Sweet Carolina(48)
“Are you friggin' kidding me?” Dell stomped back to the door and returned to plop down in the chair he'd vacated earlier and run his hands through his hair. “That's what the team fine is for, isn't it?”
Caro nodded. “Yes.”
“They can't do it. It's none of their business what we do behind closed doors.”
“It is if I walk across the infield looking like I've been… well, like I just crawled out of bed. And, there are pictures.”
“What pictures?”
“Apparently, female owners aren't allowed to kiss their driver's before a race,” she said, sliding a piece of paper across her desk to him.
Dell took the screen shot taken from a popular racing website and studied it before dropping it back on her desk. His hair stood on end where he raked his fingers through it, and the line between his eyebrows was now a deep furrow. “I'll pay the fine.”
Caro shook her head. “I can't let you pay my fine, Dell.”
“Why the hell not? I was there too.”
“Yes, you were, but they don't fine men for immoral behavior, only women. They're probably ordering you a plaque right now.”
She'd never seen Dell turn that shade of red before. He reminded her of a teakettle building up steam, ready to blow. She held up a staying hand. “I'm over it, Dell. I believed I could do this, run a team and be successful at it, but I guess my dad was right. This is no place for a woman. Renfro says he'll make this week's payroll if I agree to sell.” She picked up a sheaf of papers and let them fall back to the desk. “I don't have much choice. I owe it to the employees to make sure they get paid. I can't let them down too.”
Dell hated the look of defeat in her eyes. It did something to his insides, twisting them all up until he couldn't breathe. This was so wrong. Carolina, his sweet Carolina didn't deserve to lose her dream. And it was all his fault. If he'd kept his dick in his pants, there wouldn't be anything to talk about. She'd be above reproach. And damn, why hadn't he considered the financial drain he'd put on the team? He'd wrecked enough cars to fill a junkyard, and brought in very little purse money.
Whispered words echoed in his mind. Dream or reality? Did it matter which? Not in the least. It was stupid to dream she could love him, much less dream of accepting it if it were a reality. This was his fault. All of it – Caro's degradation because he seduced her – the fines – the bottom line. All his fault. He had to do something to fix it.
“Have you told Renfro your decision?”
“No. I wanted to tell my employees first.”
“How much do you need?”
“Dell.” She said his name like a yellow flag – caution. He ignored the warning as he had so many others.
“Tell me how much it'll take to keep the doors open, Caro.”
She sighed and consulted a sheet of paper on her desk. After a while, she named a figure. Dell nodded. “And how much to finish the season?”
She shook her head. “I don't know, Dell. Let's not even go there. We're parked for this week and next, and without purse money…”
“I have purse money,” he said. “I have more goddamned purse money than I know what to do with. I've tried giving it away, but it multiplies like rabbits. I might as well do something good with it. Let me help you, Caro. If you don't want me to give you the money, at least let me be a silent partner. I swear I won't tell you how to spend any of it.” He held his hand up in some sort of scout salute – he thought.
“I can't let you do it, Dell. I've made a mess of things, and I'd hate myself even more if I took your money and lost it all too.”
Dell watched her closely. He noticed the little spark of hope in her eyes when he mentioned being a silent partner, but it flared out quickly. There was something else she wasn't telling him. He was good with numbers, always had been. He did a quick mental calculation of the expenses versus the team's income since he'd come on board, and though the expenses outstripped the income, it shouldn't have been enough to put the team in such dire straits.
“How far in debt was the team when you took it over?” he asked. Bingo. Caro closed her eyes and sank back into her chair. He fuckin' hated the way her shoulders slumped in defeat and the resignation in her voice when she finally sat forward, folding her hands on the desk, and looked him in the eye.
“On a scale of one to ten? Eleven?”
Well, shit. What the hell had Stewart Hawkins been thinking? How could a man up and die and leave his failing company to a daughter he didn't want running it to begin with? What kind of man didn't make plans for that sort of thing? Dell held her gaze while he sorted out what he wanted to say. He couldn't fuck this up. Too many people had already stomped on Caro's pride – himself included. He needed to get this right the first time.