Hart's Victory (13 page)

“He’s been a perfect gentleman,” Kellie said, her face flushing slightly.

Cynthia smiled. “I’m glad. You know, you’re going to have to come around more often.”

Kellie removed the aluminum foil. “I have a feeling this weekend is just a one-off,” she said. She waved the baby carrot in the direction of the autographing. “Oh my goodness, that person is carrying a car hood.”

“They bring in all kinds of stuff,” Cynthia said. “It’s worth more if Hart signs it.”

Kellie shuddered. “This is so not me.”

Alyssa’s words suddenly popped into Kellie’s head.
I knew I was getting a race car driver, but love’s like that. When the heart leads, you take them no matter what they do for a living.

Despite the heat, Kellie shuddered again. No way. She wanted someone nine-to-five. Stable. Someone home on the weekends. Definitely not someone famous, not someone on whom the spotlight shined constantly.

Flattery, that’s all this was. She’d been without a man so long that a little attention had her losing her senses. She was not risking her heart for Hart Hampton. She was simply intrigued by his interest. It was nice to feel desired once in a while.

After a few more social pleasantries, Cynthia said goodbye and drove off in her own golf cart. Kellie sat there, munching on food, watching Hart. From her angle, she could see he smiled at every person, told them it was great meeting them, and signed his name over and over, holding his marker like a paintbrush�to avoid tiring out his wrist.

Never once did he turn around to look at her, but she still had the odd sensation that he was highly aware of her presence, just as she was of him. Kellie used her fork, cutting a piece of cake. Around her other people sat in golf carts, watching their drivers. She had no idea who anyone was. She’d discovered yesterday in the garage that while people glanced at your credentials, few made eye contact. Oh sure, some smiled, but most walked as if they had blinders on�work being their main focus. Only fans had studied her, as if trying to ascertain if she was someone important.

She touched the credentials that were around her neck. Before she’d taken a leave of absence from her teaching job in December, she’d worn an ID badge, but that had been a magnetic nameplate she’d attached to her clothing. The lanyard itched, and she scratched her neck as she thought about Cynthia’s words.
You’ll have to come around more often.

Kellie finished her cake. One thing her husband had done was to leave her and Charlie well provided for. Kellie sighed. Maybe it was time for her to leave the past totally behind and venture out again. But could Hart be her future?

She briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them, the scene hadn’t changed. An endless line of people waited for a piece of Hart Hampton. And in a sense, here she was waiting, as well.

Waiting was something she’d sworn long ago she wouldn’t do, especially after she’d waited by the phone for her husband to call. Waited for word from the Middle East that he was fine. He’d brush off her concern when he’d call late. He’d laughed and said not to worry.

But even though they’d had some problems, Kellie hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d cared. She’d loved John, made a commitment for better or worse.

Now here she was, waiting for Hart Hampton, proving he had the power to make her compromise her principles, lower the bands of protection she’d placed around her heart. This was just an one-off, she reminded herself as she watched Hart sign a photo for a little girl. Kellie’d be back to her normal self come tomorrow. The man had kissed her twice and rattled her brain. He made her think of what might be beyond the horizon.

She couldn’t keep opening Pandora’s box. The risks were far too great.

“H
I
,
RACE FANS
. Welcome back after that commercial break. I’m Gus Edwards along with Malcolm French at the NASCAR NEXTEL All-Star Challenge. We’re in the final twenty laps and tonight’s surprise contender is Hart Hampton. He’s led several laps and been a constant in the top five.”

“You’re right, Gus. This is a major change for Hart, taking him back to the driver everyone knows he can be.”

“Exactly. He hasn’t had much luck lately, between crashes and taking last weekend off to do charity work, but now his performance has definitely changed. Not only did he start from the outside pole position, but he’s had fantastic pit stops all night. As we continue under caution for debris, we’ve sent Eileen Swikle down to Hart’s pit to find out his secret weapon.”

O
H NO
. Kellie watched the events unfolding on the screen, her body tense with trepidation. She winced as her fears were confirmed. There, on the supersized plasma screen in the McDougal’s motor home, was her son, Charlie.

He sat up top on the pit box, clad in an Elementals green jacket. He wore headphones over his ball cap, and his glasses seemed almost too big for his face as he watched the monitors.

The camera panned back to Eileen. “Thanks, Malcolm. I met Charlie Thompson yesterday after qualifying. He met Hart last weekend, and Hart invited him here to make his wish of watching live racing come true. And he’s getting quite a race. Even though this race isn’t for points and is more about money and prestige, Hart’s out there giving it all he has. Wally, what’s making it so special for Hart tonight?”

Hart’s crew chief had removed one earphone so he could hear Eileen. “Hart’s just on fire. The Elementals Chevy is performing perfectly and he’s having a great time.”

“Would you consider Charlie Hart’s good luck charm?” Eileen asked.

“Whatever it is, we’ll take it,” Wally said, putting his headphone back on and ending the interview.

Eileen faced the camera. “So there you have it, Gus and Malcolm. Hart’s lucky charm, a boy named Charlie who, from what I also understand, has a pretty single mother to boot.”

The screen shifted back to the press box. “Thanks Eileen. The next lap the caution will lift and we’ll go back to green flag racing.” With that, the television cut to another commercial, one of Hart Hampton in Elementals boxers and a T-shirt. Kellie wanted to bury her head.

“Don’t despair, Kellie, that was a great clip,” Alyssa said.

“Very positive and followed by a commercial. How fortunate. His sponsors will love that,” another driver’s wife said.

About six other women sat in the motor home aside from Kellie, Alyssa, and Ronnie’s mother. Kellie shook her head. “I didn’t want any attention drawn to us,” she said.

“Oh, that’s impossible. You’ll get it no matter what if you hang around with Hart. The media loves him. Some drivers they sort of ignore, but Hart’s one of the golden ones who gets constant attention,” another wife said.

“That’s because Hart’s one of the good guys,” the elder Mrs. McDougal said.

“He is,” Alyssa agreed. “And speaking of Hart, Kellie, you and I need to get to pit road as this thing is about to be over and we have a bit of a walk.”

“Really, I…” Kellie began. But the race was winding down, everyone was getting up and leaving, so she stood as well. She hadn’t planned on going to the pit, but rather back to her motor home. But she allowed Alyssa to sweep her along.

“Watch the scoring pylon,” Alyssa told her as they stepped out into the night and made their way toward pit road. “You’ll know who wins as it reflects the track position. The race leader is at the top.”

The pits were crazy by the time they got there. As the race was tight between Dusty Burke, Kyle Doolittle and Hart, media had congregated near those pits, positioning themselves so they could film footage of the top five finishers.

Kellie found Cynthia already at Hart’s pit box, and she showed Kellie where to stand as the race became a three-way sprint for the finish. The checkered flag flew, and the pylon changed numbers, putting the Number 413 car in the third spot.

“Third!” Cynthia screamed as she hugged Wally and then Kellie. “Yes! He’s back!”

The excitement was infectious, and Kellie found herself smiling as all around her people were giving each other high fives and congratulatory hugs. She put her hand up and people slapped it even if they didn’t know who she was.

One by one, the cars that didn’t win roared down pit road, and soon Hart’s green machine purred to a stop and ceased. He lowered the net, detached the steering wheel, and took off his helmet before he crawled out of his car. The enthusiastic cheers of his team greeted him.

Charlie had climbed down and found his mom, and he grabbed her hand and drew her closer to the pit wall. “Don’t you get it, Mom? Hart’s third. Best finish he’s had since Daytona. He’ll carry this momentum for weeks to come. He’s out of his slump.”

Kellie just smiled, watching as Hart swallowed half a bottle of cola in one gulp. The area around her was chaos as the media invaded and Hart, Wally and Cynthia all began to answer questions. Hart saw Charlie and Kellie and walked toward them, giving Charlie a high five. Only Kellie was aware of the television crews filming the event. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a little bit of time before I’ll have to be in the media center,” he told her, striding past his team who were already beginning to break down the pit area so that they could all go home.

Kellie followed Hart back to the hauler where only a handful of media personnel waited, most having headed off to Victory Lane for the interviews with the winner and then NASCAR’s presentation of the prize money. The press knew they could catch Hart in the media center.

“Hart, congratulations on your third-place finish. Does this confirm that you’re out of your doldrums?” Eileen shoved the microphone forward.

“Absolutely,” Hart told Eileen.

“Some fans had said you were all washed up. What do you say to that?”

“I have years before I’m washed up,” Hart said, charming smile in place.

“So were Charlie and his mother your lucky charms?” Eileen wanted to know.

“I wanted to show both of them a great race. I think I achieved that.” With that, Hart opened the doors to the hauler, gesturing Kellie and Charlie to step inside. Once all were in, he shut out the mayhem behind them.

“Whew! You stink,” Charlie said to Hart.

“Charlie!”

But Hart only laughed. “Yeah, I do. I’m covered in sweat and the stench of burning rubber and some other things. The only good part about not winning is that I’m not hosed down in cola and beer as well. You guys up for eating after this? While we’re at dinner, my parents’ motor home will be brought out to my house so that you’ll have your stuff.”

“We’re not staying at the track tonight?” Hart hadn’t explained this part, and Kellie frowned.

“Everyone’s going to haul out of here as fast as they can. You’ll start hearing the choppers taking off from the infield any second.”

“Cool,” Charlie said. “Will we be in one of those?”

“Yes,” Hart said.

Russ entered the hauler. “Media center,” he called.

“Excuse me,” Hart said. “Cynthia should be on her way. She’ll get you guys out of here and I’ll meet up with you my house.”

“So how was the pit?” Kellie asked her son after Hart left.

“Awesome.” Charlie regained full animation. “The race feed was also on the monitors in front of me and…” Charlie began to relate the events and Kellie listened until Cynthia came and found them.

“Chopper time,” she said, and within minutes Kellie and Charlie found themselves airlifted up and over Charlotte, zooming along with four other people for the trip back to Hampton Racing headquarters.

There Cynthia said goodbye, putting Kellie and Charlie in Hart’s caretaker’s car. The driver chauffeured them back to Hart’s house.

“Imagine how this would be if we did this every weekend,” Charlie said, his enthusiasm bubbling over.

“Not going to happen,” Kellie responded, glad the man up front was focused on the winding country roads and thus oblivious to her son’s excitement.

“Mom,” Charlie protested.

“Charlie,” she replied, mimicking his tone. “We are guests. That’s all. Don’t let what you hear in the media fool you. Just chalk tonight up as one of those magical moments and let it be.”

They arrived at the house, and the caretaker let them in. “When I saw Hart was in the top five, I took the liberty of putting some of my wife’s stew in the slow cooker,” he told them. “I didn’t want you to have to wait to eat if you were hungry. It’s in the kitchen. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you. Stew sounds wonderful.” Kellie said. She and Charlie found the housekeeper’s wife had left fresh biscuits on the counter to go with the stew. They ate in the kitchen, the television tuned to a local cable show. “Hey Mom, there’s Hart,” Charlie said. Hart sat at a table with another two men and all were fielding questions from the media. “Hey listen, he’s talking about us,” Charlie said.

So Kellie focused, and as the media centered on her and Charlie, Kellie soon discovered that her temper was about as hot as the stew.

H
ART WAS LATE
. Really late. And not very happy about his tardiness, either. So much for eating dinner, he thought wryly as the chopper touched down on his backyard helipad. Hart opened the door, climbed out and made a run for the house as the helicopter again took off to the sky.

Seeing lights on in the basement, he headed there first and wondered how Kellie was going to react to his arrival. He’d been cornered in the media center for what had seemed forever. Normally he relished the attention, not caring about how long anyone waited for him. But this was Kellie and Charlie. Kellie wasn’t going to tolerate nonsense, and frankly, Hart had found himself rather wanting to be with her. His impatience had grown as the press conferences had dragged on.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, finding Kellie downstairs in the game room watching television. “Where’s Charlie?”

“Out in the motor home asleep. He’s worn out from all the excitement. I sent him out there about an hour ago. Your caretaker left us stew, so we’ve eaten,” Kellie said stiffly. “We caught you on television.”

“Yeah, we have a local cable program that covers everything at the area speedways live,” Hart said, realizing he was treading on dangerous ground here. While he’d showered and changed, Kellie still wore the clothes she’d been wearing at the race track and she didn’t look very happy. He’d been asked dozens of questions about his guests, and he had the idea that that was what was bothering Kellie.

“Charlie and I are not your lucky charms, Hart,” she said.

Hart sighed. He’d been right.

“That’s just Eileen talking,” Hart replied, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to lighten the situation.

“You certainly didn’t put her off any,” Kellie said, her forehead creasing. “I mean, the national sports magazines asked you questions about us. I saw the press conference. Charlie’s thinking he’s going to be in print. I don’t want either of us exposed that way.”

“You won’t be,” Hart said, hiding his wince. At least he hoped not. He couldn’t give Kellie any guarantees, although he’d call Cynthia and put her on stopping any story. Maybe she’d be able to do something.

“Don’t use me to boost your career, Hart,” Kellie stated, and Hart could hear the tiredness in her voice. “This is a special weekend for us. Charlie chatted everyone’s ear off on the helicopter ride. Hopefully they all turned their headphones off or something.”

“I guessed he’d never been in a helicopter before.”

“And neither have I. Where I come from, they’re used for severe life-threatening emergencies that require immediate trauma care. They are not daily transportation.”

“But it was exciting,” Hart stated. He knew she was angry, could see the conflicting emotions in her eyes. She was mad. Tired. Probably feeling a little abandoned, as well. What was common to him was foreign to her, and Hart wished he hadn’t simply sent her to wait for him. “I’m sorry for just leaving you like that. I can understand your frustration.”

She stared at him. “Thank you.” A small smile formed. “And yes, it was exciting,” Kellie said, caving slightly. “But…”

“No
buts,
” Hart said. “They’re like
because
or
what-ifs.
Useless words that allow you to give yourself excuses. I would have won the race, but. I love you, but. I’d have been there, but. I hate buts. I don’t believe in qualifications, Kellie. It either is or it’s not. You didn’t hear me come in here and say I would have been on time but the interviews took forever. I was simply late and I’m sorry for that. I erred in my judgment. Next time I’ll plan better.”

Hart stood there, willing her to understand. This was his life, his job. He doubted it would help to tell her he’d been chomping at the bit to go home, wanting to see her. And lest she think anything, he didn’t plan to seduce her. Oh, he’d love to have Kellie in his bed, but she wasn’t a one-weekend or a one-month kind of woman. She was the forever kind, and frankly, that scared him.

“It’s been a long night. We’re probably all very tired and coming down off an adrenaline rush,” Kellie announced, rising to her feet. “We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon. Sleep in, and I promise you’ll see us before we go. I know Charlie’s excited to talk to you about the race. He loved being up on your pit box. He thought listening to the radio chatter between you and your team was fantastic. This has really been a dream weekend for him.”

“I’m glad,” Hart said, humbled that something he’d taken for granted all his life could bring someone else so much joy.

“I’m glad, too,” Kellie said, her temper gone. “You’ve been wonderful. This has all been just perfect. Never think I’m not grateful. I am. You just rattle me. I’d like some time to figure it out.”

She stood at the basement stairs. Once she went up them, she’d be out the kitchen door and to the motor home in a minute. He didn’t want her to go. He’d be up for another few hours until the rush wore off. He’d like to talk with her, spend the time with her.

“Let me walk you out,” he said.

Kellie shook her head. “That’s not necessary. Not tonight.”

She was cutting off his attempt to be close to her.

“What if I insist?” he asked.

“No,” she said simply.

He nodded, respecting her decision. Maybe it was for the best anyway. Outside, seeing her standing by the motor home door, knowing she was going to walk away from him, would be pure torture. Fate might have given Hart back his luck tonight on the track, but she’d dealt him a major blow to the solar plexus of his love life. This woman striding up the basement stairs mattered to him, and she was leaving.

From a kitchen window, he watched as Kellie entered the motor home that was parked on the expansive driveway behind the house. He couldn’t see in the windows, so instead he helped himself to the remaining biscuits and stew. He sat down and ate the food, barely tasting the meal as he mulled over the current situation. Then he took out his cell phone and dialed.

“Do you know what time it is?” his aunt asked.

“I know perfectly well the hour, especially since I got back here too late,” Hart said, glumly.

“For what?” Cynthia asked.

Hart rolled his eyes. “To talk with Kellie. She’s not like any of the others. They’d be thrilled to see me. Instead, she gave me a lecture on how I shouldn’t have discussed her and Charlie in the media center. Now she’s out in the motor home.”

“So?” Cynthia asked, stifling a yawn. “You didn’t intend on seducing this one anyway.”

“No, but I don’t want her walking out of my life, either,” Hart said stubbornly. “You’ve got to help me. This is unfamiliar territory.”

“Hart, you’ll be bored with her in a few months. She’s already making demands. What happened to that ‘I’m in charge and if she can’t handle it, there’s always someone else to take her place’ attitude you always display? You’ve only known the woman a weekend. She sounds like trouble to me.”

“Stop the reverse psychology. I’ve known her
two
weekends and she’s not trouble. At least not like that,” Hart said. He inhaled. “When my dad saw my mom, he knew. You said you were that way with Liam. Well, I know.”

Silence.

“Are you still there?” Hart demanded after a few seconds passed.

“I’m here,” Cynthia said. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“Well, get unsurprised and help me figure this out. This is new territory for me.”

“If I promise to help, will you at least let me sleep on this? It’ll probably do you a world of good, too.”

“Fine,” Hart said. He shut the phone, and then quickly called his aunt right back.

“What?” she asked, as if she had been expecting him.

“Kellie doesn’t want to be in a national sports magazine. Can you make sure she and Charlie aren’t tomorrow’s news?”

“Hart, you know I don’t have control over the press, but I’ll see what I can do. As for the magazine, they’re going to be out Tuesday for an insider look at Hart Hampton. Maybe I can hold that over their head.”

“Threaten to cancel it if they won’t cooperate,” Hart said. He added a hasty good-night and ended the call. He finished the stew, rinsing the plate and putting it in the dishwasher. A cleaning service came once a week, but Hart had been raised not to be a slob. He surveyed the kitchen, took one last look out at the motor home, and turned out the light.