by Eden Connor
Jonny tugged a ring box from the pocket of his slacks. He popped open the lid, earning a shriek from the child. “For me?”
“Damn, Jet, from here, that lil’ ole rhinestone’s throwin’ up rainbows like a damn diamond,” Jesse said.
“Did you not hear me say Shelby’s ring was just like the one I got Caroline?”
Caroline’s eyes rounded, but she didn’t look up.
“Oh, shit,” Robyn whispered.
“So sweet.” Francine tugged the tissue out of her pocket.
Jonny slid the ring on the little girl’s finger, then whisked her into his arm. My heart thrilled at the joy on my little namesake’s flushed face.
They sauntered to the spot in front of Caroline, where Jonny knelt again.
“I knew I loved you the minute you spit out a five-digit answer faster than Caine could enter the equation into his computer—and nailed it. I love you, Caroline. I want to build a life for the three of us, and tonight, Dale let me take that first big step. I want you by my side for all the other steps forward, and the inevitable steps backward. Will you marry me?” He laughed. “I had next Wednesday in mind, but if you’re busy, we can bump it up to Tuesday.”
I grabbed Francine’s hands, since Caine loitered beside Colt in the opening to the hallway. Darting a glance past Francine, to Robyn, I noted her wince.
The silence spun out. My heart hammered, for Jonny. Surely Caroline wasn’t having second thoughts? Should I have warned her weeks ago?
Shelby leaned over Jonny’s arm to pat her mother’s face. “Say it! Say he’s gonna be my daddy!”
“I can’t,” Caroline gasped at last. “I’m already married.” She finally raised her eyes to Jonny’s face.
“You’re what?” Jesse’s bark made me and Robyn both flinch. “Since when?”
“And you never thought to mention that?” Jonny’s low tone climbed with every word. “In all the time we’ve spent talking, you never thought to mention you were already married?”
“I thought we were just knockin’ boots.” Caroline’s low whisper resonated with misery.
Jonny yanked a matching ring box from his other pocket and flipped the lid open. “You pour your heart out to everybody you knock boots with?”
“Ain’t nobody else never slowed down long enough to listen.”
My heart bled for her honest admission.
“Outside.” Jonny pointed in the general direction of the front door.
Jesse got to his feet with a scrape of the chair. “How ‘bout takin’ this cat fight to the deck? I’m kinda usin’ the front yard for my speech.”
Hancock had a nerve, laughing at a time like this. If he kept that shit up.... I gave Dale a wide-eyed glare. Dale lifted his hands and shrugged, but I spied the grin he smothered. These guys were merciless—and they liked Jonny. A puff of sympathy for Kolby Barnes wafted past my heart.
“Fine.” Jonny vaulted to his feet and pulled Caroline off the loveseat. She snagged her purse and gave me a half-hearted wave.
“Uh, that’s our cue to leave, Shelby.” Robyn jumped to her feet and took the baby from Jonny’s arms.
“Well, hell. How’d I miss you?” Jesse boomed.
Since only a blind man could’ve missed Robyn’s scrubs, I glared at the jackass.
Robyn turned a wide smile in his direction. Sugar dripped from her soft tone. “Maybe you should carry shades to keep you from bein’ blinded by your own glory. Who’d be left to admire all your accomplishments then?”
Marley hunched over, turning her choked laughter into a cough. Francine pressed the tissue to her lips. Jesse glowered. Caine and Colt exchanged wide-eyed smirks.
“Goodnight, son. Caine.” Robyn rounded the table and snagged Shelby’s hand, taking my undying admiration with her on her path across the den. She smiled, ignoring the fuck out of Jesse Hancock, who made a huge production of getting to his feet and dragging the chair aside so Jonny and Caroline could pass.
“So nice seeing you again, Francine,” Robyn continued, with the poise of a queen. “Shelby, happy graduation, and I echo Dale’s sentiments on your world record. Long may she wave.” Robyn bent her head to smile at her grandchild. “Tell your grandpa goodnight and to stop bein’ a jerk. Bedtime for you, squirt.”
“Stop bein’ a jerk!” The child ran to her grandfather.
“Hey.” Dale flung out a hand, halting Caroline’s progress past him. “We’ll track Brandon’s ass down. Abandonment is grounds for divorce and you done got your separation time done in spades. Be over ‘fore you know it. But, in case y’all plan on tearin’ outta here, I need both of you at that thing Doris is doin’ for me tomorrow. It’s important.”
“’Kay.” Caroline bent and put her arms around Dale’s neck. “Glad you’re back, boss man.”
“Boss man?” Robyn’s plastered-on smile faltered.
The unhappy couple plowed through the side door. Before it slammed, Robyn pried little Shelby from Jesse’s arms. “Gotta go. Later, gator.”
Dale held out a hand to halt her, too. “I’d like you to be my date for what’s gonna end up bein’ my retirement dinner from Ridenhour. Seein’ as how you were by my side when I walked through the door, it seems fittin’.”
Even Jesse’s grin turned to a rounded O. My heart couldn’t take one more jolt. Caine and I stared at each other across the room. Dale was leaving Ridenhour? Tomorrow?
“Trust me when I say, you’ll be glad you went.” I turned toward Dale again in time to see his wink. “And, we ain’t gotta knock boots or nothin’, but if you want to, mine still have steel toes.”
His outrageous wink propelled me into Francine’s arms, giggling as hard as Caroline had ever done. Marley loped past me, landing in the spot Robyn vacated.
“Man, I’m with David,” Marley whispered. “This beats the pants off watchin’ Jerry Springer.”
Francine slapped a hand to her mouth, shaking with laughter.
“I have to work tomorrow, Dale.” Robyn tried to take another step.
“You just quit.” His eyes glinted. “Don’t argue with me, woman. I got better things in mind than you emptyin’ bed pans. And we ain’t gotta knock boots for you to take the spot. But, I need you with us. This ship’s too big for me and Shelby to sail.”
I’d kill for a glimpse of her face. Robyn tried to keep walking, but Dale refused to lower his hand. “God’s in the details, but the goddess is in the questions, right? Ain’t nobody never asked smarter questions than you, woman.”
“Oh, she questions a man, all right. I shudder to think how she can keep tabs on you in the digital age, Hannah.” Jesse barked with laughter.
“Jesse.” Robyn jerked to face him. “Stop embarrassin’ yourself. Can you not see the daughter you chose to raise? Think it impresses Marley to hear you taunt me about runnin’ between me and her mama to get that massive ego of yours massaged?”
“I really like her,” Francine whispered. “And double bonus points to Dale for quoting Gloria Steinem.”
I silently filled in the rest of the quote. Once we begin to ask them, there’s no turning back.
Marley lifted a thumb, eyes pinned to the unfolding drama.
“I’ll think on it, Dale.” Robyn lifted Dale’s hand—and he let her. “If you see me, I’m there. If you don’t—figure it was too little, too late.” Robyn stalked through the door, dragging the waving tot behind.
Chapter Fifty-Six
“That woman always could turn a mole hill into Mount Everest. Be careful what you ask for, brother.” Jesse stalked to the loveseat and flopped down.
“Pudding break!” Harry announced. “The Shelby Special comes with butter pecan ice cream on top. Phillip and I even found the creamery place that sells her favorite.”
While we ate the treat I hadn’t had in years, I gushed over the plans for my office/dressing room. Colt fetched the Mac so Francine and Robyn could see the plans.
When Jesse excused himself to use the bathroom, I whispered to Francine. “S
ure he’s your choice?”
She darted Marley an apologetic smile. “I don’t have to like his sexist bullshit to know he’s the man the drivers respect. He knows the sport backward and forward. He’s lived—and chafed—under the rules. His ego will lead him to be fair, because explaining how fair he is will let him pontificate the most.”
I snorted. Butter pecan ice cream stung my nose.
“Best. Party. Ever.” Marley dropped her spoon into her empty bowl and patted Francine’s knee. “I see Shelby’s staked her claim, but I’m in the hunt for a mother figure myself.” She turned those dark-rimmed eyes on Francine full blast.
“So many children, so few stretch marks.” Francine preened, but squeezed Marley’s hand. “Done. Who knows? Next year might be a banner year for women in the competitive world of NASCAR.”
Francine peered at Dale. “I’m quite intrigued by this luncheon. I got an invitation, too, but I’m at a loss for how to accessorize. Do I need to don a flame-thrower or a fire extinguisher?”
“Might need Nomex,” Dale admitted.
“Flamethrower it is.” Francine nodded.
“So, how come you crashed this shindig, Hancock?” Dale asked when Jesse returned.
“Ah, Caine started some shit I come to finish.” Jesse eschewed a seat in favor of tipping a shoulder to the corner at the end of the hall. “When I told him ‘hell, no’, he sank about as low as any man’s ever done.”
Caine’s scowl made me think Hancock spent his retirement walking around leaking insensitivity. When Jesse made puppy dog eyes, I wasn’t swayed.
“Man sicced both my daughters on me. Together. At the same time.” Jesse curled the fingers of both hands into circles and held them to his eyes. “Imagine it, Hannah. Two pairs of big ol’ hazel eyes. Bawlin’ and squawlin’. Beggin’ me to sell that damn ‘Cuda to Caine.”
I straightened. “My car! You bought my car back?”
Jesse cut off any response from Caine. “I told ‘em no, honey. Can’t sell that car.”
I sank against the cushions again, wondering if he’d just dropped in to jerk me around.
“But. They put the car on my mind, so I took her down to the corner store for a sip of gasoline and some air in the tires. Ran right into two little ol’ girls.”
“Do not tell me you wrecked the ‘Cuda.” Caine dropped his face into his hands. “Do you have any damn idea how hard it is to get parts?”
Jesse let out a long-suffering sigh. “They was strollin’ out of the front door of that convenience store, all decked out in their flip flops and shorts. Looked to be about thirteen.” He held up a hand that was only missing a scepter. “So, the mouthy one.”
He addressed Francine. “You know how there’s always quiet one and a mouthy one, right? Just naturally drawn together, I reckon. Fire and ice. Anyhow, the mouthy one yells.” Jesse cupped his hands around his mouth. “‘Hey! Old man! Why you drivin’ Shelby Hannah’s car?”
Caine dropped his hands. His brows nearly touched his hairline. Colt fell against the den wall, holding his gut and howling like he was in pain.
Dale managed a sympathetic expression. “That had to leave a mark, Hancock.”
Jesse drove his hand into the pocket of his pants. He tugged a ring of keys free and sailed them into my lap. “You ain’t kiddin’, brother. I still got the bruise.”
My ‘Cuda. Asshole hadn’t even changed out my key fob. My house key still dangled beside the ignition and door keys.
“Reckon I’ll tear up your check.”
I jerked my head up at Dale’s statement.
“Yeah, I noticed you never did cash it.” Hancock snorted. “Not havin’ the damn title in hand made it kinda hard to jack the price up on Caine.” He straightened and pointed at Dale. “All that bullshit you fed me about problems findin’ the original title? Like they don’t print new titles every damn day down at the Department of Motor Vehicles?” He gave Dale an injured look. “Tell the damn truth. You never intended to sell the car back. You just ran out of garage space, asshole.”
Jesse jammed his hands in his pockets, the very picture of a man taken advantage of, but his eyes—so like Caroline’s—twinkled.
“That original title, though,”—Dale adjusted his cap and his gaze moved to me—“it’s got some damn valuable signatures on it. Richard Petty got that car as a gift straight from Plymouth in ‘71. In ‘90, Earnhardt bought it for his daughter. He sold it to Jesse the next year, because she wanted somethin’ brand new. Then, in 2000, Hancock went stupid and I won it off of that drag racer he was backin’ that nobody’s never heard from in years. And, now, you’ll ink your name underneath mine, Shelby.”
It's the legends that sell these old buckets of rust.
Liar told me the car didn’t have a legend until the drag race.
You played me again.
I bounded off the couch, unsure who to hug first, but Hancock was closest. I worked my way around the room, finishing on my knees beside Dale. “Thank you. I’m gonna make you proud, I swear.”
“That’s a downhill trip, honey.” Dale patted my arm, but the warmth in his eyes took my breath. “Go on, burn some rubber. When you get back, you can tell me what that band on your left hand might mean.”
I kissed his cheek, then traced one white streak at his temple. “I’m afraid our family tree’s gonna look more like a vine. When I write the announcement for the paper, it’ll say you’re the father of the bride and the groom. And if anyone doesn’t like that,”—I scanned the room, smiling at each familiar face—“well, those folks can kiss my red-headed, college-educated, NASCAR-man lovin’, country girl ass.”
Francine fell sideways onto the sofa arm with a shriek of laughter. “Best line I ever heard uttered at a commencement,” she gasped.
“No.” Dale’s eyes rounded. “Shelby said that? At her fancy college graduation?”
“No, no.” Francine’s breathless words were hard to make out. “Dale. She got President Jamison to say it on her behalf. From the stage.”
“No shit?” Dale drawled, wide-eyed. He stuck both arms out straight. “Girl, me and Jesse done pulled some stuff in our day, but honey, we ain’t worthy.” He bowed several times, setting off another round of laughter.
Francine clutched her tummy and rocked. “Haven’t laughed this hard in years.”
Marley leaned on Francine, howling, but she lifted one clenched fist. “Rednecks. Lowering standards everywhere.”
Colt and Caine high-fived. “My work here is done,” Colt announced.
I fluttered my lashes at Hancock. “Colt made me from scratch in a bowl, you know.”
Dale’s phone rang. He tugged the device from his back pocket and read the name with a grin. “Looks like Mr. Brannon wants to jaw-jack.” He waved. “You young’uns go tear up some asphalt and howl at the moon. Me and Phillip’s got some arm-twistin’ to do and Francine ain’t never gonna get a better shot at Jesse than right now.”
“Oh! Your car keys.” I skipped to the kitchen to snag her ring off the board.
Harry held out his hand. “She’s not ready to drive after dark yet. I’ll drive her to your mom’s place and drop off her car.”
I half-hoped Jesse would stick his foot in his mouth, but Hancock wisely kept his mouth shut about the majority shareholder of NASCAR, Inc. being unwilling to drive in the dark on roads she didn’t know by heart.
Extending a hand to Caine, we darted through the front door. The front windows and porch lights reflected in the gleaming purple body of the car parked along the road. Jesse had the top down. The nose pointed toward Central Heights Drive. The white racing buckets Dale had chosen for me at eighteen were still in place. I gripped the roll bar and perched on the edge of the door, swinging my legs over the side.
Caine followed. My grin was so wide my jaws ached when I slid behind the wheel.
Fastening his harness, Caine asked, “Where to?”
“Does it matter?” I jammed the key into the switch, reveling in the rumble of
the big block Hemi as it caught. “Jesse kicked in a full talk of gas.”
Caine relaxed against the high seat back and rolled his head in my direction with a smile. He dropped his hand atop mine on the shifter. “Not to me. I got everything I ever wanted. A smart redhead who knows her way around a stick, a full tank of gas, and a bunch of Carolina backroads. Throw in some country music and I reckon I can ride forever.”
While he tuned the stereo, I pushed in the clutch. Stiffer than the Audi’s, and more finicky, but God, how I’d missed this car. I took in the low ranch-style home cut into the slope, thinking back to the first night I’d seen the House of Hannah.
A young girl had taken her first steps down a treacherous ramp toward womanhood and then tripped over that threshold. The road beyond had been full of pot holes and hairpin turns that led to a cul-de-sac about a mile away, as the crow flew. Funny how that spot had been a launching pad, rather than a dead end.
I’d sit down among the remnants of Ernie’s truck and start my book as soon as the pieces were in my office. A book that I sensed wouldn’t be a story as much as a confession about the rough and tumble race from girl to woman. I vowed to hold nothing back. I’d write down my head-on collisions with life, racing, and sex—gas fumes, mangled metal, and all—because the best parts had been sculpted using twisted pieces salvaged from the wreckage.
I had the perfect title already picked out.
I dropped my wrist on the wheel, gripped the shifter, and shouted to be heard above the thumping music. “I’m gonna need gas or ass if you wanna ride with me, Hannah. And my tank’s full.”
“Huh. Let me think.” Caine rubbed his chin. Warmth raced over my skin in the wake of his heavy-lidded gaze. He started on my face, slid from my breasts to my boots, and back to my face. “Your three weeks ain’t up by a long shot. But, I’ll take the ass option, if you’ll start me a tab.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
In the bedroom that I’d pretty much always shared with Caine, one way or another, Dale lifted the gallon of primer with the same grace as before the injury. I envied him the treatment he’d received, making his recovery so much easier than mine, but was delighted he’d bounced back so fast.
