I can’t help but gasp, squeaking as I point him out to my dad.
“I can see him honey, I have eyes too,” he murmurs.
Moving through the crowd at the gates and letting himself on the back of dad’s truck, it’s hard not to be infected by his presence. He’s already a star, it oozes out of him.
“You made it!” he says, beaming at my dad, and once dad’s eyes go back to steering, he gives me a special look in the rear view.
A look I know is just for me, and makes me feel a thousand things again, all at once, and every single one of them special and good.
“It’s easier for me to just point you in,” Steve says in his deep, commanding tone. “I had no idea there would be such a turnout. I didn’t sleep a wink,” he confesses.
Another look as he inhales sharply, his huge hands hugging the headrest of the seat I’m in, pulling it back what feels like three inches towards him.
“Just up here, left to the pit entrance and we’re right at the end,” he says confidently.
“I could’ve found it,” Dad says, rolling his eyes before his smile takes over. He’s in his element now, beaming with excitement as he takes his place among the nations finest, doing what he loves and knows.
“Well, I hope you had your oatmeal, man. I was just briefed and these guys sure have our workday set out. Penny can just hang out for now, until we have the whole crew on the same page,” he adds, giving dad a nod.
I don’t mind one bit. The less I have to do officially the better. Maybe I can be in charge of mopping Steve’s brow, or helping him in and out of his suit if he needs to use the bathroom.
I struggle to take my eyes off him, but give in. Hopelessly gazing into his deep, smoldering eyes and turning my head back every few seconds, pretending to look around, but really just staring at him.
“The hell, Steve!” Somebody calls gruffly, opening his door and making my dad stop suddenly.
“Oh, I forgot to mention… you’re late. It was a Five o’clock start.”
My dad’s face sours, his hands gripping the wheel as he watches Steve disappear into the garage while another couple of guys introduce themselves to my dad.
But all I can do is count the moments until we’re alone again.
Together.
Just like it should be.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Steve
Showered, changed and briefed by the team, I feel a little better. But nothing can keep me from the front gate.
I need to be sure she’s actually coming. There will be hell to pay, but I slip out, figuring I can guide them to the pit easier and the sooner Mike gets here, the better.
I already took the rap for him being late. It’s my bad, not his and I let management know.
“Well, let’s hope he has some fresh energy to bring to the crew!” The manager exclaimed, slapping me on the back with no hard feelings.
Mike is briefed by the manager and the team who work on the other two cars once he arrives, the one for today’s trials and race is ready to go.
It all goes by in a blur once I see Penny again, getting myself and the car ready, finding myself waiting at the starting line, astounded I can only think of one thing.
Not the green light, not the other cars around me, just Penny.
It feels like every breath I take now is because of her, everything is for her.
I’ve never felt better and once the light’s green I know the sooner I get this out of the way, the sooner I’ll see her again.
The car runs well, and the comm’s from the crew are encouraging, making it seem a lot easier than it even feels.
With Penny at the front of my mind, it’s like the qualifying trial is just a chore and once I’m told how much we lead by, that I’ll be starting first off the grid, I can only think of her then too.
The whole team, minus the two people I need to see most, swarm the car in the pit, and I’m rushed out and away from the car to a cheering crowd, media and told the boss of the team, the millionaire owner wants to speak with me personally.
But I don’t really want any of this, I just want Penny and I strain to see her in the crowd the whole time until I’m eventually bundled off to one of the corporate tents in a grandstand, which once inside, looks more like a hotel than a tent.
The team’s owner, an oil man, Buford ‘Tex’ Billings is as big as I am but for all the wrong reasons. His bulk makes sitting down a constant requirement, and the lack of him able to have his cigar lit seems to be causing him as much frustration as my need to see Penny, even Mike again.
“Steve, mighty fine job. Mighty fine,” he drawls, rolling the wet end of his thick Havana across his mouth.
“You win today, and you fly to the next race in my own jet, Y’ hear?” he asks me, raising both brows and giving me a sly grin.
“You do the work, I’ll reward ya! No huffin’ in a bus for an upcoming champion. Is somethin’ wrong boy? You don’t look too pleased for the number one racer on the very soon to be number one team,” he observes in his thick southern accent, leaning forward.
“I’m a straight man, Steve. Speak your mind if you got problems,” he offers, glancing at his watch to remind me that even though he’s sitting on his ass, time is money. My time, his money.
“It’s just the people I had brought in as part of the pit crew… Mike Pinkerton… his daughter too…” I start to stammer.
The old oil man’s eyes light up in a twinkle, and I can see
