by Roz Lee
At long last, Caro stood and walked to the bank of windows overlooking the garage. Dell followed her with his eyes as she crossed the room and flicked a switch beside the window. Light flooded the empty room. Dell unglued his ass from the chair and went to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged gently. She leaned into him, but remained stiff as if the tension in her body was the only thing holding her together. Her scent wafted over and through him, filling him with an emotion so foreign, it stole his breath.
He wanted to be the man she needed more than he wanted his next breath.
“I grew up in this garage,” she said. Her hands closed over his. “I'm not ready to give it up, Dell.”
“You don't have to. Let me help you.”
“I don't know. It might just postpone the inevitable.”
“The only thing you know for certain is if you sell to Renfro, Hawkins Racing will be done. He'll dismantle the shop, take what he wants for himself and leave the rest. That's a given. As long as you keep the doors open, there's a chance, Caro.” He kissed the top of her head, then rested his chin there as they stared out at the empty shop. “Take the chance, Carolina. Even if you fail, you'll know you tried everything possible. No regrets.”
She turned in his arms. Her eyes were bright with tears and uncertainty. Her palms rested over his heart and he wondered if she could feel its erratic beat. “No. No regrets, Dell.” She sighed and seemed to melt in his arms. He cradled her close, stroking her back with one hand while the other held her cheek to his chest. God, she felt good in his arms, like she was meant to be there.
“We're going to do this, Caro. You and me. We're going to make Hawkins Racing a name to be reckoned with. You wait and see.”
“Okay.” The single word from her lips breathed life into his chest. He held her a moment longer, savoring the moment. He gently eased her away to look into her eyes.
“You won't regret this, Caro. I promise.” To seal his promise, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was nothing more than a brush of lips before he tried to pull away. Her lashes fluttered down and she rose on tiptoe, her lips following his, halting his retreat.
“No regrets, Dell,” she said. She pulled his head down to hers. Their lips met in a rush of longing and desperate need. She opened under him and his tongue swept in, claiming her soft heat to warm the dark recesses of his soul.
She tasted like the sweetest honey and he couldn't get enough. He took all she offered, and begged for more. Her lips promised carnal delights he wanted desperately to sample. He rocked his hips, pressing his erection against the soft pillow of her stomach. She groaned and molded her body to his.
Her hands found the hem of his shirt and slipped underneath. Her cool hands on his heated back almost brought him to his knees, but they also brought him to his senses.
“We can't,” he said, disengaging from her and stepping back. He sucked in a deep breath and put as much distance between them as her office allowed. “We have to do this right, Caro. No more…of that. We can't give them anything else to fire back at us… you.”
“They won't know,” she countered, taking a step toward him. Dell backed all the way to the door, wrapping his hand around the solid knob. The cool metal helped ground him in what he needed to do.
“Yes, they will. They found out once, they'd find out again.” At the stricken look on her face, he let go of the door and crossed to her. He kissed her, trying to convey all his anguish and love with the touch of his lips. She wiggled, trying to get closer to him, but he held her at a distance with his fingers clamped around her upper arms. She tasted like heaven, and he hated to let her go, but he had to. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “Never doubt how much I want you, Caro, but we can't be together – not yet anyway. You need time to prove to them, and to yourself that you can do this.” And I do too. “There's enough talk about you already, and I won't do anything to add to it.” He pulled her close just to feel her in his arms one more time. “I hate what they said to you. It isn't right.”
Those sweet hands found the skin at his back again and he held her tighter. None of this was right. They should be together. He should be able to tell her what was in his heart, but he couldn't, not until he'd earned the right to love her, and he had a damned long way to go before that happened, if ever.
“We'll get through this, and Hawkins Racing will be on top. I know it. I believe it.”
“I want to believe it too, Dell. I really do.”
“You do, Caro. You're the bravest person I know, taking on the established system like you have. I'm so sorry I made it harder for you.”
She pushed away, and he reluctantly let her go. “Don't apologize, Dell,” she said as she swiped the moisture from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Please don't be sorry for…you know.” She waved her hand in the air in an absent gesture. “I'm not.”
His lips quirked up on one side and a little huff of purely masculine laughter escaped through them. “I'm not sorry about it either, Caro. Never.” His tone turned serious. “I am sorry someone used what happened between us to hurt you. If I knew who did it, I'd pay them a visit.”
“I guess it's a good thing we don't know who it was, isn't it? My driver is in enough trouble as it is; I can't have him suspended for good.” Her shaky little laugh eased his mind. She was going to be okay. The spunky girl he knew was finding her way back.
“No, you can't, and I promise he'll be above reproach from now on. I'm going to see to it myself.”
* * * *
She believed him, even if it did make her all kinds of a fool for doing so. He stood there with a big wet spot on his shirt from her tears, acting all macho and protective, and so sure of himself. He meant what he said. She just wasn't sure he would be able to follow through. That bright young driver hadn't been seen in three years. Was he still inside Dell? Or had the last three years buried him so deeply Dell would never find him again?
And he was right about their relationship too. No matter how much she wanted to be with him, to feel his arms around her, she couldn't ignore the warnings. It wasn't right for her to be held to a different set of standards than the men, but now wasn't the time to take on that particular gorilla. One thing at a time, she vowed. First, she needed to make Hawkins Racing a success. After that, she'd have the clout to tackle the issue of equality. And if there was still something between Dell and her then, she wasn't going to let it go.
Caro sent him on his way with a promise to compile a detailed list of the company's debts, as well as an estimate of what it would cost to be ready to race in two weeks. She hated to take Dell's money, but he was right, she wasn't prepared to abandon her dream. If there were even the slightest hope, she was going to grab at it with both fists.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“You seriously need to work on your social skills,” Warner said, taking the beer Dell offered and following him into the living room. “Do people actually come when you call them and say, 'Get over here,' and hang up?”
“You did, didn't you?” Dell waved his half-brother to his least favorite of the matching leather-covered recliners in the room. “What does that say about you?”
Warner took the indicated seat and settled in. “Point taken.” He worked the lever on the side, raising the footrest. “I'm here. What do you want?”
“I don't know, exactly. I just thought we should talk.”
“Feeling mortal, Dell? That was a nasty wreck.”
“It makes a man think.”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of aluminum popping as they drank. Dell finished his beer, or in this case, liquid courage. Staring straight ahead at the glossy black surface of his flat-screen TV, he said, “He knew about you.”
Warner set his beer on the table between the two chairs. Dell didn't have to look to know Warner wasn't looking at him either.
“I don't have a middle name. Just the letter C. Richard C. Warner. You think that means anything?” Warner asked.
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“I came first. Maybe your mother thought two kids named Caudell might be too obvious?” Dell said.
“Maybe,” Warner said. “When I was a kid, I worshipped Caudell Wayne. Hell, I even had posters of him hanging in my room.”
“And now?” Dell asked.
“I don't know. I hate how he died the way he did, and that I had anything to do with it, but I'd feel the same way no matter who it was.”
“He worshipped you,” Dell said. He felt Warner's gaze, but refused to look at the man. He continued, “He was always telling me what a good driver you were, and that I would never be as good as you. I hated you. But now it makes sense. He knew you were his son.”
The statement hung in the air between them as they both digested what it meant.
“When I was a kid, Caudell was my hero, and I was jealous as all get-out that you were his son.” Warner shook his head. “Man, I thought you had it all. We hung around the track a lot when I was a kid – Talladega. I grew up near there.” He paused for another sip from his beer. “You and I started racing dirt tracks about the same time, I guess. I used to watch you and try to figure out how you did it. You always made it look so easy, where Caudell looked like every race was a struggle.”
“You drive like him. And that's not a compliment,” Dell said.
“I know,” Warner said. “Believe me, I know.”
“You look like him too,” Dell said. “I never saw it before – probably because I wasn't looking for it, but the resemblance is there.”
“You don't look anything like him,” Warner said. “Except maybe the eyes. I only was around him a few times, but I'll never forget the way he could cut a person into little pieces with his eyes. You can do it too.” Warner twirled his empty beer can between his thumb and forefinger. “Scary.”
“No shit,” Dell said, standing. “Want another beer?”
“Sure.”
Dell returned with two cold ones. He handed one to Warner before resuming his seat.
“Sorry. I guess you probably know more about that look of his than anybody.”
Dell swallowed, letting the cold liquid chill the anger building inside. He took another drink and reminded himself he'd invited Warner for this very reason – to talk about Caudell.
“Yeah. I think I still have a few scars from being sliced and diced by the old man. He always said I looked like my mother. I got the impression it was a reminder he'd rather not have in his face every day of the world.”
“So, what happened to her?”
Dell shrugged. “I don't know. She left. I was little. End of story.”
“Maybe she found out about me,” Warner said.
Dell turned his head, scrutinizing his guest for the first time since he let him in the front door. “Maybe. Or one of the others.”
“You think there are others?”
“It crossed my mind.”
They both turned their attention to the drinks in their hands. Minutes ticked by, then Dell said, “She said she loves me.”
“Who? Your mom?”
“No, you dickhead,” Dell sighed. “Caro. She said it when I was kind of out of it – at the hospital. Or I might have dreamed it.”
“And you're telling me this…why?”
“Haven't got a clue,” Dell said, draining the rest of his beer. He got up, returning with two more. He handed one off to Warner. “Something's not right at Hawkins.”
“Rumor is she's in over her head, management-wise, and financially.”
“I'd buy the financial part, but the other? No way. She runs a tight ship, and she's smart.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Don't know. A few weeks ago I wouldn't have cared. But now? Now I do. I'd like to see her make a go of it. She deserves a chance.”
“Lots of people disagree with you. Renfro included.”
“How did you end up driving for a bastard like him anyway?” Dell asked.
“I needed a ride. He offered. I never gave it much thought until the day Caudell died. This may sound weird, but when he told me Caudell was my dad, it was almost like he was amused that I was the one who caused the crash. I've turned it over in my head a million times and I can't make any sense of it. Everyone was crying, even the old-timers had tears in their eyes, but not Butch. I'd swear he was happy – delighted even, Caudell was dead.”
Dell squinted at the blank TV screen as if it were a portal into the past. “I thought Butch and Caudell were friends, but now I think about it, they never did hang out together.”
“I wouldn't read too much into it, Dell. Not many people like Butch Renfro, but he and Caudell had to have known each other pretty well. Hell, they raced against each other from the time they could both see over the top of a steering wheel.”
Dell filed the information away to be examined some other time. Not that he gave a damn if Caudell had any friends, or enemies, for that matter. He changed the subject. “Why doesn't Renfro support Caro? Why would he care if she makes a go of it or not?”
Warner shrugged. “No idea. I assumed he was one of those men who think women don't have brains.”
“Seems the racing world has a fair share of those,” Dell said.
“Here's another funny thing,” Warner said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He held his beer can with both hands. “I can't say he took much of an interest in Hawkins Racing when she first took over. Everyone was talking about it. You know how it was. I'm sure there was plenty of talk around Anderson's garage too.”
“Yeah, there was,” Dell agreed.
“Anyway, Butch didn't have much to say on the subject – not until she took you on. After that he started coming in the garage, ranting about how she was an idiot, didn't have any business running a race shop…that sort of thing. It struck me as odd when he suddenly had an opinion, and not a nice one at that.”
“You think it has something to do with me going to work for her?”
“Could be. He hates you.”
“Really?” Dell asked. “Any idea why that is?”
“Not a clue,” Warner answered. He stood. “Which way's the bathroom?”
Dell smiled. “Follow me,” he said. “I've got something to show you.”
“Can't it wait?” Warner asked as he fell in step behind Dell. “I gotta piss.”
“Nope.” Dell led Warner out the backdoor, across the patio and around the pool to where a wide swath of lawn stretched toward Lake Norman. He stopped in front of a wooden structure, too big to be a playhouse and too small to be a guesthouse. “Here we are,” he said.
Warner took in the neat little building, then asked, “Okay, I give up. Where, exactly, are we?”
“Well,” Dell said, pointing, “that's my dog house.”
“I don't see any dogs,” Warner said.
“I haven't gotten around to getting any yet.”
“Is there a reason you're showing me this?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably in his need to relieve himself.
“Over there.” Dell pointed to something glinting in the failing twilight.
“Is that a Darlington trophy?” Warner asked, moving to take a closer look.
“That's the Darlington trophy,” Dell said.
Warner stopped in front of the impressive trophy, now a lawn ornament atop a low concrete platform. “The one you won… what's it doing out here?”
“It was either that or a fire hydrant. I thought this was more fitting.” He unzipped and whipped out his dick. A yellow stream pinged against the gleaming silver trophy.
“Man, you got to get some dogs,” Warner said, then he unzipped his pants.
* * * *
“I know I'm right.” Caro stood toe-to-toe with Dell, refusing to back down. It was hell being this close to him and not touching him, but with the entire crew watching, all she could do was look her fill and pretend.
She might fool the crew, but she wasn't fooling Dell. She saw it in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders. He wanted her t
oo. If she leaned in, he'd kiss her, and the professional distance they'd cultivated for the last two weeks would go up in smoke. And since they had no idea who told the NASCAR officials about their tryst a few weeks ago, it was imperative they maintain the charade in public. Caro vented her frustration on a sigh. “Look, Dell, just take the car out on the track one more time. If you don't see improvement, then we're done. I don't know what else we can do.”
“I don't see how one adjustment is going to make a difference, Caro.” He shook his head, two weeks of frustration showing on his face, and in his body language.
“I've run the calculations a dozen times. It's in the timing. There's no room for error with the new fuel injection system. You know that. This will do the trick. I'm sure of it.”
“Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” He slid into the driver's seat with the ease of experience. “One more time, Caro.”
Banned from the circuit for the time being, they'd packed the hauler and headed west to South Carolina. The historic Greenville-Pickens track wasn't much to look at, but the half-mile oval was perfect for testing cars. No one would bother them, and the price was right – cheap. Caro missed the state-of-the-art equipment they'd left behind, but she had enough to work with. If she could find the power in the engine, they could fine tune as necessary when they got back to the Hawkins garage.
Dell took a few practice laps before he took the car up to its maximum speed on the short track. He'd know if the power were there, and if it were, they'd need to put her through the paces on a longer track – if not, they were back to square one. Caro crossed her fingers and her toes that she'd finally found the formula she was looking for.
“Looks good.” Dell's voice held an element of enthusiasm she hadn't heard since they'd begun testing the new engine.
“How does she feel?” Caro asked.
“Like she could swallow the track whole,” Dell said.
Caro blushed at his raw description. “Should we find her a longer track?” Caro asked.
“Hell, yes. I'm sorry I doubted you, Caro. She's purring like a whore suckin'…Ah, shit. She's running smooth, Caro. I can't wait to try her out on a longer track.”
