by Jim Cangany
“Look.” His voice took on a stern tone. “How many guys have you gone out with over the last ten years? Four or five, tops. And how long did the longest one last? A few months. You broke it off with every single one of them for one reason, and one reason only. They weren’t Brad. You’ve been stuck on him since the day you met him.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I’m serious. Until you talk to him, woman to man, adult to adult, you won’t know how he feels. Until you do that, you’re never going to be able to put your issues in the rearview mirror once and for all.”
Gabrielle closed her eyes and swallowed to get rid of the lump in her throat. Her brother was right. She couldn’t deny it. “What if I tell him and things don’t go . . . well. I mean, I could lose my job.”
“Two things.” Rafael’s voice became gentle and reassuring again. “One, seems to me things aren’t so hot after this weekend, so what have you got to lose? Two, the only way to know how he feels is to talk to him. It’s been a long time, but the Brad I remember was a decent enough guy. If that guy is still inside him somewhere, it’s worth taking a chance.”
Rafael remained quiet while Gabrielle absorbed the conversation.
“You’re right. I promise I’ll talk to him.” She blew out a long breath. “Man, I never imagined coming back to the States would be so hard.”
“Maybe the fact that it’s so hard will make the outcome even sweeter.”
After they’d said their good-byes, Gabrielle reached for the room-service menu. Maybe having an appetite again was a sign of good things to come. She sent a prayer to Frances of Rome, the patron saint of automobile drivers, in the hope she was right.
Chapter Nine
“Ready to head to work?”
Gabrielle looked up from the technical manual she was reading, and her breath caught. Dressed in cargo shorts and a polo shirt that fit just right, with his short brown hair shining in the dining room’s lamplight, Brad looked like he’d just stepped off a cover shoot for an outdoorsman’s magazine. On top of that, he was smiling at her in a way that made her heart melt. The smile stretched from ear to ear, and came with a sparkle in his eyes.
“Um, yeah.” Once her brain cells started firing again, she got up and slipped her Team AES backpack over her shoulders. “Before we go, I’ve been thinking about Gulf Coast.” It had taken her three days to get the guts to finally talk to him. It was time.
“Me, too, and I owe you an apology.” He directed her to a couple of chairs in the breakfast nook.
“You do?” Looking at him always left her a little wobbly, but his demeanor had her as off balance as a car with a flat tire.
“Yes.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Part of our problem was totally my fault. What you told me about you and Barbara left me off my game for some reason. I wasn’t focused and you, and the rest of the team deserve better. Won’t happen again.”
“No worries. I’m glad you’re feeling better.” She was also ecstatic that for the first time since their reunion he wasn’t looking at her like he had a sour ball in his mouth.
“Thanks. Me too. I’ve got even better news, though.” His eyes were wide as he radiated a sense of joy Gabrielle hadn’t seen from him in years. “All that data analysis I did while you were driving the other day paid off. I know why we struggled at Gulf Coast and how we’ll avoid it at Indy. Come on. I’ll fill you in on the way to the office.”
The moment her seatbelt clicked closed, Brad handed his open laptop to her. The rest of the drive, he went on and on about how the team had overcompensated for the Gulf Coast course’s elevation changes. First, they’d made one change, and then another, and still others. In the end, they’d spent so much time chasing their tails, they forgot Scott’s First Rule of Engineering.
“And what, may I ask, is Scott’s First Rule of Engineering?” She hadn’t been with the team long, but for the life of her, she couldn’t recall their chief engineer mentioning something like that, which sounded pretty important.
“Keep it simple, stupid.”
Gabrielle burst out laughing at the mention of the tried and true K.I.S.S. method. Brad laughed, too.
“Right?” Brad pointed at the computer screen. “We have a good car and a great driver. Our base setup is fine. We should have started with that and made adjustments, if needed. Instead, we overthought things and made adjustments before you even got on the track.”
The Indy Grand Prix course was pancake flat, just like the Los Angeles Grand Prix circuit. Gabrielle saw where he was going and, for the first time in years, she fully relaxed in Brad’s presence.
“We go back to our baseline setup, and you let your driver take it from there.”
“Exactly.” He bumped her arm with his elbow. Even that brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through her.
“Is Keep It Simple, Stupid the new team motto?” She couldn’t help taking the playful jab at him, given his mood.
“I don’t know.” He ran his fingers along his jawline. Flecks of gray dotted his stubble.
Gabrielle so wanted to trade his fingers for hers.
“I’m still kind of partial to Onward and Upward.”
Onward and Upward was painted above the garage entrance at Gale Force Racing’s headquarters. The slogan sent the message that as a young team, mistakes would be made and bad things might happen, but the most important factor was to learn from each experience and make the future better.
Learn from each experience and make the future better. That lesson applied to Gabrielle on too many levels for her to count.
“You’re right. Onward and Upward probably is the way to go. I mean, you don’t want to have to pay someone to paint us a new slogan.”
“True dat.” He held out his fist, and she completed the knuckle bump.
Unlike the silent, tension-filled drive from Gulf Coast, the rest of the drive was completed in contented silence. Gabrielle even had to lower her sunshades as they drove into a bright, sunny spring morning.
They shared a joke during the walk into the team headquarters, or the shop, as they referred to it, about the reaction they would get if they told people they’d shared a “K.I.S.S.” on the way to work. Even if it had nothing to do with their lips making contact.
Not that Gabrielle would have minded that kind of kiss. When Brad was relaxed, his eyes crinkled up when he smiled, and his white teeth shined. Those rare moments when a good mood matched Brad’s poster boy looks made her heart race and her palms sweaty.
Once inside, Brad gathered the team together for a meeting to share the positive news. “I know everybody left the last race a little down. It’s okay if you felt that way. It shows you care. But like the slogan says,” he pointed to it, “Onward and Upward.”
He glanced at Gabrielle and then covered his mouth and looked the other way. Brad Thomas, the man known for his serious and focused demeanor, was having to force himself to keep from laughing.
That was the man Gabrielle knew from all those years ago. That was also the man she’d fallen in love with and wanted to fall in love with again. If only he felt the same way. Beneath that tough exterior of a rhino was a playful, joyful puppy dog. She’d held onto hope it was still there and finally had confirmation that hope hadn’t been misplaced.
Now all she had to do was figure out how to reach it.
• • •
It was as if the weight of a fully fueled Continental Series race car, all two thousand pounds of it, had been lifted from Brad’s shoulders. His apology and pep talk had a visible effect on the team. When he’d called the meeting, the slump-shouldered crew had practically dragged themselves to the conference room. After the meeting, he exchanged fist bumps with each crew member as they returned to work. To a man, every one of them strode out of the room with their head held high. Well, except for Troy, but Brad was mindful of how hard he took the change in drivers. He’d give the tire changer time to come around.
“Well done, boss.” Scott gave him a light pun
ch to the shoulder.
Brad returned the gesture.
From backgrounds as different as night and day, the two men had morphed from competitors to teammates to confidantes. Scott was a science nerd who could recite every Star Wars movie word for word. He’d fallen into racing by accident when he applied for an internship with a race team as a junior in college.
From the first day of his internship, the cutting edge technology of open-wheeled racing captivated him, and by the time he received his mechanical engineering degree, he’d become a full-fledged gear head.
It had taken Brad a combination of cajoling, arm twisting, and free beer to convince Scott to leave his assistant chief engineer position in the International Series and join a brand new team at a lower level, even if the new job came with the title of chief engineer. Now here they were, on the verge of bringing a new team, their new team, to the greatest motorsports course in the world—the Crossroads Motor Speedway.
Brad couldn’t wait to get started.
He closed the door to his office. “I owe you a personal apology, Scott. I ignored your recommendation on the Gulf Coast setup, and it cost us. That was my fault. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Scott was quiet for a moment. He was deliberate in his actions and careful with his words. It was that levelheadedness that Brad found invaluable in his right-hand man.
“Thank you. Having said that, you hired me, and the rest of the crew, to do a job—win races. You need to trust me, especially when things get a little rough. Okay?” Scott headed for the door.
He had it open and was halfway through when Brad found his voice. “Okay.”
Scott turned around. He was smiling. “Well, come on, then. Let’s go win some races.”
The shop hummed with positive energy in the days leading up to the Indy Grand Prix. Every morning when he got out of bed, Brad reminded himself to trust the team. Letting go of control wasn’t easy, but as the team loaded the car into the transport hauler for the trip to the hallowed Crossroads Motor Speedway, Brad’s efforts at trust were paying off. By letting Scott make more decisions, he’d cut his daily intake of Tums by half. He’d also let Mandy, the team’s communications director, work with Gabrielle directly when it came to scheduling promotional appearances. His hip hurt less, too.
The trust thing wasn’t so bad, after all. The next step was to extend it to his driver.
He chuckled as he approached Gabrielle, who was focused on her tablet. Her brows were knitted, and she was frowning.
“And I thought I was the serious one.”
She gave a start and lost her grip on the tablet in the process. Brad made a stab for it and rescued the device mere inches before it hit the concrete floor.
“It’s bad form to scare your driver like that.” She snatched the tablet from him and slipped it into her backpack.
“Very true. I’m sorry.” He’d been apologizing a lot recently. Interestingly enough, he found he felt better after he did it. “Can I ask what was so interesting?”
“I was studying the course. I’ve been driving it in the simulator every day for the past week, but I still feel like I don’t know it well enough.” She stared at the ceiling. “This will be my first time on track at the Speedway. I want to get it right.”
The oldest sporting venue in North America, the Crossroads Motor Speedway was over one hundred years old, with the first race held there in 1911. It was also one of the largest venues of any type on the planet, with over 300,000 people annually in attendance at the world-famous Crossroads Five Hundred Mile Race. The facility was so massive a road course was contained inside the famous oval where the Crossroads Grand Prix was contested.
Brad recalled getting goose bumps the first time he walked through the Speedway’s main gate at the tender age of eight. It was enormous in every way—the size, the sounds, the throngs of spectators. And damn intimidating, too. Dozens of drivers had lost their lives at the famed oval over the years. Countless others had been seriously injured.
The Speedway could psych a driver out before he or she ever got up to speed. Brad personally knew one driver who crashed during a practice session on the oval and vowed never to race there again. Brad couldn’t let that happen to Gabrielle.
“You will get it right. The hauler’s heading that way in a little bit. Why don’t you and I talk about it on our way there?” He put his arm around her and couldn’t help notice it was a perfect fit. And that her hair smelled like strawberries.
That realization was equal parts shocking and pleasing. And it was a realization that warmed him on the insides.
• • •
When they arrived at the Speedway, Gabrielle let out a low-pitched whistle. “I can’t believe I’m really here.”
Brad glanced at her. She was bouncing up and down in the passenger seat. Downplay it. It’s a big deal, but not that big of a deal. Okay, it’s a big freaking deal, but don’t act like it. “Come on. I remember when you came here with my folks.” Her excitement warmed his heart, but he didn’t want her to get so wound up it affected her performance.
“Yeah, but that time we were a couple of kids visiting as fans. This time, I won’t be watching the cars; I’ll be driving one.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze as a security guard waved them through the gate. “I’m finally going to drive on the most famous track in the world. This is really happening, isn’t it?”
“Sure is. You’ve waited a long time to get here, haven’t you?”
“Uh huh.” Her blue eyes sparkled as they drove through a tunnel under the track and emerged into the sunlight with the Speedway Museum only a few hundred yards away.
He’d known what her answer would be but wanted her to say it so he could give her a final dose of encouragement.
“Then let’s go have a blast.”
Chapter Ten
A blast wasn’t the term that came to Gabrielle’s mind at the moment. She’d just finished her first practice session, with no vomiting, thank you very much, and was now sandwiched between four of her competitors at a press conference.
A press conference. With over a dozen reporters. If she were Dorothy, she sure wouldn’t be in Kansas anymore.
“Gabrielle, what are your thoughts about your first practice session at such an historical facility?”
“Mind-boggling.” She raised her eyebrows. “It was truly a dream come true.”
One of the drivers to her right snorted. She didn’t have to look that way to know it was Chas.
“It was also gratifying to finish the day third quickest. My team has worked tirelessly since Gulf Coast, and they gave me an amazing car.” She glanced toward Chas as she took a drink of water. Her nemesis had posted the fastest lap in the practice session. “We’ll be faster tomorrow. This car’s capable of being in the front row.”
A little while later, Brad gave her a thumbs-up as she made her exit from the press conference. Once they were out of danger of being overheard, he leaned in close. A spicy scent she couldn’t quite place filled her nostrils and made her motivated to find its origin.
“Nice job putting you know who in his place.”
“God, he is such an egomaniac. There’s no way I was going to let him get away with that.”
“I’m sure I’m not the only one to pick up on it. Don’t be surprised if the blogosphere starts talking about a rivalry between the two of you.”
Gabrielle let out a long breath. Rivalry. In the years since she’d relaunched her career, the only rival she’d given serious thought to was her PTSD. The other drivers were competitors, but she got the most joy tracking her progress against her condition.
She’d crossed paths, and wheels, with a few drivers she didn’t particularly care for, but overall, the racing community was a tight-knit group, populated by people with good hearts. Everybody shared the same passions—go fast and put on a great show for the fans. Because of those shared passions, it was common for drivers to become friends. Sure, they competed on the track, but in a business a
s dangerous as auto racing, where the Grim Reaper’s scythe was always sharpened, commonalities typically won out over differences among drivers.
“If the writers want to play that game, they can go ahead. I’m not interested. Chas isn’t worth it.”
Brad looked at her for a long moment. His hazel eyes bored into her, but she refused to look away. Instead, she focused on the flecks of gold in his irises. They shone like tiny jewels.
“You’re right.” As he nodded, she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “We’ve got enough to think about without letting ourselves get caught up in his drama. Onward and Upward, right?”
“You’ve got it, boss.”
“Please.” Brad put his hands up as if to ward off a rampaging bison. “Don’t ever call me that. Barbara’s the boss.” He started walking in the direction of the team transporter.
“If you say so. In that case, I guess it’s back to one bite. I hear the crew is dying to hear more stories of the legendary Brad Thomas’s eating talents.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes. Thanks to you, Frankie has already challenged me to a wing-eating contest.”
Gabrielle shuddered. As the team’s gas man, Frankie was responsible for making sure the car was properly re-fueled during pit stops. He was a burly guy and big enough that in a side-by-side comparison, he made Gabrielle look like a seven-year-old. He also loved spicy food: the hotter, the better.
“Sorry about that. No more one bite. Did you accept?”
“Of course. I couldn’t let such a challenge to my manhood go unanswered. We’re doing it after this weekend’s race, with the loser making a donation to the Racing for Hope Foundation.”
Between the smile and the little bounce in Brad’s step, Gabrielle decided to seize the moment. In recent days, every time he got close to her or touched her, sparks flew. Surely, he felt it, too. She’d take Brad’s hand and guide him to a nearby concrete bench.
And finally talk to him.
Before she could make her move, their phones went off at the same time. Brad checked his first.