Sweet Carolina

by Roz Lee

  “Hawkins won't survive this, Carolina. Before I came over, I heard talk that NASCAR is going to hand down a big fine for Dell's part in this, and rumor has it they're going to park you for at least a couple of races.”

  Caro resisted the urge to rest her forehead on the door and weep. She'd cried enough today, she wouldn't let Renfro have the satisfaction of knowing he'd broken her. “They'll do what they think is right. Thanks for the warning.” She pushed the door open, leaving him standing in the hall. She pressed her back against the door and closed her eyes.

  “Caro?”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice. “Dell!”

  “What's the matter?” he asked. He didn't know how long he'd been out. Hours? Days? But Caro was still in her fire suit. Battered and bruised, his dick still reacted in predictable ways. Something to be thankful for, he mused as she crossed to his bedside.

  “Hey, you're awake. How do you feel?”

  He closed his eyes and groaned. “Like I got hit by about a dozen cars?”

  “It's a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much,” she said. “I guess if you can joke about it, you aren't hurting too bad.”

  “I'll live,” he said, trying to sit up. He winced at the pain in his ribs and dropped back to the mattress, grabbing his ribcage with his good arm. “Son of a bitch!”

  Caro's lips curled into a malicious smile. “Yeah, you might not want to move too fast for while. You have some bruised ribs, mostly on your left side. Nothing's broken though.”

  “Could have fooled me,” he said, through clenched teeth.

  Caro reached for the call button. “Now that you're awake, we can go home.” She signaled for the nurse. “The doctor wanted to keep you overnight, but I told him you wouldn't want to stay.”

  “Thanks,” he said, infusing the word with all the sarcasm he could muster.

  “What? You want to stay here?”

  “No,” he barked, wincing again as his knee-jerk response earned another protest from his ribcage. “You're right. I want to go home. How soon can we get out of here?”

  The duty nurse stepped in, and having heard Dell's question, she answered for Caro. “You can leave in a few minutes, Mr. Wayne. I need to check your vital signs. I'll have the business office send someone up with your paperwork. As soon as you sign on the dotted line, you're free to go.” She checked this and that, and all the while Dell watched Caro flit about the room, gathering…stuff. He had no idea what, and didn't care. Her eyes were red and swollen as if she'd been crying. Shit. A memory, or was it a dream? flitted through his brain. Whispered words. Caro's voice telling him she loved him.

  “Your heartbeat is elevated,” the nurse said. Dell glanced at his wrist where the nurse pressed her latex-covered fingers to his pulse. He willed his heart to slow. It was Caro. She did that to him. He closed his eyes as the nurse silently counted his heartbeat again. This time, she dropped his wrist. “There, no problem. It's a little fast,” she glanced at Caro who was engrossed in folding his fire suit and stuffing it into a plastic bag with the hospital logo on it, “but that's to be expected.” She slapped a pressure cuff around his bicep and pumped it up until Dell's eyes bulged. When she was through, she winked at him. “You're good to go.” She folded the cuff and replaced it in the basket on the wall above his head. “Under the circumstances, a little high blood pressure is probably a good thing,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Dell said.

  “No problem.” She bent close and lowered her voice. “Don't crash this time. This race might be one you really ought to win,” she said, then she patted him on the arm and left.

  Right. Caro's whispered declaration, real or imagined, echoed through his brain. He didn't deserve a woman like Carolina. He had no business thinking of a future with her. She gave herself to him once, and then she said it was a mistake. Wasn't that the understatement of the year? But he couldn't quit thinking about her, or remembering the feel of her skin beneath him, enfolding him in her wholesome goodness.

  She was everything a woman ought to be, and he was nothing a man should be. Hadn't his dad said it enough times? Caro deserved a winner, someone to stand beside her, someone to support her. He wasn't that man. He didn't know how to be that man. But it didn't stop him from wanting to try, as futile as the effort might be.

  He congratulated himself for making it to her car in the parking lot without collapsing, but it was a near thing. Everything on him hurt, and whatever they'd given him for pain wore off long ago.

  “We'll stop at a pharmacy and fill your prescription,” Caro said as she drove down the ramp to the lower level of the parking structure.

  “No, take me back to the track. Aspirin will do. I'll be good to go in time for practice runs this week.”

  “Look, Dell,” she said. The hesitation in her voice compelled him to look at her rather than the road.

  “What?” he asked.

  “We may not have a car in the race this week. Butch Renfro stopped by. He said he'd heard rumors we may be parked for a few races.”

  “Parked? Are you kidding me?” He gingerly supported his aching ribs as he tried to turn to get a better look at her face.

  “No, not kidding. He said there would be fines too. I've been with you, and my cell phone was off, so I don't know what's going on at the track, but Butch seemed to think it was foregone conclusion.”

  “Shit.” Dell turned his attention back to the road. “We'll protest the decision,” he said.

  Caro sighed. Dell didn't like the sound of it, but he kept his mouth shut. They drove in silence to his place on Lake Norman. Caro pulled up in front of his house.

  “Thanks for the ride,” he said, bailing out of the car as quickly as possible given the state of his ribs. “I'll see you at the track.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Caro rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. No amount of eye torture was going to make the numbers come out any better. She'd left Dell at his house and driven straight to the track. She skirted the garages and bee-lined straight for the NASCAR hauler, knowing they preferred to hand down bad news in person.

  Hours later, she was still sitting behind her desk at Hawkins Racing, trying to find some way to make the numbers add up to get back on the track. As Butch Renfro predicted, the team fine was substantial and handed out with a liberal dose of chauvinistic idiocy that made her blood boil. She'd stood quietly and accepted their decree, all the while biting the inside of her cheek to keep from telling them off.

  “Caro?”

  She jumped at the sound of Dell's voice. “What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in bed?”

  “I'm fine. A little bunged up, but I'm good to go,” he said. He did look better, but from the careful way he carried himself from the doorway to the chair in front of her desk, he wasn't one hundred percent yet.

  “I guess you heard?” she asked.

  “About the fines? Yeah, I heard. We should protest, Caro. I don't care if they fine me, but the team? That's wrong. I made the decisions, no one else.”

  “That's not the way the officials see it. They think I can't control you, and they're right. I've got no business running a race team if I can't control my employees.”

  “They said that?”

  “They weren't that nice about it, but yeah, that's what they said.” Among other things.

  Dell's eyes narrowed and a wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. “What else did they say?” he asked.

  Caro waved his question away. It didn't matter now. What was done, was done. Hawkins Racing was through, or at least it was with her behind the wheel. “Nothing, Dell. Let it go.”

  He leaned toward the desk, his eyes locked on hers. “Tell me, Caro. Tell me what they said.”

  “Really, it doesn't matter, Dell.” She eased back in her chair and sighed. “I was going to come out to your house and tell you, but since you're here…”

  “I've got a feeling I'm not going to like this,” he said.

  “Probably not,” she
agreed. “Hawkins Racing is through, Dell. I'm going to sell to Butch Renfro.”

  Dell jerked to his feet and paced to the door and back in long, angry strides. “What the hell for?” he asked, standing over her desk, glaring down at her as if she were nuts. “Tell me what they said, Caro. What would make you sell to a low-life like Renfro?”

  “It's more than what they said, Dell. It's a financial decision. I was counting on the purse from at least one of the races this week, and since we've been fined, and parked… well…” He stood over her, still as a statue, and more gorgeous than any man had a right to be, waiting for her to pour out her private shame. Only he didn't know, couldn't know, how much she'd hidden all season long.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  “I don't have the cash to pay the fine, and make payroll, much less keep building cars at the rate we've been doing.”

  “And?” he asked. But how did he know there was more? Was it that obvious? “There's more. What did they say, Caro?”

  Oh, what did it matter? It wasn't like she was going to be able to keep it a secret anyway. Keeping secrets at a racetrack was like trying to keep water in a leaky radiator. You could patch the holes, but sooner or later, the whole thing would give, and all the water would come gushing out at once. “They know about us.” She wagged her finger, indicating Dell and herself. “They know about what we did, or at least they suspect.”

  “So?”

  Could he be that dense? “So, someone saw me leaving your coach the other day and did the math. It added up to you and me, well, you know. Anyway, word got back to the officials…”

  “Are you friggin' kidding me?” Dell stomped back to the door and returned to plop down in the chair he'd vacated earlier and run his hands through his hair. “That's what the team fine is for, isn't it?”

  Caro nodded. “Yes.”

  “They can't do it. It's none of their business what we do behind closed doors.”

  “It is if I walk across the infield looking like I've been… well, like I just crawled out of bed. And, there are pictures.”

  “What pictures?”

  “Apparently, female owners aren't allowed to kiss their driver's before a race,” she said, sliding a piece of paper across her desk to him.

  Dell took the screen shot taken from a popular racing website and studied it before dropping it back on her desk. His hair stood on end where he raked his fingers through it, and the line between his eyebrows was now a deep furrow. “I'll pay the fine.”

  Caro shook her head. “I can't let you pay my fine, Dell.”

  “Why the hell not? I was there too.”

  “Yes, you were, but they don't fine men for immoral behavior, only women. They're probably ordering you a plaque right now.”

  She'd never seen Dell turn that shade of red before. He reminded her of a teakettle building up steam, ready to blow. She held up a staying hand. “I'm over it, Dell. I believed I could do this, run a team and be successful at it, but I guess my dad was right. This is no place for a woman. Renfro says he'll make this week's payroll if I agree to sell.” She picked up a sheaf of papers and let them fall back to the desk. “I don't have much choice. I owe it to the employees to make sure they get paid. I can't let them down too.”

  Dell hated the look of defeat in her eyes. It did something to his insides, twisting them all up until he couldn't breathe. This was so wrong. Carolina, his sweet Carolina didn't deserve to lose her dream. And it was all his fault. If he'd kept his dick in his pants, there wouldn't be anything to talk about. She'd be above reproach. And damn, why hadn't he considered the financial drain he'd put on the team? He'd wrecked enough cars to fill a junkyard, and brought in very little purse money.

  Whispered words echoed in his mind. Dream or reality? Did it matter which? Not in the least. It was stupid to dream she could love him, much less dream of accepting it if it were a reality. This was his fault. All of it – Caro's degradation because he seduced her – the fines – the bottom line. All his fault. He had to do something to fix it.

  “Have you told Renfro your decision?”

  “No. I wanted to tell my employees first.”

  “How much do you need?”

  “Dell.” She said his name like a yellow flag – caution. He ignored the warning as he had so many others.

  “Tell me how much it'll take to keep the doors open, Caro.”

  She sighed and consulted a sheet of paper on her desk. After a while, she named a figure. Dell nodded. “And how much to finish the season?”

  She shook her head. “I don't know, Dell. Let's not even go there. We're parked for this week and next, and without purse money…”

  “I have purse money,” he said. “I have more goddamned purse money than I know what to do with. I've tried giving it away, but it multiplies like rabbits. I might as well do something good with it. Let me help you, Caro. If you don't want me to give you the money, at least let me be a silent partner. I swear I won't tell you how to spend any of it.” He held his hand up in some sort of scout salute – he thought.

  “I can't let you do it, Dell. I've made a mess of things, and I'd hate myself even more if I took your money and lost it all too.”

  Dell watched her closely. He noticed the little spark of hope in her eyes when he mentioned being a silent partner, but it flared out quickly. There was something else she wasn't telling him. He was good with numbers, always had been. He did a quick mental calculation of the expenses versus the team's income since he'd come on board, and though the expenses outstripped the income, it shouldn't have been enough to put the team in such dire straits.

  “How far in debt was the team when you took it over?” he asked. Bingo. Caro closed her eyes and sank back into her chair. He fuckin' hated the way her shoulders slumped in defeat and the resignation in her voice when she finally sat forward, folding her hands on the desk, and looked him in the eye.

  “On a scale of one to ten? Eleven?”

  Well, shit. What the hell had Stewart Hawkins been thinking? How could a man up and die and leave his failing company to a daughter he didn't want running it to begin with? What kind of man didn't make plans for that sort of thing? Dell held her gaze while he sorted out what he wanted to say. He couldn't fuck this up. Too many people had already stomped on Caro's pride – himself included. He needed to get this right the first time.

  “The way I see it, you started out with the odds stacked against you. You took on debt that wasn't yours, you took on me, a liability by anyone's standards, and you're taking on the entire racing establishment all at one time. I can't do anything about the racing establishment, and I won't do anything about me. I won't quit, Caro. You can fire me, but we both know you won't find another Cup driver, at least not one who's willing to work for a percentage of winnings only.” She opened her mouth to protest, but Dell held up his hand. “No, hear me out. I can amend my contract to reflect the new compensation arrangement, and I will. I can also pay off the debt you assumed when you took over Hawkins Racing.”

  He held up his hand to stop her one more time. “I believe in you, Caro. The engine you're working on is good, real good. We're parked for the next two weeks. Nothing we can do about that. Let me loan you the money to pay off the debt – at a low interest rate, say, zero percent, with no payment due until the end of the season. In the meantime, we use the next two weeks to work on the engine and build a new car or two, and when we're back on the track, I'll do everything I can to win.”

  Caro stared at him as if he'd lost his last marble, and perhaps he had. No matter what, he wouldn't let Caro lose her dream. Hell, he'd lost all of his long ago, and he didn't wish the same kind of pain on anyone.

  “I'm giving you a chance to show the ol' boys' club what you can do, Caro. Show them the new Hawkins engine, and make them eat their words.”

  “But if you don't win, you'll go down with Hawkins Racing,” she said.

  “I'll win, Caro. I promise.”

  “Not if you drive like you've b
een driving. You're a menace on the track, Dell. What happened to the driver they used to say was going to change racing? He's the driver I wanted when I hired you. I was stupid and naïve. I thought that promising driver was in there somewhere, that all I had to do was give him a new ride and he'd be grateful enough to come out of hiding. Where is that driver, Dell?”

  “He's here.” Dell thumped his chest with his fist. “He's right here.” The heat of his conviction warmed the spot where his fist made contact with his chest, and spread through his body. The driver she spoke of still existed, and Dell was going to find him again. For Carolina. She was right, that driver was good, but Dell buried him along with Caudell in a futile effort to be the driver his father wanted him to be. Well, fuck that. Caudell only needed one son to follow in his footsteps, and as far as Dell was concerned, that honor belonged to Warner. Dell would never be the son Caudell wanted him to be, but he could be the man Caro needed, and perhaps, if he were really lucky, wanted too.

  “Give me a chance to prove it, Caro. For the last three years, I've been trying to prove something to a dead man, but I've got something more important to prove. I want to prove I can be the man you need.”

  Caro grabbed a tissue from the box on the corner of her desk and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. Shit. He'd made her cry again.

  “Don't cry, Caro.” The words, I love you, nearly tumbled off the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't say them. He couldn't put that kind of shit in her lap too. “I've got the money. Truckloads of it. I believe in you. Take the money. Show the racing world who Caro Hawkins is, and I'll show you the driver you thought you hired. I promise.”

  A trickle of sweat slid down his spine as he sat with clenched fists awaiting Caro's decision. He was afraid to breathe, afraid any movement might call attention to his anxiety.

  She rocked back in her chair and studied him with narrowed eyes. He didn't know what he would do if she said no. Probably beg. It wasn't out of the question.