Shifting Gears (5 page)

But as he did, he heard her gasp, sweet and soft and so incredibly erotic that he had to grit his teeth against the rush of arousal that shook him. His fingers locked around the knob and he twisted it almost violently, pulling the door open.

Fuck if that wasn't a mistake. The way they were standing, she had to press closer to him in order to make space for the door to open, and for some perverse reason, his body was refusing to yield to hers, to give her room to step away. But she didn't even try. She didn't even attempt to squeeze tight in order to avoid touching him, and for a brief moment, her breasts were pressed against his bicep, the dip of her waist against his hip.

And then the door was open and she was turning away, stepping over the threshold and onto the stoop like nothing had happened, while every last hair on his body seemed to be standing on end. By the time they reached his truck, he was having a hard time thinking about anything but taking her. Just … taking.

“Well. It was nice to see you again, Grady.”

She sounded breathless from walking a mere ten feet.

Ha.
So she wasn't as unaffected as he'd thought. Feral satisfaction coursed through him for a moment, but then he remembered that she was coming in for a job interview next week. That meant hands off.

Damn.

He nodded. “Good to see you again, too.” He debated whether to hug her goodbye, but there was no way his already taxed control was going to survive that without the hug turning inappropriate, so instead he settled for a half-salute, half-wave. “And I'll see you Monday.”

“Monday,” she echoed. A promise.

He tried not to read too much into it.

*   *   *

She'd actually
flirted
with Grady Hart this morning.

Annabelle wasn't sure whether to be proud or utterly mortified, but she couldn't deny that she'd purposely put a little more swing in her hips as he'd been walking behind her earlier, then pressed against him in the foyer of Nancy's house.

She hadn't flirted in what felt like years. Maybe ever. Not like that, anyway, where she felt like she was someone else entirely. Someone sexy and in control.

I want to be someone significant.

Immediately after she'd said that to Nancy this morning, she'd been mortified at confessing something so deeply personal. The fear had taken hold and she'd wanted to snatch back the words. Tried, in fact, but before she'd been able to pretend it was just a joke, Grady had walked in and turned her world upside down. She'd barely been able to think straight when she'd seen him, looking like a more mature, more muscled, more … well,
manly
version of the guy she'd known seven years ago. He was as tall as she'd remembered, but his previously lean physique had grown into something bigger, harder, more dominating. There were small lines at the corners of his eyes, and his light brown hair was cut short, accenting his square jaw.

His lips were the only soft feature on that otherwise chiseled face.

When he'd held her, for that brief span of time that she'd hugged him hello, she'd felt every inch of her skin come alive, like it had been lit with millions of tiny sparks crackling like hot fire all over her body. She'd thought about those soft lips skating over the sparks, and her knees had nearly buckled.

And then he'd noticed the pie she'd made. Right after she'd been thinking about how men never cared about that kind of thing—the only kind of thing she was allowed to be openly good at here in Charlotte—Grady had noticed. More than noticed. He'd commented on it in a way that had made her think he didn't just mean the dessert, and her body had heated and expanded with
want.

She might not have as much experience as a lot of other women her age, but she wasn't completely oblivious. Except she hadn't been able to figure out whether Grady had also noticed her flirting with him. She thought maybe he had, but from the casual goodbye he gave her, she wasn't certain.

Even now, after replaying the whole thing in her head for the past ten hours, she couldn't figure out whether he was into her or not.

It doesn't matter. Stop thinking about it.

This potential job at Hart Racing was her ticket to independence, after all. It wasn't a mechanic's position, but it was a step in the right direction. Team managers at least got to be around cars, even if they didn't get to work on them. Either way, getting involved with Grady would be a terrible idea.

A sexy, hot, terrible idea.

She sighed and finished buttoning her blouse, then walked out into the front room of her mother's house, about to announce that she was ready to leave for the church potluck. But Momma gasped, “Annabelle!” so loudly that Annabelle startled, nearly tripping over her own feet, at the harsh sound.

It was like a reprimand in and of itself.

Her name coming from her mother's lips usually was, anyway. Annabelle suppressed the urge to sigh in disappointment. She already knew what was coming. Of course she'd known. Hadn't a small part of her chosen this blouse for precisely that reason? Almost because she'd
wanted
to get a rise out of Momma, to needle her mother just a little for siding with Donnie over her. For holding her back, holding her down.

It had been a childish urge, but after the faith that Mrs. Hart—
Nancy
—had shown in her this morning, and the interest in Grady's eyes … well, it was just so difficult not to at least let a smidge of anger at her mother show. Why did Momma have to be so … so …

Unimaginative?

Something rebellious had gotten ahold of Annabelle and she couldn't seem to shake it. She'd tried to bake it away, had gone straight to the kitchen after Nancy's this morning and produced three dozen perfectly square layer bars and another of those deft-handed pies, but her restlessness hadn't abated one bit. Her restless hands had plucked this blouse from her closet and her restless fingers had closed up the buttons as though sealing her into a suit of armor.

What are you trying to prove, stupid girl?

Donnie's voice had started to blend with Momma's. But it didn't really matter anymore whose words they were. They were the words of doubt. The words of not-good-enough that she'd carried around for years.

They were the words of fear. And she was just so tired of living in fear.

I want to be someone significant.

She wanted to be someone with a mother like Nancy, who had listened and cared enough about the message in a single statement, suggesting to Grady that Annabelle take the team manager job, while right this moment, Annabelle's
own
mother could only stare in shock at the sheer blouse that she was wearing, which revealed a shadowy outline of her bra underneath.

Momma's imagination was clearly being taxed to its limit.

Annabelle felt her annoyance taking over and tried to push it back down. She had to tread carefully. “What is it?” She tried to school her voice into sounding calm and unaffected, despite the roiling anger inside.

Her mother shook her head and said sharply, “Annabelle, I think the lighting in your room is not adequate. Your blouse is—” she lowered her voice to a whisper, as though Deacon Brown was listening in on their conversation all the way from the First Baptist reception room—“
completely transparent.
”

Oh, honestly. It was not as see-through as that. Admittedly, she should have chosen a better time than the church social to bring out this top, but she'd seen other ladies in church wearing the same fabric and no one had said a thing.

She'd bought it shortly before her and Donnie's second anniversary, when their sex life had already started to wane a little and she'd hoped to distract him from his drink long enough to be tempted by her. Not that it had helped.

But it was Grady who she'd been thinking of when she put it on tonight. Grady, who'd made her feel powerful in her femininity, and who was giving her a chance to prove what she was made of. She had to keep reminding herself of that. She couldn't let the fear take her over. She had to be brave.

“I don't think—” she began, but Momma cut her off.

“No, you
didn't
think. This is my house, Annabelle. As long as you're living here, you'll respect my sensibilities and not flaunt yourself in such a way. Do you understand?”

Of course … sometimes there was a fine line between bravery and stupidity. Pushing her mom on something as minor as clothes could get her kicked out. The message had been clear.

As soon as she was finally free and standing on her own, living in her own apartment, and choosing her own clothes, she was going to walk around town in pasties and a thong to celebrate.

Okay, fine. Maybe not.
But she would wear a top like this every day if she wanted.

She knew she wasn't doing a good job of being an adult about this. An adult would stand up for herself and tell her mother to shove it. But then, that would mean packing her bags and finding another place to sleep tonight, even though she had no money and no friends. Maybe she could ask Nancy, but no way would she involve her neighbor in a family thing unless it was an emergency.

And this was not an emergency. At least, not one that she couldn't prevent. She'd save her fight for something that mattered.

But what about you? Don't you matter?

The thought shocked her.

Because for the first time in as long as she could remember, the voice in her head wasn't tearing her down.

She paused for a moment, debating—

Then again, no need to cut off your nose to spite your face …

She swallowed the lump of restlessness that had been clawing its way up her throat, trying to find a way out, and gave a tight nod. “I understand. I'll go change. It'll just take a minute.”

As she turned to go back to her room, she told herself it was good sense and not her old cowardice that was pushing her to that decision. But every part of her hated the symbolism in her actions as she pulled off the blouse she'd been wearing and exchanged it for one that covered her over completely.

Chapter 3

Grady did
not
like Matt Fogerty.

In fact, that was putting it mildly. More specifically, he wanted to put a fist in Matt Fogerty's face.

They'd just finished a long and grueling day of interviews and discussions with the little weasel and Ranger was seeing him out the door while Grady waited in his own office, staring unfocused at the CAD program up on his laptop. There hadn't been much time to work on his designs today, since Fogerty had sucked up every free minute, but now he couldn't seem to get his head in the game long enough to make any progress.

Kerri walked in and heaved a loud sigh as she dropped into a chair opposite Grady's desk, and he turned his attention to her.

“What did you think?” He kept his voice even, not wanting to sound too down on the guy in case Kerri had liked him. He didn't want anyone thinking he was jealous or feeling resentful about being replaced. Though he had to admit that it didn't feel
great
to be replaced.

Sure, it had been his idea to leave in the first place. But this was more than a job, damn it. It was his family. No matter how much he wanted to carve out a place for himself, he could never walk away from his family.

Kerri shrugged with her whole body. “He was okay. Definitely has the right experience. But I'm not sure he would fit in here. I'd almost like to get someone who's totally green but has a great personality, just to be sure I never dread having to work with him in a race.”

Good. So she had a similar read, at least. He furrowed his brow. “What about the day-to-day stuff? Would you dread working with him on that?”

Grady would find it annoying as fuck. Something about Fogerty just rubbed him the wrong way. But in the end, Grady wasn't the one who'd have to work with him every day. Kerri and Ranger and Bit and Neil and Danny and the rest of the crew would.

And maybe Annabelle …

Shit. That reminded him—he hadn't had a chance to tell Kerri and Ranger about Annabelle coming in to interview for the team manager position.

He was about to tell Kerri when Ranger walked in and strode over to Kerri and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “So? What's the verdict?” Ranger asked before settling into the chair next to Kerri. Grady watched as Ranger reached out and grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers across the space between the chairs.

What would it be like to have someone like that in his life?

An image of Annabelle, sitting next to him like that and holding his hand, popped into his mind, and Grady felt a little jealousy stirring.

Not of Ranger. That was his sister, after all.
Gross.
But he wished he had a relationship like that. One person who thought that what he did was great and worth buying into. Even if Carbon Works failed, if someone else believed in him and thought he was special enough to be with …

Kerri smiled at Ranger. “I was telling Grady that I think Fogerty would be great technically and could probably guide us into some solid wins, but I'm not sure about his personality. He was kind of strange, don't you think?”

Ranger frowned. “Yeah? I didn't get that from him. Maybe he seemed a
little
smarmy, but he could have just been nervous, too. What do you think, Grady?”

Grady thought about how his own nerves sometimes affected his behavior. How worked up he got on the track, and how it always brought out the worst in him. Panicked and unable to think clearly. Being crew chief could get really stressful at times, and for him personally, being nervous didn't help matters any.

He never should have stepped into that role, but they hadn't had a choice when he'd started out.