* * * *
It was his day off. Hawkins Racing didn't have the monster PR machine of some race teams, so his day off was actually a day off. No public appearances, no photo shoots, no interviews. Just time.
Time to think. And the one thing on his mind was Caro Hawkins. Ever since she appeared on his doorstep, he'd spent way too much time thinking about her. Most of his thinking fell more in the realm of fantasy, but damn, he couldn't get her off his mind. She was a puzzle he wanted to solve. She was smart – always had been, but now she was educated smart. One week with the team and it was clear, Caro called the shots. The woman wasn't a figurehead owner. She knew racing. She knew racecars, and she wasn't afraid to get grease under her fingernails.
She single-handedly ran the office too. Not that he knew a damn thing about business, but running a race team was hard work. There were sponsors to appease, contracts, parts and supplies to order, not to mention personnel to manage and a payroll. Throw in all the NASCAR paperwork and there was enough work to keep an army busy. So, while he had a day off, Caro didn't.
He entered through the front office rather than the garage. One thing Caro didn't scrimp on was the crew. She employed engineers, technicians, engine builders, mechanics, and a half dozen other specialized people to build her cars. They didn't need him hanging around, getting in their way. Caro was another thing.
His footsteps echoed through the empty hallway. Man, he hated to see Hawkins Racing like this. When he was a kid, this place overflowed with people. He loved coming here with Caro, hanging out, basically getting in everyone's way. He'd stare at the trophies in the cases, and bug anyone who would take the time to talk to him, from the receptionist to the engine builders. Even Caro's dad. Stewart Hawkins always seemed to have time to say something nice to him, but he'd also threatened to tan his hide a few times. Dell smiled. Some of his best childhood memories were in this place, and most of them included Carolina.
“Hi,” he said, pausing in the door to her office. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the jamb. “How's it going?”
“I'm busy, Dell,” she said without looking up from her work. “It's your day off – go away.”
“I thought you could use some help.” If he stayed home, he'd be thinking or drinking, and he didn't want to do either one. He'd rather sit on his ass and watch Caro work than spend another day alone.
“The only help I need is to be left alone.”
Dell ignored her, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. He picked up a stack of forms and thumbed through them. “I can do these,” he said, holding up the standard parts orders awaiting approval.
Caro dropped her pen and sat back with a sigh. “Look, Dell. I hired you to drive. This,” she swept her arm over her paper-covered desk, “is my job.”
“I'm not saying it isn't, Caro, but I haven't got anything else to do today. Let me help you. I think I can manage to order parts without screwing up.”
“Give me those,” she put her hand out and wiggled her fingers. Dell laid the papers in her hand. She stacked them on the corner of her desk, out of his reach and shuffled through another stack. In a minute, she handed him a folder. “Here. These are the travel arrangements for Phoenix. Go in the other room and call the hotel, the airport shuttle service on this end, car rentals in Phoenix, and the helicopter charter for race day. It's all in the folder. If I've reserved it, verify it.”
“Really? This is what you want me to do?”
“Really, Dell. It needs to be done. The car and your motor home leave tomorrow. The drivers need a place to stay when they arrive. The crew flies out Wednesday. They aren't going to be happy if there aren't hotel rooms for them, and I won't be happy if I have to sleep in your motor home at the track. And if I sleep in your motor home, you won't be. Does that clear things up for you?”
He'd noticed the dark circles under her eyes as soon as he walked in, but there was a strain in her voice too, as if she were holding on by a thread. Dell stood, folder in hand. “I'll be in the other room.” It was a job for an intern, but Caro didn't even have one of those, so Dell sat at the desk intended for a secretary and opened the folder. A few phone calls wouldn't kill him.
More than once over the next hour, he wondered why he'd come. He'd sneak a peek at Caro, her head bent to her work and her shoulders slumped in fatigue and something would twist in his gut, then he'd go back to his phone calls.
She was working too hard. A race team was too much for any one person to run on their own. Even a team this size needed support personnel, people who did this kind of stuff – phone calls, reservations, ordering, scheduling appearances. Caro was trying to do it all on her own, and it was too much. On top of that, she was overseeing the garage as well. Hell, she was doing the work of at least half a dozen people, and Dell was going to find out why…as soon as he found her.