Right Before His Eyes (13 page)

B
ART, HOWEVER, WASN'T
inclined to grant Mellie the distance she so obviously thought she should keep. Instead, at every opportunity over the next few days, he was at the diner or dropping by at night to take her and Lily to get ice cream or, if he was tied up too late at the shop, calling her to tell her what had happened that day.

Yes, he was working and working hard. What he wasn't doing was wasting time with his buddies. Whatever spare moments he could scrape together, he was carving away at the distance she kept trying to put between them.

Bit by bit, Mellie's resolve was weakening.

Now he was about to win the fifth race of the championship run, and Mellie was there to see it. As the white flag dropped and Bart focused on his last lap, with only Will even close behind him, he knew he'd never raced better and she was the reason why.

Never mind that she'd tried her hardest to refuse the pass and ticket he'd given her, that she'd spent the past few days attempting to talk him out of it, either on the phone or when he was grabbing yet another meal at Maudie's just so he could catch her for a minute here and there. He'd stolen more than one kiss as she ducked into the kitchen, and she still blushed furiously every
time, while protesting that he was going to cost her a job she needed.

But telling her to quit and let him take care of her brought down her ire like nothing he'd ever seen—except maybe Sheila threatening to bar him from the premises if he ever again tried to rob her of her best employee.

Next week he'd be on the road again and for the rest of the season, and he wanted Mellie with him. She was still clinging to the pretense that they weren't seriously involved, but once this season was over, he could spend all his time showing her how wrong she was.

She was kidding herself, for whatever reason. She was still maddeningly closemouthed about her past and her plans for her future.

But that was okay. They had plenty of time to share their stories and to see what was ahead. Bart Branch didn't give up—ever, not on something he really wanted.

And for whatever reason, that something was increasingly Mellie. His absorption with her could too easily overtake his focus on the championship, he knew that, but he wouldn't let it. He'd begun racing to make his dad proud, even before he'd cared for his own sake. He'd wanted to beat his brother at everything they tried, and after his father's stunning desertion of the family, he'd wanted to give his mother a reason to smile again. He raced for pride and accomplishment and to be the best—but now he really wanted Mellie and Lily to stand beside him as he held a championship trophy.

He crossed the finish line as the checkered flag dropped, and he was one step closer to that ultimate victory.

However hard he'd pushed, though, she'd dug in her
heels over meeting him in Victory Lane, but he would see her after and he would talk her into letting him fly her to the next race. If not that race, the one after. Everyone who knew him knew he was relentless when it was important.

Bart grabbed the checkered flag and began his burnout.

You can run, Miss Mellie, but you can't hide forever from what's between us.

 

I
T WAS A CONSPIRACY
, Mellie decided. If it wasn't Louise insisting that she and Al needed Lily overnight because their house was too quiet after raising five kids, it was Sheila taking Mellie shopping for a new outfit that she called a performance bonus for her best employee. At the track, Maeve and Chuck had escorted her to seats in the stands where they insisted the only true racing experience was to be obtained, and after the race, they'd brought her as close to Victory Lane as they could nudge her, so she could watch Bart accept his ovation. Then afterward, while he was tied up in the postrace press conference, they'd taken her to his team's hauler and showed her around.

She'd tried to back out repeatedly because every step deeper into Bart's world only had the potential to hurt him, but they were like a stealth army—before she knew it, she was knee-deep in the NASCAR experience.

Then she felt him even before she heard his voice.

“Hey, Mom, Chuck. Thanks for keeping Mellie company.”

She turned, and there he was in his uniform, the top unzipped and left hanging at the waist while a sweat-soaked T-shirt beneath clung to every ripple of muscle. His golden hair bore evidence of finger raking, and
he looked like an exhausted but triumphant warrior at battle's end.

“Sweetheart, we enjoyed every minute. Oh, I am so proud of you.” Maeve went to her son and embraced him, then Chuck did the same with a hearty backslap. Bart beamed, and the three of them went over some of the race highlights, talking over each other in the rush of excitement.

But again and again, Bart's gaze returned to her.

And Mellie, though she said not one word, never once removed her eyes from him.

Very soon, Maeve and Chuck reacted to the sizzling atmosphere. “We need to go, son,” Chuck said, gently drawing Maeve to his side.

“We'll see you for lunch tomorrow?” Maeve asked, then turned. “Mellie, I hope you'll join us.” She approached Mellie, still frozen in place, and drew her close, kissing one cheek. “You're good for him, sweetheart,” she whispered in Mellie's ear.

Mellie blinked, but before she could respond, the couple was out the hauler door.

Bart and Mellie were alone.

Say something.
She roused herself from the spell. “You were amazing to watch.”

“Yeah?” A delighted grin.

“But you scared me to death. Those cars are only inches from each other, Bart. How you keep from crashing all the time, I have no idea.”

“Years of practice. We're all professionals, and the cars are built to be safer all the time.”

“Yes, but—” Then the memories poured out. “It was incredible, the spectacle, the noise, the buzz you could feel running through the whole crowd—”

His grin widened. “Did we make a fan of you?”

She had to smile back. “After all these months when I've listened to people talk about racing day in and day out and watched on TV at the diner, still I had no idea what the big deal was, but—wow. The answer is yes. It's an amazing sport, so different from—” She halted herself, pressed her lips together hard. She'd been raised around hunters and fishermen.

“Different from what?” He took a step toward her.

She backed up one pace. “Just…not like any other sport I've ever watched.”

He took another step. “I wanted you in Victory Lane. I wanted you beside me when all those cameras were flashing.”

She backed up. “That wouldn't be right. I had nothing to do with your win.” One more step, and her back was against the wall.

“Oh, I beg to disagree, Miss Mellie.” He closed the gap between them and trailed one finger down her cheek, pausing at the corner of her mouth. She could swear her skin sizzled. “I wanted to win already, but knowing you were watching…I was determined to win for you.” That finger tilted up her chin, and he bent to her, slicking his tongue over her bottom lip. When she uttered a breathy little gasp, he smiled. “So give me my congratulations kiss, would you?”

He hesitated, hovering over her mouth, the nearness of him giving her shivers. “Bart, we—”
Shouldn't.
True, but she was sick of saying it, and was she going to spoil his triumphant night? “Never mind.” With a boldness that surprised her, she rose to tiptoe and kissed him.

Instantly he locked her body against his, and she felt the press of every glorious muscle in that broad and gorgeous chest. She deepened the kiss, and his response
was electric. Her own body softened and molded itself to his, and she was halfway to losing her mind—

The hauler door opened. “Oops! Sorry, Bart.”

Bart broke away, sighed and rested his forehead against hers. “No problem, chief.”

But he didn't let go. “Honey, they need to finish packing up. It's a miracle we didn't get interrupted before,” he said quietly.

“I…I'd better go anyway.”

“Uh-uh.” He drew back a fraction. “I happen to know you have no transportation and that Lily is taken care of for the night. Normally I'd shower and change at the track, but I'm not letting you out of my sight. Come with me to my place, Mellie. Please?”

Please.
The way he said it was both humble and genuine. She knew him to be the kind of true gentleman who might nudge but would never force her. He'd just done something extraordinary, and he wanted her to celebrate with him.

Inwardly, she quivered, knowing what that would mean.

They would become lovers.

She wanted it as much as she feared it.

Bart—and a whole team she could suddenly hear bustling outside—waited.

Nerves battled with longing.

“All right.”

“Yesss!” Bart picked her up and whirled her even in the closely confined quarters. “You won't regret it, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear.

She was almost positive she would.

But she was so tired of being cautious and frightened.

Just this one night, she would let herself be carefree.

 

T
HE RIDE IN
B
ART'S BIG PICKUP
strained Mellie's nerves almost past bearing. The chasm between their two stations loomed huge, to say nothing of all the other reasons why she shouldn't be with him.

Then he reached across the console and took her hand in his big, warm one.

She glanced over and caught his smile, not one of triumph, not one that leered but instead was kind and reassuring. His fingers squeezed hers lightly, and something within her eased a little.

Enough to squeeze back.

“You can always say no, Mellie. I want you, yes, but I want to spend time with you, too.”

She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it abruptly.

“What?”

You have to tell him.
“You've had a million women. I…I'm not very experienced.”

His head whipped around. “But you have a child.”

Her lies kept tripping her up. She could either tell him the full truth or lie again.

If only she knew which would hurt him worse.

“Mellie?”

She stared straight out the windshield but withdrew her hand from his. “I…I was only with…the father…with—” She stumbled over the fabrication. “Once. One time.” She bent her head and a tear dropped on her clasped hands.
I hate this.

But I care so much about him.

What was she doing? How many more lies before she was completely buried beneath them? She'd never been with a man, and her first time would be a sham?

“I can't do this,” she whispered.

He drove in silence for what felt like hours while Mellie huddled in frozen agony over the mess she'd made of what should have been Bart's triumphant night.

Then he pulled into the parking lot of Freedom Park and shut off the engine. She was afraid to look even when the interior light flashed on as he opened his door. He had to be furious, and though she didn't think he would ever harm her physically, she was so lost in her own misery that she grabbed her own door handle and prepared to run.

But he was already there.

“I ruined your night. Can't you see that this will never work?” she cried out.

But Bart only said, “Take it easy, honey.” He was so much bigger that he easily plucked her from the passenger side and set her on the ground in front of him.

She kept her head down, ashamed and frantic. “I'm sorry. I…I'll call a cab.” If she had enough money.

“How about a walk instead?” he said gently.

She looked up. “A walk?”

“Mellie, I'm not an ogre. You're not ready. All you had to do was say so.” He drew her close and even though the night had cooled down very little, she huddled into his warmth. “I said I wanted to spend time with you.”

“But you—” She cleared her throat. “You kissed me.”

“I did.” He leaned back and made her look at him.

“I liked it. A lot.”

“And you…you wanted to take me home. You were—” She bit her lip.

“Hot for you?” He grinned. “You better believe it. Still am.”

“But…but guys always want…”

He sighed. “I do want you, Mellie. You're too young for me, and you're ten kinds of complicated, but none of that seems to matter. I care about you. Yes, I have a lot more experience—but not millions, mind you.” He grinned again. “I'd never have had time to learn to drive if that were true.”

From somewhere she found a smile.

“That's my girl.” He drew her close again. “Relax, sweetheart. We've got time. One thing my millions of experiences have taught me—” she heard his teasing note “—is to take my time with a woman I really want to please.”

She looked up. “You want to please me?”

His eyes went hot. “I do. And I will. You can take that to the bank.” He lowered his head and proceeded to demonstrate just how well he could please her.

Mellie was falling under his spell again, returning his kisses with greater abandon, her heart suddenly light and her future full of promise—

He ended a kiss and shifted her to his side. “Now for that walk. Before I lose my head completely.”

“Walk?” she echoed, her own head already lost.

“Walk,” he said firmly. And took the first step, her hand tucked in his grip.

A bewildered Mellie quickly caught up.

S
ON
, I
NEED TO TALK TO YOU
.
Bart stared at the handwritten note that had been waiting for him when he arrived for the Texas race.

Then he crumpled it and tossed it in a trash can as he left the garage area.

“I needed a lot of things from you,” he muttered to the father incarcerated less than a two-hour drive from Dallas. “But you cared more about yourself than the rest of us.”

“Talking to yourself?” his twin asked, catching up with him. “Not a good sign.” When Bart didn't respond to his teasing, Will stepped in front of him. “Let it go, Bart. He's not worth it.” At Bart's raised eyebrow, he nodded. “Not too hard to figure what or, more accurately, who is on your mind.” He glanced around them at the speedway they'd visited so many times even before getting a chance to race there. “Brings back memories, doesn't it?”

“Not good ones.” Their father had been the one to bring them, back in the days when his chest puffed with pride over his boys.

Before he pulled the rug out from under the whole family and demonstrated that all that so-called fatherly concern was merely a pack of lies.

“Forget him, Bart. Put him completely out of your mind. You've got to be on your A game today.”

“Boy, that's no lie.” Bart was tempted to bare his soul to his brother about how low his confidence was in the wake of the wreck that cost him thirty laps of the race at Martinsville two weeks before—and nearly knocked him out of contention for the championship altogether.

“You made up ground at Talladega. You can still win this.”

“It'll take a miracle.”

“A win today would change all that.”

“Depending on how Garrett Clark and Rafael O'Bryan finish.” His two top competitors could shut him completely out with a win by Clark or a top five by O'Bryan, who was currently leading in points, with the other man right behind him.

“Dude.” Will punched him in the shoulder. “Get a grip. This is not like you. You're always in control.”

He'd never felt less so. The only thing in his life that was going right at the moment was Mellie, but even that was a high-wire act. After the Charlotte race, he'd seen very little of her, but they'd begun talking most every night, sometimes for an hour or more. She was still ready to bolt if he pushed her too hard, but with every conversation, they drew closer. He had no idea, however, if she'd ever be ready to commit to a long-term relationship with him.

Which, he reminded himself, was just as well. Even if he could pull off this championship run—which seemed highly doubtful right now—there was still the whole matter of his father to be dealt with. And only the merest of tips from Jake, that the girls had been spotted in Tennessee months ago—though it wasn't because Jake wasn't looking.

“Hey.” Will snapped his fingers in front of Bart's face. “Stop thinking about it.”

“About what?”

“Whatever's putting that scowl on your face. Get your head in the game. You know better than to let yourself be distracted right before a race. I want you to rub your success in the old man's face. You get in that car and run the race of your life and know you're doing it for the whole family, that you're showing that jerk that we don't need him, that we're all fine without him. You can do it, damn it. You know it and I know it. You're as good a driver as anyone who'll be on that track today, so clear out everything else—
everything,
even that SOB who never deserved us—and go win the race. Or I will personally beat your ass to a pulp afterward. Got that?”

“You and what army?”

Will grinned. “That's the spirit. Go get 'em, bro. You're not the best driver in the family, but you'll have to do.”

Bart grinned back, the dark clouds lifted by his twin's verbal jabs. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Will punched him in the shoulder again, then headed for his pit stall.

Bart shook his head and turned toward his own car, smiling.

 

M
ELLIE HAD VOLUNTEERED
to work because Sheila had agreed to go to Texas with Gil Sizemore. Mellie was in charge of the diner but she was so nervous about how Bart would finish that she was next to worthless, one eye always on the television propped up high above the counter.

Fortunately, the diner wasn't busy. Most of its clien
tele was either on the road or watching the race, leaving Mellie and Al as practically the only ones there.

Be safe, be safe, be safe,
she chanted.
I know you're desperate to win, but don't do anything foolish.

Bart was a big teaser and a lot of fun, but foolish he'd never been. Still, he'd been wound tight as a top when they'd spoken last night. Somehow he seemed to need to prove something to the father he despised, and this race was make or break for him in his hunt for the championship.

She glanced at the television yet again and bit back a scream. Bart was down low on the track; another driver just ahead had gotten loose and hit a third car that was spinning right toward him. She pressed her lips together and clasped her hands in prayer, barely able to keep her eyes open for fear of what she'd see.

Somehow he made it through the melee and charged ahead. Mellie's knees went weak. She grabbed the back of a booth.

“Close call,” Al said. “Look, why don't you just sit down and watch? We're not that crowded.”

Mellie gripped her order pad in white-knuckled fingers. “I need to stay busy.”

Al rolled his eyes. “Okay, then go on over there and start filling saltshakers.” He led Mellie to the far end of the bar where she could easily view the TV. “Only twenty laps to go until you can breathe again.”

“He could still win, right?” However hard she'd studied, Mellie still wasn't sure she understood the nuances of the sport.

“He could, and however much that's going to upset Gil and Sheila if Bart does pull it off and beats Rafael, I'm rooting for him, too. Just don't tell Sheila.” Al
grinned at her, then glanced at the TV. “Holy—did you see that?”

Mellie's gaze jumped back to the screen just in time to see a replay of Bart making an amazing pass to put his car just behind the leader. “Please, please, please…” she murmured.

“Six laps to go,” Al said.

He remained beside her, their gazes locked on the television. Mellie barely dared to breathe for the next several minutes as Bart tried once and then again to get around the leader, but every time he was blocked.

Then, on the last lap, he slid coming out of Turn Four and nearly lost control. Mellie would swear her heart stopped as she watched.
Go, Bart, go.
The odds against him looked insurmountable, but he just kept digging.

Then, within sight of the finish line, he executed a daring slingshot move—

And sailed over the finish line barely a bumper in the lead.

Mellie screamed and Al yelled. Saltshakers went tumbling. “He did it!”

Al picked her up and danced her around, neither caring about the mess they created.

A little while later, the phone rang. “For you,” Al called from the kitchen.

Mellie's heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, girl.” Only Sheila.

“Hey.”

“Your heart settled down yet?”

Mellie patted her chest. “I don't know. He scared me to death.”

“Well, I will tell you Gil is not exactly thrilled.”

“I can imagine.”

“But even he admits that was one amazing win.”

“It was, wasn't it?” Mellie asked.

“And I kissed him and made it all better.”

Mellie laughed. “It's getting really serious between you two, isn't it?”

“It's crazy. He's a blue blood and I'm all mongrel. We have absolutely nothing in common.”

Mellie found herself smiling. Sheila's protest was a common refrain. “Yet somehow you manage to pass a lot of time together. Maybe it's the sex.”

“Why, Mellie, what would a little nun like yourself know about that?” Her grin was in her voice.

“I'm not a nun.”

“Well, a wild and crazy woman you most certainly are not. Not that it wouldn't be good for you.” Sheila paused. “Tell you what, I'm giving you the night off tomorrow night, so you can extend Bart a much-deserved hero's welcome home. My bet is he'll spend tonight in Dallas with his family and fly back tomorrow.”

As a matter of fact, Bart had told her that was exactly his plan. “But Lily—”

“You know Louise will take her anytime, and if she can't, I will.”

“I don't know…” She wanted to, desperately, but she was equally worried that she'd be doing the wrong thing by Bart.

“No waffling, girl. The man is gorgeous, and you are gone over him, admit it.”

“But—”

“No buts, kiddo.”

“Sheila…”

“Gotta go, girl. See you in a few hours!”

Mellie stood there, holding a phone with only a dial tone.

 

L
ATE
M
ONDAY AFTERNOON
, Bart glanced out the window of the plane he and Will shared, noting how many trees had already shed their leaves compared to those in Texas. The season would be over in two more weeks, and winter was coming. He would very much like to be sitting in front of a fireplace by then, with Mellie curled in his arms.

A few weeks ago, that prospect had seemed very distant, but now, perhaps he was making progress in wooing her.

He wanted to see her. Their nightly talks had brought them ever closer, but he needed to be physically close, too, wanted to touch her. Craved to make her his own with a fierceness different from how he'd felt about anyone else.

He was becoming impatient with her constant retreats. She couldn't keep toying with him.

That's not fair,
a better part of him protested.
Whatever is holding her back, she's not playing around.

But how much clearer could he make it that he cared? She should trust him, damn it. Hadn't he proven himself worthy of that? He'd never had to work so blasted hard for a woman.

The plane rolled to a stop on the tarmac, but Bart remained in his seat as his companions departed. Will, Zoe and the kids had remained in Texas for another two days. The plane would stop there to pick Will up for the flight to Phoenix on Thursday.

Bart heard all the preparations for shutting down being made, but still he didn't move. Mellie had to work tonight, and for whatever reason, his spirits, so jubilant since the win, were sinking.

“Bart?”

The familiar yet out-of-place voice had him look
ing up, then blinking. “Mellie? What are you doing here?”

Her smile faltered. “I…is it not okay? I…they told me I could—”

He rose from his seat. She was so tiny, she made him feel like a fumbling giant. “No, of course it's fine, it's just…I thought you were working.”

“Sheila gave me the night off so I could see you,” she said shyly. Her face brightened. “Congratulations! That was an amazing win. I could swear my heart stopped there at the end, and then we were screaming and dancing and—” She stopped. “Well.” Stepped back.

“Anyway, I just wanted to… I should go.” She turned away.

He grabbed her elbow. “Sorry I couldn't talk to you last night. By the time I was able to leave the track, it was really late Eastern time, and I thought you had to work today.”

“I understand.”

“No,” he said fiercely. “You don't.” He closed the distance. “I wanted you there, Mellie. I wanted to twirl you in a circle and hand you the trophy and put the winner's cowboy hat on your head. I needed to hear you tell me you were proud of me.”

“I was. I am.” Her eyes went wide.

“Then give me my victory kiss.”

“But—” She glanced back toward the cockpit. “Here?”

He couldn't explain why he wasn't willing to keep dragging his feet for fear of frightening her. It was time to stake his claim. He was sick of tiptoeing around whatever kept holding her back.

“Here. Now.” But he didn't initiate the kiss, for a change. She had to decide on her own.

She stared up at him and gnawed on her lower lip.

All the initial pleasure at seeing her began to drain away as she hesitated. “Never mind.” He released his grip on her elbow, ready to turn and grab his bag.

The touch of her hand on his arm stopped him. Slowly he looked back.

“I had a surprise for you,” she said quietly, those huge dark eyes studying him. “I wanted to cook you dinner, and then…” She rose to her tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “I—” For a second she faltered, then murmured, “I, um…I thought I might spend the night.”

Bart's stunned gaze locked on hers. He might not know everything he wanted to about her, but he understood enough to know how enormous a step this represented for her. He took her face in his hands. “That would be the best celebration I could imagine.” He could feel her frame tremble and slid his hands down to clasp hers. “But you don't have to do this, Mellie, if you're not ready.”

Her eyes glistened with tears she was fighting not to shed. “I want to be,” she said so softly he could barely hear. Then her spine stiffened, and her voice firmed. “I want to be with you, Bart, I do. I'm just…scared.”

Scared, yes, but he'd always sensed that the fragile frame housed the heart of a lion. “I won't hurt you, sweetheart.” He lowered his head and kissed her softly. “I swear it.”

At last, she slid her arms up around his neck and slipped her fingers into his hair as she rose again to tiptoe, pressing her dainty body all along the length of his. “I believe you.” She answered his kiss with one that spoke of a heart's deep longing, a kiss that was both sweet and tempting, a surrender that quickly ratcheted up to demand.