“But you don’t know that for sure,” she said, her hands moving to her hips like she was the adult and not a child. “You don’t know anything until it’s all said and done.”
“I’m not going to kid myself, Lindsey. You shouldn’t, either.”
“And you shouldn’t throw in the towel before the final lap.”
They were words he’d used on her whenever she’d faced a difficult test or a challenge. Damn. What was the world coming to when your own daughter threw your words back in your face?
“Da-ad,” she scolded.
“I know, I know,” he said, once again feeling like the child in their relationship. “I haven’t thrown in the towel.”
Yet.
“C’mon. Let’s go inside.”
BUT HE DIDN’T FOOL Lindsey for a minute.
Holy crawdad,
Lindsey thought as she stuffed her spare jeans into the top drawer of the elegant oak armoire that matched the bed behind her. Her dad had looked ready to puke.
“You want to go grab a bite to eat?”
Lindsey yelped, so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him enter.
“Oh, um, sure,” she said. And then she straightened suddenly. “Oh, wait. We can’t.”
“We can’t?”
“We have to wait until Becca gets here.”
“And why is that?”
“Because we’re going to dinner with her,” she said brightly, turning back to the armoire so her dad couldn’t see her face, and the guilt that she was certain shone from her eyes like lightning bugs on a June evening. Okay, so she’d sort of orchestrated the whole thing. She’d called Becca’s cell phone the minute her dad had left her alone, begging her to take them both to dinner. Becca Newman had sounded hesitant, but Lindsey had been persistent, and it was a good thing, too, because it was obvious her dad and Becca needed help in the romance department.
“I begged her to take us to Finish Line, you know, that race-themed restaurant we saw on TV. I’m dying to see what that place looks like for real and she said she’d be happy to take us there.”
Okay. So maybe she hadn’t used the word “happy.”
“You asked her to take us to dinner?”
And now her
dad
didn’t look happy, either. “Um, yeah. I called her to tell her I’d arrived safely. I have her cell-phone number, you know. She gave it to me when she arranged for me to come here. You should have seen it this morning, Dad,” Lindsey said, trying to change the subject. “Brandy’s mom dropped me off at a private terminal where all these fancy jets were parked. And you should have seen the building where we waited for the planes to be fueled up.
Whew.
It looked like a fancy hotel with all this cool furniture—”
“We’re not going.”
Her mouth slammed closed.
“You should have asked me first before asking her to take us to dinner,” he said sternly.
“But Da-ad.”
“We’re not going,” he said again.
“Not going where?”
Lindsey looked up. “Becca,” she squealed, darting by her dad and into Becca’s arms.
“Hey there,” she said, hugging her back. And any doubts that Becca Newman would make a terrific stepmom flew out the window when Becca said, “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“I hope it’s okay that I arranged for her to come,” Becca said. “Brandy’s mom made sure the school knew what was going on. They gave her her homework to do. And she flies home tomorrow night so she’ll only miss one day. I just thought you’d feel better if she were here for the final test session.”
“He
does
feel better,” Lindsey said. “Right, Dad?”
For a moment Lindsey thought her dad might do something stupid, like chastise Becca for going over his head. But he shook his head, saying, “I don’t mind at all.” Much to Lindsey’s relief. “In fact, I’m grateful to you. I was missing her.”
“Aw, Dad,” Lindsey said, hugging him next. “I missed you, too.”
“But that doesn’t mean we should impose any more by asking that you take us to dinner,” he added.
“Don’t be silly,” Becca said, “I don’t mind taking you at all. It’d be good for me to get out.”
Lindsey glanced back at Becca just in time to see…was that a blush on her face? Lindsey looked closer. It sure was, and Lindsey should know. Thanks to her red hair and fair complexion she was the queen of blushing.
Holy crawdad! Could her wildest fantasies have already come true? Could they be
majorly
crushing on each other and just not know it?
“C’mon,” she said, “Let’s get going. Dad, you have no choice, we’re going out to dinner and that’s that.”
“Lindsey—” her dad warned.
“We’re going,” Lindsey said firmly. “I’m not letting you say no. I’m just going to go change my shirt. I spilled some orange juice on it on the plane.” She shoved her dad out of her room, giving him the wide I’m-so-cute smile—which usually worked—before she shut the door.
Whew,
she thought as she leaned against the cool wood. This might take some work. She’d have never guessed adults could be so clueless. Maybe they should study the book she’d gotten in Sex Ed, especially the chapter on physical attraction.
Jeesh.
BECCA HAD FORGOTTEN how precocious Lindsey Drake could be.
It was pretty obvious right from the get go that the girl was up to something. The moment they left the house she ran toward Becca’s car saying, “I’ll take the back,” as if riding in the back would be the highlight of her week. Unfortunately, that put Adam in the seat next to her, a place that Becca didn’t exactly want him to be. Not after last night.
She couldn’t believe she’d bawled her eyes out right in front of him. She prided herself on her control. For heaven’s sake, she’d somehow managed to hold it together all these years, hadn’t she?
Until Adam Drake showed up.
But she smiled gamely and took her place behind the wheel. At first Becca had thought Lindsey wanted the two of them side by side so they could get to know one another better, something that seemed almost amusing given their intimate conversation the night before. But as they made their way toward the restaurant it became more and more obvious that Lindsey Drake’s goal was to convince Becca that Adam would make a great boyfriend or father or…something.
“And he cooks the
best
tuna casserole,” Lindsey said. “My best friend’s mom says my dad is the best cook in all of Kentucky.”
“Really?” Becca said, biting back a smile when Adam said, “Lindsey,” in a low voice.
“And he’s not afraid to do housework, either. Of course, you have a housekeeper who doubles as a cook and so you’re pretty lucky, too. But we can’t afford that and so I’m pretty lucky to have the best dad in the world.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Becca saw Adam rest his elbow on the window ledge, his finger rubbing his chin as he shook his head back and forth.
“Wow,” Becca couldn’t resist saying. “Does he do laundry, too?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Lindsey said. “And the dishes and yard work…well, if we had a yard.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Adam said, shifting so he could peek back at his daughter, the smell of him drifting to Becca on a stream of air-conditioning. It was early evening, and still warm even though the usual summer thunderclouds were nearby. “Lindsey, I’m sure Becca is thrilled that I’m such a wonderful, loving, devoted dad, but can we change the subject, maybe?”
Becca peeked a glance in the SUV’s rearview mirror, watching as Lindsey’s face fell for a second before suddenly clearing.
“Sure,” she said. “Brandy’s mom says hello,” she said, her expression turning to one of satisfaction. “You know she has a huge crush on you, don’t you, Dad?”
“Lindsey, please—”
“So Brandy’s not a cousin or something?” Becca asked, curious despite herself. “I thought since you were staying with her that she might be family.”
“I don’t have any family, except my dad, of course. I’m Brandy’s best friend,” Lindsey said. “And I always stay with her when my dad has to go out of town, which he does from time to time when, you know, the mood strikes.”
“What mood?” Adam asked. “And what the heck are you talking about?”
“Come on, Dad. You don’t seriously think anyone believes you’re actually
fishing
when you drive down to New Orleans?”
Becca laughed. She couldn’t help it. And when she caught a glimpse of Adam she laughed even harder. He looked so completely flummoxed, so thoroughly horrified that she
knew
his daughter was right.
“That does it,” he said, swinging forward again. “I’m putting you up for adoption.”
“Cool. Becca, you want to be my mom?” she asked.
Becca, still chuckling, shook her head. “After you just outed your dad? I don’t think so. I have a few skeletons in my closet, too, you know.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Adam said.
“You might be surprised,” Becca said.
“You couldn’t have any more skeletons than my dad. I once found a movie—”
“Lindsey!” Adam cried, cutting her off.
Becca just shook her head.
Dinner ought to be interesting.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DINNER
WAS
INTERESTING, despite Lindsey’s ultra-obvious matchmaking efforts. In fact, it was a great dinner. The food at Finish Line was always tasty. Becca did not even mind when a few fans approached and asked for her autograph.
Unfortunately, she had to cut the evening short because both Adam and Becca had a big day ahead of them tomorrow. And that should have been a reminder as to why she shouldn’t get too close to the Drakes. But she couldn’t help but start to like them, she thought as she drove home, the three of them settling into comfortable conversation about other race teams working out of the Mooresville/Concord area. When they arrived back at her house Becca was almost sorry the evening was over.
It had felt good to get out.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Adam said, Lindsey already at the front door. She tried to open it but it was locked, her sigh of exasperation clearly audible even though she stood a good twenty feet away, the porch light causing her red hair to glow almost gold.
“Do you want to ride over together tomorrow morning?” Becca found herself asking, her keys jingling as they walked to the front door. The nearby thunderstorms had turned the evening cool, one of the first cool nights they’d had, a light dusting of leaves on the ground signaling that fall was only a heartbeat away.
“I’m not sure,” he said.
Neither was she, but at least he had the sense not to take her up on the offer.
What was she thinking? He might be her house-guest, but it was best if they drew the line there.
But was it wrong to wish—if only for a moment—that they could be more than boss and employee? That he could be her…friend?
“I understand,” she said.
“Becca—”
She turned back to him, took a deep breath.
He’d paused at the edge of the lawn where the driveway met the front walkway. “Thanks for tonight. I know you recognize, too, that Lindsey is trying to get us together. She can be a bit…zealous about things. I’ll have a talk with her. But thanks for being such a good sport. She’s young and so she doesn’t understand that we could never be more than friends.”
“No need to thank me,” she said. “I enjoy my time with her.”
Never be more than friends.
Why did the words cause her spirits to plummet?
“I’ll see you tomorrow then, right?”
“Um. Yeah. Out at the track.”
“Good,” he said softly, and suddenly there was something there, something that hung in the air between them as thick as the night air, something that made her breathing quicken and her heart give a little flutter.
And when the silence stretched on, she realized he was waiting for her to say something.
No, she quickly amended, he was waiting for a signal from her, perhaps a word that she felt the tension, too, and that it was okay to maybe do what Lindsey so obviously wanted them to do—act on their attraction. But she couldn’t go there. Not yet. Probably not ever.
“Good night,” she said, turning away. Lindsey still stood by the door, a look of intense concentration on her face as she stared at Becca and her dad.
“Aren’t you staying up?”
Ah. So it was back to that again. “No,” Becca said. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Because it was better to end things now, not that there was technically anything to end. She and Adam might end up working together, and it was never a good idea to mix business with pleasure.
But it was more than that, she realized. Lindsey and her dad were wonderful, and in her experience “wonderful” never lasted. Something always happened to take it away. First her mom, then her dad, then Randy. She couldn’t take that kind of pain again.