Magnetic Shift (2 page)

I resisted the urge to give him the evil eye. “Yeah, well. Sorry to disappoint.” What had he expected from a girl grease monkey, anyway? That I’d show up in a dress?

He fist-tapped the side of my shoulder and chuckled. “I’m not at all disappointed … I mean … I didn’t mean it like that.” He cleared his throat. “Anywho, Dean’s in his office.”

I glanced around the garage. The structure had no interior walls. I could see straight into the neighboring stalls on either side. Where did this guy see an “office?”

“It’s in the hauler. Come on, I’ll show ya.” He started toward the long row of car carriers parked outside.

“You’re not going to tell me who you are?”

He turned. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Why? Should I know you?”

His expression fell but perked up again. “My bad. I just assumed …” He held out his hand. “I’m Colton Tayler, driver of this here 129 Angel.”

“Driver? Snap, I’m so sorry. I don’t follow motorsports much.” I slipped my hand into his. My heart swan-dived into the pit of my stomach. The heat of his touch seeped through my skin and wrapped me in a warm fuzzy feeling. A fog clouded my mind and the world spun around me. The last time I’d felt
like this was on the night of my grade school graduation when my friends and I raided Roy’s liquor cabinet. That was back when I still had somewhat of a normal life and boy, had I gotten in shit that time. Was my body trying to tell me something?

While keeping my breath steady and my expression neutral as best as I could, I tried to mentally shake away the weird sensation. I failed. Worse, I lost my focus—only for a second, but that’s all it took. I turned just in time to see an old, rusty tomato juice can tip over and scatter a handful of wheel nuts all over the garage floor, some rolling under the car to where one of Colton’s teammates was busy working. I jerked my now-shaking hand back, bit down around the one-inch scar on my bottom lip, and tensed.

Had I done that?

Please God no …

Colton had lunged forward as if he’d thought he could catch the can, but he’d been a fraction too late. Instead, he surveyed the mess.

“It’s my fault,” I blurted, on the verge of panic. “I … I knocked it over with my suitcase.” My gaze shifted around the stall, making sure no one was close enough to have seen otherwise.

“No worries. Somebody trips over that thing at least once a day.” He waved his hand up high in the air and let out a loud whistle. “Hey, Joe. Can you look after this spill? I need to get Lexi here to the hauler.”

A curly-haired man wearing a two-piece black and white fire suit with the angel logo printed across the front popped his head out from behind the car. “Sure thing, Colt.”

Colton’s gaze dipped back to me. “Come on, newb.” He
winked the green eye. “Dean’s expecting you.” He turned on the heels of his weird, dainty-looking running shoes and headed toward the haulers.

I snatched my suitcase’s handle and hurried to keep up. “Hey, it’s not like I’m totally oblivious. I’ve watched races on TV before. I just don’t follow every race … I mean, you’re new and—”

“It’s no biggie.” He chuckled, slowed down, and glanced back. “I can’t expect everyone to be a fan. I get it.”

“It’s not that I’m not a fan, it’s that I …” Colton looked back, eyebrow raised. “I … oh, never mind.” Swallowing my words, I motioned for him to keep going. I followed the rest of the way in silence. Making friends with this guy—or anyone else, really—wasn’t the goal here. The goal was to pay off Roy’s debt. That was it. Getting close to anyone was a bad idea.

Colton led me between the haulers, up the side of the DSG Racing and Guardian Auto Insurance’s black, forty-seven-foot-long rolling billboard, and held the side door open for me. I slid the propped luggage handle down and reached for the side handle, but Colton beat me to it. “I got it.”

“Thanks.” I gave him a faint smile.

“Head on up and to your left.”

I stepped inside and peeked through the thick strands of dark brown, chin-length hair falling over my face, catching a glimpse of myself in the stainless steel surface of the bar fridge. I looked so out of place with my grease-stained, ripped jeans and large gold hoop earrings. No wonder people had stared. This was an entirely different world, a shiny one compared to working at the salvage yard. These teams all had matching uniforms that were, no doubt, professionally cleaned on a
weekly basis. My wardrobe and accessories were going to need some serious rethinking.

Colton climbed up behind me, swinging my suitcase in before him. “Son of a … This thing’s heavy. Whatcha got in here?”

“My whole life.” I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder at him, not wanting him to see the scowl on my face. It wasn’t his fault I’d been sent here against my will.

Colton brushed my arm with his hand and I jumped, darting a look in his direction. “Hey, now. Whoa. You have nothing to be scared of. Dean’s a good guy, I promise.”

I looked away. “Yeah. Says you.”

“Dean,” Colton shouted, “Your golden child has arrived.”

I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help it. I
so
knew where he was going with this. This guy was as cheesy as the college frat boys Roy hired to help out around the shop part-time. Cute—in this case, gorgeous—but didn’t have much going on upstairs, other than lousy jokes and ideas for stupid pranks.

A chair scraped on the hollow floor in the next room. “Now, Colton, I wouldn’t exactly call you my—”

“Lexi’s here,” Colton corrected him before he could finish his sentence.

Dean appeared around the corner. He looked the same as he had the day he’d strolled into Roy’s office: thirty-something, medium build, wavy brown hair. “Oh.” His expression softened. “Hello, Lexi.” He pulled his hand out of his dark jean pocket and held it out to me. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Dean Grant.”

No, we hadn’t. Roy hadn’t had the decency to introduce me to the man who was going to rip me out of the only home I’d known for the past eight years and whisk me away for an
entire NASCAR racing season, all because I knew how to turn a stupid wrench.

I looked down at his waiting hand, and then up at his face. “I know who you are.”
Jerk
.

Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t like I had the perfect life with Roy in that hellhole I called home. Dean had seen the fresh handprint-shaped bruise on my arm the day he’d toured the shop—now a faded yellow, unrecognizable mark hidden under my sleeve—but still. I’d managed fine on my own. I knew how to deal with Roy’s temper, and I only had to put up with it until November. In her will, Mama had left me the old cottage by the lake—the one we’d lived in before she’d married that scumbag—and it would finally be mine on my eighteenth birthday. All I had to do was prove that I intended on graduating high school, which I did.

Colton dropped my luggage in the middle of the aisle and grazed my arm on his way to the bar fridge. The contact made my temples throb again, this time causing a tool to rattle on the workbench behind Dean.

Oh, come on. Not again. Lex, get a grip.

I clenched my fists and worked at regaining control while trying to keep my face expressionless.

Dean took back his hand, rocked onto his heels, and looked past me at Colton, oblivious to my struggles. “Move her bag over there, will ya?” He nodded to a corner between the workbench and the door. “I’ll come see you before Link’s practice.”

Colton swallowed as he tightened the cap of a water bottle he’d taken from the fridge. “Sure thing, boss.” He moved the suitcase, flashed me another grin, and then left the way we’d come.

Dean put his hand on my shoulder and pointed toward the next room. “Let’s go chat in my office, shall we?” I flinched and gave him a sharp stare. I didn’t like being touched, not without good reason. He pulled his hand away awkwardly, clearing his throat as he did so, and gestured for me to go in before him.

I slipped my backpack off my shoulders, dropped it on the floor, and sat in one of the two upholstered office chairs facing his desk. The room was gray and dull; not one picture or poster hung on the walls. The only dab of color came from the large green and yellow sponsor calendar that lay on his desk. Talk about boring.

Dean rounded the desk and pulled back the chair on the other side. “I hope you had a pleasant trip.”

He meant the cramped, two-hour bus ride from Kissimmee to the Daytona International Credentials Office a few blocks from here, where he hadn’t even had the decency to pick me up himself.

“Fine.”

“Good.” He smoothed out his yellow satin tie and sat.

I lowered my gaze, fiddling with the credentials badge hanging from my neck as I fought to keep my emotions in check. I didn’t want to “accidentally” launch every metallic object in this room at his head, although knowing I could if I wanted to helped me relax. I forced myself not to smile at the idea of whacking him in the face with a stapler.

“Now, I know being here may seem somewhat odd to you. It’s not exactly an ethical way of negotiating a sponsorship deal with your stepfather’s business. But, after seeing you work from his office window, I couldn’t refuse his offer.”

Yeah, I’m sure he hadn’t missed the part where Roy had
stormed down from his second story office to yell his brains out at me when the transmission I’d been removing fell and almost smashed my face in. I’d managed to deflect it to the floor with my ability, but Roy hadn’t noticed that, and neither had Dean. He’d been too busy watching Roy scream at me for almost ruining the part his customer was picking up later that afternoon.

Dean stared at my not-so-pleased expression and sighed. “Look, Lexi, I realize you probably don’t think much of me now, and I’m not going to force you to stay—”

“Like I have a choice,” I mumbled, slouching deeper into my chair.

“Yes, you do.”

I glanced up. “I do?” Hope began to stir, but then fear reared its ugly head. How could I go home now? Roy would beat the crap out of me for screwing up his deal. And, to be honest, did I seriously want to go back there?

Running away wasn’t an option if I wanted to graduate or inherit the cottage, so that didn’t leave me with many choices.

Dean narrowed his eyes, as if trying to figure out what was going on in my head. “Give me three days. Give me until Sunday’s race to prove you’ll fit in here, to show you what this new life has to offer, and then you can give me an answer on whether you want to stay or go. If you decide this isn’t for you, I’ll drive you home myself.”

“What about your contract with Roy?”

He threaded his fingers together and leaned his forearms on the desk. “I’ll honor my commitment to him for the remainder of the season.”

Was this guy for real? Would he seriously let Roy’s East
Coast Salvage’s name stay on as a sponsor if I walked away? He was nuts. Sponsorship ads weren’t cheap. That much I knew.

“Do we have a deal?” Dean stretched his open hand across his desk.

His eyes held a sincere promise, but this whole thing still seemed fishy to me. Something told me there was another reason I was here and it had nothing to do with my mechanical skills. But what did I have to lose? Worst case, I’d be back home in three days.

I firmly planted my hand in his and nodded.

“Deal.”

chapter two

I followed Dean through the infield down to the drivers’ lot where I’d be staying for the weekend. People circled and stared like vultures nearing a fresh kill. Some even whispered as we passed by. I didn’t belong here, and they all knew it. I gripped my backpack tighter and hoped that once Dean showed me to my room, I could have some alone time to calm my agitated nerves and my cursed senses. If I was going to function, I needed to get a grip on my emotions before I completely lost it.

Dean ushered me through the side door of a large, dark gray motor coach with green decorative swirls along its side. My eyes widened and wandered around the luxurious space, looking at the hardwood crown moldings and matching cabinet doors, the speckled granite countertops, and the black, polished floors that sparkled at my feet. Dean took the lead again and moved toward the back of the bus, passing two beige leather sofas before entering another room where he swung my suitcase onto the queen-sized bed centered against the back wall. “So … what do you think?”

I followed him in, taking slow and steady steps toward the bed. I needed time to digest the elegance that surrounded me. I mean … this was a bus. A freakin’ bus. From the outside, I’d never expected it to look so spacious and rich.

“It’s huge.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Dean chuckled. “Yes, well. This is the master bedroom. I thought you’d appreciate having your own space when at the tracks. You even have your own bathroom right through that door.” He pointed to a narrow sliding door behind him.

I blinked rapidly to keep my eyes from bulging out of my head. “I get my own bathroom?” I slid my backpack off my shoulders and dropped it on the bed.

Dean nodded. “Colton and I are set up on the bunk beds at the other end. We share another bathroom up there.”

I stared in awe at the room: the dark brown, built-in nightstands, the long dresser, the tipped out wardrobe that sat empty, begging me to fill it. I opened the bathroom door and gasped at its sheer size with crisp, white walls, a floor-to-ceiling mirror, and a stand-up shower in the corner. This was too much. My musty corner loft room above the garage back home would only have filled half this space, if that.

The shock wore off, and Dean’s words sunk in. “Wait, Colton sleeps here too?” A static spark ignited in my head.

“He sure does. I gotta pamper my drivers.” He tilted his head slightly. “That, and his parents preferred that he stay with me until he turns twenty-one. It’s a condition they set when I took him on last year, but you didn’t hear it from me. Colton doesn’t like to advertise it.”

“Huh.” So not only would I be working with Colton, I’d be
sharing a living space with him for the whole weekend. The low hum of pulsating currents in my head didn’t seem to like that idea much.

“I left you a few t-shirts and ball caps in the first drawer over in that dresser with our team logos on them. I recommend you wear them on race day, but I’ll leave that up to you. And if you follow me into the kitchen, I have a few more things I want to give you.”