Hart's Victory (9 page)

“It’s great. It’s so involved. The schedule’s packed. I can’t believe we watched practice from the top of the hauler.”

“I have to admit, that was fun.”

“I’m just glad that you got up there,” Charlie told her. “I didn’t think you would.”

“Well, you told me to be open to anything,” Kellie said. “I’m trying.”

“Yeah,” Charlie nodded and Kellie felt that parental glow one gets from making a child happy. “This weekend’s going to be great,” Kellie said.

“I agree. In fact, I think Hart’s going to surprise you.”

He had already amazed her by simply being different from the man she’d thought he was. She’d definitely prejudged him unfairly. But Kellie wasn’t ready to share that with her son. No sense tempting him to play Cupid. Thus, “Uh-huh,” was all she said.

“I
SAW YOU
get rid of Eileen Swikle,” Hart said as Russ approached. “Thanks. I’m just not up to being interviewed by anyone right now.”

“Figured that,” Russ said. “She wanted to know how you were feeling. Told her all was well. How was it out there?”

“We’re fast. The car’s handling really well. I’ve got really a good feeling.”

“Great,” Russ stated. “I stashed Kellie and Charlie inside the hauler so I could get Eileen moving. They’re waiting for you.”

Hart nodded. “Thanks. It’s a bummer she showed up. I wanted to show Charlie the car, but I don’t want Eileen sniffing around. The last thing Kellie wants is for the media to think Charlie’s a PR stunt. We’ll have to bring him over later. Do we have some time tonight before the garage closes?”

“We should. Tomorrow you have an autograph session, but unless you’re going to the condo you have tonight free and we can work whatever you want into the schedule. Your schedule’s pretty clear since Cynthia did away with all but one of your sponsorship events. That’s tomorrow at lunch.”

“Make the time for this,” Hart said. “It’s important to me.”

“So you’re really interested in her?” Russ asked casually. He’d known Hart for about ten years now, having been assigned to the up-and-coming driver long ago. While technically an employee of Hampton Racing who reported to Cynthia, Russ considered Hart both his boss and his friend.

“Maybe,” Hart admitted. “Just make sure Charlie can see the car up close.”

“I will,” Russ said, finding it interesting that Hart, who was used to everyone accommodating him and dancing to his tune, wanted to modify his weekend for the people waiting in the hauler.

Russ had watched Hart somewhat ignore his guests weekend after weekend, not because of rudeness, but basically because a driver’s professional engagements always ranked first. Everything else was secondary. Sure, Hart would spend time with his guests, but only when he could slot them in.

Yet this weekend Hart had told both Russ and Cynthia that Charlie and Kellie were not to be left out or overlooked at any time.

Trouble was, Russ knew Hart was going to have to really sell himself to Kellie. Russ grinned as Hart entered the hauler. Had Hart ever had to woo a woman before? Ever since he’d started driving a stock car, women had thrown themselves at him. Hart had found most women to be too easy and too fast.

Maybe it was a good thing Kellie couldn’t care less about Hart’s fame. She was a woman who’d walk away, who wasn’t with Hart for his celebrity.
If
she wanted Hart, it would be for himself, not who he was. And
if
she wanted him�well, that was one big
if,
Russ grinned to himself as he said hello to a crew member�Kellie would be a challenge, and the change just might do Hart a world of good.

“S
ORRY ABOUT
that,” Hart said to Kellie and Charlie as he entered the lounge. “Saw you standing there, but had to do the media thing first.”

“It’s fine.” It was Charlie who answered.

Kellie, Hart noticed, was watching a commercial on the plasma screen and pretending to be immune to his presence. Hart grinned. He could tell she was aware of him as much as he was of her. “Well, I’m free until…” Hart glanced at Russ.

“Six-thirty,” Russ filled in. He’d followed them to the front of the hauler.

“I thought qualifying was at seven-ten,” Charlie said. He pointed to the schedule resting on the table.

“Russ always makes me leave ten minutes early, and in this case I still have to get into my uniform and out to the track. I’m going out seventh and I don’t want to be late, which is a bad thing. Let’s get out of here, shall we? I’ve only got a little under three hours and I don’t want to spend them in here. Kellie?”

She rose, graceful in her jeans and short-sleeve sweater. Hart twitched slightly, as if the air conditioner had just emitted a large blast of air and given him a chill. Funny thing, no one else noticed. He had, though.

As he’d experienced the first time he’d seen her, he’d felt something almost supernatural between them. For some reason, he found himself wanting to please her, and her son. He wanted to get to know her in all ways, and not just physically, which had been the full extent of most of Hart’s previous relationships. With Kellie, he’d felt a deeper connection. It was as if fate had dictated that she was the one and hit Hart upside the head to let him know it.

“I’ve arranged for you both to get right up next to my car tonight before the garage closes. Immediately after qualifying. I want you to get to know my crew chief.”

They stepped out into the warm May air, and Russ used his large frame like a bodyguard, parting the crowd to allow Hart, Charlie and Kellie to walk to where the golf cart was parked. Charlie coughed once, and Kellie stopped. So fast was her motion that Hart, who had been next to her, was almost three strides beyond before he realized she was gone. He immediately turned around and went back.

“Are you okay?” she was asking Charlie as he returned to her side.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Charlie said. “I just lost my breath there for a moment. I caught some dust. It was nothing.”

“Hart, you need to keep moving,” Russ said.

Kellie glanced around, noticing that fans with garage passes were circling as they discovered they had Hart Hampton in their midst. Hart needed to get out of here, or he’d be signing autographs forever as the gate to the motor home lot was still some distance away. Already people had cameras out, snapping pictures.

“You’re about to be ambushed. Go on,” Kellie said. “Charlie and I will meet you there.”

“No.” The force of Hart’s one uttered word surprised even him. “We’re a group.” He gazed down at Charlie. The boy looked maybe one hundred pounds, he was that small and thin. “Remember what it was like to do chicken races?”

Charlie smiled wistfully, his eyes hidden by the darkened lenses of his glasses. “Never did that.”

“How about piggyback rides?” Hart said.

“Not since I was four.” Charlie shook his head and something inside Hart snapped. This kid hadn’t had a normal childhood. Hart’s friends had given each other piggyback rides into their teens and often had hoisted each other onto their shoulders and wrestled in the family pool until someone fell off and splashed into the deep end.

“Well, cowboy up,” Hart said. And that was how they proceeded to the motor home lot, with Charlie riding Hart’s back, his legs around Hart’s waist and his thin arms tightly wrapped around Hart’s neck. All around people could be heard calling Hart’s name and cheering. His hands full holding Charlie’s legs, Hart ignored them and strode quickly to the gate, Charlie’s bony frame bouncing into the small of Hart’s back as if it were the most natural movement in the world.

A
S THE SECURITY GUARD
allowed them through the chain-link fencing, Kellie felt a mixture of both relief and agitation. In the garage area, fans had been thick, searching for their favorite driver. She hadn’t realized that a trek from the hauler to the motor home lot could be so involved. She was totally over her head here, especially as her son’s laughter reached her ears. Hart had ignored the golf cart she and Russ were in and was almost running as he trotted the last thirty feet before reaching the motor home, Charlie laughing with the thrill of it all.

“You’ve got it from here,” Russ said. He touched the bill of his cap with his forefinger, parked the cart and walked back to the garage.

“That was great!” Charlie said as Hart set him down next to the motor home door. Charlie doubled over slightly, catching his breath.

“I don’t believe you haven’t had one of those in a while. My friends and I used to race that way before they’d let us into cars,” Hart said. He was in excellent shape, Kellie noted. He was barely winded, even after running with her son on his back.

The door on the motor home next to them opened, and a young boy stepped out. Ronnie McDougal’s son?

“Hey, Stuart,” Hart called.

“Hi, Hart,” Stuart said. His brown eyes flickered over Charlie with avid interest.

“Come on over here. Got someone for you to meet. Stuart, this is Charlie Thompson. I think he’s about your age. You’re what? Fifteen?”

“Fourteen,” Stuart said. “Won’t be fifteen until July.”

“Then you’re about a year apart. Charlie’s birthday is the end of June and he’s pretty good at video games, from what I hear. Didn’t you just get the latest…” Hart named the third installment of a popular video game series and Stuart’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, it’s cool. You should play it. Even my dad likes it.”

“I will sometime soon, but not now,” Hart said. “But you could show it to Charlie.”

“I’m actually headed over to Taylor’s for a bit.” Stuart shifted his weight and studied Charlie for a minute before he asked, “Want to come? We’re going to be playing basketball but he’s got four controllers so there’s plenty to go around. We’ll just play three-on-three.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’d like that,” Charlie said as he moved away with Stuart.

Kellie turned to Hart. She had no idea who Taylor was and she prayed he did, especially as he was just letting her son wander off with a boy she’d just met. “When are they coming back?”

“Hey, Stu?”

“Yeah, Hart?” Stuart paused and turned back, Charlie at his side.

“Estimated time of return?” Hart asked.

Stuart grinned. “My mom’s insisting on some family time tonight, so I’m to be back by six-fifteen. It’s Betsy’s birthday so after qualifying we’re actually going home tonight.”

“Sounds fine. Have Charlie back by then.” Hart reached behind him and opened the door to his parents’ motor home as the boys disappeared from sight. “Come on. You can yell at me inside,” Hart said.

“I’m not going to yell at you,” Kellie replied as she climbed the stairs, Hart right behind her.

But she was miffed. This man had totally taken over her life, making decisions without consulting her first. He wasn’t Charlie’s father, yet he’d made the decision of when to have Charlie return. That had always been her job. She opened her mouth and then closed it. No sense in arguing with Hart about this. Come Sunday, he’d be out of their lives. “So who are these people?” she asked.

“Betsy is Ronnie’s youngest daughter. She’d about six, I think. Taylor is sixteen; I know that because he just got his license before Richmond and was showing everyone. He’s one of the outreach minister’s sons. He’s a good kid.”

Hart moved directly into the kitchen area, retrieving a diet soda and uncapping it. He handed her the plastic bottle before getting another for himself. He was as comfortable here as he was in his own motor home.

“So is everyone going home tonight?” Kellie asked, taking a seat on a stool. Her position put the breakfast bar between her and Hart.

“The teams are. Most everyone lives within an hour’s drive, and when we’re in Charlotte a lot of drivers like to spend the night in their own bed. Really, it comes down to whether a driver wants to commute or not. Some are just happier in their motor homes and don’t want to break their routine. Me, it just depends on my mood.”

“I can’t keep up with all this,” Kellie admitted. “It’s very overwhelming.”

“Sometimes I can’t, either,” Hart disclosed with a grin. “That’s why I have Russ. I guess the only way to understand our lifestyle is to compare it a rock or country music star who’s out on tour. We’re on tour each weekend and home during the week. This race is different as we’re back at this venue next weekend, so we’re not hauling things back and forth and flying from one end of the country to the other. Families who don’t travel to faraway places like California will be here in force. The chapel services will be packed next Sunday morning.”

Kellie took a moment to absorb everything Hart was telling her. She knew next Sunday’s six-hundred-mile race would start in the afternoon daylight and end under the raceway lights.

“You know, you should consider bringing Charlie back next weekend. I can make arrangements,” Hart said casually.

“I noticed that there are some RVs out there that have seen better days,” Kellie said in return, deliberately avoiding the subject.

“Not everyone is at the high-end motor home level, especially if you’re a rookie just starting out. We’ve all been there,” Hart said. “We’re not what you think of us.”

“I know,” Kellie said. He was, well, wonderful. “I’m realizing that. You aren’t at all like I expected.”

“That’s good, I hope,” Hart said.

“Yes,” Kellie admitted, smiling. “You’re kind and generous. And carrying Charlie like that shows you care. I admit to having perhaps misjudged you. You’re not so bad.”

Hart laughed. “So you like me a little?” he teased.

“Maybe,” she said. Then she sighed. “But even if I did, this weekend isn’t easy for me. I don’t want Charlie worn out. You heard him coughing out there. He could suffer a relapse. His fever could spike.”

“What-ifs,” Hart said. “You have to let those go, Kellie.”

“What-ifs?” She tapped the side of the soda bottle with her forefinger.

“Yeah. What-ifs are like
because.
” He alluded to their conversation the previous weekend. “What-ifs paralyze you. What if this happens? What if I crash? What if I lose my sponsors? What if I don’t make the Chase this year? Think of those enough and you’ll never get anything done.”

“I have to be concerned. Charlie’s delicate.”

“And what’s worse? Being so afraid to die that you don’t live, or living whatever time you have to the fullest so that when your maker does come calling you’ve done all you wanted to do? You can’t protect him forever. You have to let him make his own choices. He’s almost sixteen.”

She sputtered slightly on her cola. “Is that what this weekend is about, you trying to assuage some guilt somewhere?”

“No,” Hart said. “I like your son. I like you. A great deal.” He reached forward and stroked her cheek. Just a featherlight movement from her cheekbone to her chin, but the touch had her trembling. She turned away as embarrassment flared. She would not let Hart’s touch or his philosophy affect her.

“See, you are unhappy with me,” Hart said.

“No, I’m not,” she said, focusing on her attention on the twenty-ounce plastic bottle in front of her. One little touch, probably irrelevant to the man who’d just made it, had shaken her to her core. That tiny movement had exposed a truth Kellie had buried deep. She’d turned off a part of herself�the woman inside who loved. While she didn’t need a man, there was still a part of her that desired male companionship. She wanted someone in her life who understood. Someone who would share her burdens and act as a foil to when she was being overprotective. Her other half.

She’d shut away a part of her heart, like locking a room and never allowing the door to be opened. Fate had to be laughing at her. Who would have thought that the person to chink her armor would be Hart Hampton, perennial ladies’ man, a man with all the staying power of dish soap? A man she’d joked about for years. Yet Hart was a man who had reawakened her with a simple touch. He might just be everything she’d always wanted. Minus the fact that he was a race car driver. The thought was downright mind-boggling and scary.

“What are you thinking if you aren’t mad at me?” Hart asked.

Kellie grasped onto the first thing she could think of. “Charlie’s sick, Hart. He has tons left he wants to do, and this is a disease that can move like lightning. I’m not being overprotective for no reason.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Hart said. “You’re probably one of the most devoted mothers I’ve ever met. I admire you for that. My mom, she hated my foray into racing. Remember, it wasn’t as safe as it is now. When my dad started, there were no HANS devices or SAFER Barriers. She lived with fear every weekend and never could get past it. She’s a lot happier now that my dad retired. Me, I learned that you can’t let fear consume you. You worry, yes, but you don’t allow fear to grip you like a vise.”

Why did Hart make so much sense? Kellie sighed and tried to make him understand. “As the years went on, it’s become more evident that Charlie is one of the ones who isn’t going to be cured,” she said simply. “Half of the people with his condition go into remission and live normal lives. He’s not in the lucky half.”

“Half the guys out there on the track won’t win a race this season. They won’t even finish in the top ten, either,” Hart said. “They don’t let it diminish their love for the sport, or for their life.”

“Are you always a glass half-full person?” Kellie asked, turning to fully face him.

“If it means balancing out your glass half-empty, then absolutely,” Hart said, letting loose that trademark grin just for her.

Irritated with her reaction to his smile, she snapped, “I don’t need anyone to balance me out.”

Hart came around the high countertop so that he was a foot away from her. She’d sat in the farthest barstool from the wall, so nothing impeded him from totally entering her space, which he did.

“Kellie, you need so much balance it isn’t funny,” Hart said. “I have a suspicion that you’ve been off-kilter for quite a while now.”

“I’m only off-kilter because you’re crowding me,” she shot back, struggling for the last fragments of control. He made her want to throw open that door to the hidden room in her heart. “My life was fine until I met you. Charlie and I were fine.”

“You were merely existing,” Hart observed. “As I think I was.” He seemed genuinely surprised by that, as if he’d had a revelation. For a moment, he appeared a tad unsure of himself. He leaned closer. “This isn’t a game, Kellie Thompson.”

“I’m not playing one,” she replied. “If anyone is, it’s you. You’ve brought me and my son here just because…oh, I don’t know why.”

“You know why, which is the reason you’re keeping me at arm’s length.”

“How can that be? You’re six inches away,” she said, her heart racing from his proximity.

“You know what I mean,” Hart replied. “I’m not a joke. Stop holding out when I’m here.”

Kellie’s breath caught in her throat. No. Charlie couldn’t have told Hart. He’d promised he wouldn’t expose her like this.

“Charlie didn’t tell me,” Hart said quickly, reading her mind. “Brad Muldoon did. At camp.”

Kellie felt embarrassed tears threaten to rain down. He knew about the family joke. Since camp. He’d known when he’d asked her here. Oh, dear God. She bit her lip as mortification washed over her. “You weren’t supposed to find out. It’s nothing serious. Is that why I’m here? Are you’re paying me back?”

“No. That’s not the reason. Not at all. I don’t have time for silliness. I want to get to know you. The real you. If you like me, even a little, it’s for the real me. For myself. Not for my image.”

She didn’t believe him. “You can’t be serious about wanting me…”

Her next words were swallowed when Hart’s lips came down on hers. The kiss was gentle and sweet, designed more to reassure and value than prove any type of domination. He slid his hand behind her head and into her hair, tilting her face up so that he could deepen the kiss, one that Kellie lost herself in.

Until she found her senses.

Hart recognized that moment, for he drew back and pulled away as if she’d voiced her rejection. “Despite what you may think of me, I do not kiss every girl I meet,” he said defensively.

“I know,” she said. There had been something in that kiss that had simply been so pure and magical. Not mass-produced. Not forced. Almost as if two souls had found each other after a long absence.

The sensation scared the life out of her. Hart Hampton might have just told her he wasn’t a joke, but that’s what he’d always been. Yet he’d just kissed her. No way could this fantasy become real. She wasn’t Cinderella. These days Cinderella saved herself and didn’t have illusions about princes. This had to simply be some dream, some aberration of the moment that would all become nothing after a little time and perspective. Sunday, she’d fly home and…

Hart put both of his hands on hers. He gazed at her, those green eyes flickering in the light as he assessed her. “You are a paradox, Kellie. When I see something I want, I don’t let fear stop me.”