Pedal to the Metal: Love's Drivin' but Fate's Got the Pole (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 3) (66 page)

Jonny raked a hand through his wild mane. “Let’s get going before Marley brains me with that wrench she’s polishing. She’s been foaming at the mouth ever since she saw those crab legs. I got a whole new respect for her, after seeing her throw a hard right.”

Leave it to Jonny to reveal he’d seen the ugly scene in the hospital, and yet, take the sting out of that hideous moment.

He stood. I turned the covers back, thankful that Caroline had been waiting in the driveway with a bag filled with sanitary pads, disposable panties, and extremely un-sexy new pajamas, when Caine brought me home from the hospital. The gesture only another woman would think to make had saved me from trying to dig up clothes from the bags still scattered in the basement.

“Drooling. There’s a difference.”

Jonny slid an arm under my knees. Bracing one behind my back, he lifted me with ease. “’Foaming’ is the one I meant.”

“I can walk, you know.”

He grinned. “Just roll with it. You don’t know how torn up Caine’s been. And by ‘Caine’, I mean him, me, and Colt. Whoever said women were the weaker sex was a dumbass.”

On our way down the hall, he returned to the topic of the confiscated ‘Cuda.

“Greedy Italian motherfuckers. See, Plymouth was part of Chrysler Corporation. Chrysler’s changed hands a couple times, but now, they’ve merged with Fiat as Fiat Chrysler Automobiles. Despite knowing that damn car should, by rights, be rusting away in some landfill outside of Detroit, the board of directors at FCA decided the ‘Cuda’s their property. They had the sheriff seize it. Rumor has it that Sheriff Brown had the paperwork by Wednesday, but he ordered his secretary to lose it so the car would be on hand for the race.”

I’d have to thank Mack. Racing for cash didn’t have the same thrill.

Jonny strode down the hall. When he stepped into the den, Harry stuffed the rag he was running across the TV screen into the back pocket of his jeans. “Cute jammies.”

Jonny paused so I could hug Harry. “Caroline picked them.” He would like the green toy Army soldiers, despite the hot pink background.

Phillip raised a glass of tea from his spot on the couch. “There she is! A world record holder! Your time and record have been certified, by the way. I have three hot rod mags lined up to interview you. They want your pretty face on their covers, babe. And that persistent bastard at ESPN.”

Colt, Caroline, Caine, and Marley filled the opening to the breakfast nook, blocking my view of the table. Little Shelby danced at their feet, ringlets bouncing.

The child shrieked. “My fairy godmomma! My fairy godmomma!”

A deeper voice rumbled from behind them. “Shoulda known Ernie had the 6k ‘Cuda all along.”

Caine and Caroline moved one way, Marley and Colt the other. Shelby shook off her mother’s hand and dashed to throw her arms around Jonny’s leg. Caroline darted forward to grab the child.

I gaped at the devilish goatee on the man seated at the far end of the table.

“Dale! You’re home.”

After the first ripple of shock wore off, I’d realized, I should’ve known the whereabouts of the ‘Cuda, too. Hadn’t Ernie said that he’d been all set to go with Dale to Michigan to pick the up when the season ended? Ernie would never let a once-in-a-lifetime deal slip through his hands. The thing that pissed me off was that Barnes figured out where the damn car was and I hadn’t.

Francine leaned across the bar, waving. “Ernie intended to give it to you for graduation. Then, last week, Kolby showed up asking to buy it. I decided you’d rather win it, but set up the deal so I’d still own the car if you lost. And, thanks for vouching for me, kiddo.” She patted her hair. “Steel bars are not my best look.”

“Vouched for you?” Dale frowned. “With who?”

“Mack Brown.” Caroline supplied the name, tugging her daughter’s curls. “Who ain’t Santa Claus, by the way. But it gets harder every day to tell the difference.”

Dale’s brows disappeared beneath the brim of his Hannah-Built cap. Caine stepped to the table and jerked out a chair, shaking his head.

“Yeah, me neither. Don’t get how that come about, but her and Mack’s practically sorority sisters these days.”

A ragtag assortment of chairs—four looked like they’d come from Robyn’s set—surrounded a four-by-eight sheet of something that’d been laid on top of the table. The plastic drape sported little purple cars and the word ‘congratulations!’ My brothers hadn’t bothered with balloons or streamers. Caine pulled out the chair at the head of the table. Jonny lowered me into the seat.

“Gather ‘round. I got to say a word ‘fore we eat.” Colt’s eyes went wide when Dale extended both hands. One after another, my friends and family moved to their seats. Colt linked hands with his father and Phillip, who also held Harry’s hand. Harry reached for Caroline’s hand, and Caine’s. Caine held his palm open for mine. Marley took my other hand and then clasped Jonny’s. Jonny gripped little Shelby’s hand. The child held a chubby palm out for Francine. Francine reached across the vacant seat to clasp Dale’s outstretched palm. Dale gripped her fingers and bowed his head.

“Lord, bringing us all together one roof is a blessin’ we recognize and thank You for. Bless the food and those who prepared it. And thank you for sendin’ me a wake up call ‘fore it was too late. Amen.”

Dale dropped Francine’s hand, but held on to Colt’s.

“Son, someone’s about to walk though that door. I ain’t explainin’, not tonight, but I need you to roll with it. Don’t you dare show less guts or grace than your sister.”

Dale tipped his chair back and tapped on the storm door. At night, the two glass panels let anyone see inside, but threw back the reflection of the room—a weird side-effect of the energy-efficient film on every window in the house.

I gaped. Little Shelby squealed, “Grandma!”

Powder blue scrubs set off Robyn’s cornflower eyes. Her sleek hair shone and her makeup had been carefully applied. She lifted a round casserole dish that matched the tea pot in the middle of the table.

“Seems none of your men know how to make a banana puddin’ from scratch. Congratulations, Shelby. Best racin’ I’ve seen in years happened this past weekend.” Her eyes were drawn to the opposite end of the table. She gave Colt a shy smile. “You drive like your daddy, son.”

Dale took Robyn’s hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, babe.” His voice was thick with gravel and colored with regret, but maybe I read what I wanted to see into those two words.

Colt’s chin wobbled, but he swallowed hard and held it together. My poor heart did the squeezing, expanding, flying thing when tears turned Colt’s lower lashes to spikes.

“So nice to see you again, Robyn. My goodness, you haven’t changed. Still beautiful. Won’t you sit down?” Francine gestured to the empty chair.

“Thank you.” Robyn slid the dish onto the bar, then moved to the table. “It’s been a long time, Francine. I was so sorry to hear about Ernie’s passin’.”

Wait a minute. They know each other?

Caroline hadn’t seemed surprised to see her mother walk in, but now, she turned my way and raised her brows.

I shrugged. “Pass the crab legs before Marley gets into ‘em, please.” I lifted the pair of channel locks beside my plate and waggled them. “Since we both grew up only children, I figure this could get ugly.”

“Hey, princess, I sterilized those so we could share ‘em.” Marley gave me a cheesy grin.

I squinted at the grease that remained on the handles. “Really? Don’t quit your day job, honey.”

The tense set to Caine’s shoulders relaxed.

Francine lifted the platter of steaks. “Take one and pass it around,” she urged.

Phillip picked up the story where Francine left off.

“I got an injunction to stop hold the car here in the county and petitioned the local court for a hearing on the merits of FCA’s claim that Francine’s in possession of stolen property, since she’s relocating here and we do not wanna have this fight in Detroit—or Maryland, or God forbid, Italy. I spent the last two days answering questions from the press and filing responses. We’re going to the mat on this. At worst, I’ll shove a massive bill for storage fees down their throats. At best, we’ll get the ‘Cuda back.”

He spread his hands. “And, while we’re being thankful, the partners at my firm are dancing in the aisles over all the press we’re getting.”

Aw, Robert’s dad must be so pissed.

“That’s the thing about the women you hang with.” Harry’s mile-wide grin made me give him one in return. “A kick-ass bunch if ever I saw one. Fiat thought Francine was just some little schoolteacher in South Carolina. I’d love to have been a fly on the wall when Phillip dropped the news that she’s now the majority stockholder in NASCAR.”

“What?” I blurted, louder than I meant.

Dale paused with his tea glass halfway to his lips. “You didn’t know she was an England?”

I rolled my eyes. “Uh, hell no. She mentioned she left Daytona Beach to get away from racing and race car drivers.” I squinted at Francine, while Caine plopped the huge pot of crab legs in front of me. “How’d you happen to leave out the part about NASCAR being the family business?”

“Bad habit I started back in high school.” My friend smiled the widest smile I’d seen from her since Ernie’s initial heart attack. “I kept waiting for Richard to spill the beans at the Christmas party. I knew Doris would choke on her giggle juice before she said anything. She prefers the view from up Georgie’s ass. Like him, it suits her to pretend I don’t exist.”

She gave a sharp snap of her fingers. “I wish ‘em luck with that, going forward.”

Loud laughter rattled the makeshift table. Caroline gasped through her giggles. “Mama calls Doris a witch.” She darted Dale an apologetic glance. “Sorry.”

“Doris is a witch.” Robyn leaned forward, fastening her eyes on me. “Don’t feel bad. I traveled with her and Ernie off and on for months. Learned she was George England’s first cousin on the eleven o’clock news last night.”

Marley waved. “Hi, Robyn. I’m Marley Taggert. Not sure how you feel about me, but meetin’ you has been at the top of my bucket list for a long time.”

Robyn’s cheeks matched the crab legs. “Uh, okay. Nice meetin’ you, too.” She unleashed that beautiful smile. “I love to watch you race. But girl, you need to put Rowdy into the wall.”

“Amen.” I waved the heavy pliers.

“Workin’ on it.” Marley promised. “I don’t have Kolby’s skills. Yet.”

“What are you doing here?” I smiled at Dale.

“I live here.” His progress with the steak knife was slow, but everyone ignored his struggle, until he threw down the knife. “Ah, hell. I gotta pay rent now, don’t I?”

“That steak looks tough.” Francine jumped to her feet and seized his plate. “I left a couple in the kitchen that might be more tender.”

She hurried around the bar. I filled my plate and passed Marley the crab, while Colt and Caine exchanged a look.

Caine turned to his dad. “Yep. If you’re workin’, you’re payin’ rent. If you ain’t workin’, your ass is in the street. Ain’t that how it goes, Colt?” 

“Oh. I guess I have to pay rent, too.” I snapped the first fat leg on top of the pile, smiling to myself while I watched Francine slide a knife from the drawer with ninja-like stealth.

“What’d I tell you the day I moved you in here, young’un?” Dale peered at me, then frowned at Caine.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Every man here works hard so I don’t have to?”

He used his fork to point. “You’re gonna work hard. You just ain’t payin’ no damn rent.”

“Cutest Neanderthal ever.” I blew him a kiss. “Back to the question.”

“We had to spring him.” Caine snagged the bowl of foil-wrapped potatoes. Jonny seized a similar bowl filled with ears of yellow corn. “Doc said he can’t drive for a month. You can’t lift nothin’ heavier’n a hairbrush for at least thirty days, accordin’ to your doctor. I gotta be in Dover tomorrow night. Colt and Jonny are flyin’ up Friday mornin’. Means Dad had to step up.”

Something that felt a lot like a steel-toed boot pressed my bare foot. “Y’all can take care of each other.”

The doctor had said no such thing about me. Even if it were true, Caroline lived minutes away and was barely working two days a week. But, Dale felt needed now, which should ease his pride and help speed his recuperation. Caine could engineer more than a car, it seemed.

A chip off the old block.

Francine returned with Dale’s plate. We all pretended not to see the neat cubes of steak, Dale most of all.

The food slowed the conversation. I passed on the veggies to stuff down as many crab legs as possible. Marley matched me, bite for bite.

Francine shuddered when I used the pliers to crack a claw. “As a resident of Florida throughout my youth, I cannot resist buying seafood utensils. I know I have at least ten sets. I’m giving you five of them when I move.”  She described the houses she’d screened on her search for a new home, saying her search had narrowed to two properties. At last, even Phillip and Colt pushed their plates away.

“Give me five minutes,” Phillip groaned, rubbing his belly. “We’ll clean the kitchen.”

“We savin’ that bubbly for somethin’ more important than a world record?” Dale demanded.

I grinned. “Let me guess. You drink, too, but you just quit buying booze?”

“Busted.” Colt chuckled. “She’s on to you, old man. We done what we could to slow her down from figurin’ you out.”

“I’ll do the honors,” Harry offered. We each got about an inch in our cups before the bottle ran dry.

“Why does that stuff seem to last longer when someone’s pourin’ it down the back of your racin’ leathers?” Colt rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

“Like you’d know.” Marley sniffed, getting chuckles from Robyn.

“The only thing better than a smart ass, is warmin’ that ass.” Colt stood and leaned across the table, pressing his finger to the tip of Marley’s nose.

Dale choked on his champagne, but Robyn laughed out loud. “I always said God had a twisted sense of humor, if you could stay alive long enough to see the punch line.”