Sweet Carolina (6 page)

“That old man? Naw, I heard that's how she
got Dell.” another said. “I'll bet he's driving more than her car.”
They all laughed at the remark, adding a number of lewd comments
that resulted in more laughter. Dell sat back and listened briefly.
He didn't care what people said about him, hell, it had all been
said a dozen times: but when it came to Caro, he didn't like what
he was hearing. These people didn't know her. They just didn't want
a woman invading what they perceived as their territory.

“Maybe he'll knock her up and send the little
woman home where she belongs.”

“If he doesn't, someone else will. I bet she
spreads those legs of hers for anybody with a dick.”

Dell had heard enough. He rose from his seat,
removed his cap and held it tightly with both hands to keep from
belting one, or all of them. Two steps brought him to their
table.

“Excuse me,” he said. Four faces turned to
him. He waited until they recognized him and realized they'd been
talking about his new boss and him. “I don't care what you say
about me personally, but the lady in question doesn't deserve to be
talked about that way. I'd appreciate you minding your own
business.”

Dell slipped his cap back on and left,
congratulating himself on getting out before he did something that
would get him suspended from racing – again. NASCAR frowned on
drivers punching out the fans, though in Dell's opinion, the sport
could use a few less fans like those.

Chapter Five

Caro gasped, but refused to look away.
Everything had been going smooth, up until now. Now, all she could
do was sit atop the war wagon and watch helplessly as her racecar
spun down the track, sliding completely out of control through the
narrow strip of grass between the track and the inside wall on turn
three. When it came to a halt, it was facing backwards.

She closed her eyes and sent up a prayer that
Dell was all right – even if he deserved to die for that last
stunt. He'd passed the 28 car without incident. Why he slid in
front of him like he did was beyond comprehension. Getting bumped
and spun out was what he deserved.

“You okay?” Russell asked Dell.

Her headset crackled. Dell's voice met her
ears. “I'm alive.” Caro sighed in relief. “Car's okay, I think.
Restarting now.”

She watched in disbelief as Dell spun the car
around in place, and roared back onto the track. He was several
laps behind now, but he drove with the determination of someone
defending his first place status.

“You've got grass in the grill. Bring it in,”
Russell ordered.

“Not yet. I'll pit with everyone else, unless
we have another problem,” Dell answered.

“What's with him?” Russell asked Caro.
“Doesn't he know he's done for?”

“I don't know,” Caro said. “He's lucky no one
hit him on the spinout.”

“Skill, not luck. He steered the car out of
the way before he lost control in the grass.”

“You think?”

“I know. He spun halfway down the back
straightaway and into turn three and the caution flag never came
out. That took skill.”

Caro shrugged. Skill or no skill, Hawkins
Racing wasn't going to get a win today, and they didn't garner any
favors with the other drivers either. For the first time since she
came up with the idea to hire Dell, she began to wonder if she made
a mistake. The man could drive a racecar – no one would dispute
that – except maybe Dell's father. She didn't know all the details,
but she did know the two of them didn't see eye-to-eye when it came
to racing.

Twenty laps later, and they were done. Dell
lowered the net on the driver's side window and Caro let out a
pent-up breath. He was alive. She was going to kill him.

The car was a total loss. They'd be lucky to
salvage any part of it. As Dell climbed into the back of the
ambulance – standard procedure following a crash – Caro mentally
calculated what the loss of the car would do to their bottom line.
The prognosis wasn't good. They'd have no choice but to use the
backup car for next week's race in Arizona, and they'd have to work
around the clock to build another one. That meant money out the
door. Money they couldn't afford.

* * * *

Dell cursed as he pulled himself up and out
of the car. He managed to make up the laps he'd lost on the
spinout, and was inching his way up on the lead lap when disaster
struck. He couldn't say exactly what happened – someone ahead of
him spun out, crashed into someone else, then all hell broke loose.
He looked around at the carnage. At least a dozen cars were beyond
driving, his included. This wasn't the way he wanted his first race
with Hawkins to end, but some things couldn't be helped.

After being checked out at the track's
medical center and pronounced sound, Dell made his way back to the
hauler. Caro stood with her back to him, supervising the repacking
of their equipment. Dell took a moment to admire the way she filled
out her fire suit. She was a paradox, all business in her team
gear, but the ponytail threaded through the loop in her cap made
her look fragile, and feminine. Dell's palms itched to curl around
the fall of hair and tug her against him. He'd never wanted to get
his hands on an ass in a fire suit before, and he shouldn't be
thinking about it now.

“Caro,” he said. She turned to face him. Dell
was so surprised at the genuine concern on her face, he wanted to
hug her.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I'm fine. The car took most of the impact,”
he said, glancing at the heap of twisted metal the crew was getting
ready to load into the top rack for the return trip.

“So it seems,” she said. “Come with me.” Dell
followed her to the lounge at the front of the hauler where she
evicted Russell, with instructions to leave them alone. Once
Russell closed the door behind him, Caro turned to Dell. All her
earlier concern for his physical being was gone from her face,
replaced by red-hot anger.

“What were you doing out there?” she
asked.

“Racing.”

“Is that what you call it? Because if it is,
you and I have a different definition of the term.” Her hands were
fisted on her hips and her ponytail swished from
shoulder-to-shoulder as she paced the small lounge.

“Wrecks happen, Caro. You know that.”

“Yes, they do, but you don't have to make
them happen, Dell. This one was your fault. You were driving
crazy.” He opened his mouth to argue, but her raised hand stopped
him. “Don't argue the point. I was there. I saw it all. You
shouldn't have been trying to pass in that situation. It couldn't
be done. And don't tell me your spotter didn't tell you the same
thing, because he did.” She was something to see, pacing the lounge
like a caged animal, venting at him in that singsong voice of hers.
Dell wiped the smile from his lips as she turned back in his
direction.

“Can I say something?” he asked.

“No. You can't, Dell. I don't want to hear
anything you have to say unless it's that you won't do it again.”
She stopped her pacing. Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a
deep breath before she continued. “We're hauling home scrap metal,
Dell. Scrap metal.” Her voice rose an octave on the last two words.
“We'll have to take the backup car to Phoenix, and God knows what
you'll drive if something happens to that car during practice or
qualifying. At this rate, we'll have to drag the show car out of
retirement.”

She paused, and Dell thought she might be
expecting him to say something now, but he didn't have a clue what
that might be. He'd done his job. He drove the car – and tried his
best to be a contender.

“Well,” she said. “What do you have to say
for yourself?”

“Look, Caro, I did what you hired me to do. I
drove the car. If you don't like the way I did it, then you should
have hired someone else.” Her cheeks turned pink and her lips
turned white. Dell continued. “You knew what you were getting when
you hired me. If you want a mouse behind the wheel, put Wilson back
in the car. He won't wreck, but he won't win either. You said you
wanted to win: well, that's what I was trying to do. The only way
to win is to lead the pack, and to do that, you have to pass
cars.”

“I know that, Dell,” she said. “I'm not
stupid. I know you have to pass cars to win, but Dell, you took too
many risks. It was only a matter of time before you wrecked.”

“What are you so pissed about? I don't get
you, Caro. Do you want me to race or not?”

“I want you to race, Dell. But I want you to
listen to your spotter and your crew chief. This is a team sport,
Dell. T.E.A.M. No I's in the word team.” She poked a finger into
the center of his chest. “Don't forget it.”

He couldn't help it. He laughed. She was too
damned cute in her fire suit, her face flushed with anger and that
damned ponytail swinging like a pendulum, tempting him to grab it
and yank her head back so he could kiss her. Whoa! He yanked his
thoughts back instead. He shouldn't be thinking about kissing Caro
Hawkins. Not now. Not ever. The conversation he overheard in the
bar popped into his mind. Kissing Caro would be way out of
line.

“What's so funny?”

Dell sobered. “Nothing,” he said. “Look, I
don't know what to tell you, Caro. I drive to win. I'm not going to
sit back and let the other drivers decide where I finish. I'm the
only one who gets to do that.”

“What part of team sport do you not
understand?”

“I understand what you're saying, but you
have to understand too. I'll listen, but I'm the one driving the
car. I'm the one who decides what risks to take. No one else.”

Caro stood toe-to-toe with him for a long,
silent moment. She stepped back. Her shoulders slumped and her body
seemed to shrink. She dropped onto the sofa that took up one wall,
and turned tired eyes on him. “Are you trying to kill yourself,
Dell? Is that what this is all about for you? Is that why you drive
the way you do?”

Dell froze as her words hit home. Was that
what he was doing? No. No. He was only trying to win. He stood
there, his gaze locked with hers as he considered her question. It
was stupid. Completely off the wall, and so far off base he could
never tell her the truth. He searched for words to counter with and
found none. Instead, he strode to the door and stopped with his
hand on the latch. “We'll win in Phoenix,” he said. He pushed the
door open and left, having said all that needed to be said.

* * * *

Caro closed her eyes and focused on
breathing. In. Out. Repeat.

This wasn't working out the way she'd
planned. She'd gone from a driver who the other drivers wouldn't
let finish the race, to a driver who would either win or wreck –
all on his own. She counted to ten before opening her eyes. She had
no one to blame but herself. Hiring Dell was her idea. Admittedly,
it might not have been the best one she'd ever come up with, but
damnit, Dell Wayne could drive a racecar. The last three seasons,
notwithstanding.

She needed to think, analyze. Find a way to
fix this.

As she made her way through the pedestrian
tunnel to her car, she considered her predicament. She hired Dell
for a reason – not just because he was the only seasoned Cup driver
available, and certainly not because he was hot in a fire suit. And
lord knew, the man looked like sin in that suit. No, she hired Dell
because she needed the driver he was during his first year in the
Cup competition, not because of the driver he was today. That first
year, she saw something unique in him. It was difficult to pinpoint
the difference between his first season and all the rest, but there
had been something special about Dell's driving that year.
Brilliant,
came to mind.

That's what it was. He'd been brilliant. Not
overly aggressive, not a patsy for every bully on the track as
Wilson had been, but consistent, and methodical in his pursuit of
victory.

That's the driver she wanted. He was in there
somewhere. She just had to find him and convince him to drive for
her.
That
Dell Wayne would establish Hawkins Racing as a
leader in the sport. There was only one problem – she needed to
find the one she
wanted
, before the one she
had,
bankrupted her. And she didn't have a clue how to go about it.

* * * *

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.