Cole turned toward the door. “Zach Wilder and me at the Brickyard three years ago. He’d just won his first race at that track.”
“Zach Wilder? You mean the guy in the underwear ads? The one who dates all those supermodels?”
His smile disappeared. “Yeah, that’s him.” Cole took a slow breath and reminded himself that Zach was a great guy and didn’t deserve to have his photo shredded into little pieces.
“It says that he couldn’t have done it without you,” she said around another sip of wine. “What did you do?”
So she’d read the inscription. “I made some changes to his engine, tweaked a few things. Nothing that big, but it bought him a few hundredths of a second. Races are won on less.”
“Really? That’s cool.” She put down the drumstick and looked around the room. “That’s him over here too, right?” She pointed at a photo near the mantle. “In the blue-and-yellow car.”
“Same car—well, same number and team but different sponsors. The red was a few years back. This,” he said and nodded toward the mantle, “is the color scheme he has now.”
She nodded, then sat up straight. “Wait, that’s the car in the garage.”
“Not the exact one but yes, it is one of the team’s cars. They have three.”
She nodded, then pointed back toward the door. “Who’s the woman in the other photo?”
Cole stiffened. Sarah seemed more interested in racing than Natalie had been but would that extend to women drivers?
“My sister,” he said, forcing his voice to be steady.
Sarah twisted around to look at him, incredulity on her face. “Your sister races cars?”
“Yes.”
“For a living?”
He nodded curtly. “And she’s damned good. She’s been working her way up and is running a few races at the national level this year.”
His tone was harsh. Hurt flared in Sarah’s eyes and she leaned away, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “I wasn’t criticizing, just asking. I didn’t know there were women who raced professionally.”
Cole’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “There aren’t many. She’s had to work really hard to get where she is.”
She nodded slowly. “I bet. She must be pretty amazing.”
Cole heard the admiration in her voice and something in his chest thawed, a part of him that had flash-frozen when he’d seen the hurt in Carrie’s eyes. “She is. I’m really proud of her.”
Sarah nodded. “Of course. Who wouldn’t be?”
Who wouldn’t be?
Three simple words but they sent warmth through Cole, burning away the last shreds of his resistance to this woman. He shook his head in amazement.
Seemingly unaware of his epiphany, she gave him an assessing look. “So how about you? You ever race? You seem to like being in the driver’s seat.”
Cole bit back the smile that jumped to his lips, pretty sure her allusion to his earlier words was unintentional. “I’ve raced a bit. Started out with quarter midgets when I was a kid—they’re small open-wheeled cars that look like go-karts. Moved up to sprint cars when I turned eighteen. At the same time I started getting interested in how the cars were put together.” He shrugged. “Instead of continuing on the circuit, I decided to go to college to study engineering and ended up building engines instead of racing cars. But I still race for fun every now and then.”
“I can see why.” She settled back onto the cushions and started to tuck her feet under her, then stopped, seeming to realize that she was wearing boots. She crossed her ankles primly instead.
“Let me get those for you.” Cole scooted off the couch and onto his knees in front of her. Before she could protest—and he knew she would—he took one of her boots in his hands and started to tug it off. Off-balance, Sarah sank deeper into the cushions.
She struggled to sit up. “What are you doing?”
“Relax,” he said, pulling the boot off. “I’m trying to make you more comfortable.” He removed the second boot and returned to his seat on the couch. “Better?” She nodded. “Good, now turn around.”
With the look of suspicion that flashed across her face he might have asked her to strip and dance naked. The image of that nearly distracted him from his purpose. “You were headed to a spa, right?” She nodded. “Well, just ‘cause you’re not gonna get there tonight doesn’t mean that you can’t get a little relaxation. I’ve been told I’m pretty good with backrubs. By my mother,” he added when her eyes narrowed.