Wish List: City Love 4

by Belinda Williams

  “So? You’re faster than me?” Christa joked.

  “Hopefully,” Scarlett said, “or it’s going to be very boring to watch.”

  “I’m not crashing to improve your spectator experience,” I told her.

  “You’re no fun.”

  “Where are the others?” I asked.

  “Maddy, Paul and Ava went for a walk. Apparently Ava liked the cars so much they wanted to take her to get a closer look,” said Christa.

  “And John’s buying me a coffee,” added Scarlett, “but I think he’ll probably go see a few of the cars while he’s down there.”

  We sat up on the hill in the sun watching the group of cars race around the track. Some of them were awe-inspiring for a novice like me. They raced toward corners like they’d barely noticed there was a bend in the road, and then at the last second they’d brake hard and careen around the corner.

  Brake hard.

  The instructor’s voice echoed in my head. A couple of weeks ago I’d taken a week off work and paid a professional to coach me. It had proved a good distraction after the confrontation with Dave. I was pretty sure it had improved my driving skills as well, but the main thing it had given me was confidence. Not the cocky sort. The instructor had warned against that and mentioned the red haze like Dave had. No, the sort of confidence I’d learned was the faith to trust the car, to push my limits gently and to just get out there and have fun.

  “Isn’t that your group they’re calling?” Christa asked.

  I nodded. The constant sound of the tinny loudspeaker was another feature of the track days. I stood up and picked up my helmet. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “Go girl!” Christa cried.

  “It’s not a race,” I reminded her.

  “But you’re racing against yourself, aren’t you? Go beat your time then!”

  I smiled and headed back down the hill toward the pit area. It was a hive of activity. Drivers hopping in and out of cars, people conducting safety checks and others milling around talking. It was like the car engines were having a conversation too. Some hummed low and steady, while others whined shrilly as they shot past on the main straight.

  I walked over to Max who had just parked Swift.

  “How’d you go?” I asked.

  He took his helmet off and ran a hand through his crushed dark brown hair. “Not sure yet. I’ll have to go check my times. Not as fast as I’d go in the Porsche obviously, but she’s still quick. And a lot of fun. Thanks for letting me have a go of her today.”

  “My pleasure. I think Swift probably trusts you more than me, if we’re being honest. You’re the more experienced driver.”

  Max extracted his long legs from the driver’s seat and stood with the door open waiting for me to get in. He cut a fine form in his red driving suit and I’d noticed Christa appreciating the outfit earlier.

  “She’s a great car to learn in,” Max said, as I lowered myself into the seat. “She’s quick but not too quick, and very responsive.”

  “Let’s just hope she’ll be responsive if I make a mistake,” I muttered.

  “She will be, and remember what I told you? If you go into a spin, don’t try to save it. Not yet. The best thing to do is to hit the brakes and she’ll come to a stop. I promise. Works every time.”

  “Been in a few spins, have you?” I teased.

  He grinned. “One or two.”

  The loudspeaker rang out again and I reached over and grabbed my helmet. One couldn’t be too precious about hair on days like these. Or make up. I’d opted for some mascara and lip gloss but that was the extent of it. Helmets got hot and sweaty from the confined breathing. It wasn’t exactly pleasant but the thrill of driving made up for it.

  I started the engine and waved at Max, then made my way to the line of cars waiting in the pit lane. The official volunteers would let a car go every minute or so, neatly spacing us out so there wasn’t too much risk.

  When I reached the front of the line I felt the familiar signs. Heart beating faster, palms going sweaty and shoulders tense. Unlike a panic attack though, this surge of adrenaline was a buzz. It was preparing me for what I was about to do out on the track, and provided I could keep calm, the buzz would keep me alert.

  I blipped the accelerator while I waited and then it was my turn. I worked my way neatly up through the gears as I headed out onto the track, then reversed the procedure when I arrived at the first corner.

  When I’d first driven around the track I’d been surprised at the force pushing against my body like a pair of invisible hands holding me down. Especially around corners. Sometimes it felt like you were actually wrestling the car through a bend.

  I made my way around the first lap of the track without incident and steeled myself for the last corner before the main straight. It was the sort of bend you could go too fast into and I was ultra conservative about slowing down for it. If you misjudged your speed, there was a conveniently placed wall just as you came out of the corner, which Swift and I were eager to avoid.

  I cruised around the bend, probably looking like a grandmother out for a Sunday drive, but I didn’t care. The line felt good and smooth and that’s what I was aiming for more right now: smooth rather than speed. I did enjoy the thrill that rushed through me as I accelerated along the main straight, pushing Swift to stretch her legs – tires, whatever – because it felt damn good. I glanced down at the speedometer just as I reached the point where I’d need to start braking again. One hundred and sixty kilometers an hour. I bit down on a girly squeal. I allowed myself a quiet ‘woo hoo’ instead, which was muffled by my helmet anyway.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the flash of spectators as I sped by. Christa had come down to stand with Max and was jumping up and down for me. I grinned into my helmet and saw her turn to someone on her other side before she was out of my vision.

  I gripped the steering wheel tighter. No. It couldn’t be. I thought I’d glimpsed, almost a head shorter than Max’s tall frame, a black cap and beneath that, golden hair shining in the sun.

  “Crap,” I whispered. I had to be losing it. I grimaced as I came to the end of the straight too quick. My braking techniques got a workout as I braked hard and somehow still managed to make my way around the corner.

  Heart thudding in my chest, I tried to ignore the growing dampness beneath my driving suit and the feeling of sweat trickling between my breasts. Just focus, Cate, that’s all you need to do. Overactive imagination or not, now wasn’t the time to worry about who had been standing beside Christa and Max in the pit area.

  By the time I made my way back to ‘old lady’ corner as I’d named it, my concentration had returned. Once again Swift and I lived to tell the tale on account of my grandmotherly driving techniques, so we let loose on the straight again to make up for it.

  As I whizzed past the pits, I stole a glance toward Christa and Max, convinced I had been imagining things. No such luck. I resisted the urge to hit the brakes hard right there and then on the main straight.

  “Son of a bitch,” I breathed, because my new potty mouth was more active when I was alone. It was him alright. No mistaking the broad shoulders and powerful forearms crossed over that sturdy, reliable chest of his. A chest I did not need to be thinking about in the slightest as I sped by at over a hundred and fifty kilometers.

  By the time I reached the first corner again, a surge of anger tensed my shoulders and my line wasn’t as smooth as I would have liked.

  “Bloody hell!” He had no right to come here, I ranted silently. This was my special time where I got to prove to myself that I was capable of great things, and I didn’t need him watching on. Why hadn’t he moved yet anyway? It had been almost three weeks since I’d last seen him. He should have been setting up house in some distant place, far, far, far away from here.

  A low growl emerged from my throat as I wove around more corners in the middle of the track. It only registered after I was through them that the squealing tire noise had come fro
m me.

  So be it, I thought. I’d show him.

  I manhandled Swift through the remaining half of the track. She accepted it with good grace and if I hadn’t been quite so pissed off, I might have patted her in thanks.

  But yeah, I was pissed. Who did he think he was? First he leaves me without a word and now he decides to just drop by for a catch up? In the middle of my track day? Dickhead. Stupid, muscled, golden-eyed dickhead.

  I realized too late that old lady corner was approaching too fast.

  “Shit,” I hissed, and did something fancy with my feet and hands in an attempt to slow down. I was proud of myself. The response had been intuitive, and I was in second gear like I should be for the corner.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Swift’s tires cried out in protest as I turned the wheel too hard, too fast, and much, much too late. We went into a spin. A nauseating, dizzying spin. Round and round and I tried to hold onto the steering wheel but it was spinning too and everything was happening fast, so fast.

  “Oh my God.”

  The wall. It was right in front of me. How could a simple, black wall appear so menacing? Distantly, I already understood. We were going to hit it. I would plow into the wall and end up in a twisted, metal wreck. It was only seconds away, or probably more like milliseconds, and I felt a pang of sadness at Swift’s inevitable demise. It was stupid, but I really did love this car.

  Don’t try and save it. Hit the brakes.

  Max’s words sprang from somewhere deep within. So I did. I stood on the brakes. Hard. So hard I winced when my foot hit the floor. It was too late. It had to be too late.

  I didn’t try to steer. I just watched as the wall came toward me with sickening speed, my right foot pressed down so hard on the brake my whole leg was stiff with the effort of it.

  I closed my eyes.

  Chapter 42

  “Cate! Cate!”

  Christa’s panicked shout was the first sign I was alive.

  I opened my eyes tentatively. My hands were still gripping the steering wheel and my knuckles were white. Oh, and breathing might be good too. I inhaled a shaky breath. OK, lungs were functioning, that was promising.

  Slowly, I took in my surroundings. I heard a car brake for the corner behind me, and then weave past. Oh. I must be in their way.

  I blinked. Hello, wall. I was less than a foot away if I was lucky. And I was lucky. So, so lucky.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed. It felt good to hear my voice. “Oh my God,” I said again, because what else did a person say in this situation?

  “Hey!”

  I turned toward the sound of a rather irate voice. Dave had hopped the fence. He jogged along the track toward me with an official following not too far behind on the other side of the fence.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you crazy?” the official called.

  Dave ignored him and kept right on jogging. When he reached me, he jumped into the passenger seat Dukes of Hazzard style. “Can you drive?”

  Well, that was debatable, given my close encounter with the wall but I wasn’t going to get into that now. I eyed him warily. “What are you doing here?”

  “No time for that. Can you put your foot on the clutch?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. I didn’t like what he was implying. I may have just almost hit the wall but I wasn’t a complete idiot. “I could put my foot in your crotch if you like?” I suggested.

  A slow smile spread across his face and I looked away. God, that was supposed to insult him, not amuse him. Or turn me on.

  Hands shaking with shock, fury – weren’t they the same thing? – I knocked it into gear. I waited until it was safe and then drove slowly and responsibly back into the pits. I parked and killed the engine.

  “That was a pretty hot lap until you almost hit the wall,” he said.

  “Answer my question, Dave.” The helmet muffled the tension in my voice.

  “Christa and Max invited me.” He didn’t look at me.

  I was going to kill them, but it would have to wait until I was through with Dave first.

  “So what? You thought you’d make one last social call before you left town forever?”

  My accusation was met with silence. What a surprise. I narrowed my eyes at him through my visor. He was reclined comfortably in the passenger seat, his left arm propped casually on the doorframe. And he still wasn’t damn well looking at me.

  “Aargh!” I howled, adrenaline demanding that I do something – anything. I ripped my seatbelt off and struggled to open the door. When I was out, I slammed it hard – too hard, sorry Swift – and stormed away from him. Even now he couldn’t talk to me, could he?

  “Cate! Wait!”

  He jogged to my side but I ignored him and kept marching toward the hill where Scarlett and my other friends were sitting.

  “Cate, please.” He reached over and grabbed my arm.

  I spun around to face him and shoved him. “Don’t! Just don’t, OK? Why are you even here?” The only positive about losing it with a helmet on was that Dave was probably the only one who could hear me.

  This time he looked at me, right in the eye. Oh my God. Maybe it was better if he didn’t. It hurt too much.

  “I came to apologize.”

  “A bit late!”

  He frowned. “What? I can’t hear you. Can you take your helmet off?”

  I fumbled with the clasp and then pushed it up over my head, dropping it at my feet like a recalcitrant child. “It’s a bit late!” I shouted.

  People nearby stopped to look at us and I reddened, not that it mattered because my face would already be an attractive shade of pink after being stuffed into the helmet.

  Dave shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “You wouldn’t let me get a word in last time,” he said quietly.

  “That was almost three weeks ago!”

  He didn’t say anything, just stood there waiting.

  So what? He was finally going to talk now? I’d believe it when I heard it. “Alright then. Shoot.”

  He nodded slowly, as if he’d been expecting me to put up more of a fight. “I fucked up, Cate, and I’m sorry.”

  Understatement, much? “So what? That just makes it all better then?”

  He chewed on his lip for a moment then let out a sigh. “Probably not, but you still needed to hear it.”

  He was right. I had needed to hear it, but I was good now. I bent down and picked up my helmet, then started walking again.

  “Cate!”

  I detected a definite note of frustration in his tone. Poor baby. I frowned at myself. God, when had I become so, so … unpleasant?

  I stopped, my boots skidding on the gravel. I spun around to face him again. I pointed at him. “You.”

  “What?”

  “You did this!”

  “I’m not sure I understand.” Genuine confusion creased his annoyingly handsome features.

  “It’s all your fault,” I breathed.

  “I thought I just said I was sorry?”

  I shook my head. “Not for this you didn’t.”

  “What else have I done, Cate? Can you please enlighten me?”

  I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “You turned me into …” I waved a hand up and down my body. “This!”

  “I’m not sure I see the problem.” His eyes lingered on my curves and the swell of my breasts beneath the driving suit.

  Damn him. And damn my traitorous body. “I survived my entire childhood and still came out of it nice,” I said. “But after a few months of you, I’m not so nice anymore. Am I?”

  “Cate, I—”

  I took a step toward him so I was right up in his face. That shut him up. “I stood up to your father. I stood up to my boss,” I said in disbelief. “I told you where to go, which by the way, why haven’t you?” I held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “Forget I asked that. And now I’m driving around a racetrack in my brand new sports car. Good God, what have you done to me?”
>
  There was that grin again, slow and lazy. He shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yes, you did!” I used both hands to push against his chest, because I was still angry with him. Bad idea.

  He covered my hands with his, trapping me. The feeling of his hard chest under the thin material of his t-shirt enraged me further.

  “Let go.”

  “No. Not a chance. Now will you let me get a goddamn word in, woman?”

  I scowled and struggled against his hands.

  “Cate? I love you.”

  I didn’t want to hear this. Not now. Not now that I had finally turned a corner and felt more confident in myself and was ready to let go of the past. I tried in earnest to pull away, but Dave was having none of it.

  “No, you don’t. You heard me. More fool me for not having the balls to tell you sooner. I was an idiot. On so many levels.”

  “Well, I can agree—”

  “Shut up. My turn. I love you, Cate Harmon. So much it hurts. Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you go through all that shit with your father? To see your face when you saw your brother again? And that other bastard? You looked like you were living a waking nightmare. It killed me.”

  “You punched him,” I interrupted. “Surely that helped?”

  “Murder wouldn’t be good enough for that scum,” he spat, then inhaled a deep breath like he was trying to control himself. He gripped my hands tighter. “It killed me that you put yourself through going there again. Out of some sense of duty that shouldn’t exist because they don’t deserve so much as a single thought from you after the way they treated you. But I got it. Because of my father. And isn’t that just another waking nightmare?”

  His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “And you stood up to him. You knew him for what? Two minutes? And you had him picked. See that’s when I realized, Cate. We do have a lot in common. You’re pleasant – up until a point. And I’m relaxed – up until a point. You haven’t lost your sweetness, sugar, you’ll never lose that. I promise you. That’s etched into your soul and it’s why I love you.”

  I swallowed, and bit down on my lips because I didn’t trust myself to speak. And when exactly had I started to grip his hands back?