Sweet Carolina(58)

“I hope you didn't bring the same shit you did last week,” Dell said as Warner headed to the kitchen with the requisite brown bag.

“You didn't have to drink it.”

Dell held out his hand. “Just give me one, and shut up.”

Warner handed Dell a bottle and took one for himself before they headed to the recliners in the living room. “Talladega's coming up,” he said.

“So it is,” Dell said, popping the top on his brew and taking a long pull. “What about it?”

“If you need a drafting partner, I might be interested.”

Dell studied his half-brother. “What would Renfro think?”

“I don't give a shit what he thinks. He's been talking a lot of trash around the shop the last few weeks, and I don't like it.”

“What kind of trash?”

“Stuff. He's coming down real hard on Caro Hawkins and you, too. You'd think he'd be mindful of who he's talking about, since he knows about our relationship, but he doesn't know we talk, so I guess he thinks it's all right to talk shit about you in front of me.”

“So, you want to get back at him by drafting with me?”

“Maybe. It would serve him right if I pushed you across the finish line in first place.”

Dell grinned. “Yeah, that would be poetic, but what makes you think it wouldn't be you crossing first with me biting your ass?”

“Because I don't want to win? Renfro is being a real asshole. If I win, so does Renfro Racing, and right now, I'm not in a frame of mind where that seems right. I'd much rather see Hawkins Racing get the trophy.”

“No offense, but I would too. Okay. But I have to tell Caro before the race. I don't want her blowing a gasket if you suddenly start kissing my ass around the track.”

“Drafting, Dell. Don't flatter yourself. I won't be kissing your ass, on the track or off. I'll leave that for the pretty lady you're seeing.”





Chapter Sixteen





Caro couldn't remember a time in her life when she'd felt this good. For the last three weeks, she and Dell had stolen as many minutes to be together as possible without drawing attention to their intimate relationship. They had yet to work in a Le Mans, but every encounter wasn't a drag race either. Her body hummed with satisfaction, and love for Dell.

So far, he'd lived up to the promise he made when they struck their financial agreement. He no longer drove every race as if he had a death wish. The brilliant race strategist was back, but he'd yet to win a race.

Caro was beginning to think Hawkins Racing was jinxed. There'd been the issue with the loose lug nut that cost Dell a win, and might have resulted in a serious wreck. Thankfully, no one was injured in the spinout. Even the car survived. She still cringed when she thought about the findings from the post-race inspection. The offending lug nut looked as if someone had filed down the threads on the inside. It was unclear if the damage occurred on the track or if the lug was damaged when it was put on during Dell's final pit stop. Caro questioned the tire carrier – the guy who glued the lugs to the wheels before each race, and he swore he checked each lug before it went on the wheel.

She kept the lug in her desk drawer as a reminder something as small as a lug could end a successful run.

But the lug episode was only the first of a series of bizarre incidents that occurred over the last three races. None of them were serious, but every one of them cost Dell valuable track position. Caro gave credit where it was due. Dell kept a calm head through it all. She wished she could say the same for herself. Frustration gnawed at her. The car was running like nothing else on the track. Dell was out-driving every other driver on the track, but they still hadn't brought home a single trophy.

Caro left the garage at Talladega, heading to her motor coach for a much-needed nap before qualifying. She wouldn't trade her stolen nights with Dell for anything, but she found, on occasion, she needed to make up for the lost sleep. This was one of those times. Between spending time with Dell and making adjustments on the car for the longer Superspeedway at Talladega, she'd had little time to herself.

She wound her way through the maze of giant motor homes, her attention focused on the changes they'd made this morning. Not only did they have to adjust for the longer track, but the Alabama weather wasn't helping either. The track temperature during practice runs earlier in the week were below normal, but for qualifying, the weatherman predicted record high temperatures. Everything they'd done needed to be rethought and recalculated, the adjustments made. And, to top it off, it was possible the weather would change yet again before the race began tomorrow.

Caro was lost in her thoughts so she didn't notice the man leaning against the motor coach parked next to hers until it was too late. She jumped when he spoke.