by Lily Harlem
Paul looked at his watch. “Twenty-four hours from now will be fine.” He nodded seriously. “Means we’ve got a bit of repair work to do.” He looked at Frankie and drew in a deep breath. “Haven’t we?”
“Well, let’s just see—”
“Can I see my daddy?” Henri bounced on the spot. “Now. Now.”
The doctor looked at his excited face. “Are you Frankie?”
“No, I’m Henri. This is Frankie. Well, it’s Francesca really, but no one calls her that…ever.”
“In that case,” the doctor directed at Frankie. “He’s asking for you.”
Chapter Sixteen
“He is?” Frankie pressed her hand over her chest. Her muscles were tense, those pesky tears threatening. Dean wanted to see her?
She wanted to see him…desperately.
“Yes.” The doctor nodded. “This way.”
“But I want to see my daddy,” Henri said with a slight wobble in his voice.
Bridget stood. “I’m sure that will be fine. We’ll all go.”
“Only two visitors at a time.” The doctor shrugged. “The nurses are very strict about that, I’m afraid.”
“But—?” Bridget scowled.
“I’ll take Henri to see Dean,” Frankie offered. “If that’s okay with you?”
“Yes. Yes.” Henri slipped his hand into hers and turned to his mother. “Frankie will take me.”
Bridget bit on her glossy bottom lip and surveyed Frankie as though seeing her for the first time.
Frankie tilted her chin. Okay, so she wasn’t leggy and busty, her hair didn’t resemble a golden waterfall, and she certainly wouldn’t know where to start with applying the amount of makeup Bridget had on. But Dean said she was beautiful, he wanted her, needed her, made love to her in a way that made her feel so special, as if she were the only one who could make him feel that way, too.
She could hold her own with this woman who’d had one night with Dean years ago. Likely, it was drunken with a lot of shameless flirting on Bridget’s behalf to get into Dean’s hotel bed. Not only that, if he wanted his car put back together by tomorrow, Frankie could do that for him. Only a handful of people in the world could make that happen, and she was one of them.
“Yes.” Bridget gave a curt nod. “Okay, take Henri, but send him straight back here when he’s finished.”
“Of course, I will.” She gripped Henri’s tiny hand a little tighter. “Straight back.”
They followed the doctor down a short corridor that led to double swing doors with small port-hole style windows. After turning left and walking past a desk bustling with nurses and doctors, they came to a room with the door closed.
The doctor knocked once, opened it, then stepped inside.
Frankie let her eyes adjust to the semi-darkness.
Dean was lying on his back on a bed with stark white sheets that came to his waist. His chest was bare, his crucifix nestled in the hollow of his throat, and he had a dressing on his right forearm.
When he saw her, his expression softened and he smiled. “Hey. You’re here.”
“Daddy.” Henri hurtled forward and attempted to scramble onto the bed, which was too high for him to manage.
“Hey, buddy, you came to see me, too.” He set his palm on Henri’s head.
“I saw you crash. I saw it on TV.” Henri was still trying to hook his leg onto the bed and climb up.
“That happens sometimes, but I’m fine.” Dean sat forward, hooked Henri beneath his arms, and scooped him onto the bed.
Henri took full advantage and hurled himself at Dean, wrapping his little arms around his father’s neck.
Dean drew in a sharp intake of breath as though suppressing pain and held him close. He shut his eyes and pressed his lips to the top of Henri’s head.
The doctor left the room, shutting the door quietly behind himself.
Henri pulled back and looked at Dean’s arm. “You did hurt yourself.”
“It’s only a small cut. Probably no worse than when you fell off your bike last time I visited.”
“Oh, that was bad.” Henri shook his head and frowned. “Really bad.”
Frankie stepped up to the bed.
Dean reached for her hand.
“Are you really okay?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m really okay.” He tugged her to him. “But you could still kiss me better.”
Henri giggled and scooted off the bed.
Frankie set her lips over Dean’s. Emotions bubbled within her. God, what if something much more serious had happened? If he’d gotten more than a bump on the head and a few scrapes? How would she have gone on?
Dean slipped his hand over her hair and cupped the back of her neck. He deepened the kiss.
“You scared me. You scared us all,” she said onto his lips.
“I’m sorry. Nature of the game, I guess.”
“Yeah.” She sighed and sat on the bed. “What the hell happened out there?”
He shrugged and took her hands in his. “It was a string of things. My visor was vibrating, deafening when that happens. It distracted me. The car felt light, too, because there wasn’t much fuel on board, which was what we’d planned.” He shook his head. “I just took that corner too fast. The backend went and it took over momentum.”
“But you’ve never done that before.”
He huffed. “I have, plenty of times, just not on camera with the world watching and not in a car worth as much as that one. That’s what I do. I push it, take risks.” He reached for her hand. “But you know that about me, right?”
“Yes.”
“And can you live with it?”
“I’ll have to.”
He smiled. “You know what went through my mind, that last split second before I hit the barrier?”
“What?”
“It was a picture, as though I were looking down from above. Floating.”
“A picture of…?”
“Us.” He nodded at Henri. “The three of us on the boat yesterday. We were all so relaxed, happy, together, not needing anything else. It made me feel so calm, so complete.”
Frankie pulled in a breath. That was how the day on the lake had made her feel, too.
“And then I was flat on my back, staring at the ceiling of an ambulance. There was rapid talking in German, alarms, sirens. Damn, I wanted that peace back, but they kept tapping my cheek, telling me to stay with them.” He repeated the action with his own hand. “Felt like decking the fella who was doing it.”
She giggled. “That wouldn’t have gone down well.”
“No, I realize that now.”
“Can I go and see Mama?” Henri said.
“Yes. We’ll go in a minute,” Frankie replied.
Dean stroked his thumbs over her knuckles. “I want to race tomorrow.”
“I know you do.”
The left side of his mouth tipped into a smile. “How’s the car?”
She didn’t speak, but she mouthed, “Fucked.”
“But not so bad that you can’t get it ready for the starting line up?”
“Well, you’ve thrown pole position away now.”
“That’s okay. I’ll still be in a decent place on the grid. Get the car ready, and I’ll win. I promise.”
The flash of determination, the passion to be triumphant that crossed his eyes made a shiver run down Frankie’s spine. This was the Dean Cudditch his fans knew and loved. He was a go-getter. He’d do whatever was needed to be victorious, to take that lead, that trophy, that world title.
“I’ll get the car ready.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“I will, I promise,” she confirmed. “We’ll be at it all night, me, Paul, and the team. You get out of here, get yourself to the track on time tomorrow, and it will be waiting for you good as new.”
He pressed his lips together and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed.
“And then you can win, but…”
“There’s a but?” he asked.
“I’ll be careful.” He nodded. “Fear is powerful in my world, it keeps me alive. Panic, I avoid, that’s deadly.”
She glanced away.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me?” he insisted.
“Was it my fault?” She could hardly say the words, but knew she had to.
“I don’t understand.”
She glanced at Henri. “The crash, were you thinking about me? About before…”
“Babe, it’s hard not to think of you, but I’m a professional. I can clear my mind and concentrate when I need to.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his index finger and urged her to look at him.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. One hundred percent sure.”
Henri headed for the door. “I want my Mama.”
“Okay, buddy,” Dean said.
“And I’m going to draw you a get-better picture,” he said, “Of a new car, and it will be awesomesauce. I’ll bring it in tomorrow, to put on there. If I have time and I find my green pen, I’ll do one of the boat.” He pointed at an empty pin board beside the bed that had a scattering of red pins dotted about.
“I’d like that,” Dean said. He rested his head back on the soft pillow and let out a sigh.
“You should rest now,” Frankie said, standing.
“Yeah.” His eyelids appeared heavy. “I reckon I should.”
“Get a good night sleep.” She breezed a kiss over his lips. “And we’ll see you at the track in twenty-four hours.”
“You will.” He closed his eyes but still grinned. “You definitely will.”
* * * *
“We’re on the clock,” Frankie said, looking at the team who stood before her. Behind them, Dean’s mangled car was cranked up on jacks. “No messing, no screw-ups, just heads down. Let’s get this done.” She clapped her hands together. “There’ll be a steady stream of food in the office, so eat when you’re hungry. When you’re tired, drink coffee, cola, or Red Bull, I don’t care which. I’ve promised Dean this baby will be ready to go when the green light comes on tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” Enrique punched the air. A couple of the team high-fived.
She smiled. “It’s not as bad as it looks. We can do this.”
“We certainly can,” Paul said firmly. “Now let’s get going.” He leaned closer and whispered, “It is pretty fucking bad.”
A sense of urgency and extreme concentration settled over the team. The car was stripped down to the basics, the engine removed, and a new one set in. Everything had to be checked for damage, replaced if there was any tiny suspicion that it wasn’t perfect.
There was very little of the original vehicle remaining when the clock struck midnight.
Frankie paused for a slice of pizza, the first thing she’d eaten since the crash. She simply hadn’t been able to. Her stomach had been in knots.
But they were getting somewhere now. The advantage of constantly dragging so much spare equipment around the world with them was paying off big time.
“Hey, Frankie, can you help with this?” Jake called.
She set down the last bit of crust of her pizza and was soon lost in connecting some complex electrics. She was focused, determined. They would do this.
From time to time, she thought of Dean. Hoped he was getting a good sleep, that he wasn’t in too much discomfort and would be able to concentrate and claim the win tomorrow he wanted so badly.
By three, the car was becoming solid again. The internal components were linking up, and all evidence of the crash had gone. She looked forward to getting the carbon fiber shell on, the tires fitted, but that was a few hours away yet.
She saw a few of the team yawning, stretching, rubbing their eyes, but no one slackened off the pace. It was full-steam ahead. Every tiny detail needed their undivided attention. It had to be perfect.
At six, Jake opened the huge doors that led to the pit. The first of the morning light crept over the sky, turning it pink. Alarm went through Frankie. The new day was here. Race day. Would they be finished on time?
“You okay?” Paul asked, coming to stand beside her and wiping his forearm over his brow. He left a greasy smudge.
“I think so.”
“We’ll be done in time.”
“We have to be. I promised him.”
“And you’re not the sort of woman to break a promise. I can tell that about you.”
“You’d be right there.”
“Henri’s a nice kid.”
Frankie couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, he’s great. A real character and a live wire, too.”
“He seems fond of you.”
“Well, I hardly know him really.” She shrugged and watched a bird, silhouetted, flying above the stands.
“It seems you’ve made quite an impression on all males with Cudditch genes.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Come on. I could use your opinion on the gearbox. I think it might be salvageable, so we can avoid replacing it.”
Frankie placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the finished car.
It looked good as new.
Because it pretty much was all new.
“Awesome job, guys,” she said, “Seriously, amazing effort.”
“It’s a winning car,” Jake said, mopping his bald scalp with a rag. “I can feel it in my water.”
“Let’s hope so.” She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got three hours ‘til the race starts. I reckon that’s long enough for a quick bite to eat, shower, then back here in plenty of time. That okay with everyone?”
“Okay with me,” Enrique said, rubbing his stomach.
“Yes, refuel everyone then back here ASAP. We’re expecting Dean an hour before, and I want you all in position for then. It’s going to be tight.”
“Yes, boss,” a couple of mechanics said then headed out.
It was a long, hard day, for sure, but Frankie knew this is what they thrived on, why they did the job they did. Adrenaline wasn’t just for the track. For the mechanics, challenges like repairing a smashed up car overnight, ready for a Grand Prix the next day, hit the spot. They’d be talking about it for years to come.
Frankie drove back to the house. The other members of the team stayed on the track and filled up at the canteen. The traffic was getting heavy as spectators arrived, but it didn’t take long.
After stripping off, she stood in the shower and held her face to the water. Her bones were weary, her skin tight, and her eyes longed to close for many hours.
But, of course, that couldn’t happen. Her heavy, exhausted state would have to be forgotten about, for now, at least.
She reached for her shower gel. The vanilla scent instantly reminded her of Dean. Of him being in the shower with her, scrubbing her back, kissing her buttocks, spreading her legs, and exploring her with his tongue. She blew out a breath, sending a trickle of spray into the air. Damn, that had been hot. So hot. The man knew how to use his tongue on her just the way she liked it.
Spreading the suds over her body, she thought of all they’d done, in and out of bed. Being with him felt so natural. So right. She smiled to herself. To think he’d driven her mad that first day. He’d been so surprised she was a girl. Well, he didn’t seem to have a problem with that now, did he? Or that she was Australian.
She thought about what he’d said in the hospital. About the lake and how calm that moment had been. He’d asked if she could live with the person he was. The risk taker, the one who always pushed it.
Could she live with it? With him?
Rinsing off, she moved beneath the stream of water. She couldn’t imagine not being with him now, so if that meant she had to live with his high-risk profession, then so be it.
Chapter Seventeen
The sea of expectant faces in the stands looked the same as every audience at a Grand Prix. But at this track, with its history, the
re was always an extra buzz, an air of anticipation, not unlike how Frankie imagined the atmosphere at a Roman coliseum might have been.
Frankie released her hair from its ponytail then swept it back up and secured it again. Having just been washed and roughly dried, the curls were untamed and wild.
There were helicopters in the sky. She could hear and see them. Dean would arrive in one soon. The clock was ticking on countdown to green. Luckily, they were ready for him. The car gleamed, perfection personified. It was ready to go out and do its stuff, and all signed off by the race director. All they needed now was their superstar driver.
“Feeling okay?” Jake asked, zipping up the front of his race day suit.
“Yeah. Better for a shower and something to eat.”
“I’ll be better once I’ve had some shut eye, but I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Dean can ace this track when he puts his mind to it, and the car…well, it couldn’t be better.”
“I know. It was quite a feat we accomplished last night.”
“If we couldn’t do what we did, we wouldn’t be the McLaren team.”
“True.” She stepped back and watched as the car was rolled into position.
The pits around them were busy, mechanics bustling like bees around honey. The sounds of engines revving, shouted instructions, the din of the excited crowd rattled around their quiet sanctuary.
There was nothing else for them to do but wait.
“So, here he is, the man himself and in one piece.”
Frankie turned to the doorway to see Eric walking in, clapping and beaming. Behind him was Dean.
Looking every inch the superstar, he had his swagger back and his grin in place. Dressed ready to race, and his stubble neater than it had been for a while, he was camera ready.
She hoped he was track ready, too.
“Hey, Cudditch.” Jake said, slapping him on the back. “You okay, man?”
“Good to go.” He shook hands with a few mechanics as he crossed the floor. He then came to a halt, placed his hands on his hips, and looked at the car. “Fuck me.” He shook his head. “Miracles do happen.”
“She’s ready for action,” Paul said, sweeping his finger over the tail.
“Looks it.” He held up his hands. “I believed you could do it, but, still, seeing it, like new in hours. Bloody awesome.”
