by Dora Hiers
5
“Thank you for coming. Glad you could make it.” Mason mingled with various crew members, shaking hands, moving on until he made it to the edge of the crowd at the graveside. He was satisfied with the good showing from all the teams. Harley had been well-liked and respected in the racing industry.
Too bad not so much in his own family. His ex-wife and children hadn’t bothered to show. But there was still time.
His gaze shot to the road where cars lined the curb, stretching as far as he could see in both directions.
Charlie, his current crew chief, stepped up beside him and curled a hand around his shoulder. “I’m sorry about Harley, boss. I know how fond you were of the old man. We all were.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
“Do you think his family will show?”
“It doesn’t look that way.”
Charlie shook his head, commiserating. “Well, I’m glad you got to his place when you did. That’s a tough way to finish out your life, huh?”
“Yeah. But he wasn’t alone. He might not have had family or friends surrounding him, but God walked with him through the valley.” He should’ve headed to Harley’s house first. Instead, he’d made a stop at the shop and then the fast food joint. Even so, according to the medical team that worked on Harley, arriving earlier that morning wouldn’t have changed the outcome.
Charlie nodded. “I hear ya.”
Movement along the road caught Mason’s attention. Had Harley’s family members finally decided to make an appearance?
A tall, slender man and a female walked toward the tent. Suddenly the female turned around abruptly and headed in the opposite direction. The man hurried after her, slid an arm around her shoulders and leaned close to speak to her in low tones, his expression a mixture of worry and concern.
Wait a minute. Was that—
Remi?
She’d come after all!
A grateful sigh lifted his chest. Thank You, Lord!
“Excuse me, Charlie.” He patted his crew chief’s shoulder and hustled toward Remi.
His gaze soaked in the sight of her. She’d pulled her long dark hair into a twist at the nape of her neck. Wearing black dress slacks and a turquoise sweater that clung to her soft curves, her pure and natural beauty made his breath hitch, but the lightly applied makeup couldn’t conceal the puffy, dark hollows around her eyes.
Loneliness? Heartache? Or had this guy said something to upset her?
One glance at the man, compassion and tenderness clear in the lines etching his face, told Mason that wasn’t the case.
“Remi.” He held out his hand. Warmth spread through his limbs at the sensation of satin skin.
Her sweet smile just about did him in. If she hadn’t arrived with this fellow, he’d have tugged her into his arms to chase away the loneliness that seemed to plague them both.
“Mason, this is my brother Camdon.” She transferred her smile to the tall, suited man standing next to her. “Camdon, this is Mason Mulrennan.”
Her brother? Mason tamped down the pleasure that raced through his veins. Of course she’d brought her brother!
He could’ve kicked himself for not spotting the resemblance between siblings. Dark hair, slender build, striking brown flecks gracing jade colored eyes.
“Glad to meet you, Camdon. You’re a lifesaver, man. I appreciate the use of your clothes.”
A puzzled look crossed Camdon’s face as they shook hands. Pink crept across Remi’s cheeks.
“Oh, that didn’t come out right.” Grimacing, Mason pulled his arm back and scrubbed a hand across his jaw, hoping to hide the silly grin that slid across his face since knowing this was her brother and not a date.
But he’d better set the record straight. Wouldn’t want her brother to think badly of him right off. “It’s not like…she, I, um—”
“He had a run in with Jumbo, and I let him borrow your shirt,” Remi blurted.
Camdon nodded with a wrinkled nose. “We’ve all suffered similar incidents from that rascal. But the big lug’s been through a lot. I think he’ll behave better under my sister’s loving care.”
“I’m sure.” That didn’t sound right, either. What was wrong with him? Heat burned his neck and made its way up to his face.
He cupped Remi’s elbow and leaned close, her spicy scent tickling his nose and igniting even more flames to life. “Thank you for coming.”
She smiled, but it was mostly just lip gesture.
“Would you like to sit inside the tent?”
She shook her head and shrunk back. Was that fear flitting across her pretty features? Or just general distaste for memorial services? “No, thanks. I think we’ll be good standing out here. Right, Camdon?” She took a step back, glancing to her brother for confirmation.
Camdon nodded and halted her retreat by placing a hand against her back, his black shoes firmly planted in the grass.
The pastor started to speak, and Mason turned his attention to the tent. Lord, let the pastor’s words be Your words. Please don’t let Harley’s death be in vain. Allow him to bring honor and glory to You in his death, just as he did in his living.
****
What was she doing here? She shouldn’t have come.
Darkness swirled, threatened to overwhelm her.
The coffin. The pastor’s message. The finality of death. Never seeing her father again. Whispers. Stares. Pointed fingers.
A tremor started in her legs and worked its way up to her shoulders. She braced her arms across her chest, certain that her teeth would start chattering any second.
Mason angled his head sideways, but she didn’t dare look at him or she’d break down. He must be suffering tremendous pain, losing his long-time friend. Her heart ached for him in his loss, but she couldn’t stay here much longer.
An arm tugged and tucked her under a shoulder, next to blessed warmth. She looked up and smiled her thanks, her lips quivering.
Mason.
He’d just lost one of his best friends, and he was offering her comfort? Dampness trickled down her cheeks. She sniffled.
A tissue appeared in front of her face, this time from her left. Camdon.
She took it and swiped at her face and nose, grateful for the tenderness and care from both men. She expected it from her brother, but Mason?
Her cheek nestled against the fabric of the man’s coat. His clean and spicy scent mingled with the cool outdoors, calming her until the tremors settled. Her body relaxed against his wall of solid muscle. The pastor’s words, confident and comforting, flowed through her.
Please, God, I want that peace that the pastor speaks of, and that Mason models with his life, for myself. Please heal my wounded spirit. Help me break free from this bondage of fear that grips me tighter than a vice.
The prayer, along with a sigh, slipped out from the deepest part of her soul. Would God come through? Might He finally loosen the shackles of fear?
Still tucked in the security of Mason’s embrace, Remi glanced around the large gathering. Every seat inside the tent was occupied, and a crowd huddled close together outside to hear the eulogy.
If Remi didn’t know better, she’d think that Mason’s friend was well-liked and respected. But she knew better.
Sure. Some people attended memorials to pay their respects, but others came to gawk. To gossip. Perhaps to snatch a photo of a celebrity like Mason.
Where did she fit in?
She came because Mason cared about this man. But why did that matter? He hadn’t been completely honest with her about who he was until she’d confronted him.
She’d do best to remember that he was a celebrity, an icon, worthy of media frenzy.
She stole another glance around the crowd. She didn’t recognize any reporters, and she hadn’t seen any camera flashes. No hands concealed microphones, just waiting to pop up in front of her face at the earliest opportunity.
Mason’s arm tightened around her, as if he could read her thought
s. Again.
Remi snuck a peek at his profile. Freshly shaved jaw. Strong cheekbones. Warm eyes, the color of perfectly roasted coffee beans. A cowlick that always stood up in front, no matter how many times he raked his fingers through it. His usual cheeky grin was noticeably absent today.
Her pulse accelerated, and bumps tingled along her arms, but not from the cool air. Her fingers ached to reach up and touch his rough cheeks, to trail the line of his strong jaw, to glide through his hair to see if it was as soft as she imagined.
Not only was he nice to look at, but the man sure could warm a body.
She blinked, stunned.
Falling for a racecar driver? No! This could not be happening. It couldn’t.
No way!
****
“Thank you, Pastor. I appreciate your message more than you can imagine.” Mason shook hands with the preacher, but his gaze tracked Remi and her brother as the pair made their way to Camdon’s car.
“You’re mighty welcome. I was honored to be asked.”
He slipped the courtesy envelope into the pastor’s hand then practically sprinted to catch up with Remi.
Camdon fumbled for something by his side then pulled out a phone and pressed it to his ear.
Thankfully, a reprieve. Slowing his pace as he neared, Mason made a mental note to thank the man later.
“Sure. I’ll be right there.” Camdon disconnected and clipped the phone to his belt. “Remi, I need to get you home. That was the City Manager—”
Noting the man’s furrowed brow and worried expression, Mason stepped into their personal zone. “I can take her home, Camdon.”
Remi’s brother arched a brow and glanced at his sister, waiting for her response.
Her gaze jerked to him. She studied him for a few seconds then nodded. “Thank you, Mason. I appreciate the offer.”
“You sure?” Camdon asked.
“Yeah. I’m good. Thank you for bringing me. I’ll call you later, okay?” She stood on the tips of her shoes to kiss her brother’s cheek.
“Sorry to desert you like this.” Camdon stared at his sister. As if giving her another chance to change her mind.
“No worries. I’ll take good care of her.”
Finally, Camdon flicked his head in acknowledgement. He hustled toward his car, his long stride eating up the distance quickly.
Remi’s gaze followed her brother until his vehicle disappeared. She sighed.
“That bad, huh?”
“What?”
“The idea of riding home with me.” Disappointment jabbed him in the gut, and fatigue from the long hours spent dividing his time at the ranch and the shop strained his shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Mason. That’s not it at all. Really.”
Would she ever share what weighed so heavy on her heart? “Ready then?”
“It depends.” A dimple flashed unexpectedly. Mischief teased from the slant of her lips.
“On?”
“Which car you’re driving.”
His eyebrows shot to the top of his head, and his heart lightened. She couldn’t be too upset with him if she was giving him a hard time. Could she?
A cool breeze ruffled her hair and carried a sweet and spicy blend of cinnamon and cloves. He leaned in and tucked a loose strand behind her ear. Holding his breath against the intoxicating fragrance and the silkiness of her hair, his gaze trailed the creamy hollows of her neck.
Just as he thought. Touching her could be addictive. His fingers ached to release the clip and run his hand down the entire length of her hair.
She gasped, almost imperceptible, so that he felt her intake of breath more than heard it.
He didn’t realize his fingers had slid down to caress her jaw until she eased back, away from his touch, clearing his head of thoughts he had no business entertaining. What was he thinking?
Hit the brakes, Mulrennan! Not so fast.
“It’s a good thing I brought the truck, then.” He cleared the huskiness from his throat and started walking. At least his legs functioned properly.
She slanted a sideways glance at him, her lips curving sweetly. “Why?”
“Because if I brought my racecar, you’d have to slide into the seat through the window.”
“That wouldn’t be a pretty sight.”
Oh, he begged to differ. “Are you fishing for compliments? Because if you are—”
“I miss Goliath.” She gave him a playful swat on the arm and changed the subject.
“Yeah. Me, too, but I didn’t feel right bringing him graveside. He’s sleeping in the truck.”
She shot him a grin, her face brightening. “Really?”
“Really.” Little things sure seemed to please her. How did she handle big things? “It’s cool enough that he can stay in the truck with the windows cracked, and I left him some water.”
They made it to the parking lot, and Mason pressed the unlock button on the passenger side. The drive to the sanctuary would take forty-five minutes or so. A nice meal might work wonders for damage control with Remi. He glanced at his watch, mentally calculating what he needed to do before he left for the airport. Would he have enough time for them to snag a table in his favorite restaurant? They should be able to swing it.
He opened the door for her. “Want to grab a bite to eat at Kramer’s while we’re in town?”
Was that fear that flashed across her features? Surely not. What could she be afraid of? Him?
He’d spent days on the farm, just her and him. She couldn’t be afraid of him, could she?
“Thank you, but—” Her back stiffened. Her hands clenched at her sides until her knuckles whitened.
Definitely frightened of something, but he didn’t have time to press. “Or we could grab something and take it to your house. That might work better anyway, since I have to be at the airport in a few hours.”
She nodded, her relief obvious in the way her shoulders relaxed, and her hands flexed. Smiling, she hoisted herself into the truck and slid into the seat. “That sounds nice.”
Maybe she just didn’t like to go out to eat. Filing that away, Mason walked around the truck and hopped in.
“You’re such a sweet boy. I’m so glad you came with Mason.” Remi angled sideways in the seat, giving his dog a brisk rub around the ears. She buried her face in his furry neck then planted a kiss on his forehead.
Mason tamped down the envy. Was she as glad to see him as she was his dog? Probably not.
****
“Will you be sorry to see me leave?” Mason. The rascal. Judging by the impish look, he was baiting her.
Remi almost choked on the water sliding down her throat. “No.”
He grinned. As if he knew she wasn’t being truthful.
Yeah. She’d be sorry to see him go. There. She admitted it, if only to herself.
She stole a sideways glance at him, the last fork of lasagna halfway to her mouth, the tantalizing scents of tomato, cheese and spices drifting up her nose.
As usual, his hair spiked up in the front, but he was missing the customary scruff along his cheeks. His suit jacket and tie draped across the back of the chair. Black curly hair poked out from where he’d unfastened the top few buttons of his burgundy dress shirt. Instead of form fitting jeans for working on the farm, today he wore charcoal gray slacks.
Her eyes wanted to linger, to soak in the sight of him. How did this man always look so good?
He probably even looked fabulous in his racing suit.
She jerked her gaze to Goliath, lazing near the table.
Was she enamored with Mason because he was the only other person besides Jillian or her family who came to the sanctuary regularly? Or because he treated the animals like they were his family, too? Or because he’d wiggled through the cracks surrounding her heart?
Whatever. Remi didn’t like it.
There was no future for a racecar driver and a social phobic. She jammed the fork into her mouth and chewed, but the rich cheese and tomato goodness had
lost its flavor. She tossed the napkin on the table and shoved her chair back. “Thank you for the ride home. And for dinner.”
“My pleasure.” His eyes glinted with truth.
Her pulse picked up speed. She hooked her foot against the chair rung and stumbled forward. He reached out a hand to steady her, but his warm grip only made her heart beat more erratically. If only she could turn off her physical response to him!
Just another reason why she shouldn’t allow Mason to keep coming back to the sanctuary.
“Thanks.” She scooped up the disposable trays and tossed them in the trash.
He followed, carrying the empty cups, but detoured to the sink.
There was that scent again, the one she’d caught a whiff of earlier at the cemetery, when he’d tucked her under his arm. Something spicy with a little citrus mixed in, and definitely too masculine for her peace of mind.
She huffed, confused with the battle going on between her heart and her head. On the one hand, she wanted to tell him never to come back. But if she did, she’d miss—
“Come to the race with me.”
She backed into a solid wall of…chest. She turned around to face him. “W-what?”
Some strange emotion glowed from his eyes and curved his lips. “You heard me.”
She shook her head. “I’m not. I don’t do—”
His expression morphed into firm resolve as he took a step back. “I didn’t mean it that way, Remi. You could stay with a friend and his wife in their RV. I have an RV, too, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay with me.”
That was awfully sweet of him to be concerned with her reputation. But that wasn’t what she meant. What would he say if he knew that she didn’t do crowds?
Temptation snaked into her heart for a second, but as appealing as the offer of spending time with Mason sounded, she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. She gave her head a little wobble. “I can’t.”
He regarded her. His nostrils flared as a regretful sigh rumbled from his chest. Nodding, he snatched his jacket off the chair and slipped it over his arms. “Next week, maybe.”
“Maybe.” It was her turn to sigh. She followed him to the door, her footsteps as heavy as her heart. What was going on with her? How had her life suddenly gotten so out of control?
