Alex's Destiny (Racing To Love)

by Amy Gregory

  Holding his wrist up to check the time, he grinned. “I was just about to ask you the same thing. It’s after nine, you have to be starving.”

  A common and well-known side effect of heartache was loss of appetite. She listened to friends over the years complain and suffer the effects of men trampling their hearts. Up to this point, Alex had considered herself lucky. Drumming her fingers on her desk and dropping her eyes to the words she’d written, it was obvious that wasn’t the case anymore. “Na. I’m good.”

  Levi walked closer, his eyes downcast, and peered at the notebook she had pinned between her forearms. “What do you got there?”

  Alex pulled in a sharp breath. “Nothing.”

  Wiping his hands on his cargo shorts, he quirked a brow and leaned in closer. “It doesn’t look like ‘nothing’. Seriously, what is it?”

  Alex didn’t answer. But instead of closing the leather-bound journal, she moved her arms, uncovering the words that revealed all of her private pain. “It’s nothing…really.”

  “Alex,”—Levi reached his hand out, toward the desk, but paused at the last minute before he made contact—“may I?”

  Biting her lip, she searched his eyes, trying to assess if he would judge her. Finally, she nodded.

  Sitting in the chair across the desk from her, he relaxed, his ankle crossed over his knee, the pages spread open on his lap…reading. For several moments her attention darted between his facial expressions and the clock, to the window where she could see the other mechanics hanging out in the shop with her Uncle Jesse and Aunt Emery, and then back again. Levi wasn’t a shy guy. He was a hard worker, but he was always ready to have a good laugh, one that would fall in line when the pranks were being cultivated. And normally Alex would be able to hang with the guys. It was almost mandatory in her family. The teasing, pranks, and jokes were commonplace. Life would be miserable if one couldn’t afford to laugh at themselves on occasion.

  Not tonight though. Tonight she didn’t have it in her to be the butt of a joke, or on a grander scale—the laughing stock of the shop. Her hurt was too raw, her feelings too close to the surface. She couldn’t handle fun being at her expense. Not when that pain involved Dallas.

  Shaking it, Levi’s head came up, his brow knitted. “This isn’t ‘nothing’. You do know what it really is…right?”

  Here it was, the moment where she needed to find some way to evaporate into thin air rather than submit herself to the humiliation of him sharing her private thoughts with the other guys. Playing it off as if she wasn’t afraid of him or his reaction, she straightened her spine. “Some sappy poem you’re going to make fun of? Look, I made a mistake, a momentary lapse in judgment”—she held out her hand, her arm stretched across the desk—“please, stop reading and just hand my book back. Please, Levi?”

  His head tilted, his face blank, finally he blinked a couple of times. “You know me better than that. At least I hope you do? God, honey…I would never make fun of you like that. No, Alex…these are song lyrics.”

  Rolling her eyes, a less-than-ladylike snort escaped at his assessment. “I don’t think so, especially since I couldn’t play a musical instrument if my last breath depended upon it.”

  His eyes hadn’t stayed on hers long enough to listen to her argument, instead his gaze drifted back to the paper he was running his finger over. Levi seemed to kick into a different gear. Leaning forward, he sifted through the cup full of pens on her desk until he found a pencil, then he started scribbling in the margins of her work. Alex remained silent, still half on edge he’d turn her into the latest shop joke. He turned his ball cap around so the bill faced backward, and she was able to watch the lines in his forehead crease then ease repeatedly. The faster he wrote, the more intense the lines around his eyes became. Then he was done.

  With a cautious eye, Alex took him in as he unfolded himself from the chair in front of her desk. Walking around the desk, he brought the worn notebook, bulging with countless pieces of her inner-most thoughts, and standing beside her, he laid it back down on the desk top for her to see.

  Time ceased as she saw his scribbles, words written, then marked out again with replacements jotted down in their place. But what stopped her were the notes. Even with no real music knowledge, reading or writing it, Alex still knew what a musical note looked like. In the ten minutes or less Levi had held her words in his lap, he’d added the equivalent of musical sentences to the first two paragraphs of her latest poem. Maybe it wasn’t just a poem after all. She couldn’t read the music and hear it in her head, but she could see the connection, and knew Levi obviously thought there was something to it all.

  Feeling like she was being studied, Alex tore her gaze away from the pages.

  “Let me ask you this. I know you’ve always helped out here at the academy, and when you retired from racing, you stepped into your mom’s role. But”—his smile quirked—“I also know throughout it all, you homeschooled, graduated what some would say…very early, and then started taking college courses—”

  Nodding, Alex acknowledged the truth as Levi made himself comfortable in the chair once again. “That wasn’t an option in our home. Mom and Dad made sure Jack and I both knew from an early age we would be going to college.”

  “And although you didn’t want any fanfare, I know you earned your degree early as well.”

  “It wasn’t that big of a deal, Levi. I added in college courses early, and kept going through summer semesters, I don’t get where you’re going with any of this?”

  “What did you major in?” Levi smirked.

  She’d been hunched over her work, half protecting it from any other uninvited visitors. Through the picture window in her office, several of the guys still in the shop had glanced her direction. It was only a matter of time before the other busy-bodies came in to harass her and Levi for “talking” so long.

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Levi remained silent, and when he pinned her with one eyebrow raised she could only assume he was trying to make a point. Leaning back, Alex sunk into her chair, deciding she was too tired to remain on the defense with him, answering with one word. “English.”

  Apparent by the smile that slid across his face, Alex must have proven him right somehow.

  “Uh-huh”—he nodded—“and how many of those classes were geared toward creative writing?”

  It had never been any secret neither she nor Jack would ever have to worry about their future. The twins had been born with a set of matching silver spoons, but they were never raised to play that part. They both worked hard to help run the family business, and it was common knowledge that Alex’s love was the academy. She belonged trackside, walking the dirt or riding on it, she wasn’t ever going to be a big-city girl who flashed her killer looks in a short skirt working nine-to-five. Alex had been born to ride, and it was her calling. Her passion though, was teaching. The same adrenaline pumping, heart pounding moment that Dallas and the other racers got when winning, Alex felt when a student finally accomplished a goal after practicing a move time-after-time. The longer it took the student to perfect it, the bigger success she felt.

  Knowing her dreams, passions, and goals for life, still hadn’t gotten her out of going to college.

  She took as many business classes as she could stand and managed not to fall asleep in any of them, but her secret love had been the writing classes. She lived for them. It was her payoff for having to suffer through math and science requirements, and she filled every elective spot she could with some sort of English class. Her schedule became so one-sided her guidance counselor suggested she major in it. So she did. That still didn’t help her see what connection Levi was pointing out.

  “Well, like I said…these are song lyrics.” His grin deepened. “I’ll even bring in my guitar sometime and we can sit down, play around with some of these.” He said as he leaned across the desk and tapped one of the paragraphs he’d made musical notations beside. “I’ll show you exac
tly what I’m talking about.” There wasn’t any superior attitude behind his tone, just a simple bit of honest encouragement.

  Alex bit her lip as she splayed her palm on the page. Lifting her fingers slowly to reveal the last line she’d written, she shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s not how I meant it to be. I just needed to…I, I don’t know.”

  “Dallas hurt you.”

  His simple three-word declaration stopped her cold. A chill ran through her blood. Alex hadn’t wanted to admit it, not to herself and certainly not out loud. But Levi didn’t take back his statement and he wasn’t jumping to apologize.

  “God.” She breathed out her frustration as she lowered her face into her hands, her hair falling down to help shield her embarrassment. “Is it that obvious? I must be the laughing stock of everyone around here, huh?”

  “No. You’re not, Alex.” The strength of his conviction gave her the courage to raise her head and face him. “And for what it’s worth, that girl doesn’t mean anything to him.” His face relaxed, and gentleness replaced what she could only guess was a flash of anger.

  Alex had grown up with the guys around the track, both other trainers as well as all the mechanics. Of which, Levi was one of. Only a handful had left over the years, usually to join a pro team and travel the circuit. But then there were those like Levi, who had sat in his interview with her Aunt Emery and the mechanic who had been employed with the Nolands the longest, Joey, a skinny resume in one hand and a certificate in the other. More like a two-year degree from a training program was geared toward dirt bikes from a college in southern California who boasted to be the best in the country. What they saw in him was hope. Levi would be a permanent fixture, a lifetime employee of the academy. Like the majority of them , because the tightness and loyalty to the school flowed over to those who owned it. Alex included.

  Their staff was never treated like they were replaceable. To be accepted onto the Noland SFH Racing Academy staff, was more than just a name tag or a great line on a resume. It came with a welcome into a family-oriented business that used their unique respect and bond to put them at the cutting edge in motocross training.

  Alex was more than co-workers with all of them, but sitting across from Levi she felt like their friendship was about to delve deeper. Trying to read the tic of his jaw and the tilt of his head, she suspected he might know more than he was letting on.

  “See, that’s what hurts the most about your statement. I appreciate that you said it, and I know you are just trying to make me feel better, but I don’t know what‘s worse.” She leaned back, stacked her feet on her desk and stared at the ceiling.

  It was bad enough to think this to herself, but to admit it out loud, she didn’t think she could handle seeing Levi’s face as the words came out. “That he might be serious about someone else, and never see me in that light, or…he isn’t the man I thought he was.”

  She was breaking his heart.

  Levi had shown up fresh out of trade school, wanting nothing more than to work at the prestigious Noland’s racing academy. He figured out, early on as a teen he wasn’t ever going to make it as a pro racer, not only due to lack of funding, but he also had an innate sense he wasn’t going to cut it. That didn’t squelch his love of bikes, though. If anything, he learned he loved tinkering with the mechanics of the bike even more.

  He’d done his research, and that meant he had to buckle down in high school, especially in math and science. The hard work paid off, and he was accepted into SoCal Racing Trade, the closest school he had found that could help him along the course he was charting. If he couldn’t race, well the next best thing in his book was to help other racers keep their bikes running. After the life-altering epiphany he had at the ripe old age of fifteen, Levi dismissed all other future job opportunities. The second half of that equation could only be one destination—Pennsylvania.

  He’d been hired on the spot, his dream job. Even on the bottom rung, he was eager to scrap along and work his way up the ladder the hard way.

  But damn it all to hell…on his second day on the job—he got a glimpse of the academy princess.

  To his amazement, from the first time he saw her, and over the last four years since, absolutely no one treated her like some hot piece of ass. There were no cat calls or the rude comments made when she walked by. There were no private sexual jokes whispered behind the backs of her family members. There was something different about Alex. She’d been born into racing royalty and there was the money that came with her last name. Her beauty alone could bring a man to his knees. But Alexandra Sterling was unlike any other woman he’d ever met, she was simply…a sweetheart. She knew exactly what she was talking about when it came to racing and to bikes, and not just a little. She was a natural. Having been around bikes and racing most of his life, Levi saw firsthand the talent she possessed. By taking her knowledge and combining it for each student individually, every rider came away with a clear and perfect understanding of the skill. The way she taught was uncanny.

  The first few weeks he’d been near her, he’d walked around soaking in everything anyone on the team told him, memorizing every piece of advice, and feeling lucky to have found his calling. However, it was Alex he was drawn to. She had a way with kids and teaching that was mesmerizing. She worked just as hard as everyone else connected with the academy, and even though her lifestyle provided her the means to live as a spoiled little rich bitch, Alex was anything but.

  She was his equal, and though she was drop-dead gorgeous, Levi felt the need to put his head down and work hard to prove himself to those who had given him a chance at what he considered the perfect job. He quickly saw what no one spoke of…she was in love. With someone else. And for Levi, that made Alex perfect.

  She was still gazing up at the ceiling of her office. He knew her too well after four years, and though she might be able to hide her pain from the other guys still hanging around the bike Emery was working on, Levi saw the creases in her furrowed brow. He knew who put them there.

  “Alex.” He cleared his throat and waited for her attention. Once he had it, he wished he could bring himself to look away. The suffering in her pale blue eyes cut him to the core, so he told her what deep down he hoped wasn’t a lie. “One of these days, he’s going to wake up and see what he’s been missing all this time.”

  She snorted and threw the pen she’d been running through her fingers back down on her desk top. “I’ve waited twenty years. What’s another twenty—right?”

  He could tell she was trying desperately to hold herself together, she’d been clenching her jaw, and twice pressed her fingers to her forehead as if she had a headache. Levi knew better. Standing up he knew he needed to give her a chance to pull herself together, so she could have half a chance of getting out of the building without her Uncle Jesse recognizing she was upset. It hadn’t taken Levi long around the academy to know exactly how protective her family was of her. “One night this week I’ll bring in my guitar, and after everyone leaves, I’m going to prove to you that you might just have yourself a second calling my friend.”

  The slight blush that flashed over her cheeks was miles better than the sadness he’d been witnessing. So he pushed her an inch further. “Maybe one night, we can drive into town and hit an open mic night.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Levi laughed so hard, he doubled over. When he was able to stand back up he had to wipe the tears from his eyes, and even then her jaw was still dropped open in a state of shock. “No. I’m not.” He chuckled.

  “Get out. My Aunt Emery has tools. I know exactly which ones will leave the biggest gash in your forehead. Out.”

  She could point and threaten all night long. The snicker was spreading across her face, and he was a betting man. At any moment she was about to lose it, so he did what any mature man in his mid-twenties would do—he stuck his tongue out at her. Then he ducked as she made good on her promise. Damn good thing for him, the first thing she reached fo
r had been the pen she’d been playing with. Even if she hadn’t missed him, it wouldn’t have been too embarrassing to have to explain how he received his injury to the guys in the shop.

  “Keep writing, Alex. I’ll be back with my guitar. You just be prepared to be impressed with yourself, girl.” He winked as she flipped him off, her middle finger remaining up as he made his exit.

  For the time being, he thought she was in better spirits, and as nothing more than a friend that was all he could do for her. It was up to Dallas to heal her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dallas ripped his goggles off and stared at the numbers on the stopwatch again. It matched those of the red on the tower on the track.

  He’d barely qualified. Barely.

  It had been eight days since he’d made the biggest mistake of his life by hatching the scheme that had his life falling down around him faster than a maze of dominos.

  Not bothering to screw with removing his helmet, he swung one leg over the seat and started to walk his bike back to the pits. Exhausted already, with sweat dripping down his forehead and neck, Dallas pushed the two hundred and twenty-something pound machine, in neutral, down the tunnel, trying to ignore his mechanic and the team’s manager, both men hot on his heels.

  “What the hell was that, Hunter?” His team manager yelled, even though they were mere feet apart. “Whatever you have going on in your personal life that’s playing mind-fuck games with you—fix it. Now.”

  The adrenaline running through his body due to the speed he flew over the dirt track spiked once again, but this time it was because of anger. Flinging the bike onto its designated stand in his factory pit area, Dallas grasped at his gloves, yanking them off one-by-one, then attacked the straps on his helmet with the same fierceness. He stomped into the semi, grinding his teeth as he slid the door shut hard behind him, and hoped to put a barrier between him and his bosses. Setting his helmet down on the counter, he grabbed his cell, then a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and slumped into the booth at the table. Thankfully, everyone else remained on the other side of the door. He needed the space and some quiet to settle himself.