Full Throttle(30)
“It could get messy.”
“It wasn’t before?”
She threaded her fingers through his silky hair. “Your optimism is inspiring.”
“It helps at 180 miles an hour.”
“But you still don’t think you’re good enough.”
Shadows passed through his eyes. “The track is different.”
“No, it’s not.” She pulled him close, until their lips were a breath apart. “You’re good enough—no matter what. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
He kissed her, but before the top of her head spun off, she managed to pull back. “So if we’re exclusive, that means I’m your girlfriend, right?”
He trailed his lips along her cheek. “Right.”
“Does that mean I can punch out those chicks who drool all over you at meet-and-greets?”
Smiling, he leaned back. “I thought you said you’d grown beyond that.”
I lied. “Can I at least think about punching them out?”
Considering, he angled his head. “Are these women carrying licensed merchandise?”
Oh, good grief. Merchandise—aka model cars, T-shirts, caps, coffee mugs, pillows, watches, et cetera—he made money from the sale of. Every driver’s retirement plan. As part of the NASCAR community, however, she was opposed to bootlegged goods. “Fine. Only the ones with unlicensed stuff.”
“No kids.”
“Did I say anything about kids?”
His eyes laughing and bright, the shadows gone, he pulled her into his lap. “Deal.”
THE NEXT DAY Kane walked through the hauler to the small room at the back that they used as an office/locker room. “Can I talk to you?”
Hunched over the desk and staring at a computer screen, Harry didn’t even look up. “We’ve got qualifying in a few minutes.”
“It’s important.”
Sighing, Harry took off his cap, scratched his head, then leaned back in his chair. “So talk.”
Reining in his temper at the impatient look on his face, Kane rolled his shoulders. “Lexie and I would appreciate your support.”
“For?”
Kane ground his teeth. “Us seeing each other.” And if he asked when, he was going to lose it.
“I’m sorry. I can’t give it.”
“Why not?”
“The timing is lousy.”
“The timing will always be lousy.”
“It’s bad for the team.”
“I can’t live to please the team.”
“It didn’t work out before.”
“We were young before.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You hurt her.”
“I know, but she’s willing to forgive me. You can’t do the same?”
He said nothing for a long time, and Kane felt the weight of his choices—both past and present—bear down on his shoulders. He’d made mistakes in not working as hard on his relationship with Lexie as he had on his cars. He’d been too selfish to notice her struggles. He’d been too impatient to succeed.
He wasn’t that guy anymore.
“She’s my only little girl, Kane,” he said finally.
“I thought you trusted me.”
He folded his hands and looked down at them. “I’m worried about her. She…cares about you.”
“Lexie isn’t some weekend conquest for me.”
Harry met his gaze. “She isn’t?”
Kane turned away, trailing his hand through his hair. His chest tightened. He couldn’t believe this was happening. That he and Harry had come to this impasse.
After all they’d been through, Harry didn’t trust him, didn’t respect him or want him anywhere near his daughter.
“I’ve made mistakes in the past,” he said finally. “But Lexie means the world to me. Always has.”
He stopped short of the L word. As much as he wanted to convince Harry of his sincerity, he didn’t fully understand his own feelings, so he didn’t see how he could share them with anybody else. Maybe Harry sensed his uncertainty. Maybe his concern was justified.
He turned back. “Just give us a chance. Lexie feels your disapproval, and I don’t like seeing her upset any more than you do.”
That blow obviously landed. Harry’s hands clenched. “It’s up to her to give you a chance. I won’t lie and tell her I like any of this.”
Kane forced himself to relax his jaw so he could speak. “If you can’t support us, I’d appreciate you supporting Lexie.”
“I’d appreciate you not telling me how to treat my daughter.”
Kane absorbed a blow of his own. The personal connection he’d always had with Harry was crumbling, and it was clear neither of them intended to back down. “I’m sorry I bothered you,” he said, then turned and stalked from the room.
CHAPTER TWELVE
KANE’S HEART POUNDED as he crossed pit road and headed to the wall separating the team from the car during the race. The smell of engine oil and gasoline washed over him, comforting him with its familiarity.
Chemistry was so important to a racing team. The interaction between the members was often the difference between winning and losing, between finishing well and sliding into the wall on the last lap. The Chase had barely begun, and his team’s chemistry was imploding as a result of the tension between Kane and Harry. And while he felt like he’d already had a successful season by making the top ten, he didn’t want to rest there. He wanted to win. More and often. He wanted the championship.
He also wanted to punch something but didn’t. He wanted to scream but didn’t.
He’d spent much of his life working on control. Because he was a fierce competitor, or because he just lacked patience?
Since qualifying was about to get under way, he sat alone for no more than a few minutes, but the time allowed him to control his thoughts and emotions.
“Great party the other night,” Mike Streetson said as he walked up and sat beside him.
“Thanks.”
“The pressure getting to you yet?”
“Yep.”
“You belong here, you know. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing all season.”
Without access to Harry, Kane felt directionless and alone. Knowing he was the cause of conflict between father and daughter, guilt was piled on top. “Don’t think I can.”
“Success changes people, Kane. It affects the dynamics of the team. It changes personalities, goals and expectations. You wanted to make the top ten. You have. Now what?”
How did he tell the man and the driver he admired so much that racing had very little to do with his problems?
“You go for it all, that’s what,” Streetson continued in that quiet, determined way he had. “It’s any man’s championship. Just because you’ve never been here before doesn’t mean you won’t be the one hoisting that trophy in December.”
“I’m the only one of the ten who’s never been there.”
Streetson scowled. “Doesn’t matter. Stay focused. Keep your team up and motivated. If you can’t win, get a top five. If you can’t get top five, get top ten. Be smart. Save your engine, your tires, your brakes. Be there at the end. This game is about consistency, not just a celebration in Victory Lane. Don’t forget that.”
But he still felt like the guy who’d skated in, who didn’t belong but had somehow pulled out a last-minute miracle. What Streetson was trying to remind him of was that miracles were the stuff of NASCAR legend.
His father was the legend, though, not him.
“My father would do it.”
“Hey, we all make our own way in the world. You can’t define yourself by other people. Especially people you’re related to.”
“But if I fail, the world knows.” He hunched his shoulders. “And comments.”
“Oh, I know you’re not going to fall back on ‘Oh, poor, pitiful me.’”
Kane sighed. “No, I’m not. Truth is, my driving isn’t what worries me. It’s Lexie.”
“She’s a great car chief. What—”
Kane said nothing, but he could see the wheels in Streetson’s brain turning. “Who you were awful close to at the party. Who you used to be even closer to.”
Kane nodded.
“This is personal.”
His stomach pitching in the same weird fall he’d felt when he and Harry had argued, Kane nodded again.
“Mmm, well, that makes things sticky, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I don’t have to tell you racing is just as much mental as physical. And your personal life plays a part. Still—”
“Sir? Mr. Streetson? Could you sign this?”
Kane and Mike looked up to see a young boy with a model car held out and a hesitant smile on his face.
His mother stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders. “I know you’re busy, but…”
Streetson waved away her apology with the ease of a veteran and took the car from the boy. “What’s your name, son?”
“Michael.”
Streetson smiled and set his Sharpie into motion. “Like me, huh?”
“Yes, sir.” The kid’s smile was wide, and he was all but dancing on the tips of his toes. “I think you’re the greatest driver ever.”
Streetson handed back the signed car and winked. “You’d be right.”