Shifting Gears (6 page)

Fine, maybe he should give Fogerty a little leeway.

“He knows his stuff. I'm with Kerri that something's off about him, but you could be right that it's because of nerves.”

Ranger looked at them both. “Seeing as we don't have anyone else lined up—it's been tougher than I thought it would be to find someone qualified—let's give him a trial period. Three races, make or break. We can invite him out this weekend and maybe he can share the seat with you, Grady? We'll pay him as a consultant, race-to-race, before we sign anything permanent.”

Which meant that Grady would still be official crew chief for this weekend's race, but Fogerty would be expected to jump in as acting crew chief for most of it. To prove his mettle. If Grady was still in charge, he would have said no up front, based on Fogerty's attitude alone, but given their limited options, this was a smart move. For the billionth time, Grady was glad that a guy like Ranger had taken over Hart Racing.

He pushed away the resulting feeling of failure simply by comparison and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Ranger turned to Kerri. “What about you, baby? Is that okay?”

She grinned. “You know I do whatever you think is best.”

Ranger snorted. “You're funny, sugar. Great, then I'll let him know.” He started to rise, pulling Kerri along with him, but before they could leave, Grady asked them both to stick around for one more minute.

“I didn't have a chance to tell you, but I've got someone coming in Monday morning to interview for the team manager position.”

“Oh? Anyone I know?” Ranger leaned forward.

Grady shook his head. “I don't think so. Her name is Annabelle Murray. She grew up—”

“China Doll Murray?” Kerri blurted, but immediately clapped her free hand over her mouth, silencing herself for a moment before saying in a contrite voice, “I'm sorry, that was mean. It was what my friends and I called her back then. Just slipped out.”

Ranger turned to Kerri. “So you know her?”

“Yeah. She was our neighbor growing up. She used to hang around a lot but we weren't exactly friends. She liked watching Dad and Bit and Grady work on the cars, but she never said much. I thought it was because she had a crush on Grady.” Kerri flashed a grin at her brother, and Grady wanted to push her on what she'd just said.

You thought Annabelle was into me? Because I'm sure as hell into her.

But this wasn't the time.

Kerri continued. “She ended up becoming a teacher, like her mom was, and she moved to Texas with her husband…” Kerri trailed off, looking confused.

Grady gave a quick explanation of what he'd found out that morning—that Annabelle had taken over her ex's garage for a time but was now divorced and living back with her mother. When he was finished, Kerri whistled.

“Who would have guessed she'd end up running a garage, of all things? I guess she really was paying more attention to the cars than to Grady, after all.”

Grady refused to acknowledge how disappointed he felt at that.

“She just doesn't seem the type,” Kerri added, then shrugged. “Well, maybe she'll work out. I remember her being kind of a scared-of-her-own-shadow kind of person, but you never know. Life is full of surprises.” She stood up then, Ranger following suit. “Anyway, we'd better get going. The flight tomorrow is early and I still have to pack.”

“I'll get the flight arrangements squared away for Fogerty,” Ranger said over his shoulder as he and Kerri walked toward the door.

“Sounds good.” Grady turned back to his CAD program. He really needed to make up for the hours he'd lost that day. But he had a feeling it still wasn't going to be easy to focus. Not with thoughts of Annabelle lingering in his mind.

“Don't stay too late!” Ranger called from the hallway, Kerri's laugh echoing in response.

Grady sighed. Fat chance. This was the only time he'd have to work on his designs before he flew out tomorrow morning with Kerri and Lee. Lee raced on Friday and Kerri on Saturday, so it would be nonstop racing for the next couple of days.

At least he was coming back early on Sunday and could get some uninterrupted time in the office then, while everyone else stayed behind to watch the Intercomm race. Maybe, if he stopped getting distracted by Annabelle and just focused, he could get this part finished up tonight. It would need more than a full day to print, anyway, and if it was good, he might actually have his very first product to test and sell. With a little luck, he could make his first sale by next month. The business might even succeed. And then maybe he'd finally accomplish something. Prove that even if he couldn't cut it on the racetrack, he was someone worth investing in.

After all, life was full of surprises.

*   *   *

On Monday morning, Annabelle pulled her old coupe into the gravel lot in front of the Hart Racing garage—which was more like a warehouse-sized building with offices on one side. It was just past seven-thirty and she was too early by half an hour, but she'd been so full of nervous energy this morning that she'd left the house well before she should have.

She wasn't sure, though, if she was nervous about not getting the job … or about getting it.

A part of her had been scared enough that she might fail at this interview that she'd gone into the school district offices last week to check on teaching positions, to have a backup in case this didn't work out. The administrator had told her there were three middle school slots open, and then had practically begged her to take one. Annabelle had said she'd have to think about it.

She should have accepted on the spot, though. The school year was fast approaching, and delaying even by a week felt like prolonging her dependence on her mother, and God knew she was
desperate
to get away from her mom's house. But she also knew how desperation often spurred a woman to bad decisions, and she wasn't going to make those kinds of mistakes again.

Still, she'd taken a small risk and snuck out over the weekend, lying to her mother about going shopping so that she could sit in a sports bar downtown and watch the races. Snuck out, like a rebellious teenager.

She hated acting this way. She hated that she had to. But after the incident with her blouse, she'd realized just how tenuous her relationship was with her mother, who seemed more than ready to send Annabelle packing just to prove a point. And if she got kicked out … well, her dreams of independence would be shot to hell.

Sad, really, that the few things Momma didn't like, including revealing clothing, disobedience, and tomboys, were all things that Annabelle loved.

Watching racing definitely counted as a tomboyish activity. So Annabelle had lied, and in the end, it had been worth the lie to be able to watch the race. The rev of the engines, audible even through the television … the way everyone on a racing team worked in such seamless synchronicity that they resembled a perfectly-built machine … the excitement of waiting for the flag to go up … it brought back memories of those afternoons in the Hart's garage, of the intense sense of belonging she'd felt as she'd watched the guys work on their cars.

She'd stayed in the bar for hours, riveted. The men sitting near her had eyed her, but hadn't actually bothered her, so at some point she'd allowed herself a beer instead of club soda and tried not to hate
herself
for having become a grown woman who had to sneak around to avoid getting into trouble with her mother.

For the moment, watching races would have to be enough to make her feel like the person she wanted to become. The fast cars, the energy, the crowd, were the complete opposites of all those restrictions she'd lived under her entire life. She'd leaned forward every time the camera panned over the crew chiefs, packed atop the pit boxes. The sportscasters had zoomed in on the Hart Racing pit box at some point and she'd seen Grady sitting next to some guy she didn't know, both wearing headphones and watching the track intently.

She hadn't been able to take her eyes off Grady. In fact, she'd nearly reached out to stroke the TV screen mounted over the bar, catching herself just before she actually raised her hand and looked like a fool.

Now, sitting in the Hart Racing parking lot in the early morning light, it dawned on Annabelle that Grady hadn't looked very happy to be at the race.

But if he was so unhappy, he wouldn't be doing that job, right?

You mean like you and your mother, or you and the obscene number of pies you baked yesterday, or you and that teaching job, or you—?

“Shut up.” This time, she said it out loud, then took a deep, calming breath. Despite the daunting obstacle of money, she kind of liked the thought that she was responsible for
something.
Every dollar she earned was a step closer to freedom. To buying herself back.

Maybe
herself
was the person she wanted to be. The
someone significant.

The realization excited her, and the amped-up, too-big-for-her-skin feeling propelled Annabelle out of the car. She slammed the door behind her after she got out, the sound echoing through the nearly empty gravel lot. There was only one other car here, which she recognized as Grady's truck. Maybe he'd opened up the office already and wouldn't mind if she was a little early. At least she could get it over with, this anticipation of something new.

Something exciting and thrilling and arousing …

She wasn't sure if she was talking about the job, or Grady.

On the left side of the garage, there was a glass door set at the top of a short flight of wooden stairs. She headed that way, her heels sinking into the gravel as she walked, making her steps a bit wobbly. She'd worn steel-toed boots to work every day at Donnie's Auto Repair, but since she'd come home, she had to admit that a part of her liked being feminine again. And she especially liked the way Grady had responded to her in a way that made her feel like a woman.

She headed up the steps to the landing, and when she pulled on the door handle, it swung quietly open. The vestibule was dark when she walked inside, the carpet muffling the sound of her steps, and for a moment she wasn't sure what to do. She wasn't supposed to be here for another twenty minutes. Should she go back out to her car and wait?

As she stood there, trying to figure out what to do next, she became aware of a weird, rhythmic smacking sound coming from somewhere else in the building, coupled with a machine-like hum. Maybe Grady was working on a car. Maybe this would be a chance to show him that she knew her way around an automotive shop. Maybe it would be a chance to flirt with him some more …

Bad idea, Annabelle. Don't make the mistake again of putting your mouth where your money is.

She had to remember that, or she'd be living with her mother for the rest of her life.

“Grady?” She pitched her voice a little louder than usual toward a corridor that ran off to the left, where the sound was coming from, but there was no answer.

She wavered again, debating whether to wait or to go seek him out, but before she consciously registered what was happening, the restlessness took over and propelled her forward.

Chapter 4

Grady ran like he was running for his life.

His feet slapped the treadmill hard, over and over, as the wailing strains of The Ramones screamed through his headphones. Days like this, he felt like he could run for hours, fueled by all the pent-up stress and frustration inside of him.

Inevitably, though, he just ended up exhausting himself and feeling sore the next day.

Fogerty had annoyed the hell out of Grady all weekend, but he'd also brought Lee to a third-place finish and Kerri to a first—a fucking
first.
The whole team had gone wild, clapped Fogerty on the back, and called him a miracle worker.

Fogerty seemed to be working out, despite Grady's reservations, which meant that Grady would be able to really get things moving on Carbon Works, and the promise of being that much closer to reaching his dream had propelled him back into the office on Sunday after he'd landed at the airport.

But there, he found that the 3-D printout of his test muffler had gotten interrupted somewhere along the way, leaving a flaw in the design that rendered the part useless. He'd had to start it all over again. At least when he'd looked in on the printer an hour ago, things were still moving along smoothly, but the process wouldn't be finished until after lunchtime. Most of a day lost.

On top of that, he'd woken up this morning from a dream about Annabelle and felt like he'd been hit over the head with a sack of flour. Confused and blinded and … really fucking horny. He hadn't been able to get her out of his mind since.

He wanted her, badly. It wouldn't leave him alone, this intense arousal he experienced whenever he thought of her and the way she'd looked when he'd seen her last week. She looked like a porned-up version of a beautiful 1950s housewife, but in the end her physical appearance wasn't what was holding his interest like this. No. It had been that spark in her eyes and that confident way she'd held his gaze when she'd told him about managing Donnie's shop.

That's
what had wormed its way into his brain and refused to get out. And he was going to have to face her again this morning, struggling to rein in his lust the entire time.

In the end, he'd decided to work off a little of his tension before she arrived. As a result, he'd been running since seven o'clock and the odometer on the treadmill read just over five miles. Around mile two, he'd been sweating so hard that the only solution was to rip off his shirt and use it as a towel to keep the salty moisture out of his eyes.

But he'd kept going.

Although now he should probably get off the treadmill and go shower. Even his hair was soaked with sweat, the moisture no doubt turning the light brown strands dark, and the veins on his forearms were standing out. He
wanted
to keep running, but Annabelle would likely be here soon, and he had a feeling that even if he ran around the world and back, he wouldn't escape the hot, wound-up desire he had for her.