Full Throttle(35)
She rolled her eyes. “Convenient.”
“Yes, it’s convenient to swim in my own backyard rather than going to a gym.”
“You do this daily, do you?”
How did she do it? She’d barged into his house, and he was already defensive and making excuses. “What do you want?”
“I’m so glad you asked….” She smirked, obviously pleased he’d given in to her demands so quickly. “You need to apologize to Lexie.”
“Me?” he asked, incredulous and not pretending to understand how she knew the details of his love life mere hours after they’d occurred. “She’s the one who broke up with me.”
“Only because you forced her to.”
“I didn’t—”
“She dumped you because you were the greater risk.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You mean more to her than racing, but she understands racing better than she understands you.”
“That’s even less clear.”
She spread her hands and smiled. “Hence, our conversation.”
He dropped into a lounge chair and crossed his arms over his chest. If he was surly enough maybe she would go away. “We’re not having a conversation.”
“Not a very effective one, no.”
“Because I don’t want to talk—to you or anyone else.”
“I realize that.” She sighed. “But I’m an optimist.”
“No, you’re not.”
Her hands planted on her hips, she glared down at him. “I’m trying, but you’re making it awfully difficult. Back to my point,” she added. “She’s afraid to put her trust in you.” She raised her eyebrows. “I can’t imagine why.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She rolled her eyes again. “And here I thought you’d catch on. I should have known.”
“If you’re pissed, you could leave.”
“The easy way out,” she said as she perched on the end of his lounge chair. “Something you should be familiar with.”
“I—”
She raised a finger, and he fell silent. The woman was a witch, the way she commanded a room. Or, in his case, several acres of prime North Carolina real estate.
“How do you feel about Lexie?”
“That’s none of your business.”
She shook her head. “It’s worse than I thought. You don’t have Insensitive Male Syndrome. You just don’t know, do you?”
A long silence followed. He was angry, tired and frustrated, but she was all he had. He couldn’t imagine dissecting the female mind with James—his buddy knew less than he did.
He dropped his head into his hands. “I have no idea.”
She patted his knee. “No worries. I’m here.”
“But you scare me.”
“Yes, I know.” Standing, she paced beside his chair. “You like Lexie?” she asked after several minutes.
Confused, he looked up at her. “Of course I like her. She’s a friend, a colleague. We grew up together.”
“But we’re not talking about your friendship. We’re talking about love.”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
“And we’re not talking about the team.”
“Right.”
She raised her eyebrows, her gaze boring into his to the point he had to resist squirming. “You can do that? Separate the car chief from the woman?”
“I’ve got to, don’t I?”
“Definitely.” She resumed pacing. “So, racing aside, how do you feel when you’re with her?”
He said nothing. This whole deal was beyond awkward.
“Please. I’m your therapist.”
His mouth went dry at the thought. A therapist. A buxom blond therapist who—
Okay, there were worse things in life.
“I feel…fine.”
“God help us.”
“Okay, so maybe I feel great. I feel like I can conquer anything, like smiling is natural. I feel strong and important. I feel comfortable and safe, challenged and…”
“And?”
“Awed.” He stared at the rippling pool. “I’m awed that she continues to be there for me, at how much she’s helped me, after all we’ve been through, after all my shortcomings.”
She was silent for so long, he finally looked up. “There’s hope for you, Jackson.”
“Oh, gee, is there really?”
“Surprisingly, yes. You communicate well?”
“We’re attached by headsets at least three days a week.”
She waggled her finger. “No racing.”
“But we still—” he searched his mind for significant conversation that didn’t involve racing “—talk,” he finished lamely.
“And the physical communication?”
“I’m not going there with you, Cheryl.”
“Well, she’s never complained about any of that.”
“No kidding.”
“It’s important, you know.”
“No kidding.”
She cleared her throat. “Okay, moving on…”
“Thank God.”
“So, you…talk. About…something.” She cut her gaze toward him. “Something complimentary about her would be good.”
“I do that.”
“Obviously not often enough.”
“You’re really getting on my nerves.”
“Part of my job.”
“Which I don’t remember hiring you for.”
She waved that technicality away. “So, you feel great around her, you have open communication and you want to be with her?” She glanced at him for confirmation.
“Yes.”
“You’re in love.”
He surged to his feet. “Just like that?”
“You wanna argue?”
“I—”
“You’ve got a better conclusion?”
“A few simple questions and you know what I feel when I don’t?”
“Actually I diagnosed you in about ten seconds.” She waved her hand. “The rest was just so you wouldn’t protest at my hourly rate.”
“What rate?”
“Listen, buddy.” She jabbed her fingernail into his bare chest. “You’re not whipping your way through the water in fifty-degree weather because you’re comfortable with your life and your decisions.”
“The water’s heated.”
She glared at him. “You’re emotionally bankrupt. You’re lost in a sea of uncertainty, and only if she’s with you will you find your true meaning in life. You need her like the flowers need rain and sunshine. She’s warmth and hope. You long for her presence and will never feel complete until you have her by your side.”
“I’m a guy, Cheryl. I can’t possibly feel all that at once.”
“Naturally. How could I forget?” She laid her hands on his shoulders and stared into his eyes as if she could communicate by the sheer force of her stare. “You’re completely in love with that woman, but you have no idea what to do about it.”
“I’m…Okay, well…” He lifted his chin. “Okay, maybe. It’s possible. But how do I make her see I’m worth the risk?”
“I’ve got some ideas.”
The fact that he was desperate enough to ask, “What?” proved to him he’d gone over the edge. Maybe the quick exit from the warm pool to the cool air really had stalled his brain functions.
“You’ve got to find a way to work through your feelings. To test them.”
“How do I do that?”
She smiled.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“SIX RACES LEFT.”
Shocked, Lexie glanced over at the man who’d dropped onto the barstool next to her.
Anton Jackson was nearly unrecognizable. She’d never been around him when a buzz of excitement didn’t announce his presence in advance, but looking at him, she understood why. A dark cap was pulled low on his head, obscuring his artfully arranged blond curls. His posture was slumped. He was pale and unsteady.
“Buy you a beer?” he asked.
She shook her head in disbelief. She’d convinced James to drive her to a bar not too far from the speedway, but not high profile enough that she would draw attention. She wanted to be pathetic alone. “This is too weird.”
“No kidding.” He signaled the bartender. “Bud Light. You want a refill?” he added to her.
Lexie stared into her half-full martini glass. It was part of some weird, defiant, reminiscent confusion that stemmed from several weeks of personal and professional highs and lows that swung as wildly as a kid on a playground. The drink was too strong and too out of character.
But after a couple of them, they didn’t taste too bad.
“Sure,” she said, then drained the glass.
The bartender gave her a dubious look. “You’re not driving anywhere, right?”
“No way.” Her world was already blurry.
“He’s been kind of erratic,” Anton said after his beer was served.
“Kind of?” The last four races Kane had posted a second, a twenty-first, a third and a thirtieth. Other drivers in The Chase had also had a bit of trouble, so they were somehow hanging on to fifth. Coming into Talladega, the entire team was tired, frustrated and out of sorts.
Lexie was all that and more. She felt as if she was hanging on to her sanity and her job by a thread. Despite her and Kane’s breakup, tension still filled her relationship with her father, though he hadn’t quit. They were snappy and edgy. They rarely agreed, no doubt contributing to Kane’s up-and-down performance.