by Lacey Black
The guys take off a little later, leaving just Mack, Oliver, and me. The baby is in the swing again, which might be his favorite place to be, besides in our arms. Mack comes down the stairs in a pair of shorts and clean T-shirt. “Wanna go for a walk?”
“Sure,” I reply, hopping up and going to grab the small bag I use for carrying an emergency stash of Oliver’s needs on our walks. I grab my camera too, my trusty old Nikon, and slip the strap around my neck. By the time I’m out front, Mack has Oliver in the stroller and they’re ready to go.
We walk through the neighborhood, waving at an older couple who lives three houses down. I keep glancing at Mack, at the powerful forearms pushing the stroller and his incredibly toned and tanned legs. My foot catches on a crack in the sidewalk, almost causing me to take a tumble. I blush a horrible shade of red when my eyes meet Mack’s. He knows my attention was not in front of me, but to the side. To the sexy man pushing a baby stroller down the sidewalk.
I lift my camera up, snapping picture after picture of Oliver and Mack together. I make sure to take a few of the landscaping around us so it doesn’t appear I’m just photographing the hot dad and his baby, but I’m pretty sure he’s on to my game.
When we reach home—his home—we work together to bathe and play with Oliver. We watch television and snuggle on the couch until it’s time for the little one’s last bottle before bedtime. Mack rocks him to sleep in the chair, and I capture it all on film. These are memories I’m probably going to look back on whenever I start to feel lonely.
There’s no doubt about it: the loneliness is coming.
The moment I get home.
After we each shower and prepare for bed, we curl up together, as we’ve done these last few nights. Mack is sleeping before me, his soft snore filling the bedroom. My heart is breaking as the minutes tick by, slowly leading us to the end.
It’s a sadness I’m not sure I’ll ever overcome.
***
I hate her.
I know that’s wrong on so many levels, but only three minutes after meeting Alison Norris, I’m leaning toward a strong dislike.
No, there’s nothing wrong with her, per se. Her resume is flawless. She wears a bright, eager smile, and coos at Oliver as if he hung the moon, without getting into that baby-talk bullshit. She’s professional and gives off a Mary Poppins vibe almost immediately.
She’d be perfect.
For Oliver.
For Mack.
And that’s why I hate her.
“So, just to confirm, you don’t mind the travel, and the thought of sleeping in a bunk in a camper doesn’t freak you out?”
Alison giggles, but not in that annoying way. Dammit. “My family used to camp every summer four to five times a year, and I shared a single cabin tent with three siblings. I’m not worried about that. And you said I have a little privacy in the bunk, which is nice. I don’t want to impede on Mack or his alone time with Oliver,” she insists.
I look back down at the résumé in my hand, though I’ve already been over it a million times. I called her references over the weekend, and they all gave glowing reviews, especially the family she took care of all last year until they relocated out of state. A lump forms in my throat with realization this is the right step for Oliver.
“Well, if you have a little bit of time, I’d like you to meet Mack. He’s in the garage shop.”
“I’d appreciate the opportunity to meet with him. He can ask me any questions he wants,” Alison replies, standing up from the couch and smoothing out invisible wrinkles in her knee-length skirt.
I scoop Oliver up out of the swing and head for the back door. Alison is behind me and smiles up at the sun when we step outside. I lead her to the large garage, the shop out back. Mack is wearing a pair of well-worn jeans that hug his ass beautifully, but when I look back at Alison, she doesn’t seem to notice.
Huh.
Maybe she’s okay after all.
We step through the open door, a classic country radio station playing from the stereo on the bench. Mack is leaning over his old truck engine, tinkering with something. “Hey, Mack?”
When his eyes meet mine, they brighten with his smile. He glances to my side and sees Alison, his grin faltering just a bit. “Oh, hey,” he says, grabbing a rag and wiping off his hands.
“This is Alison Norris,” I say cheerfully, my own cheeks starting to hurt from my too-wide grin. “Alison, this is Mack Cruz.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cruz,” Alison says, stepping forward and extending her hand. There’s not an ounce of flirting in her voice, which I find odd. I mean, I’ve seen grown, married women drool and practically pass out at the opportunity to meet him, so that’s why her response is so strange.
Professional.
“Likewise, and it’s Mack,” he says, placing his hand in hers and giving it a gentle shake. He slips a quick look my way. “How’d it go?”
“Very well. Alison comes highly recommended,” I tell him, the burn of what I’m about to say moving up my throat like acid. “I think she’d make a wonderful nanny for Oliver.”
I want to cry.
“Really?” Alison asks, overcome with elation. “I’m so honored you’d choose me. I know the agency has a ton of qualified individuals. I’m grateful to have this opportunity,” she says to me, reaching out her manicured hand. When I place my palm against hers and glance down, I see a smear of grease on her thumb.
The sight sends that acid back down my throat, settling in my stomach like a pit of lava.
“Mack can discuss the terms of your employment with you,” I find myself saying, as if on autopilot. I end up walking away, taking Oliver back outside. The sky is overcast, a gray haze of humidity and warmth, much like my sudden mood.
Eventually, when they step out of the garage, Alison’s laughter fills the air like nails on a chalkboard as she listens to whatever Mack is saying. They shake hands and part ways, her heading back toward me. “He’s so great,” she says when she reaches my side.
Swallowing I reply, “He is.”
“I’m so anxious to start. The agency will send over the paperwork tomorrow via email. He invited me to come along with you to this weekend’s race.”
“He did?” I ask, my heart leaping into my throat.
She nods. “Mack said no better time to get started than right now.”
“That’s true,” I whisper.
If Alison can sense my heartache, she doesn’t let on. She just beams her bright, white smile at me and sticks out her finger for Oliver to grab onto and adds, “I’ll see you Thursday morning. The motorhome leaves at six.” She squeals. “I’m so excited to start. It’s going to be a long drive. See you Thursday morning!” she adds before turning and waving goodbye.
“Thursday morning,” I mirror.
I can sense his presence behind me as I watch her walk around the house to her car. I have exactly two point five seconds to get my emotions under control to face him. I mean, I’m the one leaving, right? I have no right to feel this utter sorrow when I’m the one initiating the departure. That’s why I swallow back my sadness and paste on a bright smile before I turn to face him. “She’s great, isn’t she?”
He nods slowly. “She seems that way.”
“And you invited her to come with us this weekend,” I add with way too much chipper in my voice to be natural.
Again, he moves his head up and down. “It’ll be a long weekend. What better time to get her accustomed to life on the road than with a twenty-hour trip to Texas, right?”
Now it’s my turn to nod. “It’ll make our sleeping arrangements interesting,” I tease, as he approaches.
His eyes are on his son as he places his finger inside the tiny fist. “No, that’ll be easy.” He looks up, our gazes lock. “You’ll be sleeping with me.”
Tears burn my eyes as I give him a watery grin. “Okay.”
Mack wraps his strong, muscular arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. “If it’s the last time
I get to hold you, I’m not missing any opportunity.”
And just like that, my spirits soar and sink simultaneously.
It’s a vicious cycle I’m trapped in, but I know he’s right. I have one weekend left with them. I’m going to make our time count.
Chapter Eighteen
Mack
It’s like I’m trapped in some alternate universe. I’m in my motorhome with Coop, talking about our strategy for Sunday, all while Lena and Alison are sitting on the small couch, playing with Oliver, just a few feet away.
“You with me?” he whispers beside me at the small table, his eyes full of concern.
“Yeah,” I reply, adjusting my position in the seat. “I’m good.”
Coop sighs. “Mack, I know you have a lot going on in your life right now, but I need to make sure you’re focused and ready for Sunday. We can’t have your mind elsewhere, or you know what could happen.”
Yeah, I know what could happen, and when you’re traveling at speeds of more than two hundred miles per hour, the last thing a driver can afford is a distraction. “I’m ready, Coop,” I promise, trying to push Lena and the fact she’s leaving in four days out of my mind.
I can tell he may not believe me, but he nods just the same. “We’ve got to watch Daniels. He did a radio interview last week and is still blaming you for the near accident on the final lap at Portland.” I open my mouth to respond, but he holds up a hand, cutting me off. “I know you didn’t do anything wrong. We’ve been over those tapes. He moved up, not you. But I don’t trust him. If he has an opportunity to, I’m afraid he’ll retaliate.”
“He’s too close to the championship, Coop. Do you think he’d really try to fuck that up?”
Coop shrugs. “I’ve seen people do unbelievably stupid things when they feel provoked.”
Sighing, I lean back against the bench seat. “So watch my ass, right?”
“Definitely watch your tail. I’ve already talked to Fish about keeping him in his sights.”
I shake my head in response. “This is bullshit,” I mumble, running my hand through my hair in frustration.
“Yep, but you know how it is. If you’re in this game long enough, you make enemies. Apparently, you’ve pissed off Daniels without even trying. Shake it off and do your thing. Let us worry about him if we need to.”
“Ten-four, Coop,” I reply, as Oliver hollers behind me. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change my son’s shitty diaper and get him ready for lunch.”
Lena is holding him as he starts to twist and turn, a sure sign he’s about done with the niceties. I scoop him up, pretending not to notice when I slide the back of my hand across her chest, and pull him to my front. “Come with me?” I ask before heading back to my bedroom.
I set Oliver on the bed, which only pisses him off more. When the boy wants his butt changed and his food, he wants it now. He doesn’t like to wait, especially now. Lena grabs the clean diaper and wipes, tossing them on the bed beside me, as I start to remove his shorts and onesie top. “Pewwww, smelly boy.” I gag as I expose his ass to see the nice little treat he’s left me.
“I’ll make a bottle,” Lena says before disappearing from the room.
I get Oliver’s pants changed, which pleases him immensely, and join him on the bed. I prop him on my upper arm to elevate his head and snuggle up on my side. Lena returns a few moments later and hands me the formula. His mouth is already open like a baby bird as soon as he sees it and latches on immediately once I place the nipple at his lips.
“Someone is hungry,” she whispers, crawling onto the bed.
“Lie with us?”
She’s smiling as she sprawls out next to me on her side. Oliver’s little hand wraps around her finger and his eyes continually glance her way, as if making sure she’s still there. My heart literally soars to the clouds yet crashes to the ground and breaks. He loves her as much as I do, and even though he won’t remember her when he’s older, he’ll feel the loss of her presence as soon as she’s gone too.
Our gazes are locked as my son eats between us, his eyes growing heavier with each passing second. A whole conversation is had between us without even speaking a word. I see everything pass through those gorgeous green eyes. Sadness, longing, passion, and love. No, it’s not something either of us have spoken, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. It’s very much present, alive and breathing between us, and it’ll continue to be there despite the distance. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last six weeks, no quantity of miles, no amount of time, diminished the love I have felt for her.
Will always feel for her.
When the bottle is empty, I burp my son and lie him back between us. When she places her hand on his abdomen, I cover hers with mine, entwining our fingers together. A single tear slides from her eye and disappears into her hair. It’s followed by more, and I hate it so much I literally feel agony squeezing my chest.
“Stay,” I whisper. I hate the desperation I hear in that single word, hate the pain I see flash in her eyes.
Even more, I hate the refusal that’s about to fall from her lips.
“I wish I could,” she cries.
I remove my hand from hers and set it on her cheek, wiping away the wetness. “I know, Lean. I know.”
I do know. I know things may have been different for us if I hadn’t pursued a career in professional racing. If I had just stayed behind and not followed my dreams.
But I also know she would never have let that happen. She loved me too much to let me stay.
So, as the weight of our emotions settles over us and our own eyes start to droop, I hold her hand again as if it were somehow the anchor that keeps us from drifting apart. With my son peacefully unaware of the horrible pain I feel beside him, I let myself fall into a fitful slumber.
***
I can feel eyes on me before I’ve cracked mine open. I lie perfectly still, instantly knowing Oliver isn’t awake yet, and that means it can only be one person. My Lena.
I’m already smiling as my eyes open, but it takes a second to register the fact hers are closed. Yet, I can still feel someone watching me. I continue to hold perfectly still for several seconds, cataloging what I hear around me. The television is on in the main area, and there’s road noise beneath me.
Unable to take the scrutiny any longer, I turn my head to the doorway behind me and find Alison standing there. She’s just…watching us. Me, to be exact. “Can I help you?” I whisper, an uneasy feeling tingling the back of my neck.
“Oh, sorry,” she whispers, a flush creeping up her cheek. “I thought I heard Oliver, so I was just peeking in on him. I didn’t realize you guys were all napping together,” she adds, a friendly smile on her face, but it’s her eyes that make me pause.
“It’s okay,” I reply. My voice must cause Lena to stir awake.
The moment our eyes meet, she smiles a slow, sexy grin, and I feel it in my groin. As quickly as it appears, it vanishes when she looks over my shoulder and sees Alison standing in the doorway.
“I’ll just go back out there,” Alison says sweetly, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. She tosses us a quick wave before disappearing from my bedroom.
My eyes return to the woman in bed with me. “Did you have a nice nap?”
She stretches, drawing my gaze to her glorious tits. “Yep. Did you?”
“Mmmm,” I reply, as I carefully pull my arm out from under my son. Then, I move, quick as a cat. I’m over Oliver and on top of Lena within seconds. I press my hard body down into her much softer one, loving the way her curves fit so perfectly against me. “That’s better,” I whisper before taking her lips with my own.
Her sweet lips part, opening up for me. So I take what’s mine, my tongue pressing inside her mouth and tasting her. It’s like a homecoming. A celebration. A union.
Perfection.
***
I stand beside my car, my right hand over my heart and Oliver’s tiny hand wrapped around my left index finger. It’
s sort of our thing. A prerace ritual, of sorts. I’ve had one for years, but since Oliver and Lena arrived, I’ve made a few changes to it. Before, I always stood with Coop and sometimes Colton, but never with a woman beside me.
There’s a camera just off to my right, so I keep my face focused on the American flag and just beyond that, Alison. I don’t know why I feel so uneasy with her. She’s been perfectly respectful of my space, keeping back and watching Lena with Oliver. But, still…there’s just something about her that gives me pause.
The moment the national anthem is sung, I turn to my son in Lena’s arms. He’s awake, the headphones practically swallowing up his little head, but there’s a light in his eyes when he looks at me. I bend down and kiss his forehead, the camera moving closer to capture the moment between father and son.
With my hand on Lena’s side, I give her a squeeze, as usual. She smiles widely, and says, “Kick ass, Mack.”
Fuck, I want to kiss her so badly.
Instead, I convey my desire to kiss her through touch, my fingers curling into her back and sliding along her spine. I lean in and whisper, “Taking names, Baby. See you in victory lane.” With a wink, I give my full attention to my crew chief and team, knowing they’ll be taken care of.
Now, it’s time to go to work.
I’m strapped into my car as Coop goes over a few details of today’s race. The moment he tells me to get ready to fire my engine, Colton’s voice comes through the headset. “Just wanted to wish you luck today, Cruz. Stay safe and bring home a win.”
“Thanks, boss,” I reply just as the cue to fire our engines is given.
I grip my steering wheel, my hands more at home there than anywhere else. Well, maybe a second to Lena’s body, but a damn close one. This is my element, my drive.
My time.
We start to file off pit road. I’m already moving, warming my tires, in preparation for the green flag. Cold tires mean no traction, which is why me and the rest of the field are all swinging from side to side in our lines. Daniels is directly behind me. Fucker better get used to the view.