Hard to Resist

by Jean Brashear

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SO THIS WAS MAUDIE’S Down Home Diner. Hailey looked around eagerly. Black-and-white tiled floors, red vinyl booths, solid American diner. Maudie’s was the real deal, not the glitzy look of the ones she’d seen re-created in California.

  She spotted a few familiar faces and was delighted when the guys from the shop waved at her. One of them, Curtis, the parts guy who attended her noon class, rose and threaded his way through the tables. “Hailey! I’m surprised to see you here. Wanna come sit with us?” His grin was wide until he spotted Ryder behind her. “Oh—hey, boss.”

  “Curtis.” Ryder nodded gravely.

  “Um, well, uh, you want to join us, Ryder?”

  Ryder spared the occupants of the table a nod, then turned back to Curtis. “Thanks, but Ms. Rogers and I have some things to discuss.”

  Curtis’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, sure. But why don’t you come over and let me introduce you, Hailey? Just take a second. I’ve been telling the guys about your class. Would you let folks from other shops join?”

  “Of course—” she began.

  “No.” Ryder’s refusal was immediate. “What the hell are you thinking, Curtis? What else are they going to be looking at while they’re inside our shop?”

  “Oh.” Curtis glanced at her apologetically. “Sorry, boss. Wasn’t thinking. I, uh, guess I’d better get back to the, uh—” He darted nervous glances between her and Ryder.

  “You do that.” Ryder’s expression was thunderous.

  “Thank you, Curtis. It was kind of you to think of me,” she said.

  “Sure thing.” But Curtis’s eager smile had completely vanished, and he quickly put distance between them.

  “Do you have to do that?” she muttered furiously to Ryder.

  “What? Tell the kid to get his head out of his behind and not destroy all our livelihoods? Do you have any idea how slim the margins are between the best teams? Our setups are all unique, and we guard them with our lives. The tiniest advantage can make the difference between success and failure, and those differences are crucial when you’re talking hundreds of jobs and millions of dollars.”

  “But—”

  “Hey, Ryder,” said the waitress who’d come up to them. She was small with very short dark hair, and above her smile, her eyes held shadows. “Your usual booth?”

  “Hi, Mellie. This is Dixon’s daughter, Hailey. She’s a vegetarian.” He said the word like it was a synonym for plague carrier or hardened criminal or something.

  “Oh.” Mellie was momentarily nonplussed. “Um, well, we have baked potatoes and salad and, uh, fried okra.” There was a nervousness to her that drew Hailey’s sympathy.

  “Don’t worry one bit,” Hailey said, touching the waitress’s forearm gently. “I hear wonderful things about the food. I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” Fried…okra? She resisted a shudder. She hadn’t eaten anything fried in years, and okra…had she ever had that? But she smiled brightly, and Mellie smiled back with relief.

  “Right this way.”

  Many people greeted Ryder, and the respect for him was obvious. As was the curiosity. Something told her he didn’t bring women in here often. She settled into the booth and accepted a menu. Immediately she understood that she really wasn’t in California anymore.

  But she was here to fit in, as best she could, so after ordering water with a twist of lime, she quickly made selections and told herself that one meal wouldn’t kill her. She wasn’t rigid.

  Unlike someone else she knew. Someone sitting across the booth, still smoldering over Curtis’s mistake.

  “Ryder, he didn’t mean anything, I’m sure.”

  Ryder shot her a sharp look, but just as he opened his mouth, a couple approached the booth.

  “Sorry you missed the auction, Ryder,” said Andrew Clark, a friend of her father’s she’d met earlier. The older man motioned to the curvy blonde at his side. “Thanks to this woman who refuses to take no for an answer, the Tuesday Tarts made a spectacle of me.”

  “It was for a good cause.” The blonde held out a hand to Hailey. “I’m Grace Clark.”

  “Hailey Rogers.”

  “You’re Dixon’s daughter?”

  “I am.”

  “Well, welcome to the world of NASCAR.”

  “Thank you,” Hailey replied. “What good cause?”

  “Children. NASCAR is big on charitable giving of all sorts, but kids are special to all of us. We held a bachelor auction recently and Andrew was a real hit.” Then Grace eyed Ryder. “You got away from us this year, Ryder, but we’re thinking this will become an annual event, so don’t get too comfortable.”

  Hailey was amused to see Ryder’s cheeks color. “Not my thing, Grace.”

  “Not mine, either,” Andrew grumbled. “Coward.”

  “But you raked in the money.” Grace smiled serenely at Andrew, then winked at Hailey.

  “I’m not surprised, Mr. Clark,” Hailey responded.

  “Andrew is fine. And tell your dad he’s a chicken, too.”

  “I will,” she promised solemnly, then exchanged grins with Ryder at the very idea. “Maybe.”

  Andrew Clark laughed and clapped Ryder’s shoulder. “She’s a pip. I see why Dixon’s so excited she’s here. Have a good visit, Hailey.” With a grimace, he departed, still arguing with Grace.

  “Is that Grace Winters, the celebrity chef?” Hailey leaned across the table.

  “It is. Don’t get between Grace and anything she’s decided she wants.” Ryder seemed more relaxed, his expression amused.

  Hailey decided to seize the moment. “Ryder, I’d like to learn,” she said. “About racing, I mean. I truly didn’t come here to cause problems. I want to see the sport through my father’s eyes. My mother…” She shrugged.

  “Your dad told me she’s not a fan of racing.”

  “My mother is a bitter woman who keeps searching for happiness in places it can’t possibly exist. She’s never had anything nice to say about racing and blamed Dad’s love of it for the divorce, but once I grew up, I realized no divorce is that simple. And now that I’m around my father, I know I’m right. I imagine the traveling can take a toll on a relationship if not handled right, but I have to wonder why she chose not to try. Maybe it was my fault.”

  He frowned. “You were a child. Lots of families in the sport manage. Some of them home-school and others travel part-time. The season is long and hard, but the guys whose families are involved with the sport have an easier time of it. Whatever happens, though, it’s not the kids’ fault.”

  “I wish I understood what happened between them, but my mother won’t talk about it, and my father, well…I don’t feel comfortable asking him.”

  “He’s real worried that you won’t like it here.”

  “He shouldn’t be. Everyone’s been very nice.”

  He tilted his head, skepticism evident. But his lips were curved.

  “Okay, some more than others.” She smiled right back, and the exchange warmed her.

  Ryder raked long, strong fingers through his hair. “It’s not you…” he began.

  It was her turn to cock one eyebrow. “It is. But I promise I’m not trying to distract anyone, Ryder. It’s only…” She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know how to help, and I’m not used to being idle.” She leaned forward. “And if you’d be just a little open-minded, there is all kinds of evidence to support my views. Yoga as a discipline is thousands of years old. All sorts of athletes have learned to use it. Why can’t it work in NASCAR? If you’d give it a try yourself, you’d see.”

  He snorted. “Not hardly.”

  Her ire rose. “You are so—”

  Just then Mellie reappeared, and they placed their orders. The break was just long enough to let off some of the steam that had been building inside her.

  “It’s been years since I got upset like this,” she said.

  “You don’t have to hang around and get upset,” he pointed out.

  “But I’m
trying to learn my father’s business.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re trying to impose your own views on it. You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said—or anyone else. You just barged in and took over, hijacking a system that’s not perfect, no, but we’re a new team and we’re killing ourselves trying to get better. We were making progress—not steady, not perfectly even, no—but progress. And then you come upset the apple cart.”

  Hot words sprang to her lips, but Hailey stifled them. Was it true? Such behavior wasn’t like her, but if she were honest, she’d felt a need to defend her own lifestyle from the first moment.

  Which was the refuge of someone very insecure, as she hadn’t been in years—or so she’d thought. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I truly didn’t realize that’s what I was doing.”

  He seemed stunned. “For real?”

  She sighed. “Yes.”

  They were silent for a moment. Then she leaned forward. “Teach me.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “I want to learn. Make me, I don’t know, an intern or something. Let me be a gofer or whatever. I need to be useful, Ryder. I hate to shop, and I’m not into manicures or highlights. I’m a simple woman who doesn’t know her father, and my father’s nervous around me. Maybe if I understood better, he’d quit walking on eggshells and we could have some honest discussions, at least about this, which is important to him.”

  He stared at her. “Then ask him your questions. Let him show you around.”

  “Ryder, please. Not yet, okay? I’m…well, this is one of the craziest things I’ve ever found myself saying, but I’m more comfortable asking you. For the next week, at least, would you teach me? Give me things to read or whatever kind of homework I should have. I swear I won’t get in the way or be any trouble.”

  “Oh, and I believe that. Not.” He shook his head. “I must be certifiable, but…okay. One week only, though. And if you get in my way, I’m sending you to assist Greg.”

  “Oooh. Threats. That’s mean.” But she found herself smiling at him, ridiculously grateful. “I know you’re busy. I promise I won’t distract you. And I’ll wait until you say okay to ask my questions.”

  Ryder only rolled his eyes and started putting way too much sugar in his iced tea while muttering under his breath.

  But his green eyes had the tiniest hint of a grin in them.

  So Hailey said not one word about the sugar, as a gesture of good faith. “And in return, I’ll give you the massage of your life.”

  His eyes snapped to hers, but there was no grin in them now. Only a flash of pure heat.

  Hailey thought she’d meant it only as a gesture of goodwill, but when she looked at that tough, muscled body and imagined her hands on his skin…

  She shivered. And took a big sip of her water.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Ryder was still thinking about her. He’d been impressed that she’d actually finished her food and done so without grimacing. Maudie’s owner, Sheila Trueblood, had dropped by the table to be introduced, and she’d winked at him while listening to Hailey try to describe her first taste of fried okra, which, apparently, Hailey honestly liked, much to her own amazement.

  There’d been a dab of cornmeal on Hailey’s full lower lip that had driven him clear out of his mind. And that was without the massage of your life ringing in his memory.

  “No!” He shook his head and sat up straight.

  “Are you okay?” asked the man in the doorway.

  “Bodie.” Ryder scrubbed his face and rose to shake the man’s hand. “Just thinking about setups for this week.”

  “What’s your main worry?” Bodie Martin was a grizzled veteran who could do car setups in his sleep, Ryder was sure. Better than that, Bodie wasn’t a prima donna like Marcus, who hadn’t dealt well at all with being let go, even though Ryder had done his best to keep things calm.

  “The camber of the right front is off for Watkins Glen, but nothing my last guy did can be trusted.” Ryder grimaced. “Jeb isn’t a big fan of the road courses, anyway, and we need to get this right. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad you called me. Shall we go take a look?”

  “Man after my own heart.” Ryder led him out of the office, wondering where his new intern was on this first morning of her “job.” Probably changed her mind—that’s what he got for buying in to a sob story.

  He heard a trill of laughter as they rounded the corner, and he got his answer.

  Brandon Granger was leaning against the wall, intent upon Hailey’s every word.

  “She’s a looker,” observed Bodie.

  Ryder narrowed his eyes. “Boss’s daughter. With our main sponsor.”

  Bodie’s only response was a lift of the eyebrows.

  “Ryder,” greeted Brandon.

  Ryder nodded. “Brandon Granger, this is our new car chief, Bodie Martin. Bodie, this is Hailey Rogers, Dixon’s daughter.”

  The two men shook hands. “You’re a legend,” responded Brandon. “Pleased to meet you.” He stepped back solidly next to Hailey as if staking claim.

  Hailey’s expression was as much worry as pleasure. “Ryder, shall I follow you?”

  “No need to interrupt. You just go right ahead with…whatever you’re doing,” he responded through gritted teeth.

  She was obviously torn, and if he weren’t seeing them through the red haze of jealousy, Ryder would admit that she was doing exactly what she should—keeping the sponsor happy.

  But why did the sponsor have to be rich, in good shape and obviously taken with her?

  “See you,” he said as he stalked toward the shop floor.

  “That ought to keep the sponsor smiling. Fine little filly Dixon has there. I didn’t know he had a daughter.”

  Ryder ground his teeth. “She’s only here for two more weeks.” Which can’t pass soon enough.

  “BOSS?” CURTIS TROTTED UP to Ryder. “Is it true you’re making Hailey stop teaching the noon class? ’Cause the guys are pretty worked up over it.”

  Very aware of Bodie’s presence next to him, Ryder bristled. “We need to win, Curtis. Period. Hailey understands.”

  “She does? Because I don’t want to see her hurt.” The younger man got those moon eyes he’d had last night.

  “Don’t you have work to do?” Don’t you remember your screwup last night? Ryder communicated with a look.

  “Um, sure. I’ll, uh, get right on it.”

  Ryder shook his head and moved forward toward the primary car for this week’s race.

  “What class?” Bodie asked.

  “Yoga.” Ryder bit off the word.

  Bodie’s eyes widened. “Yoga? These guys, in this shop?” His grin stretched, too. “There’s gotta be a story behind that.”

  Ryder rolled his eyes. “Needs to be told over a beer.”

  Bodie chuckled and slapped his back. “Well, for this one, I’m buying.” Then he stopped in front of the laptop set up beside the car, and his grin faded in concentration.

  After a few minutes of discussion, Ryder called a meeting of the engine builder, mechanic, fabricator and engineer for two hours from now. He set Bodie up with his own laptop at the desk vacated angrily by Marcus first thing this morning, so Bodie could get current.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said. “There’s someone I have to talk to.” He strode down the hall in the direction he’d last seen Hailey.

  HAILEY PRACTICALLY RAN toward Ryder’s office once Brandon left, though not before he’d managed to get her to agree to have dinner with him in Watkins Glen. Her father had beamed when he’d heard, so she knew she had no choice. Not that Brandon wasn’t a really nice man—he was.

  But she’d promised Ryder she’d be at his beck and call, and it was now after 10:00 a.m. and she had yet to report for duty, though she’d been at the shop even earlier than he’d arrived. The look on his face when they’d crossed paths earlier hadn’t been promising.

  Well, what was she supposed to do? Brandon was the main sponsor,
and Ryder had said sponsor money was critical, so—

  “Oof!” She smacked right into a very broad chest. Strong hands steadied her. “Ryder. I’m sorry. I was here early, and I didn’t expect Brandon—”

  “Take a breath,” he said. “Isn’t that what you teach in your classes?” He was studying her oddly.

  She did as he suggested, closing her eyes for a second and wiping her mind clean.

  Then she opened them. “What?”

  “I didn’t cancel your class.”

  “Oh. I know. I did.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Because I promised you I wouldn’t be a distraction.” She forged ahead with the truth. “But actually, I’m hoping to shift the noon class to nighttime, right after…” Shut your mouth, Hailey.

  One dark eyebrow lifted. “After you work with my pit crew, despite Greg forbidding it?”

  Don’t get upset. Serenity…peace…well-being—

  Her eyes snapped to his. “I didn’t invite them, they heard about it from somewhere else—and it’s only a few. Does Greg control every single thing they do? Do they have to call him before they go out on a date or phone their mothers or—” She clapped her hand over her mouth. She was this close to shrieking like a fishwife. “I’ve worked very hard to eliminate the sources of anger in my life, and I was doing just fine until—ooh!” She threw up her hands and turned on her heel, ready to leave.

  “Hailey.” He gripped her shoulder gently. “Cool down. No one’s attacking you.”

  One…two…three… Oh, forget it. She whirled back. “You are. All the time, you are. You glared at me this morning when I was with Brandon, but I was only trying to be polite because you said the sponsor’s goodwill is important. You despise everything I value. You dismiss me as though being from California is a crime, even when I humor you and eat fried okra. Fried! Do you know how long it’s been since one bit of grease passed my lips?”

  “You liked the fried okra,” he pointed out.

  “You might like tofu, but are you man enough to try it?”

  He reared back. “Man enough? Babe, that’s not all I’m man enough to do.” Before she could react, he’d pulled her to him, one strong arm around her waist.