Magnetic Shift (5 page)

He tossed his shirt aside, snagged a stretchy black shirt with white stitching from the shelf, threaded his arms through the short, tight sleeves, and then turned to face me.

I gulped and swallowed the gasp back down.

The tips of his long, straight hair swept his cheekbones as he lifted his arms to pull the tight-fitting shirt over his head, granting me a full, uncensored view of his chest and abs. Oh, he definitely worked out. Those were not natural. No lazy nineteen-year-old could look this perfect. I tried to tear my poor virgin eyes away, but instead they centered on his ribcage, sprinted a lap and a half around his belly button and crossed the finish line at the belt that kept his fire suit from falling off at his hips. My temples ached as if they were being stabbed repeatedly with a pocketknife. What was wrong with me? It’s not like I’d never seen a guy shirtless before. Many guys walked around the yard shirtless back home, some way more drool-worthy than the view I’d just seen, so why was I losing my marbles?

I closed my eyes, strained against the building pressure, and pushed up every wall I could to contain the magnetic currents, but it wasn’t enough. A pair of bolt cutters next to me wobbled off the wall and fell off the workbench, followed by the hook
they’d been hanging from. I hadn’t seen them fall, but I’d felt them. Colton bent to pick up the fallen tool and inspected the jagged-edged hook. “Huh. Guess this anchor was a dud.”

My face grew hot, probably turning the same shade of red as the coil springs behind me. The tension in my head eased, but still tried to fight me. I dipped my eyes to the floor and released the canine grip from my bottom lip. I had to say something, anything. I couldn’t just stand here like an idiot. “You must be really hot with all those layers on.”

Seriously? Out of all the things I could have said, that was what came out of my mouth? This moment desperately merited a face-palm. I was such an idiot.

His lips twitched and then formed a smile as he tucked the hem of his shirt into his suit. “It does get extremely hot in that car, but this type of fabric actually helps keep me cool. It’s not mandatory, though. One guy I know likes to go commando under his suit.” Colton winked.

My face boiled. I didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want him to see how his words and actions were affecting me, although the pink-to-red-to-purple trick my cheeks had surely done had more than likely given me away.

He reached for his cap, raked his hair back with his free hand, and slid the cap into place, setting the brim low on his forehead, shading his eyes and giving them an added air of mystery.

“So, now that
I’m
ready …” He rested his hands on his hips and glanced at the wall of aluminum cupboard doors lining half of the aisle. “Where are we going to find you a spare …?” He rushed to one of the doors, swung it open, shut it, and then opened the neighboring one with his other hand. “There we
go.”

He pulled out a set of large, red, retro-looking headphones. “This should do. Remind me to have Dean order you a set.”

He moved toward me. An amazing scent filled my nostrils. He had a familiar smell—tangy and sweet, like men’s cologne only better. It took me a few inhales to trigger my memory. Phoenix Axe body spray. That was it. Chris, a guy who sometimes helped out at the salvage yard on weekends, skunked himself with the stuff before leaving at the end of every day. I pitied his poor girlfriend for having to put up with it. On Chris, the scent was overwhelming, poisonous even, but on Colton, his natural sweet smell mixed in well. Even with the added hint of burnt rubber and racing fuel, it still managed to turn my knees into processed string cheese.

Colton hooked the headset around my neck, rested his hands on my shoulders and slouched down to my level, eye-to-eye. “You ready?”

I forced a smile despite the odd, uncomfortable tightening in my chest. And let’s not forget my constant struggle to control the static sparks from flaring inside my head—about ready to burst and send objects flying—that seemed to intensify each time Colton got too close. “I guess.”

“Good. Follow me.”

Colton lifted his fire suit from his waist, slipped his arms through the sleeves, and led me out the back door to the aluminum ladder resting against the awning-like tailgate raised between the back door and the upper compartment where the cars were stored during transport.

“Dean should be up there already. He’ll set you up.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He winked, then turned to leave. “I’ll see you after practice.”

When I reached the top of the second ladder, Dean offered his hand to help me up the last few steps. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

I looked past him at the track and the massive, colorful grandstands that stretched out both sides and murmured under my breath, “So was I.”

Dean stood next to a tall man dressed in dark jeans, a white shirt, and a purple tie, similar to Dean’s own attire. In front of them, a girl about my age wearing a pink headset that matched her tank top and denim shorts was leaning over the aluminum safety railing as far as she could, aiming her sights at pit road.

“There he is, Daddy,” she said.

“Lexi, meet Mr. Langdon, the CEO of Guardian Auto Insurance, and his lovely daughter, Gwen.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Mr. Langdon said, extending his hand my way.

Gwen turned and pulled back her left earphone. “Who’s she?” Her eyes narrowed in my direction.

“Gwendolyn. Your manners!” Mr. Langdon glared at his daughter.

Dean placed a hand on my shoulder, “Lexi, here, might be helping us out at the shop this season. She’s got some pretty impressive mechanical skills.”

“Does she,” Mr. Landon said, more as a statement than a question. He released his firm grip from my hand and smiled.

Gwen looked me over like I was nothing more than a goop of gum stuck to the bottom of her wedge shoe, then repositioned her headset and turned back to face the track. “He’s starting her
up, Daddy, look.” She pointed again toward pit road.

Mr. Langdon ignored his daughter and tilted his head back. “Glad the weather finally cleared up. I was afraid we wouldn’t see the Angel car fly her first race.”

Dean followed the man’s gaze while securing a scanner to his waist like it was second nature. “Schedule changes have been brutal, but everything looks good for Sunday’s 500.”

The big block V8 engines below roared to life. Dean motioned for me to put my headset on, clipped a scanner to my waistband, and then showed me how to tune it to the right channel. The instant he plugged me in, Colton’s voice blared into my ears: “Let’s go do this thing.” I jumped and reached for the scanner’s volume button.

Colton took to the track with the others, the sun glaring off his hood as he tilted up onto the sloped surface of the track and gradually inclined into the steep banked turns.

“Take a few laps to warm her up and then let her rip,” the voice in my headset instructed him. That had to be Lenny.

“Roger that,” Colton replied.

Colton brought the car up to speed, testing his lines. I’d at least retained that tidbit of knowledge from when Mama used to drag me to the dirt tracks as a kid to watch Roy race his small block modified. That was before they married and before his salvage yard business expanded into a hised enterprise. Before his temper got worse. He didn’t have time to take out his stress and frustrations out on the dirt tracks on the weekends anymore, and with Mama gone and unable to keep him in check, he’d become the bruise-making bastard he was today.

“How’s she feelin’?” Lenny said, snapping me out of memory lane.

Colton rounded out of turn four. “She’s loose. Ass end’s all over the place.”

“Noted. We’ll tighten her up.”

“Not too much,” Colton warned. “You know how I hate it when she’s too tight.”

“Ten-four,” Lenny replied with a chuckle.

Gwen lowered her headset and turned to Dean. “Do I get to meet him after he’s done practicing? I want to invite him to my eighteenth birthday party next month.”

Mr. Langdon’s expression fell. “Now, Gwendolyn, honey, remember what I told you.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “Aww, come on, Daddy. He’ll be in town that weekend anyway, and he’d be stupid to miss it. I throw the best parties.” With that last comment, her eyes flicked toward me. I rolled mine and turned away.

Bratty and spoiled. Check.

After a few more laps, Colton ducked back into the pits, and Gwen made a beeline for the ladder.

Dean leaned in my direction and lowered his voice. “And so it begins.”

I pulled off my headset and rubbed my ear where the foam piece had suctioned to my skin. “What begins?”

“Colton is the youngest driver in the Cup series. Teen girls are going to flock to him like seagulls on french fries.”

I scrunched my face. “And what do I look like to you? I’m a teen girl. You don’t see me flocking.”

Dean laughed and glanced over at Mr. Langdon, who was chasing after his daughter, trying to talk some sense into her. “You’re different. You appreciate the mechanical side of the sport. I’m talking about girls who fawn over boy bands and
Teen Beat
magazine cover models.”

I grimaced.

“Yeah, exactly. Colton has the look girls like and our PR rep Nancy thinks it’ll get him tons of exposure. NASCAR’s newest teenage heartthrob, she calls him.”

“Didn’t he race in the ProNation Series last year?”

“There are many young guns who come and go in the ProNation. It’s like the minor league circuit of NASCAR. Racing the Cup series means you’re in it for the long haul. At least we hope. And—”

“And girly-girls tend to get attached to their celebrity crushes,” I finished for him.

Dean tapped my shoulder and laughed. “You catch on quick.”

We made our way to Colton’s garage, where Gwen was already in the midst of introducing herself to him, flipping her long blond hair and showing off her long, tanned legs by stretching one out in a runway model-type pose.

Unbelievable. The way she flirted with the guy, you’d swear it was a sport. But who could blame her? Colton Tayler was smokin’ hot.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he told her in response to her party invitation.

I leaned close to Dean. “Is he for real? Would he actually go?”

Dean shrugged. “She is his major sponsor’s daughter. He has to play nice. Guardian only signed on for seven races. The Board of Directors votes on sponsoring for the rest of the season after Texas in three months.”

“Looks like she’s milking it for all it’s worth.”

“You bet she is.”

Gwen twirled a finger around a piece of her hair. “I’m going to be at all of your races. Daddy said I could use the corporate jet,” she said to him, then curled her lips into a seductive smile.

Great. I hadn’t seen the last of Little Miss Flirty Pants.

“Dean?” I caught up to Dean, who was wandering toward Colton. “Hey. Um. Would you mind if I headed back to the motor coach? It’s been a long day.” That and this chicky was making me nauseous.

Dean flashed me an understanding look. “Sure thing. I’ll meet you back there for supper in about an hour.”

I gave him a pinched-lip nod, took one last glance at Colton—who appeared to be enjoying every flirtatious advance Gwen threw his way—and took off in the opposite direction.

chapter five

A knock at the door snapped me out of my academic trance. I tugged at the cords of my ear buds and popped them out. “Come in,” I said.

The door swung open, and Dean leaned in past the doorframe. Having ditched his shirt and tie combo for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, Dean looked younger, less businesslike, and much less intimidating. “You hungry? We’re heading over to Lenny’s RV for some grilled burgers.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be right there.”

“Ten-four. We’ll be outside.”

I nodded and watched the door close behind him. I’d only been here two days, and already Dean talked and acted as if he’d known me for years.

I saved my history assignment, logged off, and met up with Dean and Colton outside. My first breath of fresh air filled my nostrils with the sweet, smoky aroma of meat grilling nearby. Many of the drivers and their families were congregated outside their RVs, campers, and motor coaches while their kids ran
around shouting and playing games. Some even had their dogs with them, playing fetch and getting belly rubs.

Colton had also changed into casual attire—green and blue knee-length board shorts, another Guardian Auto Insurance t-shirt, and a matching ball cap. His mirrored shades gave me a twitch of disappointment, though. A part of me had looked forward to seeing his fascinating eyes again.

He fell in step next to me without saying a word. We walked in silence. I looked around the infield, up at the tall palm trees, and caught a glimpse of the large body of water ran the length of the backstretch. I wondered if they blocked access to it during events like this, and made a note to check it out tomorrow.

The gentle graze of Colton’s hand against mine pulled me out of my distracted thoughts. An instant chill traveled up my arm. I looked down at his hand, then up at him. His face had no expression and remained focused ahead. I looked away.

“I didn’t see you after practice,” he said finally, after I was forced to sidestep into him to avoid the two screaming kids chasing each other around the lot.

I looked up at him. “You were busy. I didn’t want to bother you.”

He slid his shades down to the tip of his nose, revealing eyes that matched the deep green and blue tones of his board shorts.

“That was nothing. Just you wait ’till race day. I’m going to have to fend the girls off with a tire iron.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to impress me or something?”

“No. I was just stating a fact.” With a tap of his index finger, he returned his shades to the bridge of his nose.

I rolled my eyes and shooed away the images of screaming
girly fans swirling inside my head. Did he know how arrogant he sounded?

Dean called out and waved to a group of people under a gray and teal striped awning at the end of the row. Lenny stood at the grill wearing a greasy white apron with the words “Flip This” across the front, flipping hamburger patties while the other crew members lounged in lawn chairs in the shade, sipping beers and drinks on the rocks. I recognized two of the guys from when I’d arrived at the track yesterday, but the others I couldn’t place.