by Eden Connor
Leaning a hip against the tool chest where I perched, he said, “I still don’t get it.”
I gave Ernie a wink. “Well, I did leave out some details. Thought the story was running too long. See, Chrysler execs were pissed off because the Barracuda didn’t sell as well as the Camaro or the Mustang. They decided that the last ‘Cuda convertible to roll off the line would be crushed. They were embarrassed by the low number, see?”
Dale yelled, “Go!” He and Jonny each tossed one of the heavy rims onto an axle, like they were lifting five pound bags of sugar.
I tipped my head toward Ernie, knowing how much he loved a fresh audience. He picked up where I’d left off.
“Except, that car didn’t get crushed.” The air ratchets shrieked. Dale and Jonny moved the gun around each rim, tightening lug nuts at blinding speeds, but Ernie just raised his voice. “It was spirited out of the factory and put in climate-controlled storage. When Dale saw it, the odometer said one point three miles. Except for a coat of dust, the car looked like it’d been sealed in a time capsule for two decades.”
Dale threw his ratchet to the concrete and gave his tire a spin a fraction of a second ahead of Jonny.
The onlookers cheered and shrill whistles filled the air. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Caine yelled. “Damn, J.J. He’s an old man. What’s your problem, dude?”
Dale didn’t look like an old man. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. Other voices chimed in, razzing Jonny, but I heard no racially charged insults.
“Hard to know what the last ‘Cuda ragtop ever made would bring today,” Ernie continued. “Number 5999 is in the Chrysler museum. 5998 and 5997 are documented total losses.” I was glad Dale couldn’t hear for the laughing, jeering men around him.
Jonny lowered the jack. The men swarmed the ‘Cuda, peering through the windows. Dale pulled the pins out of the hood latches. When he raised the hood, it was like throwing candy into the ball pit at Mickey D’s. Every head promptly ducked into the engine compartment.
“Ah. Well, that clears things up.” Kolby sipped his drink. “So, about that drag race, Shelby. How you gonna throw down a challenge like the one you mentioned, then back away from it?”
My face flamed, because—naturally—the crowd around the ‘Cuda fell silent while they admired the engine. Kolby’s taunt rang loud in the lofty garage.
How dare he bring that up in front of my stepfather? “You’re a real class act,” I muttered. “Didn’t you bring a date?”
“I date a lot of women. She’s nothing special.”
If possible, my opinion of the man dipped lower.
Dale stepped away from the car and turned on his heel. Something about the wide stance he took made me go still. Cocking his head, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave Kolby a narrow-eyed look.
“Call me crazy, but I think you should give the man his race, Shelby.”
My heart seized. I couldn’t meet Dale’s eyes, but I did fantasize about burying the toe of my shoe in Kolby’s nuts.
Chapter Nine
The men behind Dale perked up like bird dogs, jerking their attention from the engine to their crew chief. I could almost see their noses quivering, like hounds scenting meat. Hard eyes cut sideways glances. Every forehead creased as brows lifted. Some grinned, some scowled, some just shook their heads. Despite the beer cans in their hands, not one shouted an insult or taunt. A moment before, the air back here seemed cool, but in a heartbeat, the atmosphere thickened and sweat popped out on my upper lip. Tension coiled in my throat, making it impossible to swallow. My heart thumped my ribs so hard it hurt.
I gave my head a small shake, but Dale just kept on talking. I sensed someone behind me, but was too busy trying to figure out how to stop the disaster-in-progress to look back. Hands came down on my shoulders. From the way the hair stirred on the back of my neck, I knew they belonged to Colt.
“Sounds like a good time to me,” Colt drawled. The men at Dale’s back... Jesus, I could almost see those guys choosing sides. Over half of the group shifted positions, copying Dale’s wide stance. The minority was still about forty percent of those gathered. Those men affected a more casual pose—like Kolby’s—remaining relaxed against the side of the car.
Nervous laughter bubbled in the back of my throat, but it couldn’t get past the knot.
Surely, any second now, Dale would say, “Gotcha! Ho, ho, ho, just kidding, motherfucker.” Something.
“I love your mama to bits. I’d do just about anything for Macy, except drag ass behind her at those goddamn after-Christmas sales. I know the guy who owns the old dragstrip at the fairgrounds. He’ll unlock the gates and run the tower for us. See, Macy’ll let me off the hook if I got a race to prepare for.” His pleasant expression faded. “That’s the only day that works for me, hot shot.”
The onlookers didn’t even laugh at Dale’s henpecked joke.
Only Jonny smiled. Copying Dale’s stance, he looked dead at me. “I wouldn’t mind getting elbow deep in this engine. Need help in the pits, Dale?” He and my stepfather exchanged nods. To my growing horror, Dale told him he was hired.
This... this sticky ball of machismo had to be about the chink comment for Jonny, and the cutting remarks Kolby made to the press about his crew chief, for Dale. God, they weren’t going to back off. This was... happening. Unless I could think of a way to stop it.
Caine skirted the crowd to stand by his father. “Sounds like we got us a race to get ready for.” I gave my head a more frantic shake, staring at Dale with wide eyes.
“Uh, you’re driving, right?” I pointed at Dale. After all, that was how he’d won the car.
“Oh, no, my daughter. You challenged the man. It’s your race.” Dale’s steady gaze made me sit up straighter. For some reason, the time he confronted that idiot of a coach the day after I’d gotten into a fight at school came to mind.
I had no idea what anything that’d happened that day had to do with this situation, but I did know one thing. Colt hadn’t liked the shot I’d fired across his bow. This was payback. Of course, he’d jump at the chance to see me humiliated by having to suck Kolby’s dick when I lost. And I’d been stupid enough to think we’d been uniting as one family against the arrogant driver, when Colt would’ve seen this coming. He’d know a lot more than me about the bad blood between Dale and Barnes. Hell, he’d probably been the one to tell Dale about my comment, because Dale hadn’t been privy to that part of the conversation.
“Anytime. Anywhere.” Kolby crossed his arms and spread his feet, too. Jesus, I’d fallen headlong into macho hell. “That day’s good by me. What time?” He turned toward me, but I didn’t meet his eyes, mainly because all my self-control was focused on not burying the toe of my stilettos in his nuts.
“How about four? Should take, say, two hours to dial in the times. Lowest time gets the late start. After that, we’ll see who can keep their foot in the accelerator and shift the smoothest.”
Kolby barked with laughter at Dale’s remark.
Dale’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, yeah, hot shot. I know that Audi’s got a dual clutch box. But, see, the time differential’s gonna wipe that slate clean.”
I tried to follow Dale’s logic. “W-what’s a dual clutch?” I couldn’t fathom how anyone could push down two clutch pedals and still hit the gas.
“Little fancy thing they came up with to sell fast cars to fools who can’t work a clutch,” Caine drawled. “Computer does all the shifting.” He moved close enough to pat my knee. “Don’t worry, Shelby. I still say you’re the best I’ve ever seen at workin’ through a set of gears.”
They thought I was stupid? There was no way I could beat Kolby. It probably didn’t matter if Barnes showed up to race on his lawn tractor, I’d still lose. He was a pro. I was positive that Colt ordered the guys who paid him to have sex with me to let me win, so I wouldn’t get pissed off and quit racing, thus ending his financial windfall.
My cheeks stung like they were on fire. I wanted t
o jump in the Barracuda and drive right through the garage door, but I’d already embarrassed Dale once tonight.
“Now, call me crazy, Barnes,” Dale began before I could decide not to care what kind of stain I’d put on the family honor by refusing to race. “But, I think I can live the rest of my life without the image of you with your head between my daughter’s thighs, so how about we up the stakes?”
My jaw dropped. Jonny turned his face to the side, covering his mouth with a fist, but I had no trouble making out the way his shoulders shook.
“You got somethin’ better?” Kolby’s tone dripped with skepticism. “I dunno, I liked the original stakes, old man.”
Asswipe. I cut him a glare, then leaned down, disappointed to find the drawers on the tool chest were locked. I really did want a long, heavy tool to whack a few people with.
“How about titles?” I jerked my gaze back to Dale, unsure I’d heard him correctly. “If you even have the title to that fancy Audi? Or did some financial manager tell you it was smarter to throw your money down a rat hole and lease it?”
I expected the crowd to hoot, or whistle, or yell insults, but I felt their collective intake of breath. These muscled, hard-eyed men who worked with Dale and Kolby merely exchanged glances. More than one man shook his head.
“It’s mine,” Kolby growled. “Got under a thousand miles on her. But if she can beat that car, I don’t even want the goddamn thing.”
Dale’s grin was sudden and all teeth. “Excellent. Been of a mind to get her in somethin’ newer anyway. So, that’s four o’clock this comin’ Friday, at the Cabarrus County Fairgrounds? Just gonna do basic safety checks, nothing else. Then dial-ins. Lowest time starts last. Winner walks away with the other man’s ride. That’s the bet, right?”
“Bring your title.” Kolby sneered. “I can get a blow job for twenty bucks. But takin’ that car off you? Priceless.”
“That’s all she charges?” Colt whistled. “I thought she looked like a pro, Kolby, but I had no idea she’d be such a cheap one.”
Humiliation swept over me. I knew Colt kept digging on the whore angle for my benefit. And I couldn’t shut him up because of Dale and Jonny.
No trace of friendliness remained in Dale’s face. “Oh, no, hot shot. If you want to race, you’ll bring the title and a check for four million. I know you seen on the news that’s the goin’ rate these days for a ’71 ‘Cuda Hemi convertible. That’s the bet. After all, she’s just a girl. You ain’t riskin’ much a’tall, right?”
I thought surely he’d back out, but Kolby’s spittle sprayed my skirt. “Guess you aren’t as dumb as you act. Fine, I’m in. Richard just handed me my bonus check, so letting you look at my four million bucks for ten seconds ain’t a problem. But when I win, I finally get a decent engineering team behind me.”
No! Dale, don’t—
“Can’t bet what you don’t own. Me and you both just gotta ride out our contracts and you know it.”
“It was worth a shot.” The arrogant racecar driver dug his elbow into my side. “There’s more than one way to go down, darlin’. ‘Bout time you learned a new one.”
Kolby spun and strutted away, whistling.
I forgot about Colt. I forgot about Caine. I forgot to wonder what the fuck Jonny’s problem was. I forgot to wonder if Dale was drunk or just plain crazy.
Jumping off the toolbox, I stalked toward him.
“Is there any way I can beat that jackass?” I held out my hand. Anger ripped though me and I didn’t care who heard what I had to say. “Because I don’t give a red hot damn what it takes, I’ll do it, if it means I have his balls right here.” I drove my nail into my open palm, then curled my fingers into a fist, pantomiming squeezing the jackass’s gonads into pulp. Opening my fist, I brushed my other hand across the palm several times.
Dale burst out laughing—as did a few of the men behind him. He peered over his shoulder. “I coulda told him not to never, ever, piss off a natural redhead, but that boy just don’t hear nothin’ I got to say.” He shrugged, and when he turned back toward me, grinned like a naughty kid.
I took a deep breath, but it did little to calm me. “You have a plan, right?”
He reached for my hand and looked into my eyes. “Honey, I heard every word you said tonight. I believe in you, too, Shelby. You’re about to find out how much.” I squeezed his fingers tight as I could. Emotions I didn’t want hammered me, but Dale just smiled, gave my hand a hard squeeze, then raised his chin. “C’mere, guys.”
Jonny, Caine, and Colt—and Ernie—closed in around us. He dropped his voice to a murmur. “Now, while Kolby’s mind was on his dick, I was thinkin’ about how to put the engine of the twenty-two car under the hood of that Barracuda. It can be done. We’ll need to swap out the transmission, too.”
My mouth fell open. Caine hooked his arm around my neck, laughing so hard, he made me stagger against Colt. I lost my grip on Dale’s hand.
“Oh, sweet,” Caine finally gasped. “I love it, old man. We’re gonna burn his ass with the same engine he says can’t win?”
“Damn straight.” Dale gave one sharp nod, but raised a brow. “If he complains about the swap when he finds out, then he’ll be admitting he thinks the engine can win. Or that he’s the fucking problem.” He turned my way again. “Because he’d die before he admitted he thought anyone might be a better driver.”
I couldn’t help but grin.
“See those eyes?” Dale tipped his head toward Ernie. “If I’d have got my hands on her sooner, she’d be giving them boys a run for their money in the truck series come June, after she graduates.” He turned toward Jonny. “So, J.J., you still up for some serious wrench time, or you gotta go home for the holidays?”
“Dude, I’m Buddhist.” Jonny threw out his hands. “What holidays? I’m with you, sir. The best drivers have grease under their nails. To learn from the master? It’d be an honor. Not to mention, it’s a good chance for me, Colt, and Caine to start workin’ as a team.”
Dale slapped Jonny on the back. “Excellent. Macy’s couch sleeps pretty good. Not that I ever done nothin’ to land on it.” Cutting his eyes in my direction, he added, “Yet.” That grin was tearing me up. It was plain he was having the time of his life. “But I’m a big enough man to admit, it comforts me to know your ass’ll already be on that couch when she hears about this.”
I had a better idea. Mom wouldn’t think twice about blowing a gasket in front of one of Colt and Caine’s friends.
“Ernie, why don’t you and Francine spend the holidays with us? There’s plenty of room. Francine and Mom can keep each other entertained. And you’ll get a new story to tell.” I gave Dale a pleading look. “The boys can all bunk together downstairs.”
Where I wouldn’t have to look at them strutting around without their shirts.
Ernie pursed his lips, but nodded. “Gotta clear that with Francine, but I’d like to hang around. We ain’t neither one got much family left. Dale, I’ll be the first to tell you, you got a real sweetheart right here.” He patted my shoulder. “But, I think you’re bettin’ with your heart and not your head.”
I couldn’t hold that against Ernie. It was the truth.
Dale tugged his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped through a few screens. “Look at this, Tip. Won’t take you long. Video’s only about twelve seconds.” Dale stabbed the screen and let Ernie hold the phone. “Now, this is a Hannah-built engine versus a Hannah-built engine. Both crankin’ out over a thousand horsepower to the wheels. The Monte Carlo won the NHRA Pro Stock division later that same year.
“God Almighty damn,” the older man muttered. Ernie played the clip a second time. And again, he said, “God Almighty damn.”
I looked from one man to the other in confusion, but when Ernie handed the phone back, Dale slid the device into his back pocket.
Before I could ask to see the video, Dale said, “Now, Shelby, I checked out the ‘Cuda just enough to know, you ain’t been racin’ it. Me, Jonny
, Caine, and Colt will split into two teams. One team’ll work on the car, while the other will take the GT500 and work on knockin’ the rust off you.”
My brain caught up to my emotions. He meant for Colt and Caine to take me drag racing? Oh, hell to the no.
“Okay.” Colt and Caine chorused. I wrenched around to stare at Colt, but he was too chicken-shit to meet my eyes. Dale leaned in, laying an arm over each son’s shoulder. He lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. “So, what that means is, you boys’ll have about seventy-two hours to work with Shelby, one on one.”
They nodded again.
Wait. I can’t do this. I even opened my mouth to say the words, but they died on my lips.
He just bet his four million dollar car. On me. To win.
Dale Hannah, one of the winningest crew chiefs in NASCAR, thinks I can beat his best driver.
A shot of pure adoration lanced my chest. No one had ever bet on me.
“Plenty of time,” Caine decreed.
Dale’s smile disappeared. He cut a flinty look from Caine to Colt. His tone changed to the one he’d used with the coach that long-ago day in the high school parking lot. “Seventy-two hours is also the time you got to fix whatever the hell it is you two done to her. Am I clear? And oh, by the way, we will win this race. So that’s your other priority, not pissin’ her off all over again. I figure a hundred grand worth of brand new Audi won’t change the past, but it might help ease the goddamn pain.” He spun and strode into the middle of the silent group hanging around the ‘Cuda.
“Fuck.”
I thought I’d spoken aloud, until I realized the word had come from Colt.
Caine drilled a finger into his brother’s sternum. “I told you this day was comin’, motherfucker.”
Chapter Ten
“Phillip, can you please find somewhere to dump that trash can?” Harry asked. Phillip peered from beneath dark bangs, scanning the huge garage. Harry swiped his shirtsleeve across his forehead and grabbed a bottle of bourbon. “I don’t give a damn if you empty it in the back of someone’s truck. People are just sitting their cans wherever because the trashcan’s full. It’s making me nuts.” Harry scowled at the cups and cans littering the garage floor.