Pedal to the Metal: Love's Drivin' but Fate's Got the Pole (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 3) (6 page)

Mom laughed. “Now, Dale’s just pulling your leg, Robert. Shelby’s been showing us how grown up she is for years. She’s not about to tolerate such an old-fashioned notion. Don’t let him scare you.”

“Wait. Am I at the right table?” I jerked upright. “Mr. Kossel, I don’t know who spends more time telling me I need to pay more attention to tradition, my mother or your son. And now, they’re just gonna let Robbie wriggle right off that hook? I don’t think so.”

“Give him hell, Shelby.” Senior laughed. “Every man secretly wants a woman who’ll make him work his ass off to get her.”

I winced inwardly. Senior had no way of knowing he’d just insulted the fuck out of my parents.

This was a terrible idea. 

Mom straightened in her seat, looking like she’d just had a corncob shoved up her ass. “Shelby, why don’t you bring Robert home for spring break? We have plenty of bedrooms. Oh. I know! Why don’t we all fly to the race? Doris and Richard have a lovely box at Martinsville. Have you ever been to a NASCAR race, Robert? It’s a huge party. Where will we be that week, honey?”

“Bristol. That’s in Tennessee,” Dale added with an innocent look that made me choke on my tea. I took another shot at Robert’s ankle. He moved his foot, but had the sense not to take Mom up on the offer. The way Dale just happened to know the date of an event that was two months away gave away the pre-planned nature of her ‘sudden’ idea.

“Sounds like a fun trip.” Senior beamed at Mom, then darted Robert a sideways glance, but Robert reached for the wine bottle and ignored his dad, thank the Lord.

“Richard and Doris own the team, I believe? You’ve been with Ridenhour a long time, Dale. Quite the career.” Senior rushed to cover the awkward silence.

“Quarter of a century. When they gonna cut that cast off, Shelby?” Dale propped his elbows on the table, resting his chin atop his folded hands. Mom nudged him. He dropped his hand beneath the table, then slid one arm behind her and gave her big eyes, like a naughty schoolboy who’d gotten caught with mud on his shoes.

My anger at her for being embarrassed by Dale skyrocketed.

I lifted my encased elbow and placed it on the snowy linen, meeting Mom’s glare with a bland smile. “I made them take new X-rays last week. Now, they’re saying only three more weeks, rather than six. He tried to say, once the cast came off, I’d have to go to physical therapy. I told him Harry’d get my tray-lifting arm into shape for free.”

“Really, Shelby, you should listen to the professionals.” Robert stroked the grimy purple plaster like I was some lap cat. He lifted a brow and gave Mom an exasperated look. “Help me out here, Mrs. Hannah. She’s always been impetuous, but since the wreck, she’s gotten... well, let’s say her filter got knocked to the ‘off’ position. If it passes through her mind, it comes out of her mouth.”

“This is still America, ain’t it?” Dale’s eyes twinkled. “Woman ought to be able to say what’s on her mind.” I wanted to hug his ass for that damn smirk. “Especially a college-educated woman like my daughter. When she talks, I listen.”

“You will go to therapy,” Mom announced, sealing the idea in my mind that I, indeed, would not. “No arguments, Shelby. You can’t play around with an arm that was shattered in three places. I just spoke to Doris about this the other day. She assured me that physical therapy is covered by Dale’s insurance. Therefore, I fail to see the issue.”

Robert sat up straighter. “Was there any problem with the insurance claim on the car she wrecked, sir?”

“No claim. Her brother’s fixin’ ‘em both up.”

“But, your vehicle insurance—” Senior began. “Uh, had coverage lapsed?”

I glanced down for something to smack the old man with, but dale’s tone was smooth as glass. “Ain’t no claim to be made. Turns out, the insurance folks get their boxers in a bunch if you wreck durin’ a drag race. That’s not a risk they assumed.”

“Drag race?” Mr. Kossel sat his wine glass down and gave Dale a wide-eyed look. “Worst problem I had with my daughters was with the youngest. She liked to sneak out of the house after we went to sleep. But drag racing?”

Dale laughed. “I mighta set it up for her. She done real good, too. Things just went a bit sideways after she crossed the finish line.” He lifted his shoulders. “That’s racin’.”

Mom gave the wine bottle a longing look, but kept her mouth shut. Mr. Kossel leaned back in his seat, but peered at me. I smiled.

“Turns out, getting ready for a drag race is a great way to keep your mind off what Santa’s bringing. We should make it a family tradition, Dale.”

“You keep winnin’ high-dollar cars and ol’ Santa’s gonna get to retire.” Dale beamed, then shoved his hand inside his jacket. “Oh. That reminds me.” Pulling out an envelope, he extended it across the table. “Caine said you—rightly so—lit his ass up about usin’ your design on that Camaro without permission. I’m kinda partial to that graphic, though. I’d like to license it from you, sweetheart, along with the rest of them you done for Christmas. It’s a percentage deal. Paid twice a year.”

“Got a pen?” Carrying a purse was a luxury I’d foregone since breaking my arm. I turned to Mom for a writing instrument, and Robert—the younger—took it on himself to tug the envelope from Dale’s hand. To my astonishment, he opened the envelope and slid the contract out.

“I reckon I was drivin’ ‘fore I got straight with the state on that license, so,”— Dale’s smile had the dangerous edge I recalled from the drag race, when he’d traded words with Kolby over the engine swap—“be my guest, son.”

I yanked the contract from Robert’s hand. “He’s my dad. He’s not gonna cheat me any more than I’d sue my family.” I darted another glance at Dale, but he leaned over to kiss Mom on the cheek, then took a peek down the front of her blouse. I bit my tongue to keep from saying more.

While I scrawled my name, I darted another glance at Senior. Mom had dropped ten pounds since Christmas. Her haircut was new and extremely flattering, but I doubted our host had noticed her face. The low-cut neckline of her dress had Senior every bit as spellbound as Dale.

The arrival of the waiter saved the Kossels from anything I might have said. I handed the signed document back to Dale and pounced on the delicious bread.

“Oh, look.” I grinned when I spied the small dish on the waiter’s tray. “Here’s your tomáto purée. Turns out, do you get what you ask for.”

Senior asked for the wine steward. We struggled through another few minutes’ conversation. I perked up when I spied the server bringing our appetizers.

As soon as my plate hit the table, Mom leaned close to whisper. “Here, Shelby, let me cut that up for you.” She shifted her knife and fork over my plate.

I stiffened. “It’s a mushroom, for fuck’s sake. I can handle it.”

“It’s not steak?” Mom’s brow furrowed.

“Did you not hear me order the sautéed Portabella cap?”

“I thought those were the size of a quarter. She leaned so close, her head touched mine. “Don’t be rude. It looks like a filet mignon.”

I whispered back. “But this is the appetizer course. The trailer park’s in your rear view. Isn’t that what the new house and pushing me toward Robert is really all about? Try to keep up. Somewhere, Bliss is writhing in shame.”

Her cheeks flushed. Hurt flashed in her eyes. I had a similar soft spot in my armor about paying our rent with Section 8 vouchers.

Until Dale. How dare she act ashamed of him?

The sommelier returned. Senior ordered a second bottle of wine. It arrived along with the main course, but at least nobody offered to cut my damn meat. We all passed on dessert, and at long last, Dale and Robert dueled over the bill. Senior won. Dale threw down a hundred-dollar bill for the tip. To my shock, Senior added a twenty.
Jesus Christ, how much was that wine?
Senior didn’t strike me as overly generous.

The night air cooled my stinging cheeks. I paused on the front sidewalk to say good-bye to Dale and Mom, but Dale tipped his head in the direction of the gleaming black dually truck with a pointed look that froze me.

“It was real nice meetin’ you folks. We appreciate the fine meal, but if you don’t mind, it’d make me feel better if Shelby rode back to the dorm with us.”

“Why?” Robert burst out. “I only had four glasses of wine. It’s less than two miles.”

Dale gave him the grin that wasn’t remotely jovial. “My family’s priceless to me, son. My womenfolk are the crown jewels in that treasure box. I got no control over what Shelby does when I ain’t lookin’, but—”

“See you later.” I tried to smile at Senior, but the huff of amusement he gave pissed me off, so, I stalked to the truck, praying his own Mercedes ran over the arrogant ass.

As soon as Dale pulled to a halt in front of the campus’s main building, I slung the rear door open. Ignoring the tears in her eyes, I leaned over the seat to give her a perfunctory hug.

“I cannot take one more scene. My head hurts all the damn time as it is. Love you. Happy Valentine’s Day. Have fun this week. Bye.”

“I’ll, uh, just walk Shelby to her dorm, Macy.” Dale hopped out of the truck.

Relieved she didn’t insist on coming inside for a drawn out good-bye, like she was headed for Dubai rather than Daytona, I stalked toward the dorm. Dale’s long legs caught up to me easily.

“Listen, kiddo. Have you seen the neurologist again?”

“Yes.” I slowed with a sigh. “I even told him that I swing from moody to bitchy like I’m stuck on a trapeze. He said sudden shifts in mood were normal for someone who’d had a concussion. All he offered me was another prescription for pain meds. I’m already struggling to study. The drugs make it harder to concentrate, so I turned him down.”

“Just gonna tough it out, huh?” He stopped in front of the stairs leading to the back door of my dorm. I skipped up the step and paused to say goodnight.

“Yep. To be honest, if the headaches would go away, I’d be cool with the rest of my symptoms. It’s kind of hilarious to see people’s expressions whenever I say the stuff I’ve been thinking for years.”

Standing one step up, I had a good view of his troubled expression, but I put my arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for playing along with my bitchery at dinner. I wish you’d told that old bastard off, though.”

“Cale Yarborough’s a good ol’ boy from South Carolina. Ernie ever tell you about him?”

“Uh, I think so. Wasn’t he one of only two NASCAR drivers to win back to back championships three different times?”

“Yep. He once said, ‘Don’t ever wrestle with a pig. You’ll both get dirty, but the pig will enjoy it. I figured I could substitute ‘lawyer’ for ‘pig’, so....” He lifted his palms and grinned.

That made me chuckle, but I still felt wound too tight. “I really like Robert, but our families are just different. He’s different when his dad’s around. I like our family, Dale. I know I used my injury as an excuse to be rude. But, at least I had a damn excuse. I know when someone’s being an asshole because they think they’re superior.”

Out of all that babble, he seized on, “You
like
him?” His piercing look made my heart falter. Before I could cover my mistake, he barked, “Listen up.”

The stern tone kept me from interrupting.

“Some folks would say I messed up big time, because my young’uns ain’t born nine months apart and they got different mamas. Hell, until recently, I agreed with ‘em.” He reached up to adjust his absent baseball cap, grimacing before dropping his hand with a sigh.

“But since me and you had that talk about Colt, I been paying attention to... to their fight for equal marriage and the like. People I used to respect are sayin’ some really stupid shit. Exactly the kind of stupid shit they said to me about some of my choices. Then, I realized, if we applied their thinkin’ to transportation, we’d all still be ridin’ jackasses.”

I burst out laughing.

He stuck one foot on the step where I stood and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “Just because there’s so many of ‘em thinking the same way, don’t make ‘em fuckin’ right, but I didn’t see that till now. So, you taught me somethin’. Let me return the favor. Don’t settle for someone you just
like
. Find someone who stands you on your damn hea—”

He bit off the words. From the distress in his eyes, I knew he realized that, after a miserable ninety minutes spent gleefully kicking other peoples’ land mines, he’d landed squarely on mine. His jaw worked as he scanned the dorm’s brick façade.

“I’m an idiot. Everything you done makes sense now. I’m so sorry, Shelby. I forget sometimes that what they done to Robyn was a thousand times worse than anything they said to me.”

And they drove Jill to kill herself
.

Pain took my breath, but the porch lamps showed the suffering in his eyes. I had to make him feel better.

“Dale, I—I do love Robert. He’s smart and he’s a lot like me. He admires his dad so much, he just has to show off whenever he’s around the man.”

I drilled a finger into his abdomen, hitting solid muscle. “You famous dudes set the bar pretty high, you know. Me and Robert? Two peas in a pod. Whenever we act out, we’re really saying that we’re terrified we won’t measure up.”

He ruffled my hair like a kid. His intent eyes belied the easy smile. “Listen, other folks’ expectations are like hand-me-down clothes. Even if they’re your size, the patches on the knees never hit you in the right spot. Measurin’ up ain’t nothin’ you gotta worry about. You done that and then some, just by walkin’ through this gate. Listen, honey, I know you can’t work, so—”

I held up a hand, unnerved by the unexpected twists in the conversation. “Kolby Barnes is paying my bills.”

“Huh?” His shocked expression washed away my annoyance with Mom and well, everyone who wasn’t Dale.

“The video from the race has had over six million views. That translates into big ad share bucks from Google.”

“Oh?” Now, his eyes twinkled again. “Okie dokie. Far as I’m concerned, you’ve earned the right to run your life as you see fit. So, if you don’t think you need rehab, don’t go to fuckin’ rehab.”

I threw my arms around him again. “Give ‘em hell in Daytona.”