In the Groove (16 page)

And there it was. Insult number three and they hadn't been conversing more than a minute. Her mom was on a roll.

"But Sarah doesn't need to take care of herself," Lance said with a wide grin. "She's one of those women with a natural beauty no amount of cosmetics could ever enhance." It was such a subtle dig that Sarah doubted her mother even realized it.

"Well, of course she's beautiful. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, you know."

That did it. "Mom. I'm sure Mr. Cooper would like to settle in for the night. And since you're here, maybe you could give me a ride to my hotel."

"You mean you're not staying with Lance?"

Scotty, beam me up.

"Mom, I told you, I only
drive
for Mr. Cooper. That's all. Just drive." Jeez. What was wrong with her?

"Oh, honey, don't be silly," she said, nudging her in the side. "I'm your
mother.
There's no need to keep secrets from me."

"Mom, it's not like that—"

"Sarah," Lance interrupted. "I think we can be honest with her."

No,
Sarah tried to tell him with her eyes.
No, no, no. Don't do it.

"You're right, Ms. Tingle. Sarah
does
do more than drive for me. She bakes me cookies during race week, too."

"What?" her mom asked.

"Bakes me animal cookies. Well, not just me—the whole team. She's a real part of the crew and I don't know what me and the boys would do without her."

It was apparent her mother didn't know how to take that. It was equally obvious that her mother didn't know if she should believe him or not

"Look, Mom," Sarah said with a silent sigh of relief. When she caught Lance's eye he winked at her again. She ignored him. "Why don't you go find Hank? By the time you get back I should have most of my chores done here. I'm sure Mr. Cooper wants to get to bed."

With you,
he silently mouthed, then grinned as she blushed.

"But Hank wanted to meet Mr. Cooper, too."

"He can meet him tomorrow," Sarah said firmly. "Seriously, Mom. Go. Find Hank. I have stuff to do here."

"I'll help you set up," Lance said to Sarah before turning to her mom. "And when you find Hank, you can introduce him to me."

Which made her mother's face light up. "I'd be delighted to introduce you, even though, you know, Hank's more of a friend."

"Really? I'm surprised he hasn't snapped you up," Lance said with another one of his patented smiles. It occurred to Sarah that this was a side of Lance she'd never seen. Wait. That wasn't true. She
had
seen it before—at the Super Tools autographing. But she hadn't seen it since then because the Lance she knew had never smiled at her with such insincerity in his eyes.

But he could keep secrets from her.

"Ooo," her mother all but cooed. "You're such a sweetie." She stepped up to Lance and pressed herself against him in a way that seemed faintly suggestive, which, knowing her mother, it likely was. This time Sarah's face filled with color.

"I'll see you in a bit," Sarah said, turning back to the hose and connecting it to the water system. She heard her mother walk away, knew Lance stood over her a second later; Sarah was almost afraid to turn and face him.

"Lance," she said when she finally gained the courage to stand. He kissed her.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

He'd been wanting to do that since the moment he'd first seen her.

"Lance," she said, pushing him away far too soon. "You can't do that."

"Why not?" he asked. "She's gone."

"That's not the point," Sarah said. "We shouldn't be out here in public."

"Why not? Most people haven't even arrived yet."

"Yeah, but even if one person sees us it'll start rumors flying," she said firmly, the pink-and-purple sky above them turning her eyes a shimmering amber. She had amazing eyes, Lance thought, wondering yet again how her mother could ever think her daughter wasn't beautiful. Must be blinded by all that makeup she wore.

"Sarah, I think most people have figured out we're a couple."

"We're not a couple," she said. "We just happened to have... to have slept together," she added, her eyes sliding away from him.

Lance tried to hide a smile. He'd known she'd react this way the first time they came face-to-face. She wasn't the type of woman who'd ever be comfortable trading sexual sallies. It was one of the things he loved about her. She was almost, but not quite, shy. Ladylike, he realized.

Unlike her mother.

And those women who'd tried to come on to him Monday night.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I don't make a habit of sleeping with someone unless I like them."

"You don't?" she asked, meeting his eyes at last, her curly hair all springy and somehow happy-looking. "And do you make a habit of judging calendar girl contests when you're dating someone?"

He winced. "You know about that?"

"I know."

She didn't say anything, just crossed her arms.

Uh-oh.

"Sarah, it was nothing. Something that's been on my schedule for months."

"Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"Because I knew you'd get upset," he admitted. "And because I was sort of hoping to just get it done and then forget about it."

"Did you have a good time?"

"I would have had a better time if you'd been there," he said, stepping forward and trying to pull her into his arms. "I missed you."

"Then why didn't you invite me?" she said, trying to wiggle away.

"Because I knew you wouldn't come." She tried to wiggle away again, but he held her firmly saying, "Wait. Be quiet."

She went still suddenly, eyes swinging around as if she expected her mother. "What?" she asked.

"Do you hear that?" he asked.

Her brow scrunched as she cocked her head and listened. "Hear what?"

"That sound."

"What sound?" she asked suspiciously.

"That tiny little thud," he said softly, his whole body relaxing as he stared down at her. "That was the sound my heart made when it fell for you."

"Wha—" And then her face fell, and that was
not
the reaction he'd been hoping for. "Oh, Lance," she said softly. "That's the corniest line I've ever heard."

It felt like he'd hit the wall at 180 mph.
Blam.

"It wasn't corny. I meant it."

She just rolled her eyes. He bit back an oath of frustration.

"Look," he said. "Can we go inside? I don't really want to talk about this out here."

"There's nothing to talk about," she said, and he saw sorrow in her eyes; it made him feel ill. "Lance, we can't do this."

"Why not?" he asked. "Because from where I sit, this relationship is totally doable."

"But not from where I sit," she said, finally wiggling out of his arms. She stepped back from him, crossing her arms to guard against him tugging her into his arms again. "From where I sit this relationship is anything
but
doable."

"Not this again," he said. "Don't tell me it's the whole race-car driver thing."

"That's part of it," she admitted, her eyes so brown and so serious Lance realized he would have done anything in that moment to put a smile back on her face. "But it's also what being a race-car driver entails. Mad dashes across the country to go test a car, or to judge a calendar girl contest, or do something else."

"I told you, the calendar girl contest was nothing."

"And I believe you. But it's
not
just that," she said.

"What?" he asked, crossing his own arms in front of him because no matter how much he fought it, he still felt an almost irresistible urge to pull her into his arms. "What is it that keeps you from seeing me? Because to me, Sarah, this seems like a no-brainer."

"To
you,
Lance," she said softly. "To me it's a
bad
idea."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"That's what you tell me, Lance, but I don't believe it."

"Sarah—"

"No," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "I know what you're going to say. You're going to tell me how much you care for me. How you would no sooner hurt me than you would hurt yourself, but believe me, Lance, I've heard it before. And while I've been known to stare down a room full of unruly kindergartners, the truth is that I'm a coward."

"You're
not
a coward."

"Yes, I am, Lance. I'm a lily-livered, blue-bellied coward. I'm terrified of getting involved with you. Just the thought of going out in public with you makes me want to toss my cookies. I can't compete with the beautiful women who'll make a play for you at calendar girl contests and other places and I'll make myself sick giving it a try."

"Toss your cookies?"
he said, trying not to feel insulted.

"Not toss my cookies," she quickly corrected. "Well, maybe just a little bit. Or—gosh. I don't know," she said, obviously agitated. "All I know is that I'm not very good at dating ordinary men. I can't imagine what it'd be like dating an extraordinary man."

"But I am ordinary," he said. "I'm an ordinary man who happens to have an extraordinary job. Don't confuse Lance the race-car driver with Lance the man."

"But you see," she said, brown eyes unblinking. "I'd be afraid to date Lance the ordinary man, too." She shook her head, looking away for a moment.

"Why?" he said softly, uncrossing his arms, wanting to touch her but knowing that wouldn't be a good idea. "I don't understand why you'd walk away from this."

"Lance, in school we don't give children long division when the most they can do is add and subtract. You're the square root of pi."

"Huh?" he asked. She wasn't making sense.

But she looked determined to make him understand. "I had my heart tossed down and stomped on by someone I thought I could trust. Because I thought—I truly thought—that man was
the one.
Only he wasn't and I don't trust my judgment anymore and so even though you tell me you won't break my heart, I can't date you on blind faith alone, not when the odds are so stacked against me. I'm not physically capable of that, just as students who can barely add and subtract aren't ready for geometry."

And finally he understood. He really did. What was more, her bruised soul lingered in her eyes, and it hurt him, too, to see the humiliation and the disappointment in her eyes. It tore at Lance's heart. He wanted to ram his fist down the throat of all the bastards who'd hurt her. No, he wanted to ram his fist into the side of his bus. Damn it. Now what? How could he fix this?

Maybe he couldn't.

"So this is it?" he said. "You don't want to see me again?"

She nodded sharply.

"Well, okay then," he said stepping back from her.

She tried to follow him, her hand outstretched. "Lance. Wait—"

"No," he said. "If you want to end it, you want to end it," he said. But the anger disappeared as quickly as it'd come, his shoulders sinking with disappointment. "I refuse to pressure you. You're the type of woman that'll bolt if I do that. So I'm just going to walk away and hope that one day you'll change your mind."

His answer surprised her, he could see. Well, good. Maybe if she realized he wasn't the same type of jerk as those other men she'd dated, she'd come back to him. Maybe.

"Thanks," she said softly, looking down.

He wanted to go to her. Wanted to hug her. To tell her that everything would be all right. But he couldn't touch her because if he did that, he'd never let her go.

"Goodbye, Sarah. I'll see you around."

"Bye, Lance. I'll, um... I'll text message you when I'm done setting up here."

"Don't bother," he said. "I'll come back later and do it all."

And when he turned around, he almost bumped into Sarah's mother.

And just like that it was over.

"You
are the biggest fool that ever walked the earth," her mother said, the two of them watching as Lance disappeared between a row of parked buses.

He walked away from her with understanding in his eyes and nary a show of temper, and Sarah wasn't sure what to think about that.

"Have you
any
idea what you just gave up?"

"Where's Hank?" Sarah asked, wondering what she should do now. Should she go ahead and finish setting things up? Or should she find a ride to the hotel? And what about later? Did she keep on working for Lance? How could she keep doing that after what had happened between them?

"Who cares where Hank is?
You're
the one that needs a serious tongue-lashing."

"Mom. Not now," Sarah said, walking to the back of the bus and then bending down to open a side compartment. A massive generator hid inside. She flipped a few switches, and the thing roared to life. Maybe it'd muffle her mother.

"Don't tell me not now," her mother said, having followed her. "Not only did you
lie
to me about your relationship with that man, but you let him get away."

Sarah straightened, taking a deep breath before facing her.

"You let a man who makes millions of dollars a year get away!" she said, her eyes wide and filled with outrage.

"So?" Sarah said.

"So! Have I taught you nothing? Who cares if he might break your heart? Enjoy the ride while it lasts, Sarah, because with your looks it isn't going to last forever."

It should hurt, Sarah realized. Her mother's awful words should really hurt. But they didn't. She was so used to her mother's thoughtless remarks that they barely even fazed her anymore. Besides, Sarah agreed with her on that score.

"I'm sorry for lying to you, Mom, but right now I have a job to do and I'm not, repeat,
not
going to discuss what just happened between me and Lance Cooper. Not."

"Well. What are you going to do?" her mother called after her.

"I'm going to get the bus ready for Lance to occupy and then I'm going back to my hotel," where she'd draft a letter of resignation, one she'd fax to Sal tomorrow.

"Can I see the inside?" her mother asked, having followed her.

And that was the way it was with her mom. She pushed and pushed until Sarah pushed back and then, like most bullies, she gave up. Just like that.

"Sure," Sarah said, wondering why she humored her.

Because she's your mother.

Yeah, well, cockroaches were mothers, too, but that didn't stop them from eating their young.

Pocono

Elvis Has Left the Building

Q&A with Lance Cooper

By Rick Stevenson, Sports Editor

Or has he? With Lance Cooper fresh from a victory at Daytona International Speedway, perhaps it's a bit too early to predict his demise. But the naysayers are quick to claim Cooper's recent win was just a fluke, especially after this week's poor practice times at Chicago. Was it a fluke?

RS: Well, Lance, was it?

LC: Well, Rick, I think it's a bit early to be stabbing the stake into my heart.

RS: But you've got to admit, after your stellar performance in Daytona, this week's been a bit of a disappointment. Tell us what you think the problem is.

LC: Simple. I didn't get my weekly batch of animal cookies.

RS: No animal cookies? What's the world coming to? But, seriously, how do you think you're going to do this weekend? And tell us honestly if you're worried.

LC: I hope I can keep my focus, but it might be kind of hard. I'm dealing with some personal issues and that's got me a little distracted, so I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

RS: Personal issues? Anything we should know about?

LC: Nope.

RS: Nope, it's no big deal? Or nope, you're not going to talk about it?

LC: I'm not going to talk about it.

RS: I see. Well, good luck qualifying and good luck this weekend. We'll catch up with you again after New Hampshire.