in Dahlia. Drop in sometime and let her fix you up. We’ll cover the bill.”
Had Scooter lost his mind? “The hell you say,” Beau said.
Scooter fixed him with an unyielding eye. “She wouldn’t have been at the track if she hadn’t been looking for you.”
The Nightmare couldn’t contain a little smirk in Beau’s direction.
“It’s not my fault she’s clumsy,” he said, deliberately goading her. There was a tantalizing sway to her hips when she walked, but it damn sure couldn’t be classified as clumsy.
She narrowed her brown eyes. “I am not clumsy.”
The trainee delivered the beer and Tim’s root beer. Darnell poured and they all hoisted their mugs in a toast. “To another win…and many more to come,” Scooter said.
The wash of beer was bust-your-kneecaps cold going down. Beau settled his mug on the table. He’d nurse the rest of it through dinner. He knew he wasn’t the man his father had been, but Beau always held himself to a one-drink limit.
Tim unfolded his lanky length from the picnic table, muttered an excuse-me and headed to the jukebox. Scooter groaned and Darnell rolled his eyes. The Nightmare looked at Beau, a question in her brown eyes. “Prepare yourself for a Kenny Chesney miniconcert.”
She laughed, her mouth curving in an easy smile and for a second he felt damn near light-headed. He shook his head slightly. Maybe he’d just skip the rest of his beer.
“I like Kenny Chesney.”
“So did we…the first hundred times we heard him,” Darnell said in a mournful drawl.
“Could be worse,” Scooter said. “Could be Cash Vickers we was listening to. Ain’t that right, Beau?”
Beau shrugged and he felt the woman next to him eyeing him in inquiry. He deliberately didn’t look her way. Not that it was a state secret, but damn it’d be nice if Scooter could just hold his tongue and not stir shit up.
“You’re not a Cash Vickers fan?”
Caitlyn hadn’t known Cash nearly long enough. And Beau wasn’t certain that Cash was good enough for his baby sister.
“Not particularly, no,” Beau said. Let her make what she wanted to of that.
Sandy and Gina showed up bearing five red, paper-lined baskets loaded with burgers and fries. “Y’all need anything else?”
“We’re good.”
Beau tucked into his burger. Lunch had been a long time ago.
“Would you pass the catsup, Mr. Stillwell?”
“Sure thing, Ms. Bridges.”
Scooter shook his head. “You can’t sit down and have burgers and beers and still be Mr. Stillwell and Ms. Bridges. Nat’lie, meet Beau. Beau, this here’s Nat’lie.”
Beau passed the tomato-emblazoned bottle. “There you are, Natalie.”
“Thank you, Beau.”
Damn, that sent a little shiver through him.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Scooter said.
“Almost painless,” the little smart-ass shot back, upending half the bottle in a corner of her basket.
Alex Morgan and “Black Jack” Riley stopped at the edge of their table, Jack’s arm slung around Alex’s shoulder, staking his claim.
“Nice finish today,” Alex said, with a quick nod of her blond head, “You must’ve changed your setup.”
“Yeah, we changed the heads this week,” Darnell said. “It’s the best sixty-foot we’ve had.”
Darnell was talking but there was no disguising Alex’s frank curiosity about Natalie. And Beau had been deliberately obnoxious but he couldn’t totally abandon the manners his mother had drilled into him.
“Natalie, meet Alex Morgan and Jack Riley. Alex is one of the best mechanics in Dahlia. She owns the garage out at the track and another one in town with her dad. They’re partners. Jack’s from your neck of the woods. He’s a DEA agent out of Nashville.” He looked at the couple. “Natalie’s a wedding planner. She’s working with Caitlyn on the big event.”
The pleased-to-meet-you’s went around, and from Alex’s look she clearly speculated why his baby sister’s wedding planner was kicking back post-race with him and his crew. In fact, she rather pointedly glanced from Natalie to Beau and back again, silently asking if they were an item.
Sharp-eyed Natalie didn’t miss the unspoken question. She wrinkled her elegant little nose, almost as if she’d caught a whiff of a bad smell. “Uh, no. Certainly not that.” Hmph. That she’d be so damn lucky. He could name half a dozen women, round that up to an even dozen, who’d like to be sitting right where she was parked now. She didn’t need to look as if he were something scraped from the bottom of the barrel. “Mr. Stillwell…I mean, Beau, is a hard man to get in touch with. My job title is wedding planner but sometimes that involves being a tracker—”
“Stalker,” he interjected under his breath, garnering a laugh from everyone except the accused, who slanted him the evil eye.
“—and a babysitter.”
“Warden,” he corrected. “We’re heading out to Belle Terre after this to figure out the remodel schedule for the wedding.”
Jack squeezed Alex’s shoulders. “You might want to hook up with her,” he said to the petite blonde, and then looked at Natalie. “I’m trying to talk her into getting married before the end of the year, but she says she doesn’t have time to get it together. I’m thinking you could help make this happen.”
“Absolutely.” Quicker than the staging lights rundown she had two business cards in her hand and was passing them across the table, one to Jack and one to Alex. “I can handle as much or as little as you want me to. Give me a call or send me an e-mail and we’ll talk about what you want.”
“We’ll let y’all get back to your supper, and I don’t want to hold you up from getting out to Belle Terre. Just wanted to say congrats on the win.” Alex tucked the card into the top pocket of her denim overalls. “I’ll give you a call next week.”
Natalie beamed a megawatt smile at her potential client. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
Alex and Black Jack were barely out of earshot when Scooter started filling Natalie in on Jack posing as a driver to uncover a drug ring and the whole mess that followed. Even Darnell chimed in with the skinny on Alex growing up a motherless tomboy. Beau knew it was all over when Tim screwed up his courage to relate how Jack and Alex had fallen in love.
What was wrong with this damn picture? He’d dragged her out to the track and along to dinner to tie up her time and frustrate her. He’d figured she’d hate the raucousness of Headlights. The whole plan was to push her buttons until she tossed in the wedding planner towel and quit on Caitlyn. Instead, she was swilling beer and chowing
