Speed Dating (13 page)

Dylan was talking quietly to a couple of older boys, while a nurse listened in.

“Ashlee,” Harrison said, putting his head into the room. “I’m heading back. Are you coming with me, or do you want to catch up later?”

His wife glanced up in surprise, as did Dylan. This was the first tiny test. Would Ashlee choose Dylan or Harrison?

She wavered, and then looked into the sleepy face of the child still playing with her hair. “I’ll come later,” she whispered.

Harrison sent Kendall a thanks-for-nothing glance and walked away.

Dylan didn’t appear any more pleased, but after about fifteen minutes, when the child in her lap was sound asleep, Ashlee and one of the nurses left to put the sleeping child into her crib.

Ashlee returned a few minutes later and said, “Well, I’d better be on my way. I’ll see you two soon.”

“Don’t you want a ride back?”

She hesitated. “No. I’ll get a cab.” With a wave, she was gone.

Kendall let out a breath of relief. Harrison hadn’t won this round, but he hadn’t lost it, either. It was more of a draw.

“Ready?” Dylan said, when even the eager young boys had wandered off to watch TV.

She looked at him, at that tough, wonderful face. Harrison had been so right. She’d gone and fallen in love with Dylan. Dangerous to her heart, terrible risk as a future mate, the man she wanted to spend her life with: Dylan.

Ready? Of course she wasn’t ready.

Kendall had never been a woman who went after the stars. She calculated the odds and made sure her goals stayed well within reach.

Why?

Why did she sell herself so short?

More to the point, her strategy hadn’t worked out very well. Her very achievable fiancé was a rat and the company she’d spent all her working life with hadn’t stood by her the minute she hit a patch of trouble.

Loving Dylan was a risk. Not a risk she could afford, since she didn’t believe in taking unnecessary chances. And yet, she didn’t believe in the concept of luck, either, and here she was a walking, talking rabbit’s foot. A personal four-leaf clover.

Maybe, she thought, as she stood there, accepting the truth that she’d fallen in love with Dylan, maybe some risks were worth taking. A new and potent sense of her own worth percolated through her system. She’d always been content to shoot for the horizon rather than the stars. She’d always assumed it was her personality; now she wondered if she’d simply been too scared to reach beyond her comfort zone.

Since she’d been flung so far out of her comfort zone, it was like viewing her life from space. She’d had more fun than ever before. She was respected—okay, wished upon—and valued.

As insight into her life grew, so did the knowledge that she saw in the devil-may-care race car driver a man who was in some ways as fundamentally conservative as she was.

Why?

Why did a man who so obviously loved kids and who was so comfortable with the other drivers’ families warn her away from himself as a long-term risk? It was easy to believe that he’d tried to warn her away because she wasn’t pretty enough or hot enough or woman enough, but somehow her self-esteem had grown in the short
time she’d been with Dylan and she saw that he sincerely did believe he was somehow lacking.

Again, why?

It was no longer idle speculation. She really wanted to know, because now that she realized she loved him, Kendall—the new and improved Kendall—wasn’t about to let him go without a fight.

K
ENDALL WASN’T
sure where she was. The usual compound of motor homes had become so familiar around her that sometimes she forgot where they were geographically.

She and Dylan had fallen into the routine of racing couples: Thursday to Sunday at whatever track the schedule required. After the race, they’d fly back to Dylan’s home base. He owned a house about an hour’s drive outside Charlotte, and that was home for half a week unless he had sponsor events, promotions or appearances of various kinds. They’d spend Sunday night to Wednesday at home and then start the whole thing back up again.

If she hadn’t become so valuable to Dylan, she’d feel like a freeloader, but Kendall knew she’d become important to him. Sadly, not in the will-you-take-this-woman-to-be-your-lawfully-wedded-wife manner, but she knew he cared. They lived as roommates except when the camera was on them and the pre-and postrace kissing happened. Those were the moments that she lived for. In the meantime, she made his life easier in ways she doubted he even noticed and tried not to count the weeks that were ticking away until this amazing adventure was over and she started her new job.

She was out taking a walk, leaving Dylan on one of his endless business calls, when it finally occurred to her.

“New Hampshire,” she said aloud, remembering where they were. New Hampshire, and her twelve weeks were almost gone. The race schedule to her was a countdown of her time with Dylan. They never spoke of it, but she sometimes wondered if he’d ask her to stay beyond the three months of her leave, and what she’d say if he asked.

Indianapolis. That’s where she’d be saying goodbye. When summer ended, so did her leave. She was expected in Aurora when the new branch office opened.

Even though she sometimes toyed with the idea of staying on if he asked her to and thumbing her nose at the company she’d been with for eight years, she knew she wouldn’t do it. Not unless Dylan wanted her for more than luck.

She was puzzled and determined to find out why a man who was so obviously family-oriented was pushing away a woman who might just be the best thing that had ever happened to him. She smiled a little at her own conceit, kind of liking the powerful feeling it gave her.

A voice pulled her out of her reverie. “Hey, did I do something to offend you? You were going to walk right past me.”

She glanced up. Carl Edwards was strolling toward her in a sweat-stained T-shirt and athletic shorts, a half-empty water bottle in his hand. “Carl. I’m so sorry. My mind was miles away. I didn’t see you.”

“Not the most flattering greeting I ever got,” he said, falling into step with her. “And there I was thinking that smile of yours was for me.”

“No. I was thinking of Dylan.”

Carl clapped his hands over his heart and pretended to fall over. “You’re killing me, here.”

She laughed, feeling suddenly lighter and more hopeful about the future. “Oh, stop it.” Then she realized that this man probably knew Dylan as well as anyone around here. He certainly understood the mentality of a driver. So she put a hand on his arm. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What does a NASCAR driver look for in a woman?”

“Shoot. I thought you were going to ask me something easy, like how to calculate the g-force based on wind velocity and metal mass of a car’s chassis.” She sent him a reproving look from under her lashes and he unleashed that megawatt grin on her. “Okay, seriously, are we talking drivers in general or one tough ol’ boy in particular?”

“I’m hoping understanding the general will help with the particular.”

Carl was silent for a while, his head tilted back as though stargazing, but she thought he was taking her question seriously enough to think about his answer. “I’m guessing that what we all look for deep down is a woman we can be our true selves with. Somebody we can relax with.” He took a drink from his water bottle and continued.

“They have to be tolerant. A woman needs to understand the focus. The harder I work, the better I do. This sport will take as much devotion as I have to give.”

She nodded silently. She’d seen that focus.

“There’s forty to a hundred people dedicated to working for me. I don’t want to let them down, and if I’m out at the movies every night with my girlfriend, it’s not going to work.”

“So, you’re looking for someone who supports you and believes in you?” I can do that, she thought. She was tolerant of the time Dylan gave to his sport and the people who counted on him. She admired that quality in him. She certainly believed he was relaxed when she was around. Damn it, she was perfect.

“I’m looking for a strong woman who’s honest.” He thought a little more. She liked the way he answered her question so seriously, but then she’d known he would. “You’ve seen what it’s like. The fans, the media, the speed. It can get to you pretty fast, maybe go to your head a little bit if you’re not careful. The best women are the ones who are grounded, who are a hundred percent committed to their families. I guess that’s what we’re all looking for.”

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t as strong as she could be, and how honest was it to pretend to be the girlfriend of the man you were in love with? But she absolutely felt committed to the idea of Dylan and family. If she wasn’t perfect for him, she was very, very close.

“You seem to be enjoying being a bachelor pretty well.”

Carl treated her to that grin again. “I didn’t say right away, but that’s what I’m looking for. Now Dylan, he’s a lot older than me. He should be looking a lot harder.”

“Yes,” she said sadly. “He should.”

“You know what I think, Kendall?”

“What?”

“I think a man like Dylan is pretty good at hiding
what he doesn’t want the world to see. A good woman might have to push a little bit to get what she wants.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yes, ma’am. That is a fact.”

On impulse, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You’re a good man. Thanks.”

When she turned back toward Dylan’s trailer, she noticed a man sitting on his front step, watching her. All her senses came alert as they always did when that particular man looked at her. She walked closer. “I thought you were still on the phone.”

“I got off in time to see you kissing another man,” he said, his voice sounding possessive rather than jealous. Figured.

“I only kissed his cheek. Hardly any luck gets passed along that way.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He yawned. “Why were you kissing him if it’s not too personal?”

Hallelujah. Maybe he was a tiny bit jealous after all. Her mood rose.

“We were talking about family,” she said.

“Hmm.” He tipped a can of soda to his lips. She sank down beside him and when he offered, took it from him and helped herself to a sip.

“You want one?”

“No, thanks.” It had to be fate that he was sitting out here alone when she’d just been given some good advice by one of his friends, so she decided to heed Carl’s advice and push a little. “So, tell me about yours.”

“My what?”

“Your family.”

“There’s not much to tell. They still live in Wilker
ton, North Carolina, where Ashlee and Harrison and I grew up.”

He sipped again and stretched his long legs out in front of him, as though that one line covered his entire family history.

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Uh-huh.” More silence.

“I could get more information out of Google.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“No one in the world has nothing to tell about their family.” Whether good, bad, loving or harsh, a family affected a person. There were always stories. Kendall thought of a few of her own, and one sprang immediately to mind. Her mother had tried for weeks to get her a Cabbage Patch doll the year they were all the rage; it was the single thing Kendall wanted for Christmas. Her mother had visited every store in the greater Portland area and finally, in desperation, called every relative and friend she knew. Finally an aunt had lined up in Kansas City when a new shipment of the dolls arrived. Somewhere, packed away in her mother’s house, was that doll whom Kendall had called Sukie for reasons she could no longer even remember. It was a silly story, but it told a great deal about Kendall’s family, she thought. How her mother wanted to make Christmas special, and how single-minded she could be when she set her sights on something. Like mother, like daughter.

But Dylan didn’t reply. He didn’t even glance her way, merely looked out over the enclave of trailers that housed the drivers and their families.

“How come I’ve never met your folks? They don’t come to races.”

“No. They don’t.”

She tried another tack. “They must be so proud of you, knowing you’re a national celebrity.”

“I guess.”

More silence.

“This conversation is about as painful as pulling out my own toenails,” she snapped.

“Then maybe we should change the subject,” he suggested helpfully.

“Fine,” she said, totally frustrated. “Don’t tell me.” She rose to her feet and headed inside.

“G’night,” he called softly.

She was too well-brought-up and too mature to ignore him completely, but too miffed to offer a proper good-night. She made a noncommittal grunt.

Tomorrow another race. Another kiss. Then they’d pack up and move on again, to the next race, the next kiss.

She entered the trailer slowly, realizing that being a good-luck charm was, well, losing its charm for her. Now that she realized she was in love with Dylan, she could no longer accept the live-each-day-to-the-fest fun and games of the past weeks.

It wasn’t Dylan’s fault. It was hers.

She loved him, and he was too much of a coward to let her into even the tiniest corner of his life. Except when he kissed her. It wasn’t luck traveling between them then like sparks of lightning; it was magic.

For a moment she stood there, not flipping on a light, not doing anything but staring ahead into the darkened trailer. What was she doing?

Carl Edwards was right. Dylan was old enough to grow up and act like a man. He was old enough to stop
playing games and settle down, and so was she. Strong and honest, she reminded herself.

She turned around and stalked back out again. Dylan was still sitting where she’d left him. He didn’t hear her coming at first so she had a moment to study him, sitting there with a half-drunk soda clenched in his hand and the loneliest expression on his face. She wanted to comfort him but she was too mad.

“Dylan,” she said, loud enough that he snapped his head her way.

“I thought you were turning in.”

“I was. I need to talk to you.”

He looked wary and she bet he wished he’d ducked into his own bed when he’d had the chance and pulled the covers over his head. “What about?”

“I need to make plans to head home. I’ve had a wonderful time, but I can’t keep following you around from racetrack to racetrack. There’s no need anymore. Ashlee and Harrison are gone and—”

“What about my luck?”

She smiled at him. “Your luck is going to be fine without me.”

He rose to his feet. “Is this some punishment because I wouldn’t blab all my childhood traumas to you? What are you? My therapist?”

“No. Of course not.” Then she realized she wasn’t being completely honest. “Well, maybe a little.” She scuffed her foot against the ground, shifting a pebble. “I don’t think it’s enough for me to be your lucky charm. I thought we were friends, and then you won’t let me into your life in the most basic way.”

“I hurt your feelings,” he said softly.

She nodded. “A little.”

For a second there was silence between them. Somewhere out there, the partyers were at it, but here it was quiet. He rose to his feet and then pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair.

She leaned into him, loving the feel of him, the warm, muscular body, the smell of laundry soap and shampoo. The scent of his skin. He rubbed her back in a gesture that was comforting and that left her yearning for more. Somehow they’d become friends, but she didn’t want to be his friend. She wanted his love.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” she said, not moving, enjoying being wrapped in his arms too much. She was weak, she knew that, but soon enough she’d be gone and it was so nice to be held by this special man.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out.” She felt his breath against her hair. “Your friendship means a lot to me.”

Well, it wasn’t a declaration of love, but friendship was something. At least he admitted she meant that much to him.

For a while they stayed there, his arms wrapped around her, his steady hand running up and down her spine. Then he spoke. “I’ve got a younger sister. She lives in town near my parents.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. He’d opened the door a crack. “Are you close?”

“No.”

She didn’t want to pry, but she didn’t want to walk away, either. It was up to him now.

Finally he said, still talking into her hair so she
couldn’t see his face, “They’re a good family. We grew apart, that’s all. My family isn’t into racing. They pretty much stay close to home and I respect that. If I’m home, I visit. That’s all there is to it.”