Victory

by Bernadette Marie

  He didn’t hurry out of his truck as he had the night before. He took a moment to turn off the engine, take off his seatbelt, and place his sunglasses on the visor.

  For whatever reason, she was frozen in her truck. Why had she followed him out there? He had to think she was a stalker.

  She watched as his boots hit the gravel and he shut the door. Holding her breath, she watched him walk around the back of his truck and toward hers. Now she had to come up with a reason for chasing him down the road—again.

  Chapter Ten

  Missy rolled down her window as Jake approached her truck. He wouldn’t deny that it thrilled him just the littlest bit to see her, but he certainly didn’t want her to catch on.

  “Did you have some more business you wanted to discuss?” he asked, leaning his arms on the door.

  The cab of the truck smelled of her shampoo, and he found himself sharply inhaling to fill himself with the pleasantness of it.

  “I just…I was…”

  He grinned as she stuttered over her words. “I’m beginning to think you just can’t stay away. C’mon, admit it. You want more than an alliance on the track.”

  Those were fighting words, and he enjoyed watching her unravel right in front of him.

  “Why you…”

  He stepped back as she pushed the truck door open. “Me? You’re the one who keeps chasing me down the road.”

  Missy nearly fell out of the truck, which was much too tall for her if he could have an opinion on it.

  She slammed the door behind her and her long dark hair swung from one side to the other.

  Missy stood in front of him, her hands on her hips and her feet wide. Sunglasses shielded the dark eyes he’d been thinking of, so he reached over and pulled them off.

  Her eyes went wide, and then squinted against the sun. He loved to catch her off guard. What else could he do to ruffle her feathers?

  With that thought, he stepped in closer to her and she stumbled back until she was pressed up against her truck.

  Jake took the glasses and slid them atop her head. Now she looked like some beach girl, not some track girl who was full of attitude.

  “Did you come to see if I had a sponsor? I know you don’t want me to miss that race. Since we have an alliance and all.”

  She inhaled sharply, then narrowed her eyes. “Yes. That’s exactly why I’m here. None of this will work if you’re not there to help me.”

  “Thought you were helping me,” he said reaching up and twirling a strand of her hair around his finger.

  “We agreed, once we get them out of the race, best racer wins.”

  “I’m the best racer,” he offered as he stepped even closer to her. “And I think you know that.”

  The satisfaction in watching her lips tremble traveled through his core. When her tongue brushed over them, he was sure every logical thought exited his brain.

  “What I know is you’re too freaking close to me,” she argued as she solidly shoved her hands into his chest and had him staggering back.

  Jake chuckled, but he kept his distance. “Lydia is going to sponsor me through a new restaurant venture she has going. I don’t even have to look like I’m supporting a bridal store.”

  “Good. I guess that’s it then.” She turned back to her truck and pulled open the door. “I’ll see you in Atlanta.”

  Because he couldn’t stop himself, he moved in closer again. “Don’t you think we should discuss strategy? I have two fresh steaks in my refrigerator. Why don’t you bring a salad and meet me at my house around seven.”

  Jake gave her a wink and walked away letting her contemplate the offer.

  Seriously, he loved messing with her.

  Missy stood there in the lot and watched him walk away. Had he really just invited her to dinner at his house? That wasn’t a good idea. She should go in after him and tell him.

  No. He was right. They needed an alliance plan. Just because they had kissed on the back of her truck, that didn’t mean anything. She’d been looking to get his attention and she had.

  Fine. She’d show up at his house and bring a salad. They’d talk racing, and that was all. She’d make sure nothing persuaded her differently.

  As she climbed into her truck another truck pulled up beside her and Bud climbed out. He studied her for a moment and then walked over to her.

  “Can’t say I’d expect you to be hanging out around here.”

  Missy cleared her throat and pulled her glasses from the top of her head, where Jake had put them, and slid them on her face.

  “Jake and I were talking.”

  He ran his tongue over his teeth as he pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket. “You’ve got him all worked up. Why are you doing that? Why’d did you have to tell him about his dad? He didn’t need to hear that, you know.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset him,” she argued and she felt her stomach knot. “Justice is out to harm him. He doesn’t need that.”

  “And from what I hear, Maverick is out to get you.”

  “We all have our problems. I just don’t see how any of us ending up dead will help anyone.”

  Bud lit his cigarette. “You’re not planning on running him out of the race in Atlanta are you? He already lost his sponsor.”

  “He got a new one,” she said as she slid the key into the ignition. “I’m not out to hurt him, Bud. I swear it.”

  He gave her a slow nod and backed away from her truck as she started the engine. As Missy put the truck in reverse and pulled out of the lot she thought about Bud. A part of her envied Jake for having someone that would watch over him like that.

  The Walkers seemed to have tight relationships, even with the people they worked with. She, on the other hand, was deemed the bitchy daughter of the boss. No one would have cared if Maverick had gotten his hands on her—no one but a Walker. Thank God one had shown up that day.

  Missy spent the rest of her day finalizing travel plans for the race, confirming that paperwork had been filed, and grocery shopping for a salad for dinner.

  She’d made a point to tie her hair back in a ponytail, to wear an old pair of jeans, and she’d even pulled an old race T-shirt out of the back of her closet just so she didn’t seem as though she was trying too hard to get Jake’s attention—as she had the other night.

  It was exactly seven o’clock when she arrived at his house. She’d always thought it was funny that he lived on the edge of town in a house that had been built in the 1920’s. It still had the original siding and an old cracked sidewalk that led to the front door which was covered with a rickety metal screen. Why wouldn’t a Walker, whom she knew was well off enough, have a nicer house? Of course, she knew many drivers whose race cars were worth the price of nice houses and they lived in double wide trailers where the roof leaked, and the steps to get in were a hazard.

  She shouldn’t look down on him, she thought as she walked up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. Jake Walker, though arrogant on the track, was a humble and kind man. That much she knew for sure.

  When Jake pulled open the front door, Missy instantly felt sadly underdressed, which had been her point.

  Jake was freshly showered and shaven. His hair was still damp and she caught the scent of his shampoo and cologne as he pushed open the screen door.

  “Right on time, Sheridan. I like punctual.”

  She passed by him and into the house. She admired his button-down shirt which was left untucked over a dark pair of well-fitted jeans. There was an easiness to him when she realized he was barefooted.

  “I bought a salad at the store. I hope that’s okay. I’m not too good in the kitchen.”

  Jake took the container from her, brushing his fingers along hers as he did. “Too bad. I still need a few things cut up for dinner.”

  “I could try,” she said as she began to follow him toward the back of the house where she assumed the kitchen was. But then her surroundings caught her attention. “Holy cow, Walker. Did you remodel thi
s place yourself?” she asked as she stopped and looked around the small house that from the outside looked run down, but the inside was gorgeous.

  She looked down and noticed that she was walking on a dark hardwood floor that spanned the entire house. The walls were rich earthy tones and the furniture looked as though it sat on a showroom floor.

  “I had a lot of time on my hands after my accident. This became a little bit of a second hobby—rehabilitation of sorts. Russell helped.”

  “Your cousin?”

  “Yeah, we work well together. Lydia is having him do some work on her new house while he recovers from his accident. The Bridal Mecca too. It’s good physical work that gets you back on your feet.”

  He led them to the kitchen, which looked as though it belonged on a cooking show with its granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.

  Jake set the salad on the island and pulled two beers out of the refrigerator. He handed her one and she thanked him.

  “So how is Russell doing?” she asked. She’d heard about his accident and having been run off the road.

  Jake twisted the top off his beer, and then did the same for hers. “He’s doing okay. It’s a long road to fully recover from something like that. But now he’s married and he formally adopted his wife’s son. They’re having another in a few months too. Everything works out in the end, doesn’t it?”

  That was quite a positive statement she thought, but then again, he would know. There had been word around the track that Jake wouldn’t survive his accident. Then rumor was he would never walk, but as she watched him walk through the kitchen, she found that she rather enjoyed that the rumor was wrong. It was a fine piece of chiseled art that now walked with a slight limp in perfectly fit jeans in front of her.

  “Come on out back. I have everything set up on the patio.”

  “I thought you needed stuff cut up.”

  “I lied,” he chuckled as he stepped through the doors.

  Missy followed him out the sliding doors and again stood still in her tracks. The enormous privacy fence would surely shield anyone from witnessing the oasis of a backyard. The patio was enormous. The deck was all wood with a beautiful iron guard rail. He had two patio tables with umbrellas and a plush seating area around a fire pit.

  His grill was built in with a small sink and a mini fridge.

  “Jake, this is amazing. Is that a waterfall?” She pointed to the corner of the yard and he turned to look.

  “A water feature,” he corrected her with some humor in his voice. “Have a seat. I’ll start the steaks.”

  Missy walked to the nearest table and set her beer down before sitting in the chair, which swiveled, rocked, and reclined nicely.

  “You really outdid yourself back here. The whole house actually. Do you entertain back here a lot?”

  “Never,” he answered as he pulled two enormous steaks from the mini fridge and placed them expertly on the grill next to packets of tinfoil, which must have held other items he was cooking. “Once I’m done at the garage, and then a few hours working on the car, I just want to come home and kick my feet up. I turned the extra bedroom into a TV room. Huge flat screen on the wall. It’s like you’re sitting front row at the movie theater.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh whole heartedly at that. “My brother’s dream room,” she admitted. “Though he’d be playing C.O.D.”

  Jake raised a brow and shrugged at her code.

  “Call of Duty. You’re not a gamer, huh?”

  “Not in the least. I like live action.”

  That comment had her reaching for her beer and taking a slow, purposeful sip. She shouldn’t have expected any less than that.

  “So besides wrecking cars, what do you do for fun?” she asked, needing to know.

  Jake lowered the lid on the grill and walked toward her, sitting down in the seat next to her. “Ever jumped out of an airplane?”

  “Not on purpose.”

  He chuckled at that. “My brother, cousins, and I have quite a paintball course set up out at the ranch. Ever been paintballing?”

  “Let someone shoot me on purpose? I’ve seen the welts those things make on a body. No, thank you.”

  He sat back in his seat, which also reclined back, and studied her. “I can’t get a feel for you. You’re a badass on the track, but there has to be something that makes your gears turn.”

  At that moment, it was him. But she shook that image right out of her head. “I like to read.”

  This time it wasn’t a chuckle that escaped him, but a full on laugh. “You’re a bookworm?”

  “Why is that so funny?”

  “Girls like you aren’t usually scholarly.”

  Missy sat up straight. “That’s a crappy thing to say. I have a bachelor’s degree in accounting. Did you know that?”

  His eyes grew more serious and he eased his chair forward. “I didn’t know that. I suppose you’re more well-rounded than most then.”

  She eased back. “I’d like to think so. Just because I can drive a car fast doesn’t mean I can’t be smart. I’m not what they say I am around the track.”

  His shoulders relaxed and he now was staring right into her eyes. “I know that.”

  Jake checked his watch, stood, and walked to the grill.

  He opened the top, gave the steaks a flip, and rotated the tinfoil wrapped items.

  “What did your dad have to say about the car after you flipped it?” he asked, and she winced at the thought.

  “Same thing he always says. He screams, yells, threatens. Then he makes some stupid comment about me being a girl driving in a man’s race, and threatens to give the car to my brother.”

  Jake closed the lid to the grill again. “You’re a fantastic driver. Why in the world would he say something like that to you? And if he didn’t think you were a good driver, why would he sponsor your car? That doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.”

  She couldn’t conceal her smile, but she tried to with her bottle pressed to her lips. Taking a long pull from her beer, she let the emotion behind his statements warm her.

  “You don’t think women shouldn’t be in the circuit?”

  He turned slowly, moved to the table, and picked up his beer. Finishing it, he picked up hers, then set it back down. “Looks like we both could use a new one.”

  Missy watched him nervously walk back into the house and return with two full beers, from which he’d already removed the tops.

  She accepted the new bottle and took a sip. “You’re not going to answer that question, huh?”

  “Do you really want me to?”

  No, she didn’t, but she wasn’t going to tell him that either. “Yeah.”

  “I think it’s fine to have women in the sport. I really do. What I don’t like is what it does to the men on the track.” He sat down in the seat across from her again and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

  “Men are stupid creatures,” he continued and she laughed causing him to look up at her.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t disagree.”

  “Well, they are. Put a woman in the pit and suddenly she’s free game to harass.” He shook his head and sat back. “I know the rumors about you aren’t true. I’ll bet half those guys could only wish for a woman as great.”

  She tried not to gasp, so she took another long sip of her beer. “You think I’m great?”

  Now he reclined in the chair. “It takes a lot of balls to race. It takes more of them to race against men whose egos could explode at any time. I see how you handle yourself. Why do you think it pisses me off so much when you kick me out of the races?”

  Jake stood and moved back to the grill.

  Missy drank down her beer and let it swim in her head. It was a good thing he’d stood when he did, or she might have jumped on him right in that chair. She had no idea Walker felt like he did. She’d just always assumed he was an ass just like the rest of the men.

  Chapter Eleven

  There had been an arr
ay of beautiful vegetables in the foil packets. Bread, which he’d picked up fresh at the bakery. And her salad, he’d mixed with some fancy dressing he’d bought at Gia Gallow’s Touch of Italy store next to his sister’s bridal shop.

  “You outdid yourself, Walker,” Missy said, finishing off her third beer of the evening.

  The sun was low now and the shadows of evening encroached on the yard. Jake relaxed back in his chair, his bare feet the stark reminder that she was in his home, alone.

  From beyond the amber bottle he pressed to his lips, she could see his dark eyes study her. But what was he looking for?

  “The steak was okay?” he asked.

  “One of the best steaks I’ve ever had. You could open a restaurant,” she joked.

  “Maybe Lydia could finance it.” He laughed and drank from the bottle.

  Now that he’d brought her up, Missy thought she’d ask. Obviously, the kiss they’d shared the other night was not important. He hadn’t moved on her again, and she had done the same.

  “So what’s with you and Lydia Morgan?”

  His brows drew together and he lowered his bottle. “Why do you ask that?”

  Heat crawled up the back of her neck as she tried to remain casual about it. “I just drove by the other day and you were hugging. It looked intimate.”

  “It did?”

  “Listen, you don’t have to tell me…”

  “You’re right. I don’t,” he said as he pushed up from his chair and gathered both their plates. “Let me clean this up and then we can talk strategy.”

  “Walker, I can get my own plate,” she protested standing, but he shot her a look that had her simply standing still.

  “I got it. You’re my guest. Lower the umbrella though. I’ll meet you inside.”

  Missy let out a long breath as she turned the crank of the umbrella and then fixed the strap around it. What had she stumbled over when she’d asked him that? Why did it matter? If he had something going with Lydia, fine. What did she care? Lydia saved his ass and was footing the bill for the race. That’s what was important. She needed him in Atlanta so that she could take that purse.