by Davida Lynn
The flashing lights of the rescue vehicles grew in his vision. He shook his head to let them know he was conscious. The hit had been hard, but nothing life-threatening.
Chance tried to picture what had gone wrong; what he had done wrong.
Coming out of turn four, the car had gotten loose. The rear tires lost grip, and the centrifugal force wanted to pull the back end of the car outward, like a child flying from a spinning merry-go-round.
Chance let off the throttle the second that he felt the rear end getting loose. He tried to correct, turning into the spin and hoping to regain traction. Instead, the back end continued rotating until the car was completely sideways, his view the wall on the interior of the track.
By some miracle, Chance kept the car sideways and off of the outside wall. Even as he slid at over two hundred miles an hour, he could smell the burning rubber of his now trashed tires. The car was designed to keep the driver safe, and that meant his head couldn’t move more than a few inches side-to-side. Chance turned as much as he could, and as he slid onto the front straight, he saw a sight that stopped his heart cold.
The entrance to pit lane grew closer and closer. His car was headed for it, and even when Chance planted his foot on the throttle, the car didn’t change direction. He turned the wheel, taking the risk of hitting the inside wall rather than the very blunt and immovable wall separating the pit lane from the race track.
He tried, but the car and physics had minds of their own. The car laid thick lines of rubber on the track as it headed for the barrier. Knowing there was no saving it, Chance took his hands from the wheel at the last moment, crossing them over his chest and letting the air out of his lungs.
The front end of the car hit the barrier at a perfect perpendicular angle, sending Chance and the Fisher Home Improvement Chevy spinning down the front straight.
For a few revolutions, Chance tried to keep track of what direction he was facing, but the force was enough to cause the edges of his vision to blacken. When the car finally came to rest he sucked in a breath like it was his first. He was facing forward, not two hundred feet from the start/finish line; not two hundred feet from a chance at the pole.
The Holmatro Safety Crew helped him into their SUV. He was shaken up, but Chance had no injuries. Still, any intervention from the safety crews meant a free trip to the medical center.
The ride to the infield was agonizing. Chance couldn’t meet eyes with anyone, but as they passed the start/finish line, he glanced out the window, searching in vain for Heather in the stands. She surely wouldn’t be waiting for him.
The doc checked him out and gave him a clean bill of health, but it was like Chance was ten miles away. He couldn’t hear anything but the sickening scraping sounds of Annabelle’s skid plate grinding against the track. He had flown too close to the sun.
DJ was waiting when Chance pulled the curtain back in the medical center. The cigar was in the team owner’s mouth, unlit as usual. His face wore no expression, and that weighed more on Chance than the face of a furious man. DJ looked defeated.
The large man threw an arm around Chance, and the two headed out the doors in silence. They climbed into the golf cart, DJ driving. He pointed the cart toward the haulers.
Chance’s hands shook from the adrenaline still surging inside of him, but when DJ spoke, it jolted him nearly from the cart. “I got a phone call about twenty seconds after the car slid to a stop.”
Chance knew DJ was heading somewhere, but he didn’t know where. “And?”
DJ’s cigar swapped sides in his mouth. “And we’ve got no sponsor. Fisher’s was looking for a reason to pull out with Billy gone, and I had convinced them to hang on. Billy’s father isn’t a fan of mine on a good day, and you know as well as I that today isn’t a good day.”
“No.” Chance prayed that DJ couldn’t hear the quiver in his voice.
“Kid, we ain’t out. We’re down, but we ain’t out. I’ve begged, borrowed, and stolen before. I may be old, but this old cat’s got a few tricks up his sleeve, yet. Gotta ask you for something, though, kid.”
Chance listened carefully. If DJ said they weren’t out, he meant it. The legend never spoke on something unless he was sure. “Name it. Just name it, DJ.”
The old man chuckled as they pulled up to the hauler. Annabelle was sitting on the pavement beside the truck. The front wheels had been sheered off, and the right side of the car had its share of scrapes, dents, and missing chunks. All in all, not nearly as bad as Chance thought, and nowhere near as bad as his accident could have been.
DJ stopped the cart and took the cigar from his mouth. “Kid, I’m gonna need every penny of that fifty-five grand you offered up.”
“Bad news.”
Heather didn’t know what to think. He had called, despite truly believing she’d heard the last of Chance. Not because she was bad luck or anything silly like that, but because she was sure the team didn’t have the money to put the car back together.
She tried not to sound too eager. “Yeah?”
“I’m not going to be able to pay for dinner.”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “I got that impression. Please tell me you’re alright.”
“I’m alright. Still want dinner?”
Heather held her breath and nodded, forgetting that they were on the phone. “Yes, I do. As long as you’re really okay. I’m not a doctor, so if you pass out at the table, I can’t help you.”
Chance laughed, but Heather could hear the depression. “I’m fine. The car, on the other hand, not so much.”
“Where should we meet? I want to hear what happened, if you want to talk.”
She didn’t know what to expect. Some small part of Heather’s fantasy imagined that Chance would take her to some fancy restaurant. She would have been severely underdressed if that had been the case, but luckily she was severely overdressed.
The place was just a few steps above a dive. It was dark, generic, and TVs plastered just about every wall. That’s not why Chance took her there, though. Before they even went inside, Heather knew why he had taken her.
Outside, rotating above the neon sign was a race car. Just about every inch of the place was lined with racing memorabilia. Signed photos, helmets, gloves, car parts, and even another full-sized race car inside. Heather ran her hands down the side of her dress, wishing she had worn jeans, instead.
He turned to her. “Sorry, I wanted it to be a bit of a surprise. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No. This is great.” She wasn’t lying. There was something simple and earnest about it. Besides, she was the one paying, so if they had gone to a fancy restaurant, the bill would have been going on her already swelling credit card.
“Chance. Haven’t seen you in a while.” A middle-aged waitress came up to them, giving him a more than friendly smile. Heather tried not to give her any side eye. “Sorry about today. We were all listening when it happened.”
“Thanks, Viv.”
She barely even looked at Heather. “What’s the news?”
“Down, but not out.”
“Good. We wouldn’t have it any other way. What can I get you?”
Heather couldn’t help but feel a sting of jealousy. This woman was leaning over the table, practically elbowing Heather out of the way to get closer to Chance. Now she knew what it was like to be out with a celebrity.
“Why don’t we just get started with a pitcher of Killian’s?”
Viv nodded. “You got it. I’ll be back.”
Heather tried hard to keep the snark inside, but it was too powerful. “Well, she was nice, wasn’t she?”
Chance gave her a little smile. “Easy, girl. I used to work here. Viv is like my mom. That’s how I see her, anyway.”
“I don’t think she views things quite the same way.” Heather looked away, upset with herself for getting jealous.
Reaching a hand across the table, Chance took her hand in his. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure Viv has Hepatitis A.”
> Heather’s laugh came out of nowhere, and she quickly covered her mouth with a napkin. “That’s not funny.”
“And you’ve got a twisted sense of humor. Really, though. Nothing ever happened, and nothing ever will. My first job was busing tables here. Union Jack’s is legendary among racers and fans. I met Mario Andretti just over there.” Chance pointed to a table currently hosting three bikers.
“Really?” Heather had heard that name thrown around a fair amount at the race track. She knew the Andretti name was synonymous with the track.
“Yup. I’ve met him, Parnelli Jones, Al Unser, Arie Lyundyk, and a bunch of other old men whose names you don’t know.” He laughed, picking up on Heather’s dumbfounded look.
Chance looked around. “I used to work here on Memorial Day, watching the 500 on the TV, barely getting any work done. I’d dream, and on my breaks, I’d run outside to hear the engines filling the sky.”
Before Heather could respond, her favorite waitress came back. She believed Chance, but wanted to mark her territory, just a little bit. Leaning in, she pushed her shoulders together, letting the low-cut dress do its thing. She laced her fingers in his and gave him a sultry look that couldn’t be mistaken.
Viv must have seen it, because her attention was on Heather this time. “Have y’all decided on what you want?” The older woman’s tone barely qualified as friendly, but Heather didn’t care.
She smiled to Chance. “What do you think about pizza?”
He shrugged, giving her hand a squeeze. “You’re buying, so I’ll leave that decision up to you.”
After a quick glance at the menu, and maybe a bit of stalling to irk Viv, Heather ordered some food and handed the waitress the menus.
As Viv walked way, Chance’s jaw was on the table. Heather looked away. “What?”
“Damn. You are vicious, you know that? Remind me never to cross you.” He laughed as he poured two beers from the pitcher.
“Can do. So you were going to tell me what happened on the track today.”
Chance took a long sip of beer. “It doesn’t take much to upset these cars. They have enough downforce gluing them to the track that they could drive upside down, but a little crosswind at the wrong time, and your day goes from good to bad in a millisecond.”
“That’s what happened?”
“Yup.” He nodded. “With the car trimmed out for qualifying, there’s no room for error. The suspension is tighter, steering input is more sensitive, and the tires are at a higher pressure. It’s all or nothing, and today came up nothing for me.”
“It was terrifying to watch.” Heather’s voice dropped. She could feel a lump growing in her throat. She could almost see the accident happening again in front of her eyes.
Chance’s eyebrows shot up, then back down. “It was terrifying to ride along.”
“Really?”
“Are you kidding, Heather? I’m not invincible.”
She looked away. “You’re not all fearless?”
“God no. It’s better than it used to be, but we lose friends to this sport. Justin Wilson died just a few years ago, and that haunts me. We’re not fearless. Foolish, stupid, adrenaline junkies, yeah, but not fearless.”
Viv set a tray down and lowered a steaming pizza onto it. “Need anything else?”
Chance shook his head. “I think we’re good. Thanks, Viv.”
“You got it.” She gave Heather a quick glance, then turned and left.
“To be completely honest,” Chance leaned in. “Part of me was hoping that was it. Part of me was ready to quit when the car came to a stop.”
“But you’re not going to?”
“If they can get her back together, we’ll start from dead last. It might be my last ride, but at least it’ll be a good one.”
Heather didn’t know what to say, so she raised her glass. “To one last ride.”
“To one last ride.” Chance did the same.
She tapped her glass of deep red beer against his and threw it back.
An hour and a second pitcher later, Heather’s fingertips were tingly, and she could feel how red her cheeks were. It wasn’t just from the beer, but that was a definite factor. She was having a great time with Chance. He wasn’t pushy, although he had moved seats so they were both sitting on the same side of the booth.
The place was starting to fill up with the late night crowd, and the pair could laugh louder without worrying about anyone noticing them.
His arm around her shoulder felt comforting and exciting. Her hand on his thigh felt dangerous and exhilarating.
The two of them were close, Heather leaning against Chance’s body. She could feel the muscles in his arms, willing her to touch him more. Sure, she was a little buzzed, but Chance was a good guy.
He looked at his watch and almost spit up the last of the beer. “Good god, it’s nearly one in the morning.”
“Are you serious?” Heather was over enunciating her words. “You’re not serious. I have to be at work by six.” Despite how serious she sounded, Heather burst out laughing.
“I’m a little too far gone.” Chance shook his head. “I can’t drive.”
“No shit. I don’t want them waving the yellow flag to come pick us up.” She poked at his side, using it as an excuse to feel his abs. Heather was a sucker for a six-pack.
“Look at you, I thought you didn’t know anything about racing.”
She turned away after a coy look. “What can I say, I’m interested.”
“Oh yeah?”
She nodded. “Think we should get an Uber?”
“That’s a great idea.”
Chance ordered a car while Heather paid the bill. Viv had long-since headed home, and some closer took the check. With Chance’s arm around her waist, the two headed out the door.
Their ride pulled into the parking lot, and Heather couldn’t help but throw a little fire Chance’s way. “Let’s hope this guy drives better than you,” she said with a wink.
His eyes went wide, but more out of shock than anger.
Chance’s hand was quick, slapping her hard on the ass. Heather burst out laughing, loving how playful Chance was. She was giddy with excitement as they climbed into the black SUV.
It wasn’t long before their hands were all over each other. Neither cared about the driver just in front of them. Chance pulled Heather in, and their lips met.
She closed her eyes, drinking in the moment and his power. Chance’s hands were so strong and they directed her body with such control. Heather’s chest was pounding, blood rushing to her cheeks as the two kissed. When they pulled back, Heather could see the streetlights shining in Chance’s eyes. He looked so strong and fired up.
Chance laid one hand on Heather’s cheek, a bump in the road bringing them back together in a fit of passionate laughter. Heather glanced to see that the driver was calling someone on the phone, paying the two in back no attention at all. She took it as a sign.
Unfastening her seat belt, Heather swung a leg over Chance’s lap and straddled him.
He pulled her body against his. “You’re bad,” he whispered in her ear so close that Heather could feel the air on her skin.
“Shut up and kiss me.” Heather’s breaths were coming fast and sharp, charged by the passion between her and Chance.
She could feel the heat radiating from his body, like the hood of a car after a road trip. Heather wanted to tear the buttons off his shirt right there, but she had to restrain herself.
The trip to her apartment seemed to take forever, but when she felt the SUV bump its way into the parking lot, she pulled herself from Chance’s lap and hardness.
“Thanks,” she called back, halfway out of the car already.
Heather had Chance’s hand, dragging him up the stairs to her place. She was desperate for him, dying for his touch, and aching to get him naked.
She fumbled with the keys, not helped by the fact that Chance was sliding his hands up from her stomach to her breasts. Heather’s knees w
ent weak, and she dropped the keys onto her worn welcome mat.
When she reached down for them, Heather squealed as Chance’s hands pulled her dress up and grabbed her ass. “Oh my god. Hands off.”
“Look who’s talking. Unlock the door, or I’m going to break it in.” There was grit in his voice, and Heather knew he was serious. Chance’s eyes were focused on her like nothing else existed; not even racing.
She threw the door open, and as soon as the two stepped inside, she had her legs around him. Chance didn’t even waver when she threw her weight into him. He stepped into her living room as Heather fumbled for the light switch. Her keys and purse fell to the floor next to the front door as Chance kicked it shut. She didn’t care. They were casualties to the night.
“Bedroom.” Chance growled the word against the soft skin of Heather’s neck.
She turned away, moaning when he kissed her flesh. “Down there.”
The lights came on, and she could see that Chance’s cheeks were flushed. Heather could feel the heat at her own face, but there was a much deeper, more resounding heat between her legs screaming out for relief.
Chance moved around the furniture, his lips never leaving Heather’s skin. Hoisting her higher, he buried his face between her breasts as Heather wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.
Heather was experiencing the touch of a real man for the first time in far too long. She moaned and cried out with every touch. Her eyes went wide when Chance lowered her down onto the softness of her bed.
Heather watched as Chance lowered himself down to the foot of the bed, taking one of her legs in his hand. She bit her bottom lip as she watched him pull the western button-down shirt over his head. There were those irresistible ab muscles, twisting and turning with each movement. Heather’s mouth watered.
She shuddered in anticipation as Chance began to kiss his way up her leg. Shaving had been worth it that morning. Heather could feel his lips and scruff against the softness of her leg, and the quiver that shot down her spine was intense. Every inch of her body was on fire.