Shifting Gears (4 page)

He had to admit, he liked the feel of her. For someone so delicate-looking, she felt surprisingly strong. Like she could carry the weight of the world and barely bend. It was a second of contact before she was pulling away, but he already felt some of the tension that he carried around with him at all times ebbing from his body.

Mom had stood up, too, waiting for Grady to come give her a hug and a kiss hello. When Annabelle stepped away, though, it took him a tick too long to move toward his mother, and from the look in Mom's eyes as he pulled away from that hug, she'd noticed.

Great.
He loved his mother, but he didn't need her getting any ideas. If he thought her friends were bad when it came to nagging him about getting married, Mom was even worse.

Not that it mattered, anyway. Annabelle was already taken.

Wait.
Why
was
she back here for the first time in seven years? She hadn't even been able to make it to her own father's funeral. Grady hadn't seen her since before her wedding …

His eyes flew to her left hand.

No ring.

Aw, hell. Poor Annabelle. What had that guy done to her? Ron? No—Don. Donnie. He was an idiot. No sane man would ever let a woman like Annabelle go.

Just like you did?

Damn. He had to be going crazy. Letting her go? He'd never had Annabelle in the first place.

Exactly.

But the possessive feeling wasn't going away. If anything, it was only getting stronger.

“This is a nice surprise,” Mom said, thankfully bringing his mind back to reality. “What brings you out here like this?” She gestured for him to sit—in the chair right next to Annabelle. “Sit down and tell me what's going on and I'll bring you some of Annabelle's pie.”

He barely managed to suppress a snort at the way his brain turned that into an innuendo, but all he could think about was how he was going to sit all up close to Annabelle and eat her pie. His dirty mind was working overtime, and he made the mistake of looking over at Annabelle as he said, “I'm sure it's mouthwatering.”

Their eyes met and her cheeks flushed, and the realization that she might be thinking of his words in the same way he was hit him in the gut like a cannonball. While lower, he was raising an eager flag, so to speak.

Annabelle Murray, thinking sex thoughts?

He shook it off. No. Couldn't be. There was no way her mind was in the gutter like his. She'd always been so proper, definitely not the kind of person who would make everything about sex. He must be imagining too much. She'd probably blushed because she was being complimented.

Except … the way she blushed drew his attention to her neck, to the pulse point there and the delicate skin that shifted when she turned her head had him thinking that she was so damned sexy. And she smelled good. And her lips were really plump and pink and—

“
Sit,
Grady.” Mom sounded exasperated, and he blinked in surprise, realizing he was simply standing next to the empty chair.

He sat, lacing his fingers together on top of the table so he'd have something to focus on other than Annabelle.

“Actually, I wasn't planning to stay very long. I came by to talk to you about something, but it can wait.” He purposely didn't look at Annabelle when he spoke, but she still took it as a hint.

“Oh, gosh, please pardon me. I've imposed long enough, and I have to be getting back.” She started to rise, but Mom tsked and shook her head.

“No, Annabelle. Don't mind Grady. He interrupted an important conversation. If anyone is going to leave, it's going to be him.”

Grady watched as the two women exchanged significant looks. What had they been talking about before he'd arrived? What had he interrupted? Did this have anything to do with the fact that Annabelle wasn't wearing her wedding ring?

“Hey, I get it. I'll leave. I didn't mean—”

“Well, now that you drove all this way, we can hardly ask you to go, either,” Mom interrupted. “Just share your news in front of Annabelle. She's practically family, anyway.”

What was his mother up to? Why was she insisting on including Annabelle?

But then, he hadn't missed the way Annabelle had beamed at Mom's words. There was no mistaking it. She'd enjoyed being called a part of their family.

It did something funny to him. Sure,
he
loved his family. They'd been through everything together. But he also didn't fool himself into thinking that other people felt the same way about his stubborn sister or wild little brother. Knowing that Annabelle felt that way about them too, made him want her even more.

He cleared his throat, trying to settle his desire into something more manageable. “All right. It's about the garage. Ranger is looking to hire a team manager.” He nodded toward Annabelle, not quite looking at her. He didn't want to risk getting distracted by her again. “I told him I'd help in the search.”

Mom placed a plate of pie in front of him, and he paused to look down at it.

Wow. It was like a work of art. A wedge of golden-brown crust that looked like it had been carved with flowers, with a small cutout in the shape of a leaf near the crust. Thin sliced peaches made up the filling, and they were layered in a way that made the pie keep its shape even when it had been cut like this.

He made a loud exhale and didn't look away from his plate as he said. “Wow, Annabelle. This is the most beautiful pie I've ever seen.”

“I was telling her earlier that she has a deft touch,” Mom agreed.

Next to him, Annabelle went ramrod stiff. What was that about? And at the same time, another part of him thought,
I've got a place where she can put that deft touch.

“Thank you both.” Annabelle said softly, and then—oh, Lord, and then—her hand reached out and touched his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Deft touch, indeed.

Grady stopped breathing for a moment.

And uttered a prayer of thanks that they'd installed a gym in the garage, so that even though he worked so much, he still managed to stay in pretty good shape, if he did say so himself. If Annabelle was going to touch him like that, he wanted to be proud of what she felt.

“I have to admit that I've never had a man even notice my pie, much less compliment it like that.”

That sounded … suggestive. Did she
seriously
just say that in such a way? For a second, Grady felt nothing but hot, embarrassed arousal. Even when her hand fell away, he was left with the burning desire to throw her over his shoulder, haul her away in his truck, and take her home so that he could bury himself between her legs and give her all the compliments in the world.

“So what does hiring a team manager have to do with me?” Mom went back to what they'd been discussing, thank God. Not only was he sitting at his
mother's
table with an erection—something he'd have to bleach his brain clean of later—but he was pretty sure he was being too obvious again with his interest in Annabelle.

“I thought, given how involved you are in the community, you might know someone who'd be interested in the job. Someone who knows cars and the family, and can deal with both of those things.”

Mom got his drift. Everyone knew his siblings were a bit hotheaded, and though Ranger was a good guy, he'd earned the nickname
Ruthless Ranger
during his career as a consultant because he was a hard-nosed businessman who could sometimes be a bit overbearing in his manner.

“I do know a few people. But it just so happens that the best person for the job is sitting right next to you.” Mom gestured to Annabelle.

Grady frowned. Annabelle, working in the garage? Wasn't she a home ec teacher? That's what he remembered her talking about one time when she'd been home from college. But he could feel
something
—some kind of intensity—coming off of her at the suggestion, practically reaching out and grabbing him, and his confusion was replaced by a jolt of arousal that came from the sensation of being somehow connected to her at a level deeper than just pie.

It felt electric and hot and almost desperate.

He desperately tamped down the images of her spread out atop one of the race cars at the garage, naked and moaning—not just because it was ridiculously cliché, but because if she really was qualified and wanted the job, he was going to have to get better at keeping it in check at all times. May as well start practicing now, just in case.

He shifted a bit so that he could face her, and as he moved, his knee grazed her thigh.

Damn. He was going to need a
lot
more practice.

“
Do
you have experience with managing a garage?” He tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice, but this was
Annabelle.
The few times Dad had asked her if she wanted to help out with a car, instead of just sitting there watching, she'd looked like a deer in headlights and refused. Besides, it was a rough business. The guys could be tough to take sometimes.

Hell, not just the guys. At times, Kerri was the crudest of them all. And he had nothing against women mechanics, even if he'd met only one in his career. It was more that he couldn't see Annabelle in an environment like that.

Look at her. She put on makeup and heels just to come next door.

But she nodded. “Yes, um … I did some things at Donnie's garage…”

She started to trail off, but then Mom cleared her throat in that stern way of hers that had always preceded a reprimand when they were kids, and Annabelle straightened her shoulders and said in a much clearer voice, “I ran it, actually, and acted as head mechanic. Full time. For five years. For two years before it, I was part-time, since I was still teaching.”

What?

Grady blinked. And then blinked some more. In fact, he was so surprised that pretty much all he could do was blink at her. Well, no … wait. The blinking stopped.

Now he was just kind of staring, entranced by that pink flush climbing up her neck and into her cheeks. He had to hand it to her. Despite her blush, she held her ground and didn't pull her gaze away from his for a second.

It was getting a little awkward, actually—now
both
of them were staring at one another. What he wouldn't give to go back to that goddamn blinking. Too much longer and this would turn into a staring showdown.

Fuck.

He looked away.

“Well, that's settled, then!” Mom chirped. “When should she start, Grady?”

Wait. What?
He hadn't even interviewed—

But he took one look at Mom's face and wisely kept his protests to himself. He wasn't going to gainsay his mother in front of company.

He pitched his voice in Annabelle's direction. “I don't know if my mom told you, but I'm working on something else now and transitioning out of the racing side. Everyone has a race this weekend, so the whole team is kinda busy, but if you're free next Monday, come in around eight in the morning and we can talk a little more before any final decisions are made.”

Her eyes went wide. “Yes, I am. I mean, I'm free and I'll be there. I just—I don't know what to say.” She sounded breathless.
Excited.

It was getting him excited … in a way he shouldn't be feeling. If she did get the job, they'd be together nearly every day, seeing as how he was still sharing the garage with Hart Racing….

He ignored the warning bells clanging in his mind and rose. “No need to say anything.” He picked up his now-empty plate and putting it in the sink. “I'd better be going, though. Someone's coming in at ten for a crew chief interview.” He nodded toward Annabelle. “Thanks for the pie.”

But she stood up, too. “I really should leave, too. I've imposed long enough.”

She cleared her plate, too, and Grady waited for his mother to insist that Annabelle wasn't imposing, but Mom surprised him by replying, “Thank you for coming over, Annabelle. It was so nice to see you, and don't be a stranger.” Then she added, “Oh, and leave the dishes. I'll clear the table while Grady walks you out, since he's going now, too.”

Ah. Now it makes sense.
Mom wasn't exactly being subtle with that one, but on the other hand, he wasn't going to argue about being sent off alone with Annabelle, even if was for only a few minutes.

He nodded and kissed his mother on the cheek before gesturing to Annabelle to lead the way to the front door before following after her. He made a pretty valiant effort to keep his eyes on the back of her head, but the swish of her skirt proved too distracting. His gaze dropped lower … taking in the slender column of her neck … lower … gliding over the curve of her back … lower still, to where her skirt flared at her hips and skimmed over what appeared to be a very fine—

“You've done a great job with the crew this year.”

Her voice brought him up short. They'd reached the front door, and Annabelle said the words as she stopped and turned, so at least he had time to yank his focus off her ass and back up to her face.

Damn, she had a pretty face.

He made a noncommittal sound that came out like a grunt.

Great conversation, man.

He immediately scrambled for a halfway coherent response to follow up with, so she wouldn't think he was a complete Neanderthal. “Uh … yeah. We hired a former Olympic athlete for the pit and he added a lot of speed to the team.”

She nodded. “Yep. Neil Castillo. I've watched some of the earlier races this season and I noticed him in the crew. He
is
fast. Wow.”

She'd watched the races? That surprised him. But more importantly—she'd
noticed
Neil? For a brief moment, a stab of irrational jealousy sliced through Grady's chest.

What was going on? Feeling like this about a woman he'd met again for the first time in nearly a decade was not his style. He forced himself to smile as he slipped his arm past her body to turn the door handle.