by Davida Lynn
Heather narrowed her eyes at Chance. "Wait a damn minute."
"What?" He was shifting his eyes all over the room, and she saw it.
"I didn't tell you DJ said that. I didn't tell you he would work around my schedule."
Chance turned back to the sink. “You didn't have to. I assumed he would work around your schedule if he would offer you a job."
She knew that technique. When Chance was trying to bullshit her, he always looked away. He had the worst poker face imaginable. “You knew about this. Didn't you? Chance, look at me. You knew."
He hung his head. "I knew." Chance turned back to Heather, that cocky grin on his face. “He said you came highly recommended, didn't he? Who do you think recommended you?"
Heather's mouth fell open. She tried to scowl at him, but it turned into a smile instead. Her finger was still leveled at his chest. “You. You did this. Chance, you know this is crazy, right?"
“And? Life is crazy. Look, I’m not telling you one way or the other what to do, but I think it’s a good idea and something you should really think about. That’s all I have to say in the matter.”
She stepped forward, connecting the finger to his chest. “You said a minute ago that I should absolutely take the job.”
“Yeah, but that was before you found out I had something to do with it.” He cracked into laughter, pulling Heather into his arms. “You do what you think is best, and I’ll support that decision.”
“You’re a sneaky bastard, Chance.”
“True, very true.” He kissed her forehead. “Ready for dinner?”
Heather nodded.
The table looked far nicer than any meal the two had eaten there, and Heather gave Chance another sideways look. “Is this some sort of celebratory dinner?”
“Something like that.”
“God, you really thought I’d take the job in a heartbeat, didn’t you? Chance, you think you know me so well. I should turn it down just to teach you a lesson.” Heather gave Chance a warm smile, and the look he gave in return warmed her heart. There was something about Chance’s meddling that she loved.
He was looking out for her without telling her what to do. Visions of Rob and his overbearing wannabe alpha male bullshit came into her head, and she thanked God that Chance had come into her life. He was a good man, and he was secure enough to let her be her own woman. That’s why the job offer sat strangely with her.
Heather knew she could make the scheduling work out. The IndyCar season would start halfway through her spring semester, and by then, she could get a jump on her homework. She could even try to sell it as some sort of independent study and get ahead by a credit or two over the summer.
She didn’t want to admit that she was talking herself into the job, but only because she didn’t want to give Chance that satisfaction.
When he pulled the cork from a bottle of red, Heather said, “This is definitely the fanciest I’ve ever seen you, Chance.”
He just smiled and poured the wine into her glass, then his own.
As they ate dinner, Heather couldn’t stop smiling at Chance. Construction on his go-kart track was on schedule and under budget. They could have taken his winnings and sponsorship money and bought a big house and expensive cars, but even if it lasted, what would they gain out of it?
More than anything, Heather was excited for the prospect of taking the go-kart on track for free any time she wanted. Beating whatever time Chance set was her new life’s mission.
The two ate in a contented, happy silence, sipping wine and enjoying a few quiet moments in their hectic life. When Chance cleared his throat, Heather could almost sense something change in the air.
She saw his cheeks go red. “What’s up?”
“Heather, May was something incredible. I’ll never forget it.”
“Neither will I. The race was amazing.”
Chance smiled, but that hard edge was gone. “It wasn’t the race. It was you. I never thought that I could find a woman as amazing as you. The race was great, but everything since then has been because of you.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Her heart sped up. Her mind focused on what Chance was saying.
He nodded. “You did. You changed my life, and I don’t want to lose you.” Chance slid his chair back, stepping to the side of the small table for two. From his back pocket, Chance pulled a small box, and Heather threw her hands over her eyes.
He laughed, and his hand was on hers, pulling her hands away. She squealed, her smile hurting her cheeks.
“Heather Vaughn, would you make me the happiest man in the world and become my co-pilot? My teammate? My wife?”
Heather couldn’t contain her joy. She stood up, forgetting the table completely. When her hips connected with the edge, both wine glasses tipped and nearly toppled. Heather barely noticed. Her vision blurred from tears in her eyes as she pulled Chance to his feet. “Yes. Yes. Yes, Chance.”
After slipping the simple but elegant ring onto her finger, his arms closed around her.
“I love you, Heather.”
“God, I love you so much, Chance,” she said between fits of laughter.
Heather thought back on everything that had happened in that unexpected year. She barely recognized her life. Still on track to get her masters degree, and now? Now she was going to marry the love of her life.
As great as the year had been, Heather knew that the next would be even better than crossing that finish line in first place.
Only nine rookies had ever won the Indianapolis 500. I'm not in that list officially, I finished the race seven one thousandths of a second behind Jack Savage. He went on to win another four races that season, easily clinching the championship.
Some days I look back on that race and wonder what could have been. Winning in the highest echelon of open-wheel racing would have been nice, but I don’t lose any sleep over it. Heather is better than any trophy I could set on a shelf. She is a rock, an inspiration, and gets my blood pumping harder than any race car out there.
Our future is uncertain. The kart track is a risky bet, even with all the sponsorships and prize money. Still, there is no way in hell Heather would let me give up on my dream. She says I helped her discover hers.
All-American Pro is doing well this season. I watch every race, catching the occasional shot of her on the war wagon, somehow making the large headphones look sexy. I cheer with her on the good days, and I mourn on the bad. She’s helped me discover than I’m way more of a race fan than a race driver.
I may not have won the Indy 500, but I walked away with my life. More than that, I walked away with the love of my life.
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Davida Lynn grew up reading everything she could get her hands on, including some books she had to hide. At nearly thirty, she has stories pouring from her fingertips. She enjoys nothing more than letting characters unfold before her. When Davida isn’t writing, she loves watching trashy TV, reading pulp fiction, and daydreaming about her next travel destination.