Chapter 4
NATALIE WALKED OUT of Headlights into the relative quiet of the crowded parking lot, surrounded by her new friends, Scooter, Darnell and Tim. They were all sweetie pies. The thorn in her side had stopped to talk to the restaurant owner—she thought he’d introduced him as Jeb—on the way out.
“Looks like y’all are gonna run out of daylight,” Scooter said.
True enough, the day had begun to soften around the edges, making way for a Tennessee spring evening. Already, a sliver of a moon was showing itself in the sky. That was okay. Afternoon, evening or night, it didn’t matter. She was determined they’d get this done.
“It’ll be fine.” She patted her purse, “I brought my flashlight.”
“Smart thinking,” Darnell said in his quiet, reflective way as they crossed the gravel lot to where the big outfit took up several parking spots. Of course, Stillwell Motors Racing wasn’t alone. Half a dozen race trailers commandeered spots.
Natalie checked her watch. Nearly seven o’clock. “We’ll definitely need a flashlight at this rate. Does he have any concept of time?” Was it her imagination or did Scooter and Darnell exchange a look? “What?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Darnell said.
“I didn’t say nuthin’, neither,” Scooter seconded.
While Darnell and Scooter looked guilty, Tim appeared confused. “Beau’s always on time, for everything.”
“Really?”
“Yes, ma’am. He’s amazing. I keep the log book on all of our runs but I don’t really need to. He can tell you what the track temperature was and our setup from three races ago. Beats anything I’ve ever seen.”
“Wow. That is pretty amazing.” Uh-huh. And he didn’t like Cash Vickers. This was getting more and more interesting. “Sounds like he has a heck of a memory, too.”
Tim nodded, reminding her of one of those bobble-head dolls. “I keep telling him he oughta go on one of those game shows. He’d win, for sure.”
“Tim, whyn’t you go check the tire pressure on the trailer tires?” Scooter suggested. “It’d be bad to have a blowout on the way home.”
“Yes, sir.” He ambled off to the rear of the trailer.
Scooter lowered his voice. “You can’t pay Tim no never mind. His daddy went to county jail last year and since then Beau’s really taken him under his wing. Tim sorta idolizes him.”
She refused to feel all warm and gooey inside because Beau had mentored a kid. She absolutely was not going to add a gold star to the top of the heap of attraction that was simmering inside her. Sitting next to him at dinner…“That’s sad.”
“Which part?” Darnell asked. As far as she could tell, Darnell didn’t miss much.
“Both.”
Beau, the man of many faces, crossed the parking lot, his long legs eating up the distance. Her pulse began to race as he closed the gap. “I’m ready if you are. We’re burning daylight.”
He made it sound as if he’d been standing around waiting on her. She ground her teeth and resisted the urge to thwack him upside his too-handsome head with her purse. “I’ve been ready.” Generally speaking, for the last two weeks. Specific to today, since four o’clock.
She bid the other guys goodbye and this time headed toward Beau’s truck. Funny, but she thought he’d hesitated for a second before walking around to his side, as if he was going to open her door for her and reconsidered at the last minute. She was finding herself more and more intrigued with exactly who and what Beau Stillwell was.
She climbed into the truck, settled against the tweed upholstered seat and buckled up. The floorboard was a utilitarian, uncarpeted vinyl. A worn aluminum clipboard sat in the center of the bench seat along with an orange measuring tape. While it was neat and clean, the truck obviously had both miles and years on it. “I’d have put you in a Corvette, Camaro or Mustang,” she said.
“Have you ever tried hauling two-by-fours in one of those?” He turned the key and started the truck.
“Guess that wouldn’t work out too well,” she said. “Why does your engine sound funny?”
He hung a left out of the parking lot onto the highway. “It’s a diesel.” He patted the dashboard, “She’s a workhorse.”
They rolled along and silence filled the space between them. She noted his hands on the steering wheel. He had broad, square hands with a smattering of dark hair on them. His nails were short and clean. They were the capable, masculine hands of a working man and they suited the hard-muscled rest of him that she’d seen. A warm flush spread through her. She could almost guarantee they’d be callused and rasp against a woman’s skin—more specifically, her skin.
Natalie was abruptly achingly aware that only about a foot separated them. How was it that he always seemed to invade her space when she was around him?
And what in the heck was wrong with her? She’d spent two weeks tracking him down to sit idly by and contemplate his hands? Not hardly.
She opened her day planner and flipped to her notes detailing the particulars of the Stillwell-Vickers wedding. “Caitlyn’s discussed with you what she wants done at Belle Terre?”
“As my granddaddy used to say, is the backside of a pig pork?” He slanted a sideways glance her direction. “If you know my baby sister at all, you’ll know she has no problem telling someone what she wants and when she wants it.” Evident affection underscored his wry exasperation.
Natalie chuckled. The few times Natalie had been around the pretty little blonde, when her sister, Shelby, had roomed with her at the Watkins College of Art and Design, Caitlyn had always been forthcoming and occasionally demanding. However, she didn’t strike Natalie as spoiled so much as indulged—a subtle, yet important difference. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”
“Right. You’ve worked with her on the wedding.”
“And I met her a couple of times when she and Shelby were roomies. Have you ever met Shelby?” Her baby sister had mentioned Caitlyn’s older brother occasionally. She mostly just groused that he was more of a father than a brother and complained about him being overprotective.
“No. I’ve heard plenty about her from Caitlyn but I’ve never met her. I keep a busy schedule.” A flick of his blue eyes in her direction set her heart beating a little faster. “Is she as pretty as you are?”
All her breath lodged in her chest. He thought she was pretty? She’d always been the practical one, the smart one, the organized one, but out of a long-running list of foster sisters, she’d never been described as the pretty one. She curled her fingers into her palm.
And this wasn’t about her. He’d asked about Shelby, even if it had been in context with Natalie. Shelby and Beau Stillwell? Over her dead body. Beau Stillwell had heartbreaker written all over him. “She’s too young for you.”
“How
