Burning Rubber: Extreme Racing, Book 2

by Pamela Britton

Callie jerked upright. If she’d been able to use radio waves to slap Shane, she might have done so. What a jerk. Just went to show that Shane’s good looks didn’t extend to his heart.

  Unlike Derrick.

  She nearly groaned, sick to death of the man popping into her thoughts.

  She moved toward pit road wall, the California track relatively flat near the start/ finish line, and so it was easy to observe Shane at first. Sure, she could watch the action from a television screen imbedded into one of their toolboxes—the track featured closed-circuit television—but Callie preferred things live. So she turned toward golden hillsides dotted by oak trees. Those hills carried the track from left and right. Easy turns at first, harder turns later. There came a time when Shane disappeared from view, hidden behind some hills. As silly as it seemed, Callie stood up on her tiptoe—as if it would help her see over the hilltops. It didn’t.

  “How does she feel?”

  It was the same question she’d asked every other driver, but she was interested in Shane’s response perhaps more than anybody else’s. Cocky though he may be, the man was good. He had the touch, and he was arrogant enough to give her his uncensored opinion about the X-TREME Machine.

  “So far, so good,” she heard him reply.

  The sound of the car out on the track faded in and out as Shane navigated the course. In about five seconds he was visible again only to dive like an eagle into a valley. She lost sight of him again.

  “How’s he like it?”

  Callie recognized the Southern drawl even though it was muffled by headphones. “Says so far, so good,” she replied, waiting for Shane to come into view again. She didn’t have long to wait. He reappeared on another tree-studded hill, only this time he wouldn’t plunge out of view. This time Shane would slowly wind his way through a series of S-turns, which is why Callie had a perfect view of Shane’s car suddenly lurching left, then right, and then an instant later, the crack of a rifle—or so it sounded. Callie knew the sound well. Blown tire. But Shane had it under control, or so she thought, because the next lurch brought the car further around…and beyond Shane’s ability. Her stalled breathing began again, Callie reaching for Derrick at the same moment her renegade breaths escaped as a gasp.

  Nothing could stop the car once it hit the dirt apron. What started as a spin turned into a tumble. Dust flew. Parts were jettisoned. The sound of the engine revved, dulled, revved again only to suddenly, thankfully, go quiet.

  Somewhere along the line she’d jerked her headphones off, which was why she heard Derrick say, “That had to hurt.”

  She glanced down at him for a moment, then quickly lifted her headphone. “Shane?” she asked. “You okay?”

  There was a moment of painful, never-ending silence before she heard Shane say, “Yeah, I’m all right.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “But I think your car is toast.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I’ve got to go.” Callie jumped down from pit road wall before Derrick could offer her a hand.

  “Callie, wait. I’ll ride with you.”

  She paused for a moment. “Not necessary.” She headed toward the ambulance, whose lights were already flickering red-blue-white.

  “Callie,” he tried again, but the damn woman ignored him. She was off like a shot.

  “I should probably go with her,” said Veronica, her skin as pale as soap.

  “I don’t think there’s room.” Which was an out-and-out lie. He’d spent more than a few hours in the back of ambulances and thus he knew first-hand how much space was inside, but his words had the desired effect. Veronica missed her ride, the ambulance taking off with a squeal of tires that mimicked Callie’s X-TREME Machines.

  “Do do you think Shane’s okay?”

  “I’m sure he’s fine.”

  “But our cars have never been wrecked like that before.” She seemed genuinely terrified.

  “Relax, Veronica. It’d take a lot more than a wreck to dent Shane’s hard head.”

  Veronica the Pirahnica worried her bottom lip, her eyes glued to the accident scene a half-mile away. “I should drive out there myself.”

  “Terrific,” Derrick said. “I’ll go with you.”

  It was all the incentive Veronica needed. She darted off toward her rental car, pulling a set of keys from God knew where. She shoved herself into her car as if it were a pair of shoes she needed to cross a burning desert. She spared him hardly a glance as he slid into a seat next to her. Derrick found himself stealing glances at her flawless, makeup-laden face.

  “Should I just drive onto the track?”

  Derrick wanted to reply with a smart-ass comment, like how else were they going to get out there? Instead he bit the comment back “Just follow the route the ambulance took.”

  She appeared frazzled. Then again, she didn’t come from a racing background like Callie did. Callie had seemed all business as she’d dashed off.

  Callie.

  She was like those wooden puzzles. The kind with all those interlocking pieces. Just when you thought you had it figured out, wham, you realize you’ve hit a dead end.

  “I hope he’s not hurt,” he heard Veronica mutter as she putt-putted along the road. He would have never figured Veronica to be they type to drive like an old lady, but he was half-tempted to tell her to get a move on before everyone left the accident scene.

  “I’m sure he’s fine. Callie’s a brilliant engineer. I’m sure the cars were tested for this type of thing.”

  “They were,” Veronica admitted. “And it cost us a small fortune, but I never thought… I mean, I just didn’t think…”

  He glanced over at her. Though a beautiful woman, Veronica had never seemed pretty to him. He suddenly realized why. Her eyes were always blank, very nearly unemotional. Not today. Today she seemed downright worried.

  “Relax. Rollovers are all part of the game.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re used to them.”

  “So is Shane, believe me. But you’re right. If I’d been driving, this never would have happened.”

  “If you’d been driving,” she repeated, guiding the car through the first of the S-turns. They were making their way uphill, the accident scene out of sight for a moment. “You should have been driving,” she reminded him.

  Something about her voice caught Derrick’s attention. When he turned to look at her, he noticed she seemed agitated, almost irritated. “You sound as if you wish I were behind the wheel.”

  For a split second, their gazes locked and Derrick nearly drew back at the look in her eyes. That wasn’t irritation in the depths of her eyes, it was rage. Then it blinked out. The emotion wafted away as quickly as a puff of smoke.

  “No,” she cooed sweetly. “Of course I don’t wish that. You’re our star.”

  A star she despised. She might have swiped away the anger in her chalkboard-colored eyes, but he’d been branded by the look in her gaze. The hate. The venom. The rabid heat in their depths. She didn’t just hate him, she loathed him.

  “Veronica, look, about what happened between Callie and I—”

  “Here we are,” she announced in a sing-song voice. “And, look, there’s Shane. He’s already out of the car. Isn’t that a relief?”

  She stopped so quickly Derrick thrust a hand out toward the dash to stop himself from sliding forward. She opened the door and jumped out before he could say another word.

  He fell back against the seat for a moment, watching as she hurried toward the ambulance workers who were busy examining Shane. The young driver leaned against the bumper of the white vehicle, Callie standing nearby. She had her arms crossed, and she was obviously saying something to Shane because the driver shook his head as if saying no to one of her questions.

  “Damn.” The woman freaked him out.

  He let himself out of the car, Callie having moved away from Shane to examine the shattered remains. Sheet metal littered the roadway, as if a multi-car collision had occurre
d instead of a single accident. Callie’s X-TREME Machine looked like a kicked up tin can, but he was relieved the roll cage had done its job. The driver compartment appeared perfectly sound.

  “Whatcha looking at?”

  Callie, who had leaned down next to one of the tires, started at his words. She had to squint against the sun as she peered up at him. “How’d you get here?”

  “I came with Veronica.” He squatted down next to her. “Did he pop a tire?”

  “That’s what he claims. But the damn things were brand new.” And yet there could be no denying the tire was flat. Then again, almost all race tires blew during a bad wreck.

  “Were they scuffs?” he asked.

  She shook her head, turning her attention to the tire again. “We don’t pre-run our tires. They’re straight from the factory.”

  “Hmm,” he mused. “Too bad there isn’t a way to examine it out here.”

  She stood up, glanced over her shoulder. “Maybe there is.” A tow truck had arrived, Callie waved it over.

  He knew what she meant to do then. Sure enough, the moment they hoisted the vehicle up off the ground, she told the driver to hold off a moment. Beneath a suddenly blazing hot sun, Callie spun the tire on the rim. Thankfully, it moved, and it didn’t take long for her to spot the problem.

  “There.” She spotted the nail at the same time he did. The thing was black—or maybe the asphalt had darkened it—the only reason why he’d spotted it because the sun had caught its edges. “Amazing that the head didn’t break off,” she added, picking at the thing with her finger.

  “Bad luck.” Derrick stood again. “Shame your car is toast because someone dropped a nail.”

  “Yeah.” But he could tell she wasn’t really paying attention to his words. “It is.”

  He watched as her gaze jumped back to Veronica, her lashes flickering a bit, probably because her boss was back to flirting again. She reached out and lightly clasped Shane’s shoulder, the man shaking his head, but smiling. That must have been what was wrong with her. She’d been terrified her future beau might be injured. Now, however, she’d obviously relaxed. Her smile was back to being as predatory as the piranha she reminded him of.

  “Okay,” Callie called to the tow truck driver, a big man who looked as if he doubled as a body guard in off-duty hours. “Take it away.”

  “This is going to make things difficult for the rest of the test session.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You only have one car.”

  “No. We have another one. Despite what I said earlier, I figured someone might get a little excited and wreck one so we have more than two.” She frowned as the tow truck began to move away. “I didn’t figure on a nail.”

  “You should tell your crew members to sweep the pits a little better.” Most crews ran a magnet over the asphalt before a big race, but this wasn’t a race and so someone might have gotten careless. “You’d be amazed at what you might find on pit road.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  By now track officials had arrived, including a few volunteers, the men jumping out quickly and getting to work at setting the track to rights. It would be a little while before they had the dirt and debris cleaned up.

  “You need a ride back?” he asked before nodding toward Veronica’s rental. “I could borrow hers.”

  “No. I’ll stay here and help clean up.”

  He grabbed her hand before she could turn away. Derrick frowned when she yanked it away after quickly ensuring her boss hadn’t seen the gesture.

  “I want to talk to you for a moment.”

  She peeked over at her boss again. “If it’s about earlier, there’s nothing to discuss.”

  She tried turning away again, but he slid in front of her before he could take a step. “Please don’t brush me off.”

  Something about the look on his face must have caught her attention because she seemed to freeze in place.

  “What is it?”

  Frankly, he didn’t know what to say. He’d never felt this way about a woman before and putting his feelings into words wasn’t easy. He took a deep breath and in the end he simply said what was in his heart. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Hah hah, very funny.” She attempted to move away again even as her heart gave the craziest leap it’d ever felt.

  He wouldn’t let her move. “I’m not kidding.” It was funny, because he seemed to grow a few inches as he stood there. “I really do.”

  It was a blue-covered sky, birds chirping in nearby oak trees, the rhythmic swish-swish-swish of the worker’s push brooms, Veronica’s chatter in the background. It all seemed surreal.

  “I know this is kind of sudden, but I’ve never been one to wait around for something I want.” This time when he took her hand, she left it there. “I want you.”

  “No, you don’t.” She shook her head because for some really ridiculous reason, she felt about ready to cry.

  He appeared to bite back a smile before he asked, “Why not?”

  “Because I—” She swallowed, took a deep breath, shifted on her feet. This couldn’t be happening. Derrick Derringer hadn’t really just said he was falling in love with her. In the middle of a race track. Out in the open. With Veronica standing nearby. “Because I’m all wrong for you.”

  She hadn’t meant the words to come out sounding so harsh, but she could tell she’d wounded him somehow because of the way he drew back from her—as if she’d slapped him. “What do you mean you’re all wrong?”

  “Well…” She had to search for words again. “You know.” She waved at his tall frame. “You’re you and I’m…me.”

  “Me,” he repeated.

  “Yeah, and you’re Derrick Derringer.”

  “That’s my name.”

  “Famous race car driver,” she finished. “Sports Illustrated’s Man of the Year. Bazillionaire.”

  For a moment, a brief dizzying second, she felt like laughing—not at the insanity of it all, but because she was suddenly suffused by a sense of joy.

  It faded an instant later.

  She could never be with a man like Derrick for the same reason why she’d fought having sex with him. She refused to be one of those women she’d watched every weekend at the race track—clinging to a race car driver who promised he’d never break her heart—and then always did. She almost laughed, although not in amusement. The only thing drivers were faithful to were their careers. She knew this for a fact. Fifty percent of marriages ended in divorce, but amongst race car drivers, the number was much, much higher. Not that he’d proposed marriage.

  “Say something, will you?” he asked, and God help her, he’d begun to look a little panicked.

  “Derrick, I—” She blinked against the sun, not tears. She was not crying. Nah ah. She would never cry because someone had told her they loved her.

  That someone was the man of her dreams.

  The man she would be a fool to get involved with.

  The man she could never be with because if she gave in to what he was silently asking for—her heart—she knew she would have to give up a lot more. She glanced around. She would have to give up everything.

  “It would never work.” She shook her head.

  “Yes, it would.” He resisted the urge to go to her. “I’ve been thinking about it. We could live together in North Carolina. I’m sure Veronica wouldn’t mind. You could cyber commute.”

  For half a heartbeat her mouth hung open. “You’re crazy.” She shook her head. “All of it. Crazy.”

  He gave up, closed the distance between them and cupped her face with his hands. “I care for you.” He looked her square in the eye so she knew he told her the truth. “A lot. You’re all I think about. You get it. Get me.” He messed her hair playfully. “You’re a gearhead.”

  She couldn’t move, felt her chest expand and contract as she wondered what it would it be like… Derrick. Every day. By her side. In her bed.r />
  “No.” She stepped back at the same time she darted a look at Veronica. “This is insane. I can’t—”

  “Callie,” he said sharply, grabbing at her hand again.

  They’d drawn the attention of Veronica and Shane, Callie trying—unsuccessfully—to jerk her hand away. He wouldn’t let her.

  “Look. I know this sounds insane, but I want you to come live with me.” He closed the distance between them again. “I want to be with you.” He smiled softly. “Not just when you can fit me in, but all the time.”

  All the time.

  Veronica started to walk toward them and she didn’t look happy. “Let me go,” Callie ordered.

  “No.”

  “Derrick,” she hissed.

  “I’m not letting you go.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to be with you.”

  She didn’t. Right?

  “Liar,” he said.

  “Let her go,” Veronica ordered.

  “I barely know you,” Callie contradicted. “And I would appreciate you keeping your distance from me from here on out.”

  “Yes, Mr. Derringer,” Veronica said. “Stay away from her or we’ll be forced to ban you from the X-TREME Racing League.”

  To Callie’s surprise, her boss took up a stance next to her, arms crossed, shoulders back. Callie watched as Derrick’s gazed ping-ponged between the two of them, his brown eyes filling with…what? Disappointment? Sadness? Dismay?

  A combination of the three, Callie realized. He seemed genuinely hurt by her admission that she didn’t want to be with him.

  “You’re making a mistake,” he told her.

  “Actually, I think I just avoided one.”

  He nodded, turned. Where he was going, she didn’t know, but the funny thing was, she took a breath, almost as if she was going to call him back. She stopped herself just in time.

  “What was that all about?” Veronica asked.

  “Nothing.” Callie shook her head. He was walking back to pit road, she realized. She wondered if he’d be around when she finished up here, but then Veronica blocked her view.

  “Do you need me to take care of him?”