Full Throttle (21 page)

Kane turned his head toward her. “You invited him?”

“He came to the race on his own, and I didn't see any point in him standing on the sidelines.”

Kane shrugged and turned away. “Whatever. As long as you people do your job, I won't have any problem doing mine.”

Anton's smile faltered, but Lexie patted his shoulder. “Hang in there. He's always cranky before a race.”

“Are you sure—”

“This is
my
pit, not his.”

“No, I meant, are you sure you want him? He's got a serious ego problem.”

Lexie grinned. “Like father, like son.”

“Hey, I never—”

She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Okay, maybe he comes by it naturally.”

“Come on, Mr. Hall of Fame,” she said, guiding him toward the pit box. “I'll teach you the art of lap timing.”

 

“H
ANG IN THERE
,” Harry said through Kane's headset. “Twenty laps to go. Run
your
race. Think ahead, and watch Lockwood's car.”

Kane suppressed a stream of cuss words. “Lockwood? What now?”

“He sent his car chief down here to complain about you cutting him off.”

The guy gave a whole new meaning to jerk. “Too bad.”

“We need a top five out of this, so just keep your eyes open.”

“How about a win?”

“Just dedicate it to me.”

“You got it, boss.”

Kane wasn't sure when it happened, but he and Harry were doing better. He still wasn't happy about what he considered his emotional blackmail of Lexie. But ultimately Lexie had made her own decision, and he had his own part in pushing her to it.

Later. Save it for later.

He pushed aside his frustration. He had plenty to say to her, as soon as the race was over. And he'd never wanted a race to be over so badly in his life.

At least Cheryl would be happy her plan worked.

“We got an offer from the sixty-three. He's going. You wanna go with him?”

“Let's do it.”

With five laps to go, when the sixty-three car pulled out from their tight pack of seven cars, Kane followed him, putting his car millimeters from his back bumper and allowing the front car to pull him along in its wake. A couple of other cars jumped out behind him, and the whole line surged forward.

The sixty-three crossed the finish line first, and Kane sailed across just behind him.

“Great job, guys!” he shouted into the radio.

He pulled into his pit, then slid out of the car. After high fives from Lexie and the guys, he did the obligatory TV interviews, then rushed off to congratulate the winner.

On his way back to his hauler, he encountered Danny Lockwood.

“You cut me off.”

With no intention of wasting one minute with this guy, Kane kept walking. “I drove through the giant hole you left open.”

“I'm tired of having to deal with you.”

“Too bad.”

Lockwood shoved his shoulder. “I'm talking to you.”

Kane stopped and turned. He'd dealt with his anger in productive ways—exercising, deep breathing and thinking through the consequences of giving in to his anger. He'd kept his cool through arguments with his father, nearly losing his crew chief and losing his girlfriend.

But he'd flat had enough.

“Get away from me,” he said to Lockwood.

“Not until I have my say.”

Blood roaring in his head, Kane clenched his fist and drew back. But before he could land the blow, Lexie jumped between him and Lockwood.

“Kane, no!”

“Get out of the way, Lexie.”

She grabbed his arm and hung on. “No way.”

“Let's go, son,” his father said, laying his arm around his shoulders. “And I suggest you move along,” he said to Lockwood with a piercing blue stare.

It wasn't easy, but Kane drew a deep breath and moved away with Lexie and his father.

“Need your daddy to fight your battles for you, Jackson?” Lockwood yelled after them.

As Kane turned back, one of his fans—dressed from head to toe in red and yellow Sonomic Oil/Kane Jackson gear—decked Lockwood.

Crew members and officials rushed toward them, some surrounding him, some surrounding the prone Lockwood. Kane was escorted to the NASCAR trailer, while Lockwood was taken to the infield care center.

He agreed wholeheartedly with the NASCAR big dogs that aggression and violence were no way to solve personal problems. With about twenty witnesses who saw him walking away, he figured he could afford to be magnanimous. NASCAR's president glared at him suspiciously, as if there might be a conspiracy between him and his fan.

Privately Kane vowed to pay all the fan's court fees if Lockwood pressed charges, and get him tickets and pit passes to any race he wanted.

When he left the trailer, his father was waiting for him. “Everything okay?”

Now that the excitement was over, the awkward tension between him and his father returned. “Probably. They said they'd give a final ruling Tuesday, but I don't see how they can blame me. I was walking away from the guy.” He paused. “Uh, thanks for that, by the way.”

“I was glad to help. I'm always here for you.”

Kane stared at the ground. “Sure.”

“Why don't I walk with you back to your coach?”

“Okay. I could really use a shower.”

By moving quickly and ducking around the crowds, they managed to get to the drivers' compound with a minimum of stops for autographs. He guessed it was time to end the silence between him and his father, but he wanted to talk to Lexie even more.

After his shower, he found his father holding a bottle of Gatorade and pacing in the kitchen. “You want one?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Anton pulled one from the fridge for Kane, and they stood just feet apart, each obviously waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Hey, thanks again for—”

“I didn't come to the Richmond race because of that newspaper article criticizing my support of your racing.”

“I know.”

“But it
was
a wake-up call for me. I've put too much emphasis on your image and how you're connected to me in the media. I've put too much distance between us because of my resentment of your racing. I truly never understood your fascination with the sport, mostly because I didn't want to. I wanted you to be like me, and you're not.”

“I tried to be.”

“I know, and I'm sorry you felt pressured to try. I'm sorry if anybody—including me—made you felt less than important because you were different.” He laid his hand on his shoulder. “I'm so proud of you, of what you've done and what you're doing. Never again will you apologize to me or anybody else for doing what you love.”

Relief and pride filled Kane. The equal footing he'd at least wanted a chance to share was there for him to enjoy. It would no doubt have been there sooner if he'd listened to Lexie and stood up to his father sooner. If he'd shared his frustration instead of bottling it.

He grinned and hugged him. “You got it, Dad.”

After a few moments, his father pulled back slightly. “You be your own man, son. I'm here for advice whenever you need me, but I want you to do things your own way.”

“You're not such a bad role model.”

“I wanted to punch the crap out of that guy.”

“Me, too,” Kane said.

“Why didn't you?”

Kane grinned. “There was a time…” He shook his head. Obviously, he had grown up. “But mostly I was afraid.”

“Of him?”

“No, of—”

“Lexie,” they finished together.

“She's really something,” his father added. “She told me if I didn't understand your love of racing it's because I never come to the races.”

“And the ones you watch from the sky box don't count.”

He smiled and nodded. “It's like you were there.”

“I know her well.”

“She's pretty terrific.”

Kane raised his eyebrows. “She is, huh?”

“Because of her, I might actually get this racing bug. Which is good, because I'm cutting back on my broadcast schedule, so I can come to more races.”

“Dad, you don't have to.”

“I am. I've already told the NFL and the network. I'm going to alternate games with Buddy Romano.”

“Your old center?”

“He's trying to break into TV, and I wanted some Sundays off. It seemed like the perfect compromise.”

“And this was Lexie's idea?”

“She said I needed to take time with you and see what NASCAR is all about. I need you to see that I'm serious about my commitment.”

Kane sank onto the sofa. “Yeah, commitment.”

“You don't want me to come to the races?”

“Yeah, I want you to come. I just—” He rubbed his hands down his face. “You had a good time today?”

His father sat beside him, and for the first time Kane noticed his rumpled, less-than-perfect appearance. “It was great.” He looked off in the distance, as if reliving the day. “The speed, the power, the noise—it was all amazing. The air crackled like it was the Super Bowl.”

“And it's that way every week.”

“I can't wait. But what does this have to do with commitments?”

“Lexie.” He said her name on a sigh, like the lovesick goofball he knew he'd become.

“Ah. Not ready to give up on her, are you?”

“No way.”

“You shouldn't.”

Though he and his father hadn't always agreed, Kane had always admired his parents' relationship. The respect and devotion they shared, which he understood even more because of his love for Lexie.

Love had hit him over the head, just as everybody had said it would. Although for him it had been more like a gradual fall, then an extreme plunge. Once, Lexie had said she loved him, too. But after all his uncertainty and indecision, his delaying, hemming and hawing, she'd probably changed her mind.

“Does love always make you crazy?”

His father patted him on the back. “Most of the time, son. Most of the time.”

L
EXIE MARCHED
through the rapidly emptying drivers' lot, hoping she could still catch Kane.

They'd had a near miss with Lockwood but a great day on the track. She was proud of Kane pulling his punch, though she didn't want to consider what might have happened if she and Anton hadn't shown up. Still, the sight of that creep flat on his back had been worth the grilling in the NASCAR official's office.

Did Kane have the best fans or what?

As she reached his motor coach, she noticed a buxom blonde in a miniskirt standing at the door.
Oh, please.
She wanted to see Kane, to congratulate him and share the moment. To find a way to apologize for choosing the team over him. For chickening out. Protecting herself.

“Look, honey—” Her jaw dropped as she recognized the woman.
“Cheryl?”

She waggled her manicured fingers. “Hi.”

“What are
you
doing here?”

“I've been coming to the races the last few weeks.”

“You
have?
” Cheryl didn't come to races. She didn't even
like
racing. “Why?”

“Kane and I…well, we've been working on a project.”

Lexie's stomach bottomed out. Kane wouldn't. Cheryl wouldn't.

As if she realized her thoughts, Cheryl huffed in disgust. “Oh, please.
You're
the project.”

“Me?”

“We've been trying to work through his feelings for you.”

Despite her effort to be nosy and appropriately car chief concerned, her heart jumped. “Work through his feelings?”

“Well, see…” Cheryl stared at the ground in a very uncharacteristic way. “I thought he should compare the way he feels about you to the way he feels about racing.”

Lexie shook her head to clear it. “Compare me to racing?”

“Yes. He was confused, and it was important that he get in touch with his emotions.”

Good grief, not only was she destined to lose that contest, the woman was playing head games with a race car driver—the most volatile, superstitious, unpredictable species on the planet. “He was working out his feelings in a three-thousand-pound race car?”

“Where else would—”

“With forty-two other drivers also in three-thousand-pound race cars?”

Cheryl cocked one hip. “Men need something tactile to tap into their feelings. They're not naturally emotional beings like women.”

“He was tactile all right—nearly on another driver's face. Do you have any idea what would have happened if that punch had landed?”

“It wouldn't have been good.”

“No. The championship would have been lost.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. NASCAR docks us twenty-five, maybe fifty points, and we're finished.”

“Well, maybe—”

“Go home, Cheryl. Go back to running the office. Let me handle the team, the driver and the racing. Okay?”

“Jeez. I was just trying to help.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and stalked away.

Shaking her head, Lexie reached for Kane's motor coach door. She stopped with her fingers curled around the handle and looked over her shoulder at Cheryl. “
Did
he figure out his feelings about me?”

“He did.”

“And?”

Cheryl nodded toward the door. “Why don't you go find out?”

Oh, she was just really too much.
Why don't you go find out?
Humph.

Comparing his feelings for her to his feelings for racing? How ridiculous. They were two completely separate—

Oh, they are, huh?

She swallowed. Hadn't she been the one who'd broken up with him years ago because she didn't want to be second best to his career? Then hadn't she, just a few weeks ago, broken off their relationship because she wanted racing to be first?

And she'd thought
he
was the volatile one.

Racing wasn't the problem. It was their hearts.

She'd let fears and insecurities convince her he didn't really love her. He'd focused so completely on proving himself to his father that his heart didn't have room to give her the devotion she needed.

They wouldn't repeat the mistakes of the past. The bruising her heart had taken had healed, and she wasn't afraid to hand it over to the man she loved.

She flung open the door to the coach. “I l—” She ground to a halt when she saw the other two men with Kane. “Hi, Dad, Anton.”

While the two older men rose to their feet, the love of her life looked a little green around the gills as he stared silently up at her from his position on the sofa. “Are you okay?” she asked him.

“I'm—”

“On your feet, son,” Anton said, grabbing Kane by his arm. “There's a lady in the room.”

“Don't nag the boy, Jackson,” her father said.

Anton narrowed his eyes. “So only the crew chief can nag him, is that right?”

Her father poked out his chest, which was no match for the size and breadth of the former NFL great. “That's right.”

“He's my son.”

“At the track he belongs to me.”

“Hey, guys,” Lexie said.

“Dad, please,” Kane said at the same time.

The two men separated, leaving Kane and Lexie standing between them. Well, at least they weren't standing on opposite sides anymore.

“I came to apologize to Kane, and he—” her father jerked his thumb at Anton “—had the nerve to tell me all the problems I caused by not supporting you two.”

Lexie bit her lip to keep from laughing at the haughty expression on Anton's face. “Ah, Dad, there were some problems—”

“No more than
he
caused,” her father said, glaring at Anton.

“You
both
were wrong,” Kane said, sounding tired, as if he'd said that a few times already. “We've talked about this. You've both apologized. Several times.”

“He can be so pompous,” her father said. “I'm going to make it my mission to stamp it out of my grandkids.”

Kane's jaw dropped.
“Grandkids?
Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Well, now this whole misunderstanding…” Anton began, though Lexie tuned him out. She was listening to a louder voice, one deep inside her.

Go for it.

Lexie wrapped her arms around Kane's neck. “You don't belong to either of them. You belong to
me.
At the track. Everywhere.”

He hugged her tight against his chest, his eyes glowing with relief. “Lexie, I've made such a mess out of things.”

“Nothing that can't be fixed, right?”

“Now we're talking,” her father said, looking proud. “See, I told you she loved him.”

“No, I told you,” Anton said, shaking his head.

“Would you people get out of here?” she said, glaring at their fathers. “So
I
can tell him I love him?”

“Apologies accepted,” Kane said, never taking his gaze from Lexie's. “Bye.”

Within seconds she and Kane were alone, and he was kissing her.

“You wanna run that last part by me again?” he asked when he came up for air.

“I love you.”

“And always will?”

She smiled. “Always. And you—”

“Did you see Cheryl?”

Where was he going with this? Where was the big declaration of love from him? “Ah, yeah.”

“Did she tell you about the plan?”

“Uh-huh.”

“She's crazy.” He shook his head. “She had me doing all this deep breathing.”

“And you had some terrible finishes.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “You gotta keep your head in the race at all times.”

Wait a second. This
was
going somewhere. “You risked championship points for
me?
”

“I'd do anything for you.” He cupped her cheek. “You should know that by now.”

Okay, that was really flattering and gave her all kinds of warm, fuzzy feelings. But at the same time…

“Are you crazy?” She fought the urge to pull her hair out, then his. “We've got a championship to win. Races to run. Not to mention the safety of—”

“I had more important things on my mind.”

“No kidding?”

His gaze smoky, he kissed her. “Like telling Cheryl of course I loved you, and she should go home and quit bugging me.”

Her stomach fluttered. “You do, huh? When did you realize that?”

“About twenty seconds after I met you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And the last twelve years, you've been…”

“Stupid. I guess I should confess that more recently I knew I loved you when, at every race since you walked out of my house, I haven't wanted to get in the car. I wanted to stay with you. I didn't give a damn what lap we were on or where we stood in the points. If I can't be with you, race with you, I don't want to race at all.”

The fluttering in her stomach blossomed, sending tingles of happiness through the rest of her body. It was a feeling she knew would last a lifetime—for both of them. “You don't have to pick between me and racing.”

“I don't?”

“You can have us both.”

“Mmm.” He kissed the side of her neck. “Can I have you first?”

“You bet. And just so we're clear, I didn't choose the team over you. I chose to protect myself rather than risking my heart again.”

His gaze searched hers. “You won't be sorry if you do.”

“No, I don't think I will,” she said, and pressed her lips to his.

They shared a kiss full of hunger and need, healing and hope. She absorbed his excitement and relief. His hope and promise.

There would be hard days ahead, working together and loving together, but she had faith in their commitment to each other. A love this challenging to win would be all the more precious.

The alarm on her watch beeped. She pulled away from Kane and glared at her wrist. “Oh, crap. We've got to head to the airport. We'll miss the plane.”

Grinning, he pulled her back to him. “I was thinking about staying the night.”

 

“C
AN YOU SEE ANYTHING
?” Harry asked, hovering impatiently behind the taller man in front of him.

“They're kissing,” Anton said, turning away from the window with a broad smile on his face.

“Again?”

“In fact, I don't imagine we'll see them on the plane.”

Harry sagged with relief. “Hallelujah.”

Anton dropped his arm across Harry's shoulders as they walked away from the coach. “Not a bad plan, Mercer.”

“Not bad? It worked perfectly.”

“I think they would have gotten back together without us fighting.”

“Eventually, I guess. But it was taking too dang long. I've got a championship to win.”

“Did I ever tell you about that touchdown I made in Super Bowl—”

“If you don't finish that sentence, I'll buy you a beer.”

Anton nodded. “Deal.”