Fish is talking, reminding Mack of where everyone is in the lineup, including his teammate. Colton Donavan comes on next, wishing the team a good and safe race. I’ve seen Colton around the track, and it looks like he and his family are currently in the other pit booth, waiting for the start.
“All right, buddy, be careful and bring us home a win,” Coop says in the headset, just as the cars come into view around the final turn.
“Ten-four,” Mack answers.
The cars approach the start/finish line as the flag waves, and they’re off. My eyes are glued to that blue number seventy-three car as he dives down to take the car in front of him on the inside. He makes an easy pass before he’s out of our sight. I watch the monitors and listen to Fish. Hell, I’m glued to those headphones, hanging on every word that’s spoken. Before too long, the cars are rounding the last turn and completing the first lap.
Mack’s up three places.
I watch and listen for a while, loving the feel of adrenaline and excitement flowing through my veins. It’s amazing, watching him drive. Why I haven’t done it before now is beyond me. No, that’s not true. I know exactly why I couldn’t watch him race, but now that I am, I’m reminded of a time when I used to sit beside my dad, listening to everything he said in those headsets. And after that part of my life was complete, I used to watch from different vantage points at our track in Brenton, taking in the race and photographing it.
Now, I’m wishing I wouldn’t have left my camera back at the hotel, but I didn’t want to be carrying it around, itching to take photos, when my job here is Oliver.
After about eight laps, Oliver starts to wiggle. I know he’s about ready to eat, and I’m also pretty damn sure in need of a diaper change. I slip off my headphones and tap Coop on the shoulder. He turns and takes them, offering me a small smile when I point down. He’s already standing up, ready to help me, but I wave him off. He has a job to do.
Carefully, I slip down the ladder, grateful when my feet hit the concrete below. I keep my gaze down as I make my way through the crowd, heading in the direction of the motorhome. When the cars race by, the noise is almost too much, so I slip back on the earmuffs I had earlier and keep going. I have my credentials badge out as I approach a grumpy old man in a track official uniform, thankful when he just waves me by.
Oliver is fully awake now and very unhappy, even with the gentle rocking motion of me walking, so I pick up the pace. I’m in the hauler and motorhome area quick enough and see the one I’m looking for. Tyson is standing outside and throws me a wave.
When I’m half a dozen haulers away from Mack’s team, a woman steps out in front of me, blocking my path. “So you’re the new flavor of the month,” she says, a snide smirk on her face.
“Excuse me?” I ask, taking off the headphones and wondering what the hell this woman is talking about. Oliver is really starting to get pissed, so I step to the left to walk around her, only to have her block my way once more. “Can I help you? As you can see, I need to take care of the baby,” I state, trying to remain calm.
The woman crosses her arms over her chest, pressing her very large breasts practically out of the top of her tight tank top. Her long, dark hair has that beach wave vibe, all perfectly placed big, natural curls, and her makeup is dark, yet striking. She’s a beautiful woman, that’s for sure, but I have no idea why she’s messing with me.
“So that’s the little one, huh?” she asks, leaning forward to get a look at Oliver. I take a step back, blocking her view with my hand. She huffs out a breath and places her hands on her hips. It’s the first time I get a look at the name and number on her tank top.
Mack’s.
“Is there something you need?” I ask, getting pretty damn irritated. I notice Tyson glance my way, a concerned look on his face. He starts to head in our direction, a little quicker than I anticipated.
“He’ll dump you in a month, tops. He always does. Uses you until he’s had his fill and moves on to the next one in line, and let me tell you something, sweetheart, there’s always another one in line. Trust me on that,” she replies, a spiteful smirk crossing her dolled-up face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her, taking another step to the side. By this point, Tyson is almost to us, and I’m suddenly very relieved by his help.
“You will, sweetheart,” she says, glancing over her shoulder and seeing Tyson. “Believe me, you will.”
And then she’s gone, moving between two haulers and disappearing around the front of one semi.
“Are you okay?” Tyson asks, breathing a little heavy as he looks in the direction the woman just went.
“Yes, thank you. I’m not sure what that was,” I tell him honestly, trying to shake it off.
He gives me a look I can’t decipher before his attention goes to Oliver. “Let’s get this one inside. I bet he’s hungry.”
Just like that, I’m escorted the rest of the way to my destination. Even as I climb inside the motorhome and busy myself changing Oliver’s diaper and
