by Eden Connor
“Well, well. If it’s not Shelby Roberts!” he bellowed. “Been a while, woman.”
Nodding, I stepped inside, grateful the linoleum didn’t stick to the soles of my half-boots. A pair of barstools, banded with silver duct tape, tilted in opposite directions in front of the bar.
“Hey! Turn that shit down, will ya?” The volume dropped to a bearable level. Grimacing, he tipped the bottle again. “You want a shot, Shelby?”
Was he drunk? Why was this dude still yelling? He slammed a second cup beside the first. The peppery scent of cheap tequila stung my nose.
“Why not?” I crossed to the closest stool and gave it a nudge with my knee. When it didn’t fall over, I eased my butt onto the edge of the cracked vinyl seat.
“So, Shelby. I hear you won some fancy Audi? In a drag race?”
Maybe four years of continuous loud music had made the asshole deaf? Didn’t he used to live two doors down from Robert? They smoked weed together a lot.
My brain finally spit out his name. Switzer... something. Ellis? No, Elton. Switzer Elton. Elon! That’s it. His grandfather used to own a cotton mill in... Switzer, South Carolina. Duh. Switzer was a wide spot in the road between Spartanburg and Union. Switz’s mom won the family lottery by bearing the only male child in two generations.
A little tale I’d overheard while trying to sleep one night, while Robert and Switz shared a bedtime joint. Was that two years ago? Or earlier this year?
“It’s outside.” I grabbed the cup he pushed forward, but couldn’t help wincing at the bottle label. Sipping was out of the question. The only way to get this rot gut down was to slam it.
I stared into the bottom of the cup. The music pulsed through my nipples.
“How ‘bout showin’ it to me, Shelby?”
Why the fuck was he riding my name like a rodeo bull? He sounded too much like Macy the time I’d wandered off in Walmart at the age of four.
Something drew my attention to the hallway. I noted the closed bedroom door.
In the blessed silence before the music changed to The Trammps’ Hold Back the Night, a moan echoed through the house. A very feminine moan, accompanied by the slap of flesh against flesh. Switz’s face turned a dull shade of red. He lifted his cup and chugged.
Oh. I tipped the cup to my lips. Grimacing, I forced the burning brew down my throat. Hurling the cup toward the trash can in the corner, I didn’t give a damn that I missed. I fixed Robert’s frat brother with a look.
“It’s okay. I did tell him we should date other people.” Sliding off the stool, I headed for the hall.
“He loves you, you know.”
I doubt it. He wants a cardboard Barbie at his side.
Or, maybe, just maybe, Dale Hannah’s not right about everything.
It would solve so many problems if Dale could be wrong just this once. Francine, too.
Switz rounded the bar and grabbed my arm. “Shelby, please. Don’t open that door. Give him a chance to throw her out the front while you show me that car. Don’t do something that might be irreversible.”
Didn’t he know? Running headlong into irreversible was my superpower.
I gripped the knob. Jessica Whitley was still in flagrante delicto on the door. I felt a kinship with the unknown girl, like the sister I didn’t have. The handle turned. Putting my shoulder to the panel, I smiled at Switz.
“Oh, honey, I don’t want her to leave.”
One sharp blow popped the door open. I stepped into the dim room. Robert whipped his head toward the intrusion. The pillow didn’t quite conceal his wide eyes and open mouth. I’d never seen the bleached blonde riding his cock. She must be a freshman. She didn’t pause. Gotta love a chick who can focus.
“Now, how did I know you wouldn’t fix that door?” I slammed the panel behind me and reached around to tug down the zipper at the nape of my dress. The woman stopped bouncing, but her generous boobs did not.
“Nice tits. Think she’ll mind if I touch ‘em?” I wrenched my arms around behind my waist, pulling the zipper the rest of the way down, feeling the burn in my left collarbone.
Robert jerked his hands off her hips. “Shelby, I—”
“Shh.” I stepped out of the dress, noting the carpet still felt like flypaper. When I laid the garment on top of a pair of khakis too small to be Robert’s, the girl turned dazed eyes my way. I gave her an encouraging smile, moving closer.
“Don’t stop on my account. Just save me some, okay?”
If I squinted, she reminded me of Caroline, flushed cheeks and all. Her head dipped when she lowered her gaze to my breasts. Oh, sweetie, you need your roots done.
“Cute little nips. Mind if I suck one?” Her slurred words came with a grin.
“Now you’re talkin’.” I moved closer. She leaned sideways to put her lips around a nipple. Hissing with pleasure, I darted an amused glance at Robert. Raking my nails through her hair, I laughed.
“I always thought, if you’d untwist your damn shorts long enough to try one, you’d enjoy a good threesome.” Burying my fingers in the stranger’s hair, I jerked her head forward. She sank sharp teeth into my nipple. My pussy got wet in a hurry.
Very nice.
I grabbed Robert’s wrist with my free hand, shoving unresisting fingers between my thighs. “If you ever expect me to give you lifetime rights to this, you need to finger it like you own it.” Releasing his arm, I slapped his girl on the ass.
She let go of my nipple with a curse.
“Don’t tell me he went soft. Now, what can we do about that?”
“I’ve been doing all the work,” she panted. Even though they lacked focus, her eyes flashed with amusement. “How about you climb up here and ride his face? If we take turns, maybe we can suck him hard again.” She scooted along his bare thighs toward his feet.
“I don’t suck cock. I imagine that’s why you’re here.”
Confusion dimmed her eyes, but she bent to the task without complaint.
“Obedient little thing, isn’t she? We should keep her.” Ripping my underwear down my legs, I kicked them on top of the dress, then swung my knee onto his pillow, lowering my ass to muffle his reply.
Chapter Fourteen
Every parking space within four blocks of the downtown Radisson was full. I spied a Mercedes sedan leaving a law office across the street from the hotel. I sped around the block and dove into the empty spot behind the building. Saluting the sign warning that unauthorized vehicles would be towed with a middle finger, I sighed.
Now, I had to be nice to people for six hours.
Striding up the hotel’s long drive, I tried to get my head into a space that wouldn’t end with me dumping a drink on someone’s head. Half-assed head and five inches of semi-solid cock hadn’t done much for my mood.
“It’s just a beer and a conversation.”
I skidded to a halt, searching the cars parked along the driveway for the source of the familiar voice. A white button-down shirt gleamed in the dusk, to my left. Inky, rebellious strands poked through interlaced fingers.
Oh, shit. Just my luck.
Running was out of the question. He’d see me before I got five feet away. Feeling like the universe was fucking with me, I cut into the grass. Sneaking down the side of a Lexus, I watched Jonny march the length of his Corvair, then spin.
“Nothing to it. Just show him the video and working diagram.” He squatted suddenly, disappearing from sight, but I heard his mutter. “I gotta get this done.” Popping up again, he resumed his march.
“Jonny?”
He jerked his hands out of his hair, meeting my eyes with a sheepish look. “I don’t always talk to myself, but when I do, I never listen.”
“What’s going on?”
He blew out a harsh breath. “The guy who runs Audi’s racing division is here. The party line is that he’s here to consult with the production crew on the new sports car Audi’s rolling out next September. It’s a single-engine version of your car, called the R38, minus all
the expensive extras, of course. It’ll be marketed toward the street rod crowd and the young urban professional.”
He sucked down a breath. “But he’s really here to select the team Audi will partner with in NASCAR next season.”
I knew, from listening to Ernie, why car manufacturers backed race teams. He could rattle off a huge list of technology people enjoyed in their everyday cars that would never have been developed without that impetus to win on the track.
Basically, those big bucks spent in racing translated into a win for the consumer—which was how the manufacturers justified the expense to their stockholders. But, Audi joining NASCAR must be a big secret, if Ernie hadn’t known about it. If he’d known, he’d have mentioned it, because of all the drama over me winning Kolby’s Audi. Ergo, he hadn’t known.
Slamming his palms onto the hood of the Corvair, Jonny blurted, “That team has to be Hannah-Built. All the tech support we could dream of, right in the palms of our hands. Sky’s the limit on salaries. Caroline and Shelby need me, right now.” He slammed the hood again. “I can’t keep driving for peanuts, hoping I get wheel time.”
I edged closer. “Caroline... and Shelby?” I dropped my hand to my knee. “About this tall? Auburn curls? Looks like I spit her out, not Caroline?”
He tried to smile. “I’m convinced you and Caroline made that baby, somehow. She’s adorable, isn’t she?” He held up his fist and lifted his little finger. “That little girl’s got me wrapped. I want to adopt her. Be her dad. And Caroline? She was handmade by God, just for me.”
That really is love in his eyes. Those dark eyes glistened, or maybe I saw the tears in my own.
“I want to give them the world, Shelby. Next year, not five years from now. I’m miserable on the road without them. They’re just too goddamn far away.”
When a man has an equal passion for you as for his work, he’s the one.
Yes. God, yes. Get them out of that godforsaken little town.
I had to calm him down. I only knew one way. The Hannah way. I skirted the front of the Corvair and put my hands on his shoulders. “You know what’s just like a making an important sales pitch?”
His cheeks puffed out again. The sweet scent of Juicy Fruit gum tinged the breath he expelled. “Stepping in front of that Amtrak train that runs by here?”
“A first kiss.” It seemed crazy that he and I had never kissed.
He looked as if I’d punched him in the gut rather than offered to swap spit.
“Goddammit, this is the stuff Dale needs you for. I can’t—Jesus, I’m—this isn’t like driving a car. But, the other night, when I realized why you had to walk away, I also figured out that I have to make myself indispensable. Don’t you see? I’m not a Hannah. If Dale partners with Jesse, I’m out. Jesse thinks he can swing a deal for engineering support from Ford. That means—”
“Partners with Jesse? Hancock?” I glanced around to see if anyone else heard my screech. Jonny nodded. My heart kicked in protest. How could Dale hope to build a Hannah legacy standing in that bastard’s long shadow?
Even worse.... “Marley Taggert will be Colt’s teammate.”
Not to mention, that no Ridenhour driver can even finish a race. I’d gone back through the results for the season so far in both divisions, since the day Robert took me to the NuWay. Jamie had won last Sunday. Marley had a win under her belt, but the entire team had one miserable DNF after another this season. Somehow, people felt that was my fault. Or Dale’s.
I couldn’t stand for either of us to crash Jonny’s dreams.
He drove his toe into a tire. “I have my house on the market, but the place isn’t worth much. Not to mention, I have to get rid of all those Corvair carcasses before anyone’s gonna consider it.”
Jonny’s love of Corvairs—and most likely the graveyard of spare parts—was his inheritance from his father. But he was willing to give them up for Caroline. The gesture touched me, way down deep. The pain in his eyes sliced through my chest like a lance.
God, I was so tired of hurting.
Jonny inspected his knuckles. “I’m betting NASCAR votes to let Audi in. If I can get Hannah-Built hooked up with this guy, everybody’s golden. They’ll pay a salary that picks up as soon as the season ends, because we’ll have to work our asses off during the off season to even think about jumping into the Cup series by June of next year.”
“Dale doesn’t know you’re here?” Stupid question. If Dale knew, he’d be here.
He shook his head. “Nobody knows. Not Caine, not Colt. I used my last dime to fly here from Kansas, because Dale’s the honorable sort. Right now, he’s holding Jesse off, because he refuses to focus on the new team while he’s cashing Rick’s paychecks. If I bring him a deal with Audi, he’ll be just as honorable. I’ll be the one driving alongside Colt in the Cup series next season.”
He threw his head back to stare at the sky. “Unless I can offer Dale a better chance to win, he’ll jump at the chance to split me and Colt apart.”
“Dale doesn’t care about you and Colt being together. He’s scared to death that the other drivers might try to kill you two if they found out.”
Jonny marrying Caroline should put that concern to rest.
He swallowed so hard, I heard the gulp. “This guy I have to talk to is staying here. Man’s a legend, but he’s retired from driving now. I mean, he’s won everything. Every major road race. Formula One. Drag racing championships on two continents. The only thing he hasn’t done is NASCAR.”
I smoothed a hand down his crisp shirt front. “As I was saying, a sales pitch is like kissing. You start off slow. Just get a feel for the person. Find common ground, maybe something that’s outside of racing.”
Rising on tiptoe, I pressed my lips to his. Feeling for his hands, I placed them on my waist. I’d touched boards that weren’t as stiff.
Pulling away, I frowned. Unless he played along, I couldn’t calm him down.
“Jonny, you can’t act like a dead fish. Show the man you’re worth opening a dialogue with. Most people love to talk. Especially businessmen away from home. Trust me. I know my traveling businessmen like you know racing.”
I leaned in a second time. He lowered his head till his lips touched mine. A tentative sweep of his tongue across my lips made me smile before I let him have access. He softly explored the edges of my tongue, withdrawing quickly.
I caressed his cheek, while inside, I called myself a fool for getting sucked up in any thing involving Hannah-Built. But this was for Caroline.
“Then, you take charge of the conversation. Whatever it was about the Audi engine that got you and Caine and Caroline all fired up? That’s what he needs to hear. If he’s done his homework on NASCAR, he knows about Dale, so don’t waste his time rehashing that. Paint him a picture of how the Quattro engine, driven by Hannah-Built drivers, is good for his brand.”
Some of the tension in Jonny’s face faded. He slid one hand to the small of my back, tugging me against him. Dropping his head again, he swept past my lips, seducing with more skill. I smiled inside as his confidence grew. When he pulled away, my girlie bits tingled.
“How was that?”
“Excellent. Step right into your closing argument. A young team is fun to watch. A young team and a new manufacturer will be twice as much fun to watch, and fans who’re having fun are loyal to the brand. If he goes with an existing team, their fans might not make the switch, because NASCAR fans have strong loyalties. He needs a new team, so they and Audi can build a fan base together.”
This time, he kissed me with passion as well as skill. He wrenched away when his cock began to thicken, pushing me to arms’ length while he studied my face. “You just melted all my crayons. And that pitch is genius.”
“Go. Nail that contract down.” I patted his ass.
Grinning, he broke into a jog.
I bent my knees, dipping between the cars. Gripping the two bumpers, I tried to breathe through the pain.
Walking away from Co
lt and Caine hurt like a bitch some days. But the one thing I’d gotten past was not being part of Hannah-Built. I didn’t want a job where Dale wrote me a paycheck I didn’t earn while people laughed behind his back—the way they laughed at Jesse Hancock for trying to give his stepdaughter a career in NASCAR.
But talking to people? Twisting arms on behalf of Dale and my brothers? Promoting a brand? God, I could do that in my sleep, and still have fifty hours a week to design T-shirts, for fuck’s sake.
I stood and stumbled toward the service entrance, praying Harry’d take one look at my dress and send me home so I could curl up and cry.
Chapter Fifteen
Harry slammed four highball glasses on the counter. He wouldn’t be tending bar unless one of the bartenders had called out of work.
Excellent. I’m as good as gone. Wrapping the apron around my waist, I took a deep breath and pushed through the kitchen door.
Harry cocked his head, wrenching the tops off two mini bottles of house bourbon. The look he gave my dress was blacker than the swinging fringe covering the garment.
“Funeral ran long?”
I nodded. Send me home. I’m out of uniform. Send me home.
His eyes flashed, but Harry turned his back, grabbed the dispenser head and aimed a stream of cola at the two glasses. “Dawn walked off the floor about an hour ago. That’s your section now.”
Dammit. Harry was tight-assed about the rules. Any other time....
One of the other servers, Jessica, slid her tray on the end of the bar. “The people in Dawn’s section are giving me dirty looks, like they think I should drop everything to fetch their orders.”
In other words, Jess had no plans to pick up any extra tables. Fuck me. Didn’t matter what kind of degree I earned, I was always going to have shitty luck from the Roberts’ side of my family tree.
“What section am I in?”
Harry snapped his fingers, then pointed to the tray I’d tucked under my arm. I slid it toward him.
“You and Jess split section two. You handle three.”
