn’t even care how cheesy it sounded. He was a man in love.
“You clean up nice,” she told him, nuzzling his tie where it lay in the center of his chest.
He wanted to groan. So he did. “You clean up so nice, I can’t think of anything that’s not dirty.”
“Trey! We’re on a dance floor. In public. I’m not sure this is the time and place for dirty.”
“There’s a Dumpster out back.”
He wondered how fast they could get there. “If you keep up the teasing, I’m going to need the walk-in cooler.”
“We can’t do that,” she said, swaying with him side to side. “We’d melt everything.”
“I wasn’t going to take you with me.”
“Uh-huh.” She gave the reprimand with a laugh and a shake of her head. “From now on, you’ll be taking me everywhere you go.”
Now was as good a time as any…“What if we just stay here?”
“Dancing?”
“In Dahlia.”
She slowed, frowned, her dark brows coming down in a V. “What’re you talking about?”
They needed privacy for this conversation. “I’ll show you. If you show me.”
“Show you what?”
“Where the office with the locking door is.”
“We can’t…do that here. Not now. This is our party. People expect us to be here.”
“We’re not going to do that here. Now. We can do it here later, but this is something else.”
She gave in, letting him dance them to the corner nearest the service window. When the singer stopped to introduce the musicians behind him, Cardin grabbed Trey’s hand, and ducked into the hallway that ran between the kitchen and the restrooms, then through the office door.
She closed it, and leaned against it, breathing as if she’d just run a marathon. “Now, tell me what you’re talking about. Wouldn’t staying here keep you from working with Corley Motors? And wouldn’t that make ‘Bad Dog’…mad?”
Trey moved to stand between her and the desk. “Your grandfather told me that the Dahlia Speedway is up for sale.”
“And he’s going to buy it?”
This was where it got good. “He wants me to buy it.”
“You have that kind of money? I’m marrying a wealthy man?”
“You are now,” he said, and pulled the bag Jeb had given him from his pocket. “You know the speculation about how Diamond Dutch Boyle got his name?”