Sweet Carolina(15)

“Not yet. I'll pit with everyone else, unless we have another problem,” Dell answered.

“What's with him?” Russell asked Caro. “Doesn't he know he's done for?”

“I don't know,” Caro said. “He's lucky no one hit him on the spinout.”

“Skill, not luck. He steered the car out of the way before he lost control in the grass.”

“You think?”

“I know. He spun halfway down the back straightaway and into turn three and the caution flag never came out. That took skill.”

Caro shrugged. Skill or no skill, Hawkins Racing wasn't going to get a win today, and they didn't garner any favors with the other drivers either. For the first time since she came up with the idea to hire Dell, she began to wonder if she made a mistake. The man could drive a racecar – no one would dispute that – except maybe Dell's father. She didn't know all the details, but she did know the two of them didn't see eye-to-eye when it came to racing.

Twenty laps later, and they were done. Dell lowered the net on the driver's side window and Caro let out a pent-up breath. He was alive. She was going to kill him.

The car was a total loss. They'd be lucky to salvage any part of it. As Dell climbed into the back of the ambulance – standard procedure following a crash – Caro mentally calculated what the loss of the car would do to their bottom line. The prognosis wasn't good. They'd have no choice but to use the backup car for next week's race in Arizona, and they'd have to work around the clock to build another one. That meant money out the door. Money they couldn't afford.

* * * *

Dell cursed as he pulled himself up and out of the car. He managed to make up the laps he'd lost on the spinout, and was inching his way up on the lead lap when disaster struck. He couldn't say exactly what happened – someone ahead of him spun out, crashed into someone else, then all hell broke loose. He looked around at the carnage. At least a dozen cars were beyond driving, his included. This wasn't the way he wanted his first race with Hawkins to end, but some things couldn't be helped.

After being checked out at the track's medical center and pronounced sound, Dell made his way back to the hauler. Caro stood with her back to him, supervising the repacking of their equipment. Dell took a moment to admire the way she filled out her fire suit. She was a paradox, all business in her team gear, but the ponytail threaded through the loop in her cap made her look fragile, and feminine. Dell's palms itched to curl around the fall of hair and tug her against him. He'd never wanted to get his hands on an ass in a fire suit before, and he shouldn't be thinking about it now.

“Caro,” he said. She turned to face him. Dell was so surprised at the genuine concern on her face, he wanted to hug her.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I'm fine. The car took most of the impact,” he said, glancing at the heap of twisted metal the crew was getting ready to load into the top rack for the return trip.

“So it seems,” she said. “Come with me.” Dell followed her to the lounge at the front of the hauler where she evicted Russell, with instructions to leave them alone. Once Russell closed the door behind him, Caro turned to Dell. All her earlier concern for his physical being was gone from her face, replaced by red-hot anger.

“What were you doing out there?” she asked.

“Racing.”

“Is that what you call it? Because if it is, you and I have a different definition of the term.” Her hands were fisted on her hips and her ponytail swished from shoulder-to-shoulder as she paced the small lounge.

“Wrecks happen, Caro. You know that.”

“Yes, they do, but you don't have to make them happen, Dell. This one was your fault. You were driving crazy.” He opened his mouth to argue, but her raised hand stopped him. “Don't argue the point. I was there. I saw it all. You shouldn't have been trying to pass in that situation. It couldn't be done. And don't tell me your spotter didn't tell you the same thing, because he did.” She was something to see, pacing the lounge like a caged animal, venting at him in that singsong voice of hers. Dell wiped the smile from his lips as she turned back in his direction.

“Can I say something?” he asked.

“No. You can't, Dell. I don't want to hear anything you have to say unless it's that you won't do it again.” She stopped her pacing. Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath before she continued. “We're hauling home scrap metal, Dell. Scrap metal.” Her voice rose an octave on the last two words. “We'll have to take the backup car to Phoenix, and God knows what you'll drive if something happens to that car during practice or qualifying. At this rate, we'll have to drag the show car out of retirement.”