Full Throttle(31)

Kane watched the exchange in silence, never resenting the attention his friend got and admiring his smoothness and confidence. “How do you get past that?” he asked when the boy walked away. “How do you agree you’re the greatest driver?”

“I don’t agree all the time. But do I think I’m still good enough to win? Hell, yeah. I prove it every once in a while. And I’m definitely not ready to hang it up. I see the end coming, but I’m gonna fight like crazy until then.

“And until then the fans keep me going. The fans buy sponsor products. The sponsor dollars keep us racing. Simple as that. And when I feel like crap, when I’m hot and tired and want to just get the hell out of some broke-down, wrecked, ill-handling race car, I remember those kids. You do, too. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother myself to talk to you.”

“Harry isn’t happy.”

“I imagine not. You’re way too close to his little girl for his comfort. Forget he’s one of the best crew chiefs ever. He’s a father.”

“I get that. I tried to talk to him.”

“No go, huh?”

“No way.”

“Give him time.”

“We’ve got nine weeks.”

“Harry’s a professional. He won’t let this affect the team.”

“How can it not?”

Streetson grinned as he rose. A man who’d seen it all, done it all. “Avoiding him as much as possible couldn’t hurt.”

Right. He’s my crew chief. Maybe I should ask one of the other Hollister teams if they’d mind me pitting over there during the race.

“And, Kane?” Streetson said as he turned back.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t go looking at my daughter. I’d hate to break up our friendship.”

Well, now he felt loads better.

He couldn’t deny he understood. If he ever had a daughter, he wasn’t sure he’d want her involved with a pedal-to-the-metal race car driver. But being the driver in question was beyond frustrating.



AS LEXIE HANDED KANE a Sharpie, he shifted his beer bottle to his left hand and sent a flirtatious smile her way.

The VIP crowd assembled in their sponsor’s sky box was mostly people they’d met many times before, but somebody always showed up needing an autograph for Aunt Susie, or a guy who’d decided he needed a signature to prove to his third-grade teacher, who thought he was a sure-fire loser, that now he was a bigshot.

The sky box was carpeted in plush navy blue, with TVs hanging in the corners near the ceiling for visitors to view the action on the track. Furniture was artful, tasteful and plush. The men were dressed in business-casual khakis and polo shirts. The women wore designer clothes, and even the ones who went with a more casual jeans look had diamonds encircling their wrists and fingers. Even the kids were decked out in polished duds—though the looks on their faces were as eager as any kid at a local dirt track.

The buffet included prime rib, sautéed shrimp, caviar and delicately cooked vegetables prepared by world-renowned chefs. Crisp white tablecloths covered the tables. The lighting was gentle, the air filled with the scent of gently roasting meats.

Somehow, Lexie perversely longed for the heat, grease and noise of the pit road.

How far things had come from when she and her father had started. From the days when crew chiefs were tire changers, and the NASCAR awards banquet had taken place in a hotel in Daytona Beach instead of the grand ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria in New York City.

The growth of NASCAR beyond the South had brought them attention, had enticed her father to come clear across the country from California and challenge the status quo. Though they’d been met with some resistance, having not been born in the bedrock of the sport, most everyone had eventually come around. They’d recognized her father’s dedication and yearning to be schooled in the NASCAR way.

Today, with drivers, crew members and owners coming from every part of the country, this seemed silly, but Lexie remembered a time when they were rebels and newcomers. When multicar teams were an anomaly, rather than the norm. When engineers were met with skepticism, instead of a “hey, maybe these boys have something.” When the boys meant only the men instead of a generic term for the team. When not having a Southern accent made you stand out as the minority—well, a bit more than now.

NASCAR was surging again, and everybody was uncertain.

Pretending she was nothing more than a helpful crew member, she smiled as Kane signed the autograph. While she, Kane, her father and James mingled with the crowd as the NASCAR Busch Series race roared along the track below, she reflected that she was doing more and more of that lately.

Pretending. Smiling when she’d rather not. Swallowing her words when she’d rather argue.

Part of her understood this was a reflection of success. Nobody wanted to upset the gravy train. Nobody wanted to be the one to make noise. To make a mistake and be blamed for their failure.

And she was certainly included.

Lexie was beyond hurt by her father’s reaction to her and Kane. She was pissed. She normally liked watching races, especially when she could evaluate from the sidelines without a vested interest in the outcome. Plus, Hollister Racing was going through a number of drivers, giving them each a five-race audition to join them for a complete season next year.

She liked watching the up-and-coming talent. She enjoyed talking to those drivers and sharing their excitement. She’d even gotten to the point in her career that the guys asked her advice about certain aspects of the sport.

But the tension tonight made her edgy and irritable. Despite the excellent buffet and rare opportunity to relax, she’d much rather retreat to Kane’s coach, go over her lap times and strategy for tomorrow’s race.

“You might want to make an appointment with the dentist.”

Lexie turned her head and glared at James. “What are you jabbering about?”

“You’re gonna need some dental work after chewing all those nails.”

“You’re not cute.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Sure, I am. All the ladies say so.”

“Not this one.”

He laid his arm across her shoulders. “Love isn’t supposed to be painful, you know.”

“Really?”

“I could have saved you—if you’d listened to me. This whole business was doomed from the start.”

“I thought you were one of the two people who actually approved.”

“I was trying to be a supportive friend, but—” He frowned. “One of two? Don’t you mean three? You, me and Kane?”

“That would be two—you and Kane. I think this whole deal is headed for disaster.”

“You can’t go into a relationship with an attitude like that.”

“Why not?”

“That’s the guy’s job.”

“Well, then, blame all these men I’m around all the time.”

“Think positive.”

“Why?”

James grabbed her elbow and pulled her into an empty corner of the room. “We have wine, food, women and racing.”

Glancing across the room, Lexie saw two women pointing and whispering in their direction. “I think that benefits you more than me.”

James looked beyond her, smiled widely, then sobered as he focused on her again. “Lexie, I really don’t think—”

“This is the beginning of a beautiful relationship? That’s helpful, since this isn’t the beginning by any means.”

“You are your father’s daughter. Always thinking the worst.”

“Thanks, I—” She stopped because though normally she’d be thrilled to be compared to her dad, today she wasn’t. Her dad’s habit of considering the worst that might happen helped him win races, but it wasn’t helping their relationship. He was being stubborn and inflexible, negative…like her.

As much as she resented his lack of acceptance of her and Kane, her attitude was just as lousy. Lexie didn’t believe they would last.

There were so many obstacles in their path. While Kane desired her, he didn’t love her, and she wasn’t sure he ever would. She’d challenged him and incited his competitive spirit by telling him they shouldn’t go out. Now that he had her, the initial rush would be gone. How would he feel about her in a week? Or a month?

Her heart kept urging her to go full force, to give her love fully and take a chance again. But past hurts made her wary. And negative.

The phrase doomed from the start ran through her mind.

Yet she didn’t know how to combat her feelings of dread. As a woman, she wanted so much from Kane—passion, undivided attention and commitment. As a car chief, she wanted those things, too. But he certainly couldn’t give her and racing undivided attention. If he was dating someone else, she’d tell him to quit thinking about romance and focus on his job.

She was at war with what she wanted personally and what she knew was best for her team.

For nearly all her life, her family and her career had gone hand in hand, which was why she was just as much at odds with her father as she was with herself.

He was right. Dammit.

He hadn’t been graceful about the delivery, but he was right.

“Give yourself a break,” James said, chucking her lightly under her chin. “You don’t have to take on the responsibility for the entire team.”