“Mmhmm. Tell me if you still feel the same way after you actually talk to him.”
“Asher McKay is good, but he ain’t great.” Gonzo threw in his two cents. “The Magician was way better.”
“Damn straight.” “Yep.” “He sure was.” Could be heard spoken throughout the group.
Colby’s throat suddenly felt thick. “We can all agree that there was nobody like him.”
“I know a Daughtry mechanic who could have been even better.” Skeptical eyes turned in Ben’s direction, waiting for the punchline because he had to be joking.
“Better than who?” Gonzo asked as if Ben had spoken blasphemy. “Certainly not The Magician?”
Ben placed his hands in the front pockets of his coveralls. “Hell, yeah. Way better, and you’re looking at her.” He pointed at Colby. “Ms. James is one hell of a mechanic and driver. Given the chance, we could make history with her behind the wheel.”
Colby rolled her eyes and laughed. “Never thought age would catch up to you, but apparently it has.”
Ben didn’t crack a smile. “I’m serious.”
“I know, and I love you, but driving professionally isn’t really an option for me.” At least for now, she thought. “Plus, I like getting my hands dirty,” she lied. Colby equally loved being behind the wheel of a car.
The Daughtry family reunion was interrupted by Tom Foster and the one and only Asher McKay.
He had arrived.
“Why are you all standing around?! We have a race to get ready for!” Tom yelled. He wrote the checks, but nobody respected him. He had driven Daughtry Racing into the ground. Still, he was the man with the power, so everyone scattered like rats moving to their assigned positions—everyone except for the famous Asher McKay, Tom . . . and Colby.
She looked around the short little man and made eye contact with her father. Colby sent him an encouraging smile before he turned around and headed toward the booth. When Colby faced forward, Asher was staring. The way he looked at her left Colby feeling uncomfortable. His gaze was more like a leer. She ignored it.
“You are the infamous Colby James?” Asher asked with a southern drawl.
Infamous. Nothing about her was infamous. Colby lifted her chin and met the crystal-clear gaze of the supposed savior of Daughtry Racing. Those sparkling green eyes were dangerous. He had a look that sponsors and the media would eat up. Tall, strawberry blonde, a seemingly nice athletic build underneath his fire suit, and sinfully handsome.
His lips curled up. Colby could throw in a perfect smile that could melt panties too. She wondered if his teeth were capped. They were so perfect. He was cute, no doubt about it.
Colby extended her hand. “Hi. We haven’t formally met. I’m Colby James.”
He took her hand in his and caressed the top of it with his thumb. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Okay. What in the hell? Colby thought. She was just about to say that she was looking forward to watching his practice run, but Asher didn’t give her a chance to speak. “What’s a pretty little lady like you doing here with these grease monkeys?”
She slid her hand from out of his. Was he serious? No, she hadn’t been imagining the leer, the creepy handshake, and now the little lady bullshit? He obviously hadn’t heard a thing about her. To be fair, her friends had warned her that he was an asshole, but they didn’t tell her he was sexist too. Colby’s head tilted slightly. “Where should I be?”
His smile grew wider while hers faded. Asher pointed to the stands. “Up there with my friends cheering for me.”
I think I’m going to vomit on his shoes. “Is that right?” Colby folded her arms.
“Yeah. And, if I make time, maybe, I’ll let you take me to dinner to celebrate.” Asher attempted to brush his index finger against the tip of Colby’s nose, but she moved out of his reach just in time.
Typical. Drivers, and their God-like complexes, thinking that all women would fall at their feet and hand over their vaginas just to be in their presence. Colby began to back away. “You said I was infamous, right?”
“Yes, indeed, Colby.” He licked his lips as if she were a tasty treat. “And lovely.”
“There’s nothing about me that’s infamous. But,” Colby straightened her back and held his gaze, “if you had heard anything about me at all, one of the first things you would have learned is that only my real friends call me Colby. Since we’ve only known each other for a few minutes, I can’t say we’re friends.” Colby pointed to the name printed on her coveralls. “Therefore, you can call me what everyone else does, Ms. James.” She pivoted, turned, and walked toward the booth. Jerk. Give me my respect and say my name. I’ve worked too hard to be reduced down to a little lady!
Asher called out after her. “So, it’s like that?”
“Yep. It’s exactly like that.” Colby kept walking but yelled over her shoulder. “One last thing . . . for future reference, my friends also know that the stands are the absolute last place I’d ever want to be.”
Asher wasn’t used to women dismissing him the way she had. His only explanation was that she had to be a lesbian. “Her loss,” he said underneath his breath.
Asher walked over to where Gonzo stood with the car. The engine sounded good. He quickly put Colby’s rejection out of his mind, put on his helmet, and got inside the vehicle.
“What was that all about?” Colby’s dad asked when she made her way to the booth.
“Nothing.” Absolutely nothing she hadn’t dealt with her entire life. She placed her headset on and glanced down at the board. It was lit up like a Christmas tree. It noted everything to do with the car from tire pressure to RMP to fuel levels and
