by Gina Wilkins
Wade, Digger, Jake and Ronnie ate together, their knees almost touching as they juggled plates in their lawn chairs and put away an impressive amount of food while carrying on a serious-looking conversation. No doubt talking about the race tomorrow, Lisa thought, sitting in a lawn chair next to Katie.
Other members of the two crews drifted by in clumps, talking, filling plates, then carrying them away to find a relatively quiet place to eat. There were other grills at the other haulers parked closely together in the area, and all of them were surrounded by people who were tired and hungry after a long day of preparations. Out in the infield, dozens of other grills and smokers were being put to use in the fan RV areas and the air was filled with the scents of cooking meat mingling with the other track aromas—beer, exhaust fumes, sweat and burned rubber being among those that Lisa could most easily identify.
She had noticed that the mood among the various crews seemed to be changing as race day drew closer. Expressions were more serious, conversations more intense. There was still a lot of joking and laughing, but there was no doubt that these people were here to do a job and that they took that job seriously.
Even between the Woodrow Racing teams, as friendly as they were, the spirit of competition was evident. Each team wanted a win, their eyes were on the points chase. They might be friends and coworkers out of their cars, but on the track and in the pits, they were fierce rivals and no one forgot that.
She found herself looking forward to the race more than she had even expected. It would have been difficult to hang around the track for this long without getting caught up in the spirit of the event. She was going to watch from the top of the hauler, and Wade had even promised to get her a headset so that she could hear what was being said between himself, Jake and the spotter during the race.
Her loyalties were a bit torn, actually. She had grown so fond of Katie and she knew her new friend hoped Ronnie would win. But Wade had been so generous in offering Lisa his motor home and his protection that she really wanted to see a win by the Number 82 car as a reward for Wade’s kindness. She hadn’t gotten as close to the members of the other two Woodrow teams, but she knew her father would be pleased by a win by any of his drivers.
She finished her ribs and delicately licked the sauce off her fingers, following the example of everyone around her. Finishing the cleanup job with a paper napkin, she glanced across the way and found Wade watching her. For some reason, he was scowling as though she’d done something to irritate him. She lifted her eyebrows at him in question, but he merely shook his head and turned back to listen to something Jake was saying.
“Lisa, did you hear me?”
Lisa turned to Katie. “I’m sorry, I guess I zoned out for a minute. What did you say?”
Looking rather knowingly from Lisa to Wade and back again, Katie repeated, “Do you want to join us for Bunko tonight? One of our usuals isn’t here this week and everyone said you’re welcome to fill in.”
“That’s very nice, but I don’t know how to play.”
With a dismissive wave of her hand, Katie assured her that didn’t matter. “It’s super easy. Hardly takes any skill at all. But the game doesn’t really matter. The point is just getting together and being silly and having a good time with the girls.”
All of which sounded so nice after the stress and anxiety of the past couple of weeks. “I’d love to join you, if no one minds.”
“Don’t be silly. We’re always on the lookout for fresh gossip. We’ll get you tipsy on cheap wine and then ask really inappropriate questions about your personal life. It’ll be fun.”
Though Lisa laughed, as Katie had intended, she made a vow to herself to go easy on the “cheap wine” that evening.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NEARLY EVERYONE KNEW ABOUT the weekly Bunko game Katie’s group of friends participated in. No men were allowed, so Wade couldn’t tell for sure what went on, but rumor had it that things got kind of wild. A bit too much wine, lots of risqué jokes, some cheerful male-bashing. All on the pretext of playing a game that apparently involved a lot of dice and few rules.
Wade didn’t blame Katie and her friends for needing a weekly retreat from the stress and testosterone of the racing circuit. While more women were becoming involved in the sport, there were still a lot more men than women behind the scenes. The wives and girlfriends sometimes felt neglected and superfluous, and he could certainly understand that. He was all for any activity that gave them a break from the relentless demands on their families’ time and energies.
Which didn’t mean he was entirely comfortable knowing Lisa was among them this evening. He tried to tell himself he was simply concerned for her safety, but he knew even as the excuse crossed his mind that it wouldn’t fly. She was safe enough with Katie. He just didn’t like the thought that the others might be grilling her about her former—and purported present—relationship with him.
He made a point to hang around the meeting room the women had reserved for their game when it was time for the party to break up. It was getting late and there were several things he could be attending to on the night before the race. He knew Jake was already in his motor home, resting and relaxing, getting focused and prepared for the early start to tomorrow’s grueling schedule. And yet he still managed to be on the spot when Lisa and Katie stepped outside together.
“Ladies,” he said, moving to stand in front of them.
They were smiling ear to ear, slightly flushed and disheveled. He noticed that Lisa had a tiny smudge of chocolate at the corner of her mouth and Katie had a smear of what might have been cheese dip on her blouse. Lisa’s eyes looked a little too bright, her steps just a little unsteady, giving him a clue to what had gone on during the game party.
Their smiles froze a bit when he appeared, and to his suspicious eyes they looked oddly guilty for a moment. He couldn’t help wondering if they had talked about him at some point during the evening. Or was he just being paranoid?
“Have a good time?” he asked in what could only be described as a drawl, even by him.
They exchanged quick glances before Katie replied, “We had a very nice time.”
“Lovely time,” Lisa echoed.
Katie nodded vigorously. “Great game.”
“Fun game,” Lisa agreed.
“Good food.”
“Great food.”
“And maybe a little booze?” Wade inquired politely.
“Just a little wine,” Lisa said, sounding defensive.
“Not for me, of course,” Katie said with a shrug. “I drank sparkling grape juice. And Lisa just had enough wine to let her relax a little.”
“I wasn’t criticizing. Just asking.”
“So why are you here, Wade?” Katie asked. “Were you looking for Lisa?”
“I thought I could escort you both back to the motor homes. Since it’s so late,” he added awkwardly.
Both Katie and Lisa looked surprised. He wasn’t sure why. Lisa, especially, should understand why he would be concerned about her.
Though they were in an area restricted to racing insiders, they could hear the bursts of noise coming from the infield parking area crammed with so many motor homes and fans on hand for the next day’s race. Despite the security of the track, he couldn’t help but be concerned that it would be possible for someone who didn’t belong to somehow slip in among the crowds.
It would be even more of a concern the next day, when thousands more spectators would arrive, filling the hundred-thousand-plus seats. He intended to make sure that he knew where Lisa was every minute tomorrow, though he was going to try his hardest to keep his concern for her from interfering with his work.
Because that sounded so improbable even to him, he decided to forget about tomorrow for now and concentrate on seeing Lisa safely to the motor home.
He escorted both women through the maze of coaches that served as a mobile community for the racing families, dropping Katie off at her home first. The lights were on inside and th
ey could hear the TV playing as Ronnie relaxed for tomorrow’s events. Watching Katie go inside after exchanging warm good-nights with Lisa, Wade knew she would be happily welcomed by her adoring husband.
He hoped Ronnie performed well tomorrow. Though not quite as well as Jake, of course.
“Every time we do this I feel guilty,” Lisa murmured when Wade keyed in the security code to his motor home. “I should have stayed in a motel.”
Wade sighed and shook his head. “How many times are we going to have this conversation? I’m fine bunking on Jake’s couch for a couple of nights. He doesn’t mind, and I’m not there that long, anyway. I’m usually up and out by five every morning.”
“But—”
“Lisa,” he interrupted firmly, “drop it, okay?”
She frowned, but complied.
Opening the door for her, he said, “I need to come inside to grab a few things out of my closet. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”
“Sure.” She moved up the steps as she spoke, stumbling a little on the top riser.
Wade caught her arm. “You okay?”
“Of course,” she said with an embarrassed laugh. “I guess I shouldn’t try talking and walking at the same time.”
“Not after being plied with wine by Katie’s Bunko group,” Wade agreed, tongue-in-cheek.
Lisa glared at him and dropped onto the couch. “Don’t let me stop you from getting what you need,” she said pointedly.
Chuckling, he moved into the bedroom and opened the door to the walk-in closet. It was a bit jarring to see Lisa’s clothes hanging in there beside his own. There was something unsettlingly intimate about the sight of her shirt nestled up to one of his.
Calling himself an idiot, he grabbed items with more haste than planning, stuffing them into a tote bag and hoping he had everything he would need the next day. Walking out of the closet, he found himself looking directly at the big bed that dominated the bedroom.
It wasn’t hard to picture two heads snuggled cozily into his thick, comfy pillows, a mental image that had probably been suggested by seeing those two shirts in his closet. Whatever had inspired the thought, it ade him scowl as he rejoined Lisa, firmly closing the bedroom door behind him.
She was still sitting on the couch where he’d left her. Leaning back into the cushions, she had her eyes closed. A half-smile tilted the corners of her unpainted lips. He stopped in his tracks, unable to look away from her sweetly contented face.
He had never forgotten how beautiful she was, but he’d learned long ago how to block the memories from his mind when they’d crept up to haunt him. He wondered how long it was going to take him after this to learn to do so again.
She opened her eyes and smiled sleepily up at him. “Find everything you need?”
A whole list of inappropriate responses scrolled through his mind before he said lamely, “Uh. Yeah.”
When he didn’t immediately move toward the door, she lifted an eyebrow. “Was there something else?”
Nothing more than his intense reluctance to leave, he admitted silently. He really should be on his way, before he did something stupid. Such as…
“You have chocolate on your face.”
“Really?” She lifted a hand to the wrong side, scrubbing futilely at her cheek.
“No.” He took a step toward her, setting his tote bag on the coffee table. “It’s here.”
She went very still as he leaned over her, lightly rubbing his fingertip next to the left corner of her mouth. Her skin was so soft. A little warmer than usual, whether because of the wine or the flush that now colored her cheeks, he couldn’t say.
The lipstick she’d worn earlier had all worn off, leaving her mouth bare and vulnerable, her lips showing a tendency to quiver in response to his touch. Which, of course, made it impossible to resist running his fingertip across them again.
“Wade,” she murmured, her lips moving against his skin.
He swallowed a groan, telling himself to get out of there now. Before he did something even more foolish. Such as…
He lowered his mouth to hers.
MAYBE LISA HAD BEEN just a bit tipsy when she’d left the Bunko party, but she sobered up abruptly the moment Wade’s lips touched hers. This was not a good idea, she told herself firmly—even as she reached out to grab his shirt collar with both hands.
Almost six years had passed since they had last kissed. And yet when it came to this, nothing seemed to have changed. His slightest touch could still make her tremble with excitement and hunger. His kiss still had the power to make her forget every stern warning she had ever given herself about him. Every attempt she had made to stop loving him.
Loving him? She drew back with a sudden gasp, breaking the contact between them. “Wade—”
He straightened immediately. “Sorry. I’ve never been able to resist the taste of chocolate.”
The joking comment didn’t match the almost grim expression in his eyes, but she was grateful for the lifeline he threw her as she floundered. “Yeah, well, find your own dessert,” she said, forcing a short laugh.
He didn’t smile, but he turned toward the door, snatching up his tote bag on the way past. “I’ll send someone to get you in the morning,” he said. “We’ll have lunch at the hauler, then you can watch the race from the top. I don’t want you alone at any point tomorrow.”
She was too tired and bemused to even bristle at his bossy tone. She figured she would do what felt right the next day without necessarily consulting Wade about it. But there was no need to argue about it tonight.
It was much better if he simply left—despite some recalcitrant and utterly foolish part of her that wanted him not to go at all.
LISA HADN’T FULLY realized how many responsibilities a team had on the day of a race. Especially the driver and crew chief, who had to deal with the fans and media in addition to all of their other responsibilities. Jake and Wade seemed to go from one interview or sponsored appearance to the next, answering the same questions over and over, signing a hand-cramping number of autographs—Jake more than Wade, in that case—posing for pictures and still somehow attending to the business of racing.
From a safe distance, but always surrounded by members of the team, she watched the proceedings, fascinated by the activities and rituals. She attended the nondenominational worship service for the racing families, listened in at the drivers’ meeting in which NASCAR officials reminded everyone of the rules and regulations for the race and watched as fans vied for attention from their favorite drivers.
There was even a small grandstand between the garages and pit road where fans with pit passes could wait for drivers to walk by and then hand items such as hats, shirts and photographs through holes in the fence for autographs. The drivers seemed to accept that avid gauntlet as part of the day’s program, graciously pausing every few steps to scrawl their names on whatever was offered to them.
In the grandstands, at the many concessions and souvenir stands and on the tops of buses and motor homes in the infield, the tens of thousands of fans were pumped and ready for the day’s event. They were loud, excited, enthusiastic in their cheers and jeers when the racers were announced. Lisa still found it disconcerting to hear the boos—it seemed so rude—but it was all part of the sport, and the drivers seemed to view it as such.
She could certainly see the appeal of those drivers in their colorful firesuits, their helmets tucked beneath their arms as they swaggered to their cars. No women driving this time, she noted with a sigh, but she had spotted a few in the garage. Progress was made a few steps—or, in this case, laps—at a time.
It was an impressive sight to see all the teams in their matching uniforms lined up for the invocation and the national anthem. A lump actually formed in her throat when the Air Force jets did their noisy flyby overhead. The lump grew larger when she saw Wade in his purple and silver uniform and sporty sunglasses, headset in place, a look of intense concentration on his good-looking face.
F
orget the drivers, she thought with a sigh. She seemed to have a thing for crew chiefs—one, in particular.
Wade would work from his seat on top of the pit box, where he could see everything that went on in the pit and had access to a computer for figuring everything from lap times to gas mileage. She hadn’t expected to sit close to him during the race; that would be too distracting for him. At least, she wanted to think so.
“Miz Woodrow?” A tall, painfully thin man swathed in team colors approached her with a headset as she sat on top of the hauler in a chair topped by an umbrella to protect her from the sun. “Ice wanted me to make sure you had these so you could hear the action. He told me to make sure they’re working okay and to tell you, er, not to leave the hauler unless someone goes with you.
“Don’t know why,” he added in a mutter, “It ain’t like the track’s a dangerous place to be.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “Wade has a slight tendency to be overcontrolling. And overprotective.”
The man, whose name tag read J.R., nodded energetically. “Comes from being the boss of so many people, I guess. There’s, like, fifty people who answer to him. Got a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. Good man, though,” he added. “I think the world of him.”
Sliding her headset into place, Lisa murmured, “So do I, actually. Thank you, J.R., I’ll be fine now if you need to get back to work.”
“You just give a signal if you need anything, you hear? If you get too hot out here, you can watch the race on the plasma screen in the hauler lounge. And if you get hungry, there’s soft drinks and snacks in the kitchen. I’ll bring something up for you or you can just go down and help yourself—long as you don’t wander off too far and get Wade all nervous.”
The grin he gave her as he added the condition was one she couldn’t help returning.
She had dressed coolly enough for the heat, and the umbrella over her chair provided her with enough shade for comfort, so she chose to watch from where she was for now. The transporter was a huge, two-level semitrailer that carried both the primary and back-up cars to the racetracks on the top level. The pneumatic lift for the vehicles remained up during the races to provide an awning for the opening to the back of the hauler.