Racing to Love: Eli's Honor

by Amy Gregory

  It had been more than just support that Honor had wanted. She knew she was looking at this offer with a biased opinion. For Dallas’s sake, she needed someone with an objective view to hear the details, to hear what Eli really was coming to present them with. Otherwise, the momma bear in her would just pull Dallas to her tightly, give a polite no-thank you, and shut the door to the whole situation.

  “Think about it, okay? I’ll call you when I get off work. See what’s going on then.”

  “’Kay.” Honor answered with an unsure smile.

  Finishing the chore of tea making, taking three times the length of time it normally took, she listened as Mac said his goodbyes, and then the screen door softly closed behind him. She turned with the fresh pitcher as Dallas came bounding into the kitchen, skidding to a stop on the linoleum before bumping into her. She took a step back to help avoid the collision, the tea sloshing side-to-side.

  “Hey, Mom, Eli asked if I could show him some stuff, is that okay?”

  “What happened to Mr. Hunter?” Honor raised her eyebrow, but couldn’t help but smile at his hopeful face. “Sure, sweetie. Do you have time for that, Mr. Hunter?” She asked quietly, her chin tilted, not expecting him to have any time to spare. Or maybe hoping he didn’t.

  Eli winked at her, his mouth forming a smile that was sinful. Thank God, she had her hands full or she’d be fidgeting. At least she could pretend she was halfway cool, calm and collected.

  “To be honest, if it’s all right with you, I’d really like to see him ride in person. And Honor…it’s Eli. Please.” He replied gently, reaching his fingertips out to her wrist, hovering momentarily, only to pull back at the last second.

  He had all the ease and confidence of a celebrity, but the gentleness of a man raised with manners. A southern girl by location and heart, Honor could appreciate that. Realizing she had been studying Eli’s face a moment too long, she snapped her attention back to Dallas’s question.

  “Sure, son. Show him what you got, buddy.” Honor glanced at the clock on the wall, and with a timid smile, she turned back to Eli. “Would you…um, like to stay for dinner?”

  His answer was quick. The grin tugging at one side of his mouth almost made it appear as if he hoped she’d ask.

  “I’d love to. Thank you, Honor.”

  What the hell did I just do?

  She stayed silent, only nodded to respond, but watched as the two walked through the door that led to the garage. If she had turned away, she could have pretended the feeling was one-sided, she could have told herself she was imagining his subtle flirtations, but she hadn’t moved.

  Instead, she had stayed, rooted in place, watching him. When he turned and winked a second time…she melted.

  As soon as the door to the house shut, she rushed to the counter, setting down the pitcher before she dropped it on her freshly mopped floor. When she heard the door from the garage to the backyard open and shut, it was only then that she let out the audible breath.

  She might be a simple woman from a rural town, but she had big dreams once. Ones that involved New York City, ones that needed street smarts, dreams that required brains before beauty. She wasn’t raised to turn into a giggly little girl at a boy’s smile, or to raise her skirt when the prom king asked her to dance. No, her mother had been very clear in her life’s lessons. Honor was to need no one, nor to want anyone. The attentions of men only left a girl broken or broken-hearted. Sometimes both.

  Honor had followed the rules to a T.

  However, Honor’s mother hadn’t taught her what to do when she was at the lowest point in her life with no one to turn to. That lesson she learned all on her own.

  Eli Hunter was an amazing man, here to help her son. That was all. No more, no less. And at the end of the day, Dallas would be a better rider because of it, and her heart would still be intact.

  Honor watched Eli and Dallas from her kitchen window as she stood at the sink peeling the last of the potatoes. From where the two stood on the bank of the north corner she could see their smiling faces, hear the laughter through the screen window. Dallas was happy. In turn, she was happy. Until she thought of him being gone for a month, then her stomach felt like it had been drop-kicked, and a shooting pain darted through her heart.

  The two walked a section of the track then headed back to Dallas’s bike. Dallas rode the section and then Eli would point to different spots, obviously giving directions. When Dallas rode the same section again, with a different line, in what she could hear was a different gear as he hit the jump, suddenly what she would have considered awesome before now looked perfect.

  It continued on that way, the entire length of the track. Honor’s heart swelled watching the progress they were making in such a short amount of time. It was one thing to see him practice with Mac, but watching him connect with Eli was nothing short of amazing.

  Their bond was based on mutual respect because they were both racers who understood the dedication, skill, ambition, and flat-out guts racing took. Both the boy and the man understood the risks they were taking once they straddled the bike.

  Unfortunately for Honor, the mother in her saw the hidden winces Eli thought he’d covered up, the way he favored his left side, the way he’d leave his hand on his hip, only to rub his back again and again when Dallas’s head was turned. The man was hurting. She remembered seeing his accident happen on television, had seen the replay one too many times. Judging from what she was witnessing now, he still lived with a great deal of pain and probably would for a very long time. She knew the risks too well. She closed her eyes and prayed that would never be her son.

  No matter how close she got to understanding, Honor realized that even though she supported her son, she didn’t get it. Not like Eli did. She didn’t have a racer’s view. Only a mom’s view. She glanced out the window again. Seeing the two huddled together, Dallas hanging on Eli’s every word, the smile spread across his face…and that was it.

  Dallas had just made the decision for her, right there and then. She didn’t even have a say.

  Eli had taken the time to teach, to support. Even when his voice was loud enough to be heard over the sound of the bike, it was encouraging. Always positive. Not once was his voice forceful or demeaning. Honor let out a sigh.

  She couldn’t take this opportunity away from her son. It was going to hurt like hell. It was going to be murder on her pride. But if she hid behind the excuse that it was for her son, she could do it. It wasn’t as if it really was an excuse as much as the truth, anyway.

  She put the potatoes on to boil and went about setting out the trays of egg and buttermilk along with her flour and spice mixture to make fried chicken. A long-time favorite of her son, she hoped it would be general enough that Eli would like it. She hated having company and not knowing what to cook for people, always leaning toward the old standbys that children usually loved. Taking out the lettuce, tomato, cucumber, and other salad fixings from the refrigerator, she bumped the door with her butt to close it. With the oil heated, she started dropping pieces of coated chicken into the pot and pushed the sad thoughts away until later when she would lie in bed, in the dark, alone.

  In the meantime, she continued with her perfectly orchestrated routine. Happily cooking for the three of them, Honor hid the pain tearing through her because she had become a master of disguising her feelings over the years. Between her deceased mother, her deceased excuse for a husband, and lack of money…faking happy had become second nature.

  This trip blew all his expectations out of the water. Pulling the door of the small shop shut behind him, he wished he had taken another dose of ibuprofen. The prior one failed to give him much relief, and now as it had worn off completely, Eli put a palm to his left side, trying to rub it nonchalantly while they walked toward the house. He hadn’t meant to get so wrapped up, truly thinking they’d spend ten minutes, maybe fifteen, on the track and call it a day. However, Dallas was the perfect student, and the next thing they both knew, their stomac
hs were growling letting them know it had been well over two hours. Eli glanced back down at Dallas as the boy asked another good question.

  Movement in the kitchen window caught Eli’s attention, and he watched as Honor moved about, talking with a phone to her ear. She glanced up, making eye contact. Only a few yards separated them, and in that short distance, he saw the immediate stain on her cheeks. He grinned proudly at her reaction to him.

  Eli nodded and answered Dallas’s question, all the while keeping his attention on Honor, daring her to break eye contact first. His smile widened, and he threw her a wink. That did it, her eyes went wide, and she busied herself again, dropping the phone in the process. Despite the pain spiking with every step closer to the backdoor, Eli’s spirit was in fine form. Nope, this trip was nothing like he had expected.

  He laughed to himself. Something about how a simple wink got to her was refreshing to him. She wasn’t throwing herself at him like women in days past when he raced. She wasn’t trying to sell him on how good her son was or begging to get Dallas into the academy. Honor was just…Honor.

  Dallas took his riding boots off in the garage and walked through the door in front of him. Without looking up from her post at the counter, his mother instantly put her arm up and directed him to the hall, and he assumed a shower. Eli was standing beside him when Dallas rolled his eyes behind his mother’s back. Trying not to laugh, he nudged him with his elbow and grinned when Dallas went without a struggle.

  Honor turned to him and motioned for him to sit at the table. Eli remained standing near her instead.

  She tilted her head but let it go. “That shower was a gift for you.” She laughed quietly and turned back to the stovetop, removing a batch of chicken from the hot oil. “He is hot and sweaty and probably stinks, but it was a good excuse to give you a break. Now…you’ll only get five minutes. He’s so wound up, he’ll hurry just in case you decide to sneak off to get away from him.”

  Eli appreciated her subtle sense of humor. Honor had a unique air about her, and she moved with a grace he’d only seen in the movies. Not the country girl he expected. She did have a bit of a southern accent, but only on certain words. She almost seemed like she belonged somewhere else, that the small town life wasn’t her own. Eli could see she was happy. Her face was light and carefree, her attitude—easygoing, but he could sense she was faking it.

  “He’s a great kid. I don’t want to sneak out on him.”

  Honor took the rolls out of the oven. The smell of warm honey and yeast drifting through the air filled the small kitchen and reminded him of home. Not his house, but James and Karen’s house. Dinner there was a weekly ritual, one he would love to take Dallas to if he could convince Honor to let him go to Pennsylvania. One glance at the warm baked bread on the counter that Honor was brushing with melted butter had Eli’s mouth watering.

  “He is amazing. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t talked your ear off, though.” She turned to Eli with the potholder still in hand. “You should feel special. He normally doesn’t say much. You’re lucky, or unlucky, however you want to look at it.”

  The sparkle of pride mixed with a little mischief in Honor’s violet eyes sent a surge through Eli. If he was being honest with himself, he had smiled for hours after their one and only phone conversation. Despite her nerves and the reservations she shared with him that night, he picked up on her sense of humor. But it was more than that. She had a soothing spirit that came through the phone line, drawing him in before he ever even met the woman. It was a kindred connection, as if she was a long-lost friend—a piece of him that had been missing for far too long.

  With the main parts of the meal ready, Eli watched as Honor started washing up lettuce for a salad. “Here, let me help you.”

  “You don’t have to. You’re our guest. Sit, relax.”

  Eli listened, hearing the water still running for the shower, and he leaned his back against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled. He knew he was in her personal space, their bodies practically touching. She was stuck between him and the corner of the countertop with her hands in the sink.

  He bumped her shoulder with his. “I insist. I’ll just stand here in your way until you give me something to do.”

  “It’s not polite.” Honor glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, barely containing a smirk.

  She was different from anyone he’d ever met. She was timid but strong, quiet but he could feel a fierceness about her. Throughout most of their discussion earlier, even though she had wrung her hands constantly, her back remained ramrod straight. Everything about her was a contradiction of sorts, a puzzle. He tilted his chin, looking at her more deeply and grinned. A beautiful puzzle.

  He smiled, although just being so close to her had his heart pounding. The magnetic reaction he was having to this woman was completely foreign to him. Eli was almost thirty, no angel, but he’d never felt like this before. He’d never been afraid to fumble his next move or had to search for the right words because he mouth refused to work properly.

  Blinking, he swallowed hard as he tentatively raised his hand. “You’re wearing some flour.” Eli leaned in, and as slow as he possibly could, wiped the smudge of flour off her cheek with his thumb, his hand lingering against her skin.

  With his hand still touching her, she froze.

  He took in every nuance. Her body language, the instant widening of her eyes, the way she swallowed hard, the sudden increase of her pulse evident in the hollow of her neck. Eli could hear the shallow breathing. His mind raced as he allowed himself to believe that he wasn’t imagining their connection, or that her reactions were real and for him.

  Eli heard the click of the bathroom door, the squeak of the hinges as it opened, and he dropped his hand immediately and spinning to scoop up the tomato off the counter behind him. Running it in the water Honor already had her hands under, the next thing he knew, he’d caught himself running a finger against the back of her hand. Again, he felt the spark arc between them with the most innocent of touches.

  Her whole body stiffened and the breath she sucked in at the physical contact was audible. She wouldn’t look up at him, and he didn’t dare chuckle out loud. His nerves were ramping up quickly, and worse than they ever had before any race he’d ever run. To calm himself, and her too, he turned to idle chitchat. Honor quickly fell back in step, making easy conversation about the daily ins and outs of life.

  What he couldn’t get over was how natural it felt to be standing beside her chopping up vegetables for a meal they would eat together. He was nervous and excited, and all the feelings of fumbling around, trying to make sure he didn’t make a fool of himself in front of her were there. But on the flip-side, standing close to her also brought a weird sense of calm, the same one he’d felt over the phone. It was back. One he’d never felt in the presence of any other woman. Eli didn’t feel like he needed to go out of his way to impress her. There was a simple sense of acceptance he sensed from her—as if he could just be himself, and for the first time, that was going to be enough.

  Dallas’s voice broke his focus, and he turned to give the boy his full attention, but his movement was too quick.

  He knew better.

  The vice squeezed in around his spine, the sharp threads spreading out through his left hip and down his left leg. The grunt was automatic. He blinked to keep the edges from going black, mentally cussing through the pain.

  Honor’s knife dropped to the sink, and her hands were on him immediately, one hand on his upper arm, the other on his chest, probably fearing he’d crumble to the ground. In reality, if that was going to happen, he highly doubted she’d have the strength to keep him upright. The concern on her face was what he concentrated on as he blew out a breath.

  He nodded, “I’m okay, really.”

  Her brow tensed, and her lips parted. “No. You’re not okay, Eli. What can I do?”

  “Nothing, really. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Just turned a funky direction.”<
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  “You turned to look behind you, that shouldn’t cause you pain. Especially, not like that.”

  Keeping one hand on his hip for pressure, he laid the other palm over the hand she still had on his chest, partly because he wanted to reassure her everything would be all right, but mostly because he didn’t want to lose the connection. His heart was pounding, and this time it wasn’t just from the pain.

  “Is he okay, Mom?”

  Reality check.

  Eli had forgotten for a split second that they weren’t alone. He forced a smile—something he was used to doing—and turned his attention to the boy.

  “I’m all good, Dallas. Sorry buddy, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

  He shouldn’t have, but when Honor held out the basket of rolls out in front of him, Eli couldn’t resist the temptation to grab a fourth. There was a hint of pride on her face, as if she was testing him. “You’re a hell of a gourmet chef, Honor.” He smirked, as he wiped his buttery fingers off on his napkin.

  “Fried chicken is a long way from gourmet, but thank you,” she answered as she refilled his tea glass without asking him first, as if she’d done it a million times. A fact that Eli quickly noticed and let himself believe it was more than just because she was trying to be a good hostess.

  They spent mealtime in comfortable conversation, roaming between stories about Dallas as a younger child and Eli’s antics as a young rider years ago. He even indulged them with tales about him, Carter, and Jesse that embarrassed him, but it was all right because Carter and Jesse didn’t look so hot either.

  “Oh, and don’t you ever tell her I told you this”—Eli bit his lip knowing Molly would kill him for this—“but Molly one time, oh my gosh. You were too young to know George, but she grew up racing around him, and before he retired last year, he’d been in charge of the pro circuit. Well, her dad, James, is quite a prankster, even though he’s this nationally known architect. One time, when we were all still racing, and Molly was still doing the preshows, he loaded her 450cc bike in the trailer with her 250cc and had her ride out on the track in front of George, knowing he’d have a fit.” Eli grinned as Dallas’s face spread wide with anticipation. “See, George was very protective of Molly, and her dad was right—George screamed at her from the tower during the practice. So what’s Molly do after she does her whole routine, which by the way, included a backflip? She rides a wheelie down the straightaway, then turns and rides right up to the tower, and does a stoppie. Brody, Carter—all of us were wiping tears from our faces we were laughing so hard. She yanks off her helmet as he’s coming down from the tower, his finger waving, pointing and yelling ‘I’m going to tell James on you two,’ thinking that the siblings were just being ornery. And then, get this…Brody screams back, because we were all standing off to the side of the track watching her practice, ‘it was Dad’s idea’!” Eli grinned and reached over to pat her back as Honor choked on her drink, shaking her head. Dallas was laughing as hard as Eli had been the day Molly pulled that stunt.