by Eden Connor
“One more question, Shelby?” another reporter called. When I hesitated, he rushed on. “Do you have any comment about the fact that hat sales are down thirty-eight percent on the NASCAR website, compared with this same week last year? Are you aware that retailers are complaining about lost revenue? A whole bunch of vendors are getting hung with All-Star hats. That’s money they won’t earn, if they don’t earn it this week.”
I cleared my throat. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Aren’t you punishing the little guy here? England already made his ruling. Your fans, Dale’s fans, well, they want to hear you lift the boycott.”
I need you to open your eyes, Dale. Thirty-eight percent? I had no idea how many dollars lost that might be.
If anything I’d said was costing George a dime, I wanted the situation to continue. This wasn’t about me, however.
“NASCAR is a family, I’ve heard Dale say, from the drivers to the team owners, to the guy selling souvenirs in the tent closest to the parking lot.” Mr. England saw no need to change his mind. I think that’s everyone’s loss, but I agree. Continuing the boycott is pointless.”
My failure yawned at my feet. I wanted to crawl into a hole and pull the dirt over me.
“Hey, Shelby!” Another man worked his way through the crowd. “Do you still maintain that Hannah didn’t cheat, or has someone explained to you exactly what it is Ridenhour pays Dale the big bucks to do?”
Caine wrapped his fist around the microphone and yanked it in his direction. “Look up the word ‘innovation’, won’t you? George likes to pretend that anyone can drive a car right off the showroom floor down at the Chevy dealership and win the Charlotte 600 this week, but we all know that ain’t so, not any more. These cars are hand-built from the ground up. If he’d move off the fairy tale that no one believes anymore but him, we could show folks a thing or two.”
The small podium jumped when he drove his fist down on top. “We weave through the maze of rules to find somethin’ he ain’t outlawed yet. Break new ground with solid engineering, and sometimes, sheer genius, and still, we’re labeled cheaters?”
Flashes sparked, fueling Caine’s rant. “NASCAR has to be the only industry that penalizes its best minds for thinkin’ outside the goddamn box. How does anyone win in a cookie-cutter car, if not by innovation? Dad’s the least-penalized crew chief in NASCAR—but the one with the most rules added to the book for his ideas. Why? Because he’ll point the inspectors right to what he’s done, then tell ‘em why it should be allowed. Do you blame a chained-up hound for stretchin’ his leash to its limit?”
He circled his hand. “The edge of that wore-out path around the tree? That’s where we live. Right there on the edge, brother. And to tell the truth, if we quit, you’d hate your job. Nobody’s ever been inspired by more of the damn same.”
Caine grabbed my hand and half-dragged me inside the hospital.
“Wow.”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “We’re goin’ home. I ain’t sleepin’ in that damn bus another night. We’re gonna unload your stuff at the house. Then, we’ll talk.”
I squeezed his hand as we hurried through the hospital. “Nice speech.”
He huffed. “Can’t let you and Colt have all the glory.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The front yard had been neatly clipped, but fat clumps dotted the shorn grass. The heavy perfume coming through the window said the job had been done today. To the right of the drive, weeds stood a foot high. I prayed none of the baby rabbits hopping in every direction dove underneath Caine’s tires. A deer raised its head, peering through the screen of trees behind the garage. The animal bolted with a graceful leap when Caine braked and slung his door open.
I stared at the plastic-wrapped cube he removed from the console. The drug store logo made my body go haywire.
“You can’t race until we know.” He dropped his head. “Unless that’s why you stayed over in Spartanburg. To—”
Stupid, scrambled brain. I’d made up my mind to go with Caroline to the place she’d found. It never occurred to me to ask Francine to take me to the clinic in Greenville.
“No, that’s not why.” I stared at the door to the bay where Dale had swapped the ‘Cuda’s engine. “I miss Ernie. Francine and I toured his favorite spots to eat. Gorged on Krispy Kreme every night. I slept. Mostly, I slept.”
“Let’s do this, babe.” He tucked the bag under his arm, out of my reach.
My head screamed that I didn’t want to know. My stomach twisted. My knees started shaking. My soles literally itched to run up the driveway and disappear in the dark. I slid to the ground and rounded the back of the truck.
He held out one of those big, rough hands. I clutched his fingers while he led me through the carport. Dale’s truck looked almost green under a layer of pollen and fine grass clippings. The go cart had been parked by the garage at Christmas, but was now under the carport. Fresh mud caked the tires.
I pictured Caine cutting the grass, then blowing off steam by ripping through the woods. What had agitated him so? The baby? The upcoming race? My two nights spent out of touch while I hung out with Francine? The last one made no sense. We’d spent the last four years out of touch.
“Dammit, Colt.” Caine’s mutter told me he hadn’t been the irresponsible one.
The downstairs bath jarred loose snatches of the night I’d let Mack Brown take my virginity. Was I destined to ride out every cataclysmic event of my sexual history in this room?
Caine pried the box lid open. Sweet baby Jesus, is he reading the instructions?
He set the page aside, then placed a plastic wand on the edge of the counter, in easy reach of the toilet.
I stared into his eyes, unable to force my feet across the linoleum. He crossed the tiny room and fitted his hands around my waist. I stared at the front of his Luke Bryan T-shirt, fighting to keep my chin from wobbling. He lifted me, only to lower me again. My feet landed on his steel-toed boots.
“Stay right there.” He wrapped one arm around me, then the other, pinning me to his chest. I held on for dear life, inhaling the masculine perfume that clung to him.
And we danced.
Every argument I’d ever heard in favor of—and against—abortion swelled inside my head. Both positions had the ring of ineffable truth. For the rest of my life, would those opposing stones grind at my soul and sharpen my self-pity, the way they’d done my mother? Would they pile up around my feet, waiting to trip me whenever I tried to step over them, the way they’d done Caroline? Beat me down from behind if I dared sidestep a responsibility I knew in my heart I wasn’t ready for?
Would I have the courage to put myself first, the way Francine advocated? Could I accept that, to some—possibly even Caine—that decision would make me a murderer?
While we swayed, heart to heart, some of my resentment toward Mom unknotted, because I stood in her shoes now. How could something smaller than my pinkie toe trump everything else?
Caine kept moving until the only noise in my head was the rock-steady thump of his heart, rocking me until the ocean of his eyes drowned the last howl inside my soul.
“Ready.” I wobbled to the toilet and pushed my pants down. My bladder turned shy, so I reached for the bag, thinking I’d read the receipt to distract myself. Something heavier than a sales slip lay inside. Cocking a brow at Caine, I drew out a tiny white... what is that? Black, childish printing scrawled across the front of the short-sleeved, one-piece baby garment that snapped between the legs.
I’m gonna be
an enginear
an enginier
good at math.
Tears stung my eyes, but at last, sensation stirred in my bladder. I discarded the shirt, tensing to slow my stream while I lifted the test with clumsy fingers and shoved it between my thighs.
“Three to five minutes.” Canine cleared his throat and slid a forefinger along a bold line of text on the huge fold-out page of instructions and diagrams. “Takes longer to register a result if
the test is negative.”
To him, this seemed an engineering problem. If A, then B, and this test would point the direction we were to go. Not at all like I felt, which was, if A, then holy fucking hell Batman, pass me a shot of tequila. If B, keep ‘em coming.
I yanked the stick out of the stream and laid it on the bag.
“Three to five minutes?” Jerking my pants up as soon as I stood, I fastened them, then nearly tripped over my own feet trying to turn on the faucet so I could wash my hands. Awkwardness clung to me like August humidity.
If we ever have a child, finding out shouldn’t be like this.
Since when has anything ever turned out like I thought it should?
Giving the soap a half-hearted rub, I slung my fingers under the stream and wrenched off the faucet. Swiping my hands on the seat of my jeans, I turned, only to realize Caine held the tiny shirt.
While I stared, he folded it in half, then in half again, only to unfold it and start over. He pressed the garment to his chest, laid his hand at the halfway point, then let the top portion fall, but he didn’t look up.
“It’ll keep. You know, if we don’t need it now.” He laid the bundle down near the bag, then couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. “I’ll keep too, if you don’t need me right now.”
In the back of my mind, I’d been doing what I always did, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to say or do something to show he didn’t want to raise another man’s child. Not that I wanted this baby. But, I sure as hell didn’t want him lying to me.
And all the while, he’d been waiting for my period to start? So I could tell him I didn’t need a baby daddy?
I stood perfectly still, sensing that what I did next affected forever. This wasn’t the moment of my girlish dreams, not here, in this shabby bathroom no one ever used unless I had some womanly crisis.
But this was the moment I had, and if I’d learned anything from Ernie’s death and Dale’s close brush with eternity, it was that the next moment wasn’t a given.
My mother taught me to worry what other people thought, but Dale taught me to put the hammer down and never look back. To trust that I had the skill—or determination—to hang on until the finish. To learn the damn job while doing the damn job, if need be.
I fell to my knees and stared into shocked eyes. “Unzip your pants.”
Want warred with fear in his expression. Shame swept me, for hiding out in Spartanburg Monday and Tuesday night. This gorgeous man shouldn’t be debating. He needed to be dropping that fucking zipper with a smirk.
“I think you need a hug right now, more than I need a half-assed blow job.” He forced a lopsided grin. “You ain’t never lost, you know.”
“Yes, I did. I lost my heart. I’m not sure when it happened. I fought it for a long time, because I’m scared to death that neither of us know a damn thing about love, but I lost it anyway. So, how about sticking your dick in my mouth before you decide my blow jobs are inadequate? I didn’t know how to drive a race car, either. But you shut up and just let me drive. Look how that turned out.”
He leaned against the sink and narrowed his eyes. “You want it? Come and get it.” I smiled when he gripped the edge of the counter. His eyes darkened with lust, but the soft breeze of love stirred the stars in the depths.
The button on the waistband of his Wrangler’s slid free with a twist of my fingers. Tugging the zipper down, I didn’t take my eyes off his face. When I touched him, he was slack, but by the time I worked him free, he’d begun to fill.
Leaning forward, I guided the head of his cock into my mouth. Sliding the soft form down my throat was easy. All I had to do was swallow.
His soft groan spurred me to suckle. His taste filled my mouth. His scent surrounded me and I drew the smell deep into my lungs., for the sheer pleasure it gave. As he started to harden, I stroked the underside of his shaft with my tongue. Soon, he grew so big that I had to pull back, but I had him wet.
Recalling Colt’s instructions from Christmas, I curled my hand around Caine’s shaft, making sure I pressed the edge of my palm to my lips before rocking forward.
The magic and power of sex had always been the force of it, the hard current that dragged me under and didn’t relent until it hurled me into the stars. This was different. It was curling in bed and watching snowflakes fall past my window. It was listening to a gentle rain strike the porch roof while sipping hot cocoa.
It was feeling the veins in his cock slide over my tongue, giving, but filling instantly, tempting me to flatten it again. It was the change in his shaft, from soft to solid, and knowing I’d made it so. It was pushing him deep, despite my discomfort, rewarded by the way he let his head fall back to curse at the ceiling.
It was the shiver of weakness in his strong thighs, summoned by tonguing the spot under the crisp rim around the head of his cock. It was the trickle of wetness inside me when I learned to wield subtle powers I’d never known I possessed. His breathing grew labored. His chest rose and fell like an engine cranking out maximum rpms.
The memory of Colt’s whispered instructions pulled me back from my silent worship. I cupped Caine’s balls, rubbing my thumb over the puckered line down the center, reveling in the way the spongy shapes slid between my fingers, and the way the touch made him push deeper inside me to warm his soul.
This was breaking every speed limit while on my knees. I pushed harder, taking him as deep as I could, sucking with all my might, until tears stung my eyes and my cheeks hollowed.
He let go of the counter, cupping my jaw with gentle fingers that soon turned hard, pinning my head in the position that pleased him best. Thrusting his hips, he demanded I take more.
I took. Breathing was for the weak. This was racing the gods. I ached for the triumph that first salty splash would bring.
My nipples throbbed, as did my channel, not from hard thrusts inside me, but from the beguiling sense that I controlled more than I ever dreamed possible. I soared from nothing more than the way his eyes pinned me. The ragged groans that slipped from his lips were my engine. Now, his cock wasn’t a piston, but a gear shift, and I worked him through third and fourth, hitting fifth with a growing confidence that made me dare for sixth.
Driving my head forward, I felt the dark thatch of curls around his base brush my lips. I forced myself to swallow, despite the tears streaming down my cheeks.
His shaft seemed to swell, pushing my jaws to their limit. His balls contracted. With a shout, he leaned forward. I couldn’t breathe, but this was familiar ground, pinned by a force I couldn’t fight while the world blurred around me and my heart tried to explode.
His cock began to jerk. Hot spurts struck the back of my throat.
Time to gear down. I pulled away, sliding him out of my throat, but gripped him tightly with my fingers. I let my hand drift away from my lips, but stroked hard with my hand, to wring free every drop of his pleasure, as he’d done for me so many times.
When I pulled back at last, I studied his face. He opened his eyes slowly. His chest heaved. My forearms telegraphed the tremor in his thighs. He sank to the floor, his knees bracketing mine. When he slid his arms around my shoulders, I pushed my arms underneath his, sensing that he was the one needing to be held.
For a long moment, he stared into my eyes. “All grown up now, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
His grin started slow, twisting to one side. “That scares the fuck outta me.” I laughed when he shook his head like he did when coming out of the shower. “You suck cock like you goddamn drive.”
I traced the edge of his jaw. “Speaking of driving. I’m not looking for someone to take care of me, Caine. I need a man strong enough to step back and let me lead at times. This is that time, so think about what you say next. It doesn’t matter what that test says. I’m racing Barnes.”
He dragged his fingers through my hair, raking damp strands off my cheek. “I know you’re your own woman, but....” He curled a hand aroun
d the side of my throat. “Just think about this. If Colt jumped off a ledge, I reckon I’d jump too, to try and keep him from breakin’ his goddamn neck.”
I laughed, but he shushed me. “Listen, okay? Kolby and Kasey aren’t like that. One day, they’re close as can be. The next, they’re going after each other tooth and nail. You know Kolby’s fucked up. Dangling the one thing he knew you couldn’t resist, that ‘Cuda? Challenging you with Dad on life support? Who does shit like that?”
He pressed his thumb to my pulse point. “And if you think—”
The sliding glass door crashed open. “Caine? Where the fuck are y’all?” Jonny bellowed. “Here’s the first load of Shelby’s junk.” Boxes thumped, striking the concrete floor. “You can haul this shit upstairs. I have no idea where to put it.”
“Dammit.” I scrambled to my feet and lunged for the counter. Grabbing the little shirt and the stick, I crammed both into the drug store bag. “Go. Go. Before one of them comes in here.” I crammed the baby shirt into the bag as well. Caine got to his feet and yanked his pants up.
“Be right there,” he barked.
“No! He’ll head right this way,” I whispered, grabbing the stupidly large piece of paper with about a million drawings of the simple test stick. There wasn’t a damn trashcan. I gave the toilet a look, then crumpled the page and stuffed it down the front of my yoga pants, praying my T-shirt was loose enough to hide my lumpy abdomen.
Caine stumbled out of the bathroom, still buttoning his jeans.
“Couldn’t make it up the stairs to a bed?” Jonny’s laughter echoed off the block walls.
“Changed pants.”
Caroline’s giggle came from right outside the bathroom door. “So, you have two pairs of jeans with a hole at the bottom left of the zipper? Really? What’s puttin’ all the pressure on that spot, Caine?”
“Why the fuck are y’all here?” Caine demanded.
“Neither of you answered your phone. If I let y’all jump on tunin’ that Audi before we eat, me and Shelby could starve to death and you wouldn’t notice.”
