Everly
EVERLY
My stomach fluttered like a trapped starling in a gilded cage as I pulled into a space marked “Visitors” at the PFK Racing track. I climbed out of the car and peered through the chain-link fencing, standing for a few moments to watch the cars out on the track. A heat haze hovered over the tarmac, and the smell of burning rubber and oil wafted through the air, the engines screaming as the drivers hurtled around at almost impossible speeds.
Oh God. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. In two or three years, Rhett might be ready. But not now. Not yet. He was just a baby.
I grasped the car door, ready to jump back in and leave this place, but my legs refused to get into the damn thing. Come on, . Don’t be a wuss. Rhett needed this, and I had to put aside my motherly instincts for the sake of my son’s mental health. The owners of this place wouldn’t risk anyone getting hurt. There must be rules, laws, safety regulations in place they had to adhere to if they wanted to keep their license.
Sucking in a deep breath of warm air through my nose, I blew it out slowly through pursed lips.
You’ve got this.
I locked my car and strode down a narrow pathway to a two-story building with a sign outside that read “Check-In.” A bell dinged over the door as I opened it. A raven-haired woman in her mid twenties looked up from behind her computer screen and smiled.
“Hi, can I help you?”
“Yeah, I’m Mrs. Lawson. I mean, . I’m Rhett’s mom.”
“Oh, yes, hi, Mrs. Lawson. Hang on. I have your file here somewhere.” She half rose from her chair and riffled through a stack of beige folders on the side of her desk. “Ah, here we are. I’m Adele, by the way. We spoke on the phone.” She reached over her desk to shake my hand, then retook her seat. “We’re really excited to have Rhett join us.”
Damn. “I, um, I’m not sure he is. Joining you, I mean.”
Her eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing into her hairline, and then lowered into a frown. “I don’t understand. We offered him a place, and you accepted. We have a huge waiting list, so if you’re turning his spot down…”
“I’m not. I mean, I might be.” I rubbed at the top of my nose. “Sorry, I’m not being very clear, am I? Rhett is only six and…” I gestured over my shoulder toward the racetrack. “I… ah… I think I underestimated the speeds involved. Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Oh.” She nodded. “I get it. I’m a mom of a two-year-old. It’s hard to let go, isn’t it? I can assure you his safety is our paramount concern.” She stood, walked to the window, and beckoned to me. I crossed the room to stand beside her. She pointed.
“See the kart at the front, number fourteen? That’s Damien. He turns six in a few weeks. He’s been coming here since we opened three months ago. Poor little mite suffers from ADHD, and he’s autistic too, yet get him behind the wheel and he’s a different boy. His parents can’t believe the change in him since he’s been coming here.” She turned kind eyes on me. “Rhett will have a blast, Mrs. Lawson.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, then returned my gaze to Damien throwing his kart around the track as if he’d been born in a race car.
“I guess I?—”
“Adele,” a sharp voice called out. “Where’s the Barratt file—oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were with someone.”
I turned around slowly, my gaze falling on possibly the most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen. Actually, forget possibly. Sullen and broody, his presence sucked up all the oxygen in the room. God, was I panting under that piercing green stare, even if just a little? Dark blond hair, cut close at the sides and slightly longer on top framed cheekbones that looked like Michelangelo had carved them.
And that British accent…
My tummy fluttered, but for a very different reason than the panicky butterflies I’d felt on arrival, and the hairs across my nape lifted.
Wow.
I pulled my gaze away from his stunning face and the broad expanse of his firm chest and fiddled with the hem of my jacket, feeling like a gawky teenager rather than a twenty-seven-year-old woman with a child.
“Oh, hey, Nico. Sure thing.” Adele scampered back to her desk and hunted through the same file stack as before. She handed him a brown folder, identical to Rhett’s.
Nico? That name was familiar.
I searched my mind, almost positive I’d seen that name on their website. Yes, that was it. Nico Palmer. Possibly the P in “PFK”?
“Mr. Palmer,” I said, taking a step forward in the hope my instinct that he was one of the owners was right. “I wonder if I might have a word?”
He looked up from reading the file Adele had handed him and narrowed his gaze. “And you are?” he asked, his tone brusque with an underlying note of irritation.
Steeling my spine, I moved closer to him and held out my hand. “I’m Lawson. My son, Rhett, has a place here.”
He stared at my outstretched hand, then reluctantly shook it. A shiver raced down my spine at the feel of his calloused palm, a sure sign of a man who hadn’t spent his life pushing paper. Too soon for my liking, he released me.
“What can I do for you?”
“She’s concerned for her little boy’s safety,” Adele interjected. “I told her not to worry and that he’ll have a ball.”
I refrained from telling Adele I was more than capable of answering for myself and instead locked my gaze on the vivid, hostile stare of Nico Palmer. “He’s only six, and he’s been through a lot. I just want to go over a few things with you. That’s all.”
“All the children here have challenges,” Nico plainly stated. “He’ll be fine.”
Without waiting for a response to his rude response, he walked off, a slight limp giving him a juddering gait. My mouth popped open as I stared at his retreating back. He entered another office at the back and slammed the door.
“Well, of all the rude, arrogant?—”
I spluttered, incensed at his summary dismissal of my concerns as if I were some neurotic mother who wanted to wrap her kid in cotton wool.
Well, aren’t you?
No. I damn well wasn’t. Concern over putting my precious child in a potential death trap was a normal maternal response. The abnormal in this situation was the jerk behind the mahogany door.
“Don’t mind Nico,” Adele said, gesturing dismissively. “That’s just his way. Bark’s worse than his bite. Most of the time.” She flashed a grin.
“His way ?” I flicked my eyes in her direction before an invisible force dragged them back to Nico’s office. “You mean insufferably bad-mannered and disrespectful?”
Adele chuckled. “That, too,” she said. “I guess you can’t blame him after what he’s been through.”
Curiosity nudged at me at her throwaway comment. I knew nothing about the owners of this racing school other than the marketing spiel I’d read on their website. Lots of talk of philanthropy, a desire to give back to an industry they’d reaped benefits from and pay it forward to others less fortunate, as well as a ton of testimonials from parents. But nothing personal except for a brief bio on each member of the company—which I’d only skimmed.
“Why? What’s wrong with him? Other than his obvious need for a personality transplant, that is.”
Adele laughed louder. “He’s actually one of the good guys, although he hides it behind a dour image he works hard to maintain.” She pointed to a chair opposite her desk, and as I sat, she lowered her voice. “You know about his racing accident, right?”
Accident? “No, I don’t.” I bit my lip. “I don’t know anything about motor sports.”
She appeared surprised at my lack of knowledge, if her raised eyebrows were any indication, but equally keen to enlighten me. “It was almost two years ago now. Nico used to be a top Formula One racing driver.” She paused, her gaze flickering to my furrowed brow. “You know what Formula One is, yes?”
“I mean, I’ve heard of it.” A flush crept over my cheeks. “Like I said, I don’t really know much about motor sports.”
“Wow,” she said. “You won’t fit in around here. We’re all racing nuts.” She grinned. “Anyhow, trust me when I say that Nico, along with Tate Flynn and Jared Kane, who are the other owners of this venture, are three of the best drivers Formula One has ever seen. They were racing in Belgium when the suspension on Nico’s car snapped, and he smashed up his legs pretty bad.” She snapped her fingers. “And just like that, it ended his career.”
“Oh God,” I said, my stance toward him softening slightly. “The poor man.”
“Yeah. He had a pretty rough eighteen months of it. He partied hard, drank too much, tore through a lot of women.” She laughed and waggled her eyebrows. “Lucky bitches. If it weren’t for Tate and Jared, who knows where he’d have ended up? This place gave him a purpose and a chance to still be around cars, y’know?”
“So the three of them run it together?” I asked, hopeful I might get a better reception from speaking with one of these other two men. “Is it possible for me to talk to one of them instead?”
She shook her head. “They’re more silent partners. Jared comes around occasionally, but not often enough for my liking.” She fanned herself. “That boy is delicious. ”
My eyes briefly dropped to the wedding band on her left hand. She noticed me checking it out and shrugged unashamedly. “My hubs is used to me. I’m fortunate that he’s not the jealous type. He knows I love the bones of him, but hell, I enjoy looking at pretty things. Who doesn’t?”
The door to Nico’s office wrenched open, and he stormed out, his irate gaze settling on me. “You’re still here?” he snapped.
“Yes,” I said, meeting his irascibility with a smile. Losing my temper wouldn’t do either of us any good.
He huffed. “Fine. You’ve got two minutes.”
He dropped a file on Adele’s desk and turned around, leaving his office door open.
Adele pointed to a row of racing helmets lined up on a shelf behind her. “Feel free to borrow one.”
I spared the helmets a glance, a wry grimace touching my lips. “I’ll take my chances.”
When I reached Nico’s office, he pointed his chin at the empty chair across from him, a silent invitation to sit down. I closed the door behind me and, smoothing my skirt beneath my legs, I sat.
“Thank you for seeing me. I’m sure you’re busy.”
He stared at his computer screen and then tapped something on the keyboard. “Two minutes, Miss Lawson,” he repeated. “I suggest you don’t waste them with idle chitchat.”
What a charmer.
“It’s Mrs. Lawson,” I said, then wondered why I’d felt the need to correct him.
He stopped typing, his eyes flicking to my left hand, where, unlike Adele’s, there was no ring. I almost opened my mouth to explain, then thought better of it. My personal life was none of this man’s business. Our affiliation started and ended with Rhett’s place at this school if, indeed, I permitted it to go ahead. And that depended on the answers the man sitting on the other side of the desk gave and how earnest I found his reassurance that my son would be safe here.
He checked his watch and sighed. “I don’t have all day, Mrs . Lawson.”
I ground my teeth when he emphasized my marital status, my skin itching for me to retaliate. Nico Palmer probably expected me to meet fire with fire, rudeness with insolence. Experience, though, taught me that the best way to deal with egotistical and boorish men was to kill them with kindness.
I hit him with my friendliest smile and went on the charm offensive. “Mr. Palmer, first off, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving Rhett a place here. I’m sure there is a long line of children equally worthy, if not more so, of a spot at your fabulous facility.”
His eyes flared, then narrowed before his face shuttered. He grunted but said nothing.
“My son has been getting into fights at school, and I’m hoping your program can instill some discipline in him, as well as giving him an outlet to channel his frustration. My only concern is the health and happiness of my child. All I want to do is make sure he’s safe when he comes here.” I held up my hand as he opened his mouth to speak. “Please don’t take that to mean I think for one second you don’t take safety extremely seriously. I have no doubts that you do. All I’m asking for is a little reassurance. Is that too much to ask? I’m his mom, and he’s my whole world.”
He closed the folder in front of him, then rubbed his fingertips over his mouth, drawing my eyes to his full lips.
I bet he’s a great kisser.
! What the hell? I had no business thinking about kissing him or anyone else. The last thing I needed was a man in my life messing everything up. Things were complicated enough as it was. With Rhett’s behavior threatening to jump into full-blown delinquency without an intervention, my sole focus should be on his needs, not on men and my own imaginary desires.
“Why is he fighting at school?”
Nico’s clipped accent dragged my attention back to the matter at hand. I blinked several times, then wiped my hands on my skirt. I’d already shared the reasons I wanted Rhett to get a place here when I’d filled in the initial application form, so it wasn’t as if I’d be telling him anything new. For some reason, though, sharing such personal information out loud while faced with the beautiful, brooding man sitting across from me was much worse than typing onto a web form where a faceless individual would receive it. I decided to keep the details scant. If he was interested enough, he could reread my file.
“He’s being bullied.” I shrugged. “What can I say? Some kids are cruel.”
He tugged on his bottom lip, his eyes not leaving mine for a second. I squirmed a little under his intimidating gaze but passed it off as a shift in my seated position.
“Bullied about what?”
I shook my head and knocked my chin a few inches higher. Nico Palmer may be the boss around here, but he hadn’t earned the right to question me. I’d be damned before I’d hang out my dirty washing for him to pore over.
“It’s all in my file, Mr. Palmer. Besides, my son’s school challenges aren’t what I’m here to discuss. I just want to understand a little more about the program and what he’ll get involved in when he comes here.”
Nico’s mouth pinched at the edges. He knew I’d deflected. I sat up taller, daring him to challenge me, to probe further, ready with another firm rebuttal.
“On the first day, we go through an age-appropriate safety briefing,” he said, his tone softer than before. “Then they’re shown around the place to get them comfortable with the staff members they’ll have the most contact with.”
I suppressed surprise at his capitulation and leaned forward, my shoulders relaxing now that we’d moved on to safer ground.
“After that, we take them out to the garages and let them see the cars, look at the engines, talk to the mechanics. It’s an orientation of sorts. We’ll group Rhett with kids in the four to eight age bracket, and he’ll stick with those kids throughout the program.”
I nodded, appreciating his explanation. “Can children as young as four really drive a car?”
“A kart, yes, but not a car. We don’t get them into the single-seater race cars until they turn thirteen.”
“Wow. Four seems so young to be behind the wheel.”
“I started at four.”
My eyebrows went up at the unsolicited sharing of a personal detail. “Have you been around cars all your life?”
He nodded curtly. I waited for him to elaborate, but he left me hanging. “Anyway, Mrs. Lawson, I can assure you that Rhett will be perfectly safe here with me and my team. You’re welcome to hang around for his first couple of visits, although my advice is to watch from a distance. Experience has taught us that the younger kids get very distracted if they witness their parent freaking out every time little Jonny spins his kart.”
He might as well have come right out with it and accused me of being a neurotic mother. I refused to take the bait. He could think what he liked. I’d kill him with kindness before he got a rise out of me.
I stood and fastened my jacket. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Palmer. You’ve allayed some of my fears, and I appreciate that. Rhett and I will see you soon.”
On this occasion, it was my turn to leave without giving him the chance to respond. I stopped by Adele’s desk and confirmed I’d like to accept Rhett’s place, then returned to my car. As I approached the parking lot, a prickling sensation dotted along the back of my neck. I glanced over my shoulder toward the main building and Nico’s office window, hoping to see him standing there, watching me.
He wasn’t.
God, disappointment sucked.