Shifting Gears Read online

  His lips were the only soft feature on that otherwise chiseled face.

  When he’d held her, for that brief span of time that she’d hugged him hello, she’d felt every inch of her skin come alive, like it had been lit with millions of tiny sparks crackling like hot fire all over her body. She’d thought about those soft lips skating over the sparks, and her knees had nearly buckled.

  And then he’d noticed the pie she’d made. Right after she’d been thinking about how men never cared about that kind of thing—the only kind of thing she was allowed to be openly good at here in Charlotte—Grady had noticed. More than noticed. He’d commented on it in a way that had made her think he didn’t just mean the dessert, and her body had heated and expanded with want.

  She might not have as much experience as a lot of other women her age, but she wasn’t completely oblivious. Except she hadn’t been able to figure out whether Grady had also noticed her flirting with him. She thought maybe he had, but from the casual goodbye he gave her, she wasn’t certain.

  Even now, after replaying the whole thing in her head for the past ten hours, she couldn’t figure out whether he was into her or not.

  It doesn’t matter. Stop thinking about it.

  This potential job at Hart Racing was her ticket to independence, after all. It wasn’t a mechanic’s position, but it was a step in the right direction. Team managers at least got to be around cars, even if they didn’t get to work on them. Either way, getting involved with Grady would be a terrible idea.

  A sexy, hot, terrible idea.

  She sighed and finished buttoning her blouse, then walked out into the front room of her mother’s house, about to announce that she was ready to leave for the church potluck. But Momma gasped, “Annabelle!” so loudly that Annabelle startled, nearly tripping over her own feet, at the harsh sound.

  It was like a reprimand in and of itself.

  Her name coming from her mother’s lips usually was, anyway. Annabelle suppressed the urge to sigh in disappointment. She already knew what was coming. Of course she’d known. Hadn’t a small part of her chosen this blouse for precisely that reason? Almost because she’d wanted to get a rise out of Momma, to needle her mother just a little for siding with Donnie over her. For holding her back, holding her down.

  It had been a childish urge, but after the faith that Mrs. Hart—Nancy—had shown in her this morning, and the interest in Grady’s eyes … well, it was just so difficult not to at least let a smidge of anger at her mother show. Why did Momma have to be so … so …

  Unimaginative?

  Something rebellious had gotten ahold of Annabelle and she couldn’t seem to shake it. She’d tried to bake it away, had gone straight to the kitchen after Nancy’s this morning and produced three dozen perfectly square layer bars and another of those deft-handed pies, but her restlessness hadn’t abated one bit. Her restless hands had plucked this blouse from her closet and her restless fingers had closed up the buttons as though sealing her into a suit of armor.

  What are you trying to prove, stupid girl?

  Donnie’s voice had started to blend with Momma’s. But it didn’t really matter anymore whose words they were. They were the words of doubt. The words of not-good-enough that she’d carried around for years.

  They were the words of fear. And she was just so tired of living in fear.

  I want to be someone significant.

  She wanted to be someone with a mother like Nancy, who had listened and cared enough about the message in a single statement, suggesting to Grady that Annabelle take the team manager job, while right this moment, Annabelle’s own mother could only stare in shock at the sheer blouse that she was wearing, which revealed a shadowy outline of her bra underneath.

  Momma’s imagination was clearly being taxed to its limit.

  Annabelle felt her annoyance taking over and tried to push it back down. She had to tread carefully. “What is it?” She tried to school her voice into sounding calm and unaffected, despite the roiling anger inside.

  Her mother shook her head and said sharply, “Annabelle, I think the lighting in your room is not adequate. Your blouse is—” she lowered her voice to a whisper, as though Deacon Brown was listening in on their conversation all the way from the First Baptist reception room—“completely transparent.”

  Oh, honestly. It was not as see-through as that. Admittedly, she should have chosen a better time than the church social to bring out this top, but she’d seen other ladies in church wearing the same fabric and no one had said a thing.

  She’d bought it shortly before her and Donnie’s second anniversary, when their sex life had already started to wane a little and she’d hoped to distract him from his drink long enough to be tempted by her. Not that it had helped.

  But it was Grady who she’d been thinking of when she put it on tonight. Grady, who’d made her feel powerful in her femininity, and who was giving her a chance to prove what she was made of. She had to keep reminding herself of that. She couldn’t let the fear take her over. She had to be brave.

  “I don’t think—” she began, but Momma cut her off.

  “No, you didn’t think. This is my house, Annabelle. As long as you’re living here, you’ll respect my sensibilities and not flaunt yourself in such a way. Do you understand?”

  Of course … sometimes there was a fine line between bravery and stupidity. Pushing her mom on something as minor as clothes could get her kicked out. The message had been clear.

  As soon as she was finally free and standing on her own, living in her own apartment, and choosing her own clothes, she was going to walk around town in pasties and a thong to celebrate.

  Okay, fine. Maybe not. But she would wear a top like this every day if she wanted.

  She knew she wasn’t doing a good job of being an adult about this. An adult would stand up for herself and tell her mother to shove it. But then, that would mean packing her bags and finding another place to sleep tonight, even though she had no money and no friends. Maybe she could ask Nancy, but no way would she involve her neighbor in a family thing unless it was an emergency.

  And this was not an emergency. At least, not one that she couldn’t prevent. She’d save her fight for something that mattered.

  But what about you? Don’t you matter?

  The thought shocked her.

  Because for the first time in as long as she could remember, the voice in her head wasn’t tearing her down.

  She paused for a moment, debating—

  Then again, no need to cut off your nose to spite your face …

  She swallowed the lump of restlessness that had been clawing its way up her throat, trying to find a way out, and gave a tight nod. “I understand. I’ll go change. It’ll just take a minute.”

  As she turned to go back to her room, she told herself it was good sense and not her old cowardice that was pushing her to that decision. But every part of her hated the symbolism in her actions as she pulled off the blouse she’d been wearing and exchanged it for one that covered her over completely.

  Chapter 3

  Grady did not like Matt Fogerty.

  In fact, that was putting it mildly. More specifically, he wanted to put a fist in Matt Fogerty’s face.

  They’d just finished a long and grueling day of interviews and discussions with the little weasel and Ranger was seeing him out the door while Grady waited in his own office, staring unfocused at the CAD program up on his laptop. There hadn’t been much time to work on his designs today, since Fogerty had sucked up every free minute, but now he couldn’t seem to get his head in the game long enough to make any progress.

  Kerri walked in and heaved a loud sigh as she dropped into a chair opposite Grady’s desk, and he turned his attention to her.

  “What did you think?” He kept his voice even, not wanting to sound too down on the guy in case Kerri had liked him. He didn’t want anyone thinking he was jealous or feeling resentful about being replaced. Though he had to admit that it didn�
��t feel great to be replaced.

  Sure, it had been his idea to leave in the first place. But this was more than a job, damn it. It was his family. No matter how much he wanted to carve out a place for himself, he could never walk away from his family.

  Kerri shrugged with her whole body. “He was okay. Definitely has the right experience. But I’m not sure he would fit in here. I’d almost like to get someone who’s totally green but has a great personality, just to be sure I never dread having to work with him in a race.”

  Good. So she had a similar read, at least. He furrowed his brow. “What about the day-to-day stuff? Would you dread working with him on that?”

  Grady would find it annoying as fuck. Something about Fogerty just rubbed him the wrong way. But in the end, Grady wasn’t the one who’d have to work with him every day. Kerri and Ranger and Bit and Neil and Danny and the rest of the crew would.

  And maybe Annabelle …

  Shit. That reminded him—he hadn’t had a chance to tell Kerri and Ranger about Annabelle coming in to interview for the team manager position.

  He was about to tell Kerri when Ranger walked in and strode over to Kerri and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “So? What’s the verdict?” Ranger asked before settling into the chair next to Kerri. Grady watched as Ranger reached out and grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers across the space between the chairs.

  What would it be like to have someone like that in his life?

  An image of Annabelle, sitting next to him like that and holding his hand, popped into his mind, and Grady felt a little jealousy stirring.

  Not of Ranger. That was his sister, after all. Gross. But he wished he had a relationship like that. One person who thought that what he did was great and worth buying into. Even if Carbon Works failed, if someone else believed in him and thought he was special enough to be with …

  Kerri smiled at Ranger. “I was telling Grady that I think Fogerty would be great technically and could probably guide us into some solid wins, but I’m not sure about his personality. He was kind of strange, don’t you think?”

  Ranger frowned. “Yeah? I didn’t get that from him. Maybe he seemed a little smarmy, but he could have just been nervous, too. What do you think, Grady?”

  Grady thought about how his own nerves sometimes affected his behavior. How worked up he got on the track, and how it always brought out the worst in him. Panicked and unable to think clearly. Being crew chief could get really stressful at times, and for him personally, being nervous didn’t help matters any.

  He never should have stepped into that role, but they hadn’t had a choice when he’d started out.

  Fine, maybe he should give Fogerty a little leeway.

  “He knows his stuff. I’m with Kerri that something’s off about him, but you could be right that it’s because of nerves.”

  Ranger looked at them both. “Seeing as we don’t have anyone else lined up—it’s been tougher than I thought it would be to find someone qualified—let’s give him a trial period. Three races, make or break. We can invite him out this weekend and maybe he can share the seat with you, Grady? We’ll pay him as a consultant, race-to-race, before we sign anything permanent.”

  Which meant that Grady would still be official crew chief for this weekend’s race, but Fogerty would be expected to jump in as acting crew chief for most of it. To prove his mettle. If Grady was still in charge, he would have said no up front, based on Fogerty’s attitude alone, but given their limited options, this was a smart move. For the billionth time, Grady was glad that a guy like Ranger had taken over Hart Racing.

  He pushed away the resulting feeling of failure simply by comparison and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Ranger turned to Kerri. “What about you, baby? Is that okay?”

  She grinned. “You know I do whatever you think is best.”

  Ranger snorted. “You’re funny, sugar. Great, then I’ll let him know.” He started to rise, pulling Kerri along with him, but before they could leave, Grady asked them both to stick around for one more minute.

  “I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but I’ve got someone coming in Monday morning to interview for the team manager position.”

  “Oh? Anyone I know?” Ranger leaned forward.

  Grady shook his head. “I don’t think so. Her name is Annabelle Murray. She grew up—”

  “China Doll Murray?” Kerri blurted, but immediately clapped her free hand over her mouth, silencing herself for a moment before saying in a contrite voice, “I’m sorry, that was mean. It was what my friends and I called her back then. Just slipped out.”

  Ranger turned to Kerri. “So you know her?”

  “Yeah. She was our neighbor growing up. She used to hang around a lot but we weren’t exactly friends. She liked watching Dad and Bit and Grady work on the cars, but she never said much. I thought it was because she had a crush on Grady.” Kerri flashed a grin at her brother, and Grady wanted to push her on what she’d just said.

  You thought Annabelle was into me? Because I’m sure as hell into her.

  But this wasn’t the time.

  Kerri continued. “She ended up becoming a teacher, like her mom was, and she moved to Texas with her husband…” Kerri trailed off, looking confused.

  Grady gave a quick explanation of what he’d found out that morning—that Annabelle had taken over her ex’s garage for a time but was now divorced and living back with her mother. When he was finished, Kerri whistled.

  “Who would have guessed she’d end up running a garage, of all things? I guess she really was paying more attention to the cars than to Grady, after all.”

  Grady refused to acknowledge how disappointed he felt at that.

  “She just doesn’t seem the type,” Kerri added, then shrugged. “Well, maybe she’ll work out. I remember her being kind of a scared-of-her-own-shadow kind of person, but you never know. Life is full of surprises.” She stood up then, Ranger following suit. “Anyway, we’d better get going. The flight tomorrow is early and I still have to pack.”

  “I’ll get the flight arrangements squared away for Fogerty,” Ranger said over his shoulder as he and Kerri walked toward the door.

  “Sounds good.” Grady turned back to his CAD program. He really needed to make up for the hours he’d lost that day. But he had a feeling it still wasn’t going to be easy to focus. Not with thoughts of Annabelle lingering in his mind.

  “Don’t stay too late!” Ranger called from the hallway, Kerri’s laugh echoing in response.

  Grady sighed. Fat chance. This was the only time he’d have to work on his designs before he flew out tomorrow morning with Kerri and Lee. Lee raced on Friday and Kerri on Saturday, so it would be nonstop racing for the next couple of days.

  At least he was coming back early on Sunday and could get some uninterrupted time in the office then, while everyone else stayed behind to watch the Intercomm race. Maybe, if he stopped getting distracted by Annabelle and just focused, he could get this part finished up tonight. It would need more than a full day to print, anyway, and if it was good, he might actually have his very first product to test and sell. With a little luck, he could make his first sale by next month. The business might even succeed. And then maybe he’d finally accomplish something. Prove that even if he couldn’t cut it on the racetrack, he was someone worth investing in.

  After all, life was full of surprises.

  * * *

  On Monday morning, Annabelle pulled her old coupe into the gravel lot in front of the Hart Racing garage—which was more like a warehouse-sized building with offices on one side. It was just past seven-thirty and she was too early by half an hour, but she’d been so full of nervous energy this morning that she’d left the house well before she should have.

  She wasn’t sure, though, if she was nervous about not getting the job … or about getting it.

  A part of her had been scared enough that she might fail at this interview that she’d gone into the school district o
ffices last week to check on teaching positions, to have a backup in case this didn’t work out. The administrator had told her there were three middle school slots open, and then had practically begged her to take one. Annabelle had said she’d have to think about it.

  She should have accepted on the spot, though. The school year was fast approaching, and delaying even by a week felt like prolonging her dependence on her mother, and God knew she was desperate to get away from her mom’s house. But she also knew how desperation often spurred a woman to bad decisions, and she wasn’t going to make those kinds of mistakes again.

  Still, she’d taken a small risk and snuck out over the weekend, lying to her mother about going shopping so that she could sit in a sports bar downtown and watch the races. Snuck out, like a rebellious teenager.

  She hated acting this way. She hated that she had to. But after the incident with her blouse, she’d realized just how tenuous her relationship was with her mother, who seemed more than ready to send Annabelle packing just to prove a point. And if she got kicked out … well, her dreams of independence would be shot to hell.

  Sad, really, that the few things Momma didn’t like, including revealing clothing, disobedience, and tomboys, were all things that Annabelle loved.

  Watching racing definitely counted as a tomboyish activity. So Annabelle had lied, and in the end, it had been worth the lie to be able to watch the race. The rev of the engines, audible even through the television … the way everyone on a racing team worked in such seamless synchronicity that they resembled a perfectly-built machine … the excitement of waiting for the flag to go up … it brought back memories of those afternoons in the Hart’s garage, of the intense sense of belonging she’d felt as she’d watched the guys work on their cars.