Drive Me Crazy (Shady Falls Book 3)

by Shelly Davis

  Drive Me Crazy

  By

  Shelly Davis

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 SHELLY DAVIS

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, this book and any portion thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, transferred, or distributed in any print or electronic form without the express written permission of the author. Participation in any aspect of piracy of copyrighted materials, inclusive of the obtainment of this book through non-retail or other unauthorized means, is in actionable violation of the author’s rights.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, media, brands, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and registered trademark owners of all branded names referenced without TM, SM, or (R) symbols due to formatting constraints, and is not claiming ownership of or collaboration with said trademark brands. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1984374677

  ISBN-10: 1984374672

  Dedication

  To the love of my life, who has supported me through my every endeavor. You are my hero!

  The Connection

  I cannot decide what it is,

  is it your smile so kind or your laugh so sweet,

  the way your eyes see my soul or touch stops my heart.

  You can do things that no others can,

  make me laugh with one word,

  and warm me with your smile,

  I know, in my heart, you are special,

  you are my friend, my confidant,

  the most beautiful person I will ever know.

  Our love is like no other,

  we face the world as one,

  connected … forever.

  Anonymous

  Chapter One

  Harlan

  The plane touched down to the applause of the travelers. Skidding down the runway, the huge tires slid to a stop at the gate where we would deplane. As I gathered my belongings from the overhead compartment, I had to adjust my skirt before it rose any higher on the backs of my thighs. My oversized purse hung tight across my chest as I lifted Dillon into my arms and pushed into the line of people waiting to either start or end their holidays. I wasn’t here for a holiday, I was here to start my life.

  There were only two good things that came out of life in Europe; Dillon and racing. Finding my love for driving was the thing that made me…me. It was the only thing that kept me out of trouble as a kid and kept me focused when disaster struck. It was the only thing I had left connecting me with my parents.

  I lugged Dillon through the airport to the swish of his sweet, rhythmic little snores against my bare neck. The sound brought me a sense of rightness, as his breath warmed my skin where his head rested on my narrow shoulder.

  The crowded escalator bumped and moved as we descended toward parts unknown. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. What if this wasn’t the right choice for Dillon? Taking him away from his home, and everything he’s ever known was a difficult decision, but I believed it was necessary. I just hoped I was doing right by him.

  “Harlan?” My name rang out above all the chatter that surrounded us. I didn’t think it was possible for one voice to overpower that of hundreds or even thousands. An older man stood at the bottom of an escalator, just outside of security. His kind brown eyes and warm smile made all my worry disappear. Thrilled to see the man who reminded me so much of my mother, I walked quickly toward him.

  “Grandpa, I’m so happy to see you.” My bags clattered to the floor as he wrapped his long arms around both Dillon and me, pulling us in for a tight hug. He smelled like the outdoors; clean and crisp, with a tinge of diesel fuel, grease, and dirt. The smells brought back memories of my dad, he never seemed to be able to get that garage smell out of his skin. I hadn’t been hugged like this in so long, it felt like coming home. Dillon must have felt it too, he just wiggled in the tight embrace for a moment before snuggling into the crook of my neck and continuing to sleep.

  “Oh honey, I’m so glad y’all are here. It’s been so long.” He stood back and looked at the sleeping boy. “Let me get a look at him.”

  Gently taking Dillon, my grandfather looked down at the boy in his arms with a look of pure awe. I had to stop myself from the moment of panic that seized my chest. Dillon is safe; Grandpa won’t do anything to harm him. These words flowed over and over in my head as I watched my grandfather smooth his long, calloused fingers over my son’s soft, perfect skin. A look of peace passed over both of their faces as Dillon burrowed into his great-grandpa and continued to sleep.

  “Harlan,” he started, “he’s beautiful. The most beautiful thing I’ve seen since you were a baby. He looks so much like your momma, so much like you.” A tear made a track down his cheek as his smile widened and his posture relaxed. “I’m so glad y’all are home where you belong.”

  Lifting my sleeping boy to his shoulder, he grabbed my hand. “Let’s get y’all home.”

  The thirty-minute drive from the Piedmont Triad Airport to Winston Salem, North Carolina where my grandfather lived and worked seemed to fly by so quickly. He talked to me about his life and what it was like when he lost grandma, when he found out he’d lost my mom, and how much he missed watching me grow up. It was a difficult conversation; reliving the accident, explaining the family dynamic in Ireland, and watching his anger build when he realized Dillon and I had been pretty much on our own for years. He didn’t ask about Dillon’s father or question me about being irresponsible. No comments about being a teenage mother or coming back to America for help.

  The scenery flew by outside. Buds started breaking through on the bare trees, and small purple and white flowers carpeted the ground just beyond the road, bringing a sense of rebirth and newness to the barren forest. Spring was near, and soon the air would be filled with thousands of fragrances from blooming flowers and trees. It was a revival, for me and the winter-worn forest.

  “I have a lot of great guys who work for me, I just don’t have the strength to do the repairs for myself anymore. One of the guys has been thinking about buying the business when I’m ready to let it go. I thought now that you’re here, maybe it’s time for me to retire so I can help with this little guy.” He was mostly retired, but he still managed his small farming equipment repair business.

  My heart stopped and swelled in my chest, in a matter of an hour, this man has managed to make me feel more loved and cared for than I had in years.

  I knew, at that moment, that this would work out. All my dreams may not come true, but I knew I’d finally be happy and be able to give Dillon the life he deserved.

  ***

  I can’t believe I’m here, this is pure savage. My thoughts raced as I took in the huge buildings and lush grounds of Fuller Enterprises, imagining all the possibilities I never thought I’d have. Part of me couldn’t believe I was contemplating this move. It was a huge step, but a needed one if I would ever be able to race again. I’d never see the success I wanted in European racing. Too much drama and legend followed my name now. I never dreamed of driving for NASCAR. It seemed too difficult to reach. Now I was here, and I hoped I was as good as I wanted to be.

  In the month since I arrived in America, I’d helped around my grandfather’s garage. Mostly, I tried to get Dillon and I used to our new surroundings, and get over the jetlag. Now that I felt more like myself, it was time to pursue my dreams.

  I slid my rental to a stop in one of the parking spots outside the enormous building. Climbing out and stretching, I did my best to pop my bunched-up muscles back into place. />
  The hour drive from my grandfather’s place in Winston Salem to Mooresville, North Carolina gave me plenty of time to think. I spent my time trying to figure out how I could juggle Dillon and racing; how I could be a great mother and a great driver, and not compromise anything.

  The parking lot was filled with cars and people who were out enjoying the spring day. There was a group dressed in t-shirts and sweats, wearing helmets, standing on a wall. I stopped and watched as a whistle sounded and the group of six guys jumped over the wall. They moved as a unit around the car, changing tires and fueling. Pit stops in NASCAR were a big deal; a bad stop could be the difference between first and tenth.

  Before I knew it, the stop was finished, and the crew was back over the wall. A large, blonde man stood off to the side, seeming to observe them. He started talking to the group as they stood there nodding. Even from this distance, I could see he was mammoth compared to the others. He stood several centimeters taller than the rest, and the width of his shoulders and back were imposing. Turning my gaze from the massive man, I looked to the other side of the building where a black car flew around a track while others stood talking as they tapped on tablets or other devices.

  I could be happy in a place like this, bursting with life and excitement. This was exactly what I wanted.

  Inside the building, everything was white and surprisingly clean. The building had tons of windows that brought in all the beauty of the early afternoon. The air was filled with the smell of the blooming plants that brought a warm and inviting feel to the stark white background. People moved around inside; men dressed in suits and ties while the women were in dresses and pantsuits. They all looked professional.

  I looked down at my clothes, suddenly feeling less than adequate. My clothes were somewhat rumpled from my travels, and my hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail that was probably less than perfect. I smoothed my hands over my dress-pants, trying to wipe away the wrinkles and whatever else might have been clinging to me.

  “Hello there, darlin’. Can I help you?” a beautiful woman said. She sat behind a desk in the middle of the lobby. Her smile was friendly and her eyes, kind. She had short blonde hair that was styled flawlessly.

  “Hello,” I said. “I am Harlan Dempsey. I have an interview with Axel Turner and Julius Fuller.”

  “Wow!” she exclaimed. “Amazin’ accent. Where’re you from?” Her southern drawl was just as strong as my accent.

  “Ireland.”

  “I’m Margie Redding. Welcome to Fuller Enterprises. Please have a seat, and I’ll call for Axel and Jules.”

  Nodding, I thanked her and went over to the seating area. The pictures hanging on the walls were beautiful. Colorful renditions of race cars, portraits of the driver and the team were scattered around the room. Above the couch was a huge picture of the whole team after a race. It was titled Daytona 500 and dated from this year. Huge grins and number one fingers hung in the air. The pure look of accomplishment and success shined in their eyes. It was a feeling I never had the chance to know beyond the amateur tracks.

  “That was our first Daytona 500 win.”

  I whipped around at the sound of the husky voice behind me. Standing there was a handsome man with chestnut brown hair and deep brown eyes. He was tall, much taller than most drivers I knew. He had broad shoulders and a warm smile. Standing next to him was an older man with graying hair and bright blue eyes.

  The older man stuck out his hand and gave me a crooked smirk that instantly set my nerves at ease. He reminded me of my grandfather, full of life and knowledge, but not intimidating at all.

  “Harlan,” he said, “thanks for comin’. I’m Axel Turner, the team owner.” Gesturing to the tall, handsome man next to him, he explained, “This is Julius Fuller, he drives the Icecore number fifty-five.”

  “Great to meet you, Harlan.” Julius’s chestnut brown eyes danced with kindness. My heart fluttered just a bit, as it does around most ridiculously attractive men. I bet he could have any woman he wanted without even trying.

  “Come with us,” Axel said. “We’re gonna sit down and talk.”

  I locked eyes with the beautiful blonde as we passed by her desk. She mouthed the words, good luck, before looking back to her computer screen.

  Axel led the way through the building and into a cavernous garage attached to Fuller Enterprises. Sitting there in front of us was an unfinished race car. Several mechanics worked in and around the car. They didn’t even look in our direction as we walked through and out the door. Moving across the parking lot, we entered another garage. This one was just as intimidatingly enormous as the last. A red and silver race car sat inside, a white number sixty-five emblazoned on the side, and Viatech Robotics written across the hood.

  My eyes widened at the beautiful sight. I’d always had an affinity for cars, especially race cars and classics. There was something about the power and freedom that cars represented. They allowed us to see things beyond our front yards. We could experience life or even escape unpleasantness behind the wheel of a car. Maybe if I can drive fast enough, I can leave my problems in the wind.

  Our footsteps echoed through the vast, undeveloped area that was filled only with toolboxes and this one car. It seemed ten other cars and at least fifty men could fit comfortably in this room.

  “Nice, right?” Axel asked. “We’d like you to test on our practice track, so we can see how you drive. If all goes well, we’ll have you do a run-through on Thursday and possibly race at Bristol Sunday. We’d like to see if you’re the right fit for our team.” He beamed. “I’ve seen you race a couple amateur grand tour races when you were nineteen, you were good. Why’d you stop racin’?”

  I paused, unsure how to answer. The moment I got pregnant, professional racing was no longer a possibility, not that it was much of one before Dillon. The car owners didn’t want anything to do with a single mother race car driver. I was too much of a liability.

  Honesty was probably my best bet. I fidgeted my feet and looked down. “I had my son when I was seventeen. I had to take some time off while I was pregnant and after. He’s four years old now. When I was eighteen, I started racing in an amateur circuit, but with little support in Europe, it was difficult. I have family in America that is willing to help.” I paused and looked between Axel and Julius. “I can test whenever you want. I can be wherever you need. My son won’t affect my driving,” I said definitively. I stood by, staring at the car in front of me. Running my hand along its perfect lines, I turned to the two men. “Could I take it for a run now?”

  Axel patted my shoulder. He truly reminded me of my grandfather; kind and warm. “Don’t worry, Harlan. We’re a family-oriented company. You’ll see kids running around all over. We even have a daycare, free to drivers and crew, on this campus.” He paused and seemed to think for a couple moments. “I think drivin’ now would be a great idea, but let’s use the campus practice car because it has adjustable seats.”

  I felt every fiber of my body relax. Could I really have found such a perfect place for Dillon and me? Could this really be where we would finally be at home?

  Julius gestured to the door. “I’ll get the practice car ready for you.”

  ***

  Sitting behind the wheel of Turner Racing’s practice car, I heaved a sigh of relief. I wasn’t good at talking about myself, I barely knew what to say, but I could show them. Helmet securely fastened, seatbelts tight, and steering wheel in place, I flipped the switches on the dash and brought the rumbling beast of a car to life.

  The deep growl of the engine vibrated through me, and the smell of gasoline and oil wafted inside the car, calming my racing heartbeat. This was where I could focus and leave my problems behind for just a while. The deep rumble of the engine and low pulsation throbbed through my bones, and chased away any fears or worries that had taken hold while I drove to Mooresville.

  This move was exactly what I needed to get my life in order. Even if NASCAR didn’t work out, at least I had my g
randfather. There was nothing left for me in Ireland.

  Suddenly, a deep voice filled my helmet, jarring me from my musings. “Hey Harlan, this is Julius. Thought I’d walk you through your first time in a stock car. Are you ready to go?”

  Pressing the button on the steering wheel, I responded. “I’m ready.” Putting the car in gear, I eased it out onto the track, building speed as I went along. Two hundred fifty kilometers per hour and building, I sped around the track, watching the outside world turn into nothing but a blur of colors.

  “Impressive,” Julius’s disembodied southern drawl resounded through my ears. Even his voice was sexy. “One hundred eighty-five miles an hour. You okay in there? How’re you feelin’?”

  “I feel good,” I said, grinning like a fool behind the helmet screen. “The car is perfect.” Guess I’d have to get used to converting from metric if I get the chance to work here. No more kilometers for me.

  “Great,” he said. “Go ahead and do a few more laps and we’ll bring you in for a pit stop. The number sixty-five pit crew is out there for practice. We want you to experience a stop. When you pull into the stall, I’ll coach you through.

  “One more lap and pull down the road to the left.”

  Downshifting and pulling down the road, I watched my tachometer to stay within the RPMs we talked about before I got into the car. NASCAR was very strict about pit road speeds. The pit stops are important; there was more skill involved in the precision of the stop.

  Julius’s deep voice filled my helmet again. “Okay, Harlan. This pit stop is somewhat different than what you’re used to. You’ll see the crew move around the car and feel one side rise and fall, then the other. When the left side comes down, you can pull away.”

  “Ten-four,” I responded as I slid between the lines on the ground, indicating where the stop would occur. Men ran around the car. The right side of the car lifted, and the high whir of the air gun rang through the air as they removed the lugs from the car. It felt like just a moment, but twelve seconds later, I pulled out of the stall and back out onto the track.