Right Before His Eyes (10 page)

But she had absolutely no right to. Bart had done nothing wrong and had a lot on his shoulders already.

The one who should be fixing this was the man who continued to hurt all of them.

“D
UDE, YOU NEED A SOCIAL
life,” said Bart's motor-home driver, Jimbo Wheeler, as he flipped the burgers on the grill. “Only two races down in the championship run. You can't afford to be this tight. Go have some fun. This ain't healthy.”

“I qualified twenty-third,” Bart responded. “Doesn't earn me any fun.”

“This is California. You can make it up, and you know that. You're in fourth place in points. What's the problem?”

What's the problem? Well, how about that Jake McMasters was a busy man and was having trouble getting prison officials to schedule an interview with Bart's father to get more information? That Bart was worried about his family's safety? Or that his distraction had shown during qualifying? “Too many points between me and first.”

Jimbo shrugged. “Nobody's better on the intermediate tracks, and they're the biggest chunk of the schedule.” He took a sip of his beer and frowned. “What's really wrong?”

Bart wished he could confide in the older man. Jimbo had stuck by Bart through the scandal, even when Bart hadn't been sure he'd be able to pay him, but the family had agreed to keep Hilton's lies very quiet until they had
a better handle on the situation. “Just tired.” He leaned his head back in the lawn chair.

“Who wouldn't be? You're running like crazy, 24/7. Even on what ought to be off days, you're in the shop studying printouts or doing simulations. You need some downtime, son. A little flirting with a lucky lady wouldn't hurt, either. Not like there aren't plenty hanging around waiting for you to notice them.”

It was to Bart's dismay that the face that automatically sprang to mind was that of one skittish, mule-stubborn little waitress at Maudie's. He had no idea what he'd done, but Mellie was avoiding him as if he'd contracted the plague.

She shouldn't appeal to him. He went for long-stemmed blondes, not waifs with a boy's haircut and dark, sad eyes. He had enough problems without taking on hers, but damned if he didn't miss teasing her, flirting with her, however much doing so flustered her.

“You're probably right,” he admitted to Jimbo. “But I'm too tired to bother. Soon as we eat, I'm turning in.”

“Okay, that's it. I'm calling your mama or a doctor.”

“What?” Bart scrambled to sit up. “Why?”

“The day Playboy Bart Branch would rather go to bed alone than be out with a lady…you gotta be either crazy or coming down with something.”

Bart narrowed his eyes. “Leave my mother out of it.” He knew his voice had gone feral, but Maeve Branch Lawrence was finally happy, and he would not see her distressed.

“Whoa, boy.” Jimbo held up his hands, even the one with the spatula in it. “You know I think the world of Maeve. I was just joking.” Then his own expression
sharpened. “I know you're not sick, but I'm beginning to think there's a woman involved in this, just not like I was assuming. There is, isn't there?” He leaned closer and examined Bart, making Bart feel like his eagle-eyed mother actually was on hand. “Have you gone sweet on some girl, is that what's the matter?”

“Of course not.” But Bart abandoned the defense he was about to mount. He was a lousy liar, and Jimbo would dig at him until he unearthed the truth. While he was fiercely loyal, Jimbo was also quite gregarious. Bart would be smart to let Jimbo think what he wanted to, though he had to be cagey about it. He was far from ready for the world to know about the whole Hilton–lost baby situation. “Not really,” he hedged.

Jimbo's eyes lit, and he flashed a wide grin. “Well, what do you know? My boy's gone and fallen in love.”

Bart nearly rocketed straight out of his chair. “Don't go getting ahead of yourself, buddy. I'm not in love.” He wasn't. He wouldn't ever be. Love made people stupid. Look at all his mother had tolerated from his worthless dad.

Jimbo turned back to the burgers, eyebrows lifted as he whistled. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“I could just fire you, you know.”

Jimbo cast a glance at him, still smiling. “But you won't. Who else would put up with you?”

Bart shook his head and clapped the older man on the back. “I think you got that backward. Who would put up with you, is the question.”

Jimbo handed him a plate. “You just keep telling yourself that, son. Now I want to see you eat every bite. You got a championship to win, plus some fair maiden's heart. You'll need your strength.” He turned away, chuckling, and began building his own burger.

Bart started to argue, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd won an argument with Jimbo, so instead he focused on eating.

 

B
ACK IN
M
OORESVILLE
, Bart parked his truck outside Maudie's and remained inside the cab, wondering what he was doing here. His dismal sixteenth-place finish at California had him in no mood to talk to anyone. He was still in fourth place, but barely; the points between himself and third had widened, and if he didn't get himself together before Charlotte, he'd find himself too far back to make up the distance.

The only good news was that he'd have two weeks at home. All the teams enjoyed the respite from travel the two times a year they raced here.

Though to say
home
was stretching it. His condo barely qualified. He spent more time in his motor home, really.

Just then, his cell phone rang, and he glanced at the display. Will. They'd only had a couple of minutes to talk after the race, but with the unerring ability of a twin, Will had known he was in a funk. “Come over to the house when you get back,” he'd offered. “You know Zoe and the kids would love to see you.”

Bart knew that was true. Usually, he liked few things better than hanging out with his brother's family. Zoe had created a real home, warm and welcoming, and his brother was flourishing there. His nephew Sam was a great kid, and Bart often took him places, especially since Will and Zoe's twins had been born. Time spent in Sam's company was both relaxing and fun—you never knew what the boy would come up with next. The babies were getting a lot more interesting, too.

But sometimes the contrast between Bart's life and
his brother's was just too stark. Right now he didn't need any reminders of what he didn't have—not that he wanted to settle down, he reminded himself.

So instead of answering his brother's call, he let it go to voice mail and sent a text.
Got something better going, bro. You understand.

The reply winged back.
Go for it.

Bart's shoulders settled. He'd never pull off the lie if Will could hear his voice. Thank goodness for the neutrality of electronic communications. He took another look at Maudie's and nearly started up his engine again, but just then his stomach growled loudly, and he realized that he was starving.

Doesn't matter that Mellie's ignoring my existence lately. She's not my type anyway.

He strode inside, looked around for his favorite booth and headed in that direction.

“Bart!” called out a child's voice filled with delight.

He turned around, only to see Lily in Sheila's arms, her own chubby ones held out toward him in clear demand. “Pick me up,” she ordered.

Well, at least somebody's happy to see me,
he thought, and a smile rose inside him. “Hey, my best girl, how are you?” In seconds, he'd covered the distance between them and plucked Lily from Sheila's grasp.

Instantly, she laid her head on his shoulder as though it was her ideal spot.

Bart found himself relaxing as he hadn't in days, maybe weeks, and for a second, he didn't think about anything connected to racing. He simply enjoyed the child's sweet softness and utter trust.

Then Lily's head rose, and she clasped his face in her
two little hands, staring at him seriously. “Where have you been, Bart? I missed you.”

His heart melted. “I missed you, too. So…want to come talk to me while I eat?”

Just then Mellie emerged from the kitchen with a full tray that threatened to overpower her slight figure. “Lily! You're supposed to be with Sheila.” She glanced quickly at Bart and just as swiftly looked away. She started to set the tray down.

“She's fine,” he reassured Mellie. “But that tray's too heavy for you. Take her, and I'll carry that for you.”

Mellie's brows snapped together. “I carry more than this every day. I don't need your help.”

“That much is obvious.” He held out Lily in preparation for the swap, but Mellie only skirted around them, while Lily began to whimper. He drew her back. “Sorry, sweetie.” He cuddled the little girl while staring over her head at the retreating Mellie.

“It's not you,” Sheila said quietly behind him. “She's on edge, but I'm not sure why. That girl's hiding secrets, but I'm not making any progress in figuring out what or why.”

Secrets. “I've had a bellyful of secrets,” he replied. “And I don't need the grief.”

“But she needs friends. Lots of folks like her, but there's a part of her no one can touch except this little girl…and you.”

His gaze snapped to Sheila's. “Me? Are you kidding? She goes out of her way to ignore me.”

“Don't be such a guy, Bart. Open your eyes. There's something between you and Mellie, no matter how hard both of you try to pretend otherwise.”

He glanced across the restaurant at the woman who was barely more than a girl, a slim fairy whose delicate
frame hid a constitution of pure steel. Yes, he was drawn to her and had been from the first, but…

Just then, she finished writing an order and turned in his direction. Their eyes locked, and for a second, Bart felt it again, that tug. What was it? He frowned because he didn't understand. She was too young, too complicated, too small, too…

She frowned right back and reversed course.

Bart was surprised to hear himself laugh. One thing she damn sure wasn't was timid. Her appearance was a complete deception.

“You laughed, Bart,” observed Lily. Her solemn little face broke into a smile guaranteed to melt the hardest of hearts. “Laugh again,” she ordered.

Bart yanked his attention from Lily's mother's back to the little queen in his arms. He grinned and tossed her up in the air, catching her safely as first a squeal and then a giggle erupted. “You laugh, little Lily.”

And she did. “Again,” she urged.

Bart complied, and for a few minutes, lost himself in playing with Lily.

 

L
ILY'S FIRST SQUEAL HAD
Mellie reacting instinctively, gathering herself to charge to her aid, but one glance was plenty to reassure her that Lily was in good hands. She closed her eyes against how lovely the sight was, the big man grinning as he delighted a little girl he had no idea was his half sister.

And that's just one of the reasons you should keep Lily away…or come clean,
her conscience urged.

I'm trying to save him,
another part of her argued.
He doesn't need the distraction right now. After the championship is over, I'll find a time.

But another part of her was unbearably tempted
to snatch Lily up, pack their bags and be gone before sunrise.

Mellie forced herself to turn from them and focus on her work.

 

B
ART SPENT A GOOD HALF HOUR
or so playing with Lily and blocking out the woman so studiously ignoring him, until Lily yawned and crawled up in his lap, falling asleep against him with complete trust.

His stomach growled again, but he wasn't about to disturb her or the peace that stole over him. Sheila glanced their way and smiled, and for the first time all day, Bart felt good. Really good.

He looked down at the tousled brown curls, the little hand lying limp on his forearm, and he felt an actual lump in his throat. He looked across the diner seeking Mellie, putting himself in her place for once, responsible for such precious cargo with no husband to help. Of course she would be skittish; it was painfully obvious when they were together that Mellie was both fiercely devoted to Lily and that she was sometimes overwhelmed.

She worked very hard, on her feet all day and lugging around huge trays far too heavy for her slight frame. Then at night she cared for her little girl and rose again the next day to do it all over again.

When did Mellie ever have fun? Had he ever seen her outside the diner?

His plans for tomorrow had been solely focused on racing—to be at the shop early, to stare at printouts until he went blind, to peer over the shoulders of the team as they readied next week's car and backup.

You need some downtime, son.

Wouldn't Jimbo be happy to know Bart had just
come to the same conclusion? Bart lifted his head and nodded at Sheila, indicating a request that she come to his booth.

“What's up? Want me to take her?”

“I'm fine,” he whispered. “That's not what I wanted to ask.”

Sheila smiled. “You don't have to whisper. I swear that child could sleep through an earthquake. So what's on your mind?”

“Could Mellie have the day off tomorrow?”

Her smile widened to a huge grin. “Absolutely. You have plans for her?”

“I do. Jimbo's going to call my mom if I don't take some time off, and it occurs to me that I've never seen Mellie around town.”

“You're observant. All the girl does is work and take care of her child.”

“Could Louise still babysit, you think, if I paid her?”

“I'm sure she'd be delighted to.”

“I thought about taking both of them, but—”

“I don't know if Mellie will leave her, but what she really needs is some time to be an adult and simply play. I'll throw my weight around to convince her.” Then her eyes narrowed. “What are your plans?”