“What if he falls, or gets hurt? My daughter is showing him next week; I can’t have an injured horse!”
“He’ll be able to stand on his feet just fine,” Dave replied. “We’re not doping him up to knock him out; he just needs enough to relax him.”
“And what if he still won’t load?” Carson asked rather tersely.
“We’ll get him loaded,” Dave replied firmly. “But I suggest you hire someone to fix the problem because tranquilizing him every time isn’t going to be a viable solution. How on earth do you plan on getting him to the show and back? How on earth did you even get him here?”
Carson was still agitated, but he let out a breath of air and tried to hide a smile. “Uh, my neighbor has a mare that my horse is, uh, pretty found of. We loaded her first and Strong felt pretty motivated.”
Everyone chuckled at that, and I was glad for the story to lighten the mood.
“So she didn’t go along for the ride too?” Heath asked.
“No, we unloaded her, but Strong didn’t like it. If all else failed, we were just gonna load the mare with us next week.”
“Well, we can get the kinks worked out of him,” Heath said. “But I can’t guarantee it’d be by next week. I suggest you have someone work with him if you’re gonna be showing him.”
“I just…I had no idea the horse didn’t trailer well,” he said. “The previous owner delivered him for us and…”
“Well, it happens,” Heath told him. “Sometimes it’s just a matter of getting him over a bad driving experience. But the horse needs to be worked with before you take him in public.”
Carson agreed and was eventually talked into the tranquilizer. They positioned the horse away from the trailer and I administered the drug into his neck. After a few minutes they led him to the ramp and stopped, waiting for the telltale sign of the drooping head, signifying that it was time to load him. Heath walked him up easily and secured him in the stall while Dave went over a few more things with Carson.
When the truck and trailer left the ranch a while later, I headed back to the office to finish up my stuff, and then went to the guesthouse to shower and get ready for my date with Austin. I was excited for it, and I figured I could probably check what concert we were going to online, but I chose to let myself be surprised.
Chapter Nine
By Wednesday I decided that stereotypes were silly, and people that judged others just on one outward fact alone were also silly. Yeah, I guess it’s understandable to see someone full of tats riding a Harley and you could say, “That guy’s a biker.” But isn’t that where you should stop? I suppose certain labels have general characteristics that go with them—what things do you think of when you hear the words jock, diva, or punk? –But surely those people that fit a particular category on the outside can’t all be cookie cutter copies on the inside, right? There are too many ingredients to a person to simplify them so quickly.
I really didn’t put up with too much labeling when I was a teenager—I was kind of oblivious to it—but I started to get a taste of it after I graduated from high school. When my mom died I had to quit school, and then I had to get a job. It was hard enough to get a job that I wanted let alone one that was “cool.” I had other goals while I waited tables, but I did it so I could get myself to a place that I wanted to be.
Occasionally I would see a friend from school, or run into someone that knew me back then, and they would have to find out that no, I wasn’t in veterinary school right now, and yes, I’m a waitress in a diner. I guess it didn’t bother me much because the circumstances in my life had changed and there wasn’t anything I could do about it, but I was working hard as a waitress just so I could change things, and I viewed it as only a stepping-stone to get me on my way.
Austin hadn’t judged me any particular way when he first saw me. He said he thought I was a beautiful girl, and when I’d stopped them on the sidewalk, there was no way any of them wanted to turn me down. It was a little flattering to hear him tell me about some of the conversations they’d had about me, even that Brock and Will had thought of several ways they could get me to go out with one of them.
Austin didn’t deny being a part of those conversations too, but after coming into the diner two times after that, he claimed to have developed quite the crush on me. I teased him that he was a stalker, and he didn’t deny that either, but he says that he learned a lot about me just by watching me interact with other people. When he won the bet to take me out (if I chose that) it made him feel bad. He didn’t want me to go out with him for any reason except because I wanted to, and he didn’t feel that I was too keen on the idea.
I guess my opinion of Austin took a while to develop. At first he was just one amongst a group of guys, and for the most part, Brock’s shameless personality had overshadowed everyone else. It wasn’t that I hadn’t noticed Austin, because I thought he was definitely the best looking of the four, but Brock kept me pretty busy and I hardly had time for anyone else.
But I did notice Austin the second time they all came in, mainly because he had such a quiet yet confident air to him. I liked his mannerisms and the way he talked, and then when he handed me the money that day… I suppose it kind of sealed our fate. That was what it took for me to be hooked, and all he had to do was slowly pull me in from there.
Going back to my whine about stereotypes… At first I wasn’t quite sure if Austin was the right kind of guy for me. Certain things definitely worked in our favor, but I’ll admit that it took a few times for me to get past Autumn’s “accountant” stereotype of him. Autumn’s feelings about accountants and financial guys were that they were boring. She also placed businessmen in that category. Austin didn’t really talk about his job at the speedway very often, but I knew enough about it to know what he does for ten hours, four days a week. Maybe the job itself was just his paycheck, but it really didn’t define him entirely. I knew how smart he was, and I knew he worked hard, but Austin was not the type that you could pigeonhole very easily. There was a lot to him, and if you were to spend a day with him and then find out he wore a tie and mingled with the corporates, it might not seem likely.
During the few months that I got to know Austin, I discovered that he had a great sense of humor. I mean he could be serious and business-like because I’d seen those qualities in him too, but his sense of humor was more innate than his trained professionalism. He was also kind of spontaneous, and I couldn’t count how many times I’d heard him say, “Hey, let’s go in there instead,” when we were on our way to eat somewhere else, or “Why don’t we go do this today?” and it would be something totally random. One Wednesday morning he called me up and told me he took the day off. He knew it was my day off so he decided to work Friday instead, but I came down to his place and we spent the entire day doing random things in the Los Angeles area. It was so much fun, and I have a lot of memories from that day.
I think that’s when my suspicions about his adventurous side began to develop, and I hardly even pictured him as the businessman that once presented me with a plan to get my aunt’s diner to succeed. That image of him kind of faded as I spent more time with him on a personal level, and to me Austin was just…Austin.
On Friday (the Friday that he worked because he’d taken Wednesday off) I was in the guesthouse when I heard him roll in. It was almost nine pm, and I was already in a pair of pajama pants for the night, but I walked over to the main house so I could see him. He’d been on his way to see me too, and we met on the grass again. It always felt good to have him back when he’d been gone all week, even if I did just see him on Wednesday.
He hardly said anything as he gave me a hug, so I could tell he’d had a stressful day at work. We walked over to the hammock near the garden and just laid in it together, quietly enjoying the time with one another. Finally I did ask him about his day and he opened up to me. We talked about it for a little while before he told me it was all in the past already, and he wanted to focus on his time with me. Then we w
ent inside because he hadn’t eaten since noon and I finally couldn’t take all the noises his stomach was making.
But that’s when Sam saw him eating at the dining room table and asked, “What time is your race tomorrow? I forget.”
Austin gave her a look, and then she saw me standing in the kitchen, cutting up some fruit.
“Oh,” she said, biting her lip. “Oops.”
I could only stand there in silence, waiting for some sort of explanation for what she was talking about. I assumed she meant a horse race, and I wasn’t aware that Need For Speed had a race the next day. There hadn’t been any preparation for it, at least not from the medical end of it.
Austin just continued eating after she left, seeming to take advantage of the fact that I didn’t inquire. He honestly wasn’t going to say anything until I asked, “What race?” and sat at the table with him.
He had that suave business air to him and I wasn’t sure I particularly liked it. For some reason I felt like I was about to be “dealt” with and I couldn’t help it when I said, “I’m not a business client, Austin.”
He barely nodded and replied, “Yes, I know that. I’m just trying to decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing.”
“And what’s that?”
He remained quiet for several seconds as he moved the plate and set his elbows on the table in front of him. “Remember when you told me you were glad that all I did was work the business aspect of the speedway?”
“I didn’t say that was ‘all you did’—”
“I know, but that’s not the point. You said you were glad that I wasn’t actually one of the morons racing the cars.”
I smiled and said, “Yes, I remember saying that. Because it’s dangerous and I would never date a guy that was—”
I stopped short because I realized what we were talking about. I could only stare at him for several seconds and just the look on his face confirmed it.
“No, Austin…” I said quietly.
He took a deep breath and said, “I race cars, Nova. I have for about…five years now.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and said, “You told me that yeah, you’ve ‘tested it out.’ The track. I asked if you’ve actually raced on it and you casually said, ‘Uh, yeah, I’ve tested it out.’”
“I know, and I’m sorry for misleading you, I really am, but because of the things you said about it… I was just afraid you’d have a problem with it and—”
“I do have a problem with it,” I replied crossly.
“Yes, I can tell.”
“Well what do you expect? You knew how I felt about it, I told you how glad I was that you didn’t do stuff like that…”
“I know, so what was I suppose to say?”
“Well apparently you were supposed to lie about it, which is what you chose to do.”
He was about to respond, but decided not to—at least not right away. After a few seconds he said, “Nova, I’m really sorry I chose to keep it from you. When it came up I planned on letting you know that’s what I do, but then you had such negative feelings about it and… I was just afraid it was going to come between us.”
“And what about now? What are things supposed to be like now?”
He paused before he said, “I don’t know. I guess I’ll sit here and beg you to forgive me, and beg you to not let it come between us. I don’t want it to come between us, Nova.”
“Then maybe you should have thought about that when I told you how I felt. Did you think I was just going to soften to the idea?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Well I won’t.”
“It’s driving cars, Nov—”
“Don’t try to make it sound like it’s not a big deal. And it’s not just ‘driving cars.’ It’s racing cars. Racing cars in a restricted space with…who knows how many drivers! It’s dangerous. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s one of the most dangerous careers out there, isn’t it? And if you tell me this is what you do all day—racing cars and not actually working in an ‘office’—I’m going to be even more pissed because—”
“I’m a professional driver, but I don’t race everyday, Nova. Yes I have an office job right now. It’s the job that I talk to you about and discuss things with you about. I didn’t make it up. I’m barely up there in a slot to race anything big at the moment; I just do smaller races for now. The amount of time I have to spend is—”
“What do you mean ‘for now’? Don’t even tell me that you plan on racing for NASCAR or something, Austin. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, technically I already race for NASCAR.”
I just stared at him, totally confused.
“I’m licensed to drive for NASCAR. For two years I raced in the Grand National division, and went on to the All-Star Showdown at the Speedway.”
I sighed with mixed feelings. I was proud of him for whatever accomplishment that meant, but I definitely wasn’t sold on the idea of Austin racing. I sat there for a while, mulling over information as I recalled it. Thinking back I guess I could see little things here and there that supported the whole “Austin races cars” idea. With all the competition talk and race talk that went on in the stables, I probably didn’t even think twice about any slip about racing when it was about cars. Whether it was amongst his family or other times, I just didn’t catch on.
Austin reached over and took my hand across the table. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand where all of this fits in. How can you have, like, three jobs and squeeze in racing too? And me? How do you fit me in?”
“Easily, because I can’t be without you. And I finished up the details for the diner, and I’m actually done working for Marcus. So technically I’m down to one job and my vacation each weekend here,” he smiled.
“And? Where does racing fit in?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t really raced that much this year. I just started up again a few months ago. Kind of at the same time I met you.”
“And how can you race for NASCAR, or a division or whatever that means, if you’re not doing it regularly?”
“Well, I had surgery the end of January. I had to take some time to recover and then get cleared.”
“Surgery for what?”
“My shoulder.”
I nodded, aware that he’d had surgery for a torn ligament. “And how did that happen? And if you tell me it was from a racing accident—”
“Playing football,” he interrupted with a tiny smile. “Didn’t I tell you that?”
“Oh yeah.”
We were both aware that other people were milling around the house, so I wasn’t surprised when he said, “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”
I nodded and stood up with him. I cleaned up the kitchen counter where I was working, and after he took his plate to the sink and stuck a piece of watermelon in his mouth, he led me to the den.
He sat on the couch and patted the space next to him. I was tempted to refuse because I was still feeling cantankerous, but I sat down and partially faced him.
“I started out consulting with Marcus,” he began. “That was my first job outside of the ranch while I was still going to college. I started racing when I was eighteen, found my own sponsors, and did it as much as school and my job allowed. When I began racing more, I worked for Marcus less. He even helped sponsor me. I had two great years of racing, started out practicing pretty well this January, and then hurt my shoulder. That’s kind of how I started working at the Speedway. I knew the guys there pretty well, and Hank knew I had my MBA. He hired me to work on a few marketing projects, so I agreed. A few projects turned into a few more, and I started working there full time. But then I got cleared to race and…started competing again.”
“How many races since I’ve known you?”
He paused for just a second and then replied, “Well, I guess about six.”
“Six?”
“Well four of them were before you and I were really ‘together’—two were when I
was still courting you at the diner,” he smiled, “and then two weekends in a row after you started working here.”
I considered that for a moment, understanding why he didn’t come home those weekends. I thought it had to do with me blowing him off the week before, but he was really just racing? But wait, he was gone three weekends that month… Maybe one of them really was to avoid me.
“Now I’m racing with the K&N Pro Series again, like I was a year ago. I do have a race tomorrow,” he seemed to add as a side note. “It’s at Infineon. Well, Sonoma. I’d like you to come.”
“No.”
He studied me for a few seconds, but I guess he realized I was serious. “Even if I beg you?”
“I don’t like it, Austin.”
He didn’t reply, but I could tell that I had totally let him down.
I moved closer to him on the couch and laid my head on his shoulder. “You do remember that my mom died in a car accident, right?” I asked quietly.
He’d kissed my head, but after I said that, he was still. After several seconds I sat up and looked at him just as he said, “I’m sorry, Nova. I didn’t even- it should have occurred to me—”
“I understand, but just so you know… Even if I can’t make you stop racing, I don’t think I can come watch you, Austin. I just…don’t know if I could handle it.”
He nodded but didn’t reply, and then he put his arm around me and we sat in silence for a minute. I knew why I didn’t want him to race, and I considered sharing how I felt about him, but I wasn’t very confident about adding more to the current mix. Maybe I expected him to quit racing just for me, but what if he’d asked me to quit school or stop working on the ranch? Was it the same thing?
I didn’t think it was. For one, school and a career were reasonable. Racing cars was not.
The next morning I was faced with a tough decision. All night I’d thought about Austin and my relationship with him. Even though watching him race a car was not my first choice, I felt like I was being selfish. I knew my reasons were legitimate, but I also knew that I wanted to be anywhere that Austin was, and if he wanted me to be present when he could very possibly crash a car and die, I felt like I owed him that much. I knew I was being overdramatic, at least I hoped I was, but I was still a little upset about the whole thing. Upset, but really worried at the same time.
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