“See ya Friday,” he said. “Don’t forget to bring your helmet, rookie.”
“Whatever,” Adam muttered under his breath, turning back to Chris.
“Man, that guy is one hundred percent. Ass. Hole,” Chris said when he’d walked away. “I’ll be glad when Becca fires his sorry ass.”
“You think she’s really going to?”
“No doubt about it,” Chris said. “That cat is toast. She’d have fired him before now except all the good drivers want to drive for the multicar teams, not Newman Motorsports. “
“Yeah, well, we’ll just have to prove to them that Newman Motorsports is the place to be,” Adam said with a glance toward the entrance to the shop. Jason was just pulling open the door.
“I don’t think it helped that he made a play for Becca.”
“He what?” Adam asked, swinging back to face Chris.
“Tried to come on to her after a race one day last year. Probably a last-ditch effort to hold on to his job. She shut him down faster than a coon dog catches fleas. She’s been giving him the cold shoulder ever since.”
Adam knew he shouldn’t be gossiping about Becca, especially given the fact that he’d been the recipient of some of that gossip in recent weeks, but still.
You wouldn’t be the first driver to have a crush on me.
The words came back to him, and now Adam realized that she’d been talking about Jason.
“I’m surprised she didn’t release him,” Adam said. Then again, she hadn’t fired
him.
“They exchanged words. I think he threatened to make it look like she propositioned him. Or at least that’s the shop rumor. Someone claims to have overheard the conversation. But whatever really happened, she’s treading carefully around the putz now.”
“That’s no good.”
“No, it’s not.” His gaze held Adam’s. “Watch yourself Saturday night. That guy’s trouble and you, my friend, have a big ol’ target painted on your ass.”
“Jason Ingle to Ms. Newman’s office,” a feminine voice announced over the PA. “Jason Ingle to Ms. Newman’s office.”
Adam and Chris looked up at the glass windows of Becca’s office.
“Uh-oh. Looks like someone’s in trouble.”
“You think?”
“I’ll wager my favorite engine that he is.”
“WHAT DID YOU say to him?” Rebecca snapped the minute Jason Ingle entered her office.
“Nothing,” he said in that smooth voice he used when trying to act the innocent—or get down someone’s skirt.
“I saw the look on your face,” she said. “And it wasn’t
nothing.
”
“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked, sauntering up to her. “Worried I’ll get your new boyfriend upset?”
She stood, slowly. Though on the outside she undoubtedly looked cool and professional, on the inside she was shaking with rage.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said.
He lifted a dark brow, his smile more of a snicker. “That’s not what I’m hearing.”
“Any more than
you
were ever my boyfriend.”
“Your loss,” he said.
“No, your loss,” she shot back. “And here’s something else you’re going to lose,” she said, leaning toward him, her fingers splayed across the cherrywood surface. “Your ride in my Cup car.”
“You wouldn’t fire me. If you did that you’d lose your sponsor for sure.”
“Don’t tempt me, Jason. You’re on shaky ground with me. I might chuck it all just for the joy of tossing you out on your butt.”
“Yeah?” he asked with a flick of his head. “We’ll just see about that, won’t we?”
“Yeah,” she said, matching the tone of his voice. “We will.”
She held his gaze. His own eyes swept her up and down, taking in the crisp black slacks and rust-colored shirt. “Is that all?” he asked, his words and the look in his eyes seeming to suggest she might want him for something else, like an afternoon tryst.
God, she wanted to fire him.
“That will be all,” she said, settling back behind her desk and picking up some paperwork.
“Call me if you change your mind,” he said.
“Only if hell freezes over,” she muttered under her breath, half hoping he heard her.
When the door closed behind him she set the papers down again, her gaze shifting to the wall of windows. Adam stared up at her.
She looked away, wondering if he’d seen what happened, and if he could tell from all the way down there how much she loathed Jason Ingle.
But the truth of the matter was she couldn’t fire him. Sponsors liked their cars to have an outside chance of finishing well, and as sad as it seemed, Jason was the best thing out there right now. Once Silly Season started, that might all change. Thank God with The Chase now in effect, drivers started moving around much earlier in the year. With any luck she’d find someone then.
Or maybe Adam could take his spot.
She glanced at the windows again, but he was gone. She wondered where he was, but then the phone rang and she had to focus on yet another problem. That was what she did all day. Solve problem after problem after problem. And her troubles were mounting every day, so much so that she’d made an appointment with a potential investor. She hadn’t wanted to do it, but it seemed she had no choice.
BY THE TIME she turned down her street, Becca was so tired and so depressed she truly wondered if she might cry.
And then she saw Adam’s truck in her driveway.
She slowed. Actually, she almost stopped and put the car in Reverse. But to be honest, she was too damn tired to skulk away.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She hadn’t meant to sound terse, but the words came out that way, anyway.
“I came to see you,” he said over the sound of nearby frogs. They always croaked at dusk.
“Well you’ve wasted your time, Adam. I don’t have the energy to fend off your advances.”
“I know.”
“Good, then go home,” she said, grabbing her briefcase from the back of her Cobra. The sound of the trunk slamming shut stopped the frogs from croaking for a moment.
“I saw you with Jason Ingle today,” he said, causing her to turn back to him. “I don’t know what you two talked about, and I don’t need to know. I just think you should watch yourself. That man is trouble.”
“You think I don’t know that?” she asked. “Jason Ingle’s cost me more money in fines than any other driver who’s worked for me. I know exactly what type of man he is.”
“Then why haven’t you fired him?”
She sighed. “I can’t. I need him to keep the sponsors happy. At least for now.”
He didn’t say anything, just stood there, the setting sun highlighting his hair on one side.
“Look, Adam. I appreciate your concern, but there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Have you gotten any sleep recently?”
She looked up sharply. “What?”
“You look exhausted.”
“Thanks,” she said, turning away again.
“Now you look like you’re about to cry.”
“You’re imagining things,” she said.
Keep on walking, Becca. If he knows you well enough to sense that, you better keep on walking.
“I just thought you could use a friend.”
“I don’t have time for friends.”
“Is that what you’ve been telling yourself since Randy died?”
Once again she found herself facing him. “Don’t bring Randy into this.”
“I know what it’s like to be alone,” he said softly, ignoring her. “To have nobody but yourself to count on. I know what it feels like to be so damn tired that it’s all you can do to stand up, because if you sit down you know you’re going to fall asleep from exhaustion.”
“So?” she said, telling herself that just because her throat tightened it didn’t mean she would cry.
“So?” he said, moving toward her. “I’m telling you I understand. That I know what it’s like to be so overwhelmed with responsibility it’s all you can do to hold on to your sanity. I’m a single dad, Becca, with a daughter I love. But you don’t have anybody to love you. There’s nobody there for you to prop your spirits up when you’re feeling down.”
“I have Blain and Cece,” she contradicted, the words sounding thick even to her own ears.
“It’s not the same,” he said. “It’s not the same as talking to someone who
knows.
Who’s been there.”
“Someone like you.”
“Someone like me,” he said, holding her gaze so that her breath caught and her heart beat in a way that had nothing to do with sorrow and fear and everything to do with wanting to just…escape. Escape into his arms for a moment.
Or a night.
“I know what it’s like,” he said, walking toward her, reaching out a hand and trying to clasp her own.
“Adam, no.”
But he grabbed her hand, anyway. And that’s all he did. But somehow it felt like the most intimate of caresses.
“Becca,” he said, and his voice was so gentle and full of compassion. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
Her lips began to tremble.
He ducked down. She tensed. He gave her time to pull away.
But she didn’t.
His kiss was as soft as the brush of dandelion seeds, his hand tightening around her own and pulling her closer. She leaned back to resist him, but then she felt his tongue brush her own lips and she suddenly didn’t care that they were in front of her home, or that someone might drive by and see them. She just didn’t care.
His big hand ran up her arm, and then down again, and then lowered even farther, slipping around to find the small of her back. That was all he did. Touch her right behind her hip, but he might as well have done so much more.
“Adam.”
His other hand slipped between them, unbuttoning her shirt. She felt the silk part a little, static making it stick to her body like wet cloth. She heard the crackle of electricity as he pulled the shirt down, then felt a different kind of charge when his lips left hers and landed at the crook of her neck. Her head tipped to the side.
Headlights were coming down the street.
That snapped her out of it. She stepped back and hastily buttoned her shirt. Adam backed away, too, no doubt hearing the car’s engine. Or maybe not. Maybe he’d been waiting for her to call a stop to things.
“Becca—”
“I’ve got to go.”
“You don’t have to run away.”
Yes, she did.
“I’m willing to wait.”
Wait? Wait for what?
“I’ll be here. Waiting for you.”
Then it would be a long wait.
She unlocked her door and slipped inside, leaning against the door after closing it behind her.
A picture of Randy sat on the hall table. That was good. His picture centered her. It reminded her of all that she’d shared with him. That kind of thing couldn’t be found twice. It was precious and rare. What Adam offered was common and crass. A temporary release that would disappear as quickly as it’d come.
Then why don’t you indulge yourself?
She shook her head at the question because the answer was simple. She wasn’t into one-night stands, and that’s all she could allow herself with Adam.
Randy owned the rest of her nights.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT WAS EASY to avoid him for the rest of that week, although Becca suspected Adam was deliberately giving her space. Before she knew it, his first race had arrived. Unfortunately, she couldn’t be there for practice and qualifying, although ultimately that might be a good thing.
But she couldn’t avoid him forever, and so she forced herself to attend. As it turned out it was a good thing she went. Adam’s outstanding qualifying performance at such a hard to handle track—Bristol—seemed to be the topic du jour. The prerace interviews helped to distract her, but not for long enough. She was a nervous wreck, not so much because she was worried about Adam’s safety, but because a good performance would mean so much.
She
needed
him to do well.
She didn’t expect him to win, she admitted, holding on to the clipboard so tightly she lost feeling in the ends of her fingers. What she wanted was a good finish, something tangible she could show to the investor she’d met with this week. Something she could use as proof to show that things weren’t as grim as they appeared on paper. Something that she could point to as a way of convincing the man that he didn’t deserve controlling interest in Newman Motorsports in exchange for his influx of cash.
Then again, she’d sign just about any deal at this point. Things had gotten that bad.
“Hey there, Becca,” someone said as she passed by.
It was night, the race being held under the lights, but those lights were bright enough to illuminate the darkest corner. And the thousands of fans who sat in the stands.