Chapter 2
2
Charly
We arrived in Terra Haute last night and stayed at a hotel up the road. When I woke up this morning and headed out to the hauler, it was a surprise to find the Faraday Motorsports hauler parked right next to ours.
They must have gotten here late, after whatever race they were at the night before ended. Last week I’d resisted the temptation to drop in and chat with Robbie at the USAC race and I’d somehow resisted the temptation to look him up on social media.
After talking to him at Eldora, I’ve been running into him regularly and each time it gives me a tiny flutter of excitement. I know I shouldn’t like him like him. It would be terrible for my reputation, especially because he’s our direct competitor.
But I can’t help myself.
On a whim, I knock on the hauler door to see if anyone’s inside. Maybe they’ll want to catch breakfast with me and the team.
It creaks open and a bleary-eyed Robbie sticks his head out, already mumbling an apology. “Sorry I fell asleep” before he realizes who he’s talking to. His eyes go wide and he freezes like a prey animal caught in the sights of a predator.
I can’t help but smile at him, amused by his obvious shyness. “Fall asleep on the computer?”
He scrubs a hand over his face, tousling his already unruly mop of hair. “Close enough.”
“Or maybe it was your watch.” I gesture toward the perfectly round circle stamped onto his cheek.
“Jesus.” He flushes and scrubs at it. “Could I look any more ridiculous?”
“It’s endearing.” Don’t flirt, Char.
He raises an eyebrow, questioning my judgment.
“What were you working on?” I shouldn’t ask. He could misconstrue my curiosity for snooping, but in reality, I’m almost done with a mechanical engineering degree. I’m fascinated by machines, partly because of the old videos I found of Robbie explaining different parts of his dad’s race car.
“Cleaning parts. Nothing exciting.” He shrugs and then freezes. “You, uh, want to come in?” He gestures to the dusky interior of the hauler behind him. There’s a few running lights along the steps and an overhead light over a workbench, but otherwise it’s full of shadows.
“Actually, I was wondering if you and your crew might want to get breakfast?”
“The guys are always up for food if the offer is on the table.” He steps down and closes the door behind him. “Give me twenty minutes to wake them up?”
Pleased that he’s agreed, and we’ll have two pit crews’ worth of chaperones, I nod and walk with him to wake my guys up too.
The problem with spending any amount of time with Robbie is that it makes me want to see him even more. There’s something addictive about his quiet curiosity and how easy it is for me to fluster him.
I blame that on why I keep dropping by his hauler, and sending him messages.
He’s terrible about replying to texts and DMs are out since he’s even worse about posting on his social sites. I’ve discovered Eddie’s not the only one who avoids attention, which is so refreshing.
Because of my job, pleasing sponsors, selling merch, driving publicity, I live on social media. Sometimes it feels like everything I do winds up online.
Except my encounters with Robbie. I’m always careful to ‘run into him’ when no one else is around and for once, I don’t want to share something about my private life with the outside world.
It hasn’t helped that we’ve done a couple mid week races at local tracks together. Eddie beat me in one of them. It was in a late model car, my first time driving one, but I gave him a run for his money. He’s a hell of a driver and I learned a lot trying to get around him.
After the race, the first thing I did was congratulate Eddie and thank my guys, and then I’d cornered Robbie. I lost my best intentions to my lascivious thoughts. With quiet steps, I snuck up behind him while he was doing something on his phone and wrapped my arms around him in a congratulatory hug. It was definitely not an ‘I can’t resist touching you’ hug.
Now we’re at Circle City for two nights and it’s close enough to his parents that Robbie is staying at home overnight. A streak of jealousy punches through me. I haven’t been to my house in almost two months. We’re always on the road, driving from one track to another, hopping in different cars, packing things in a suitcase at the end of the night.
I love it. It’s what I want to do for the rest of my life, but you get homesick sometimes. Like tonight. I’m holed up in a hotel room going over tapes from old races at Circle City to see if I can pick up on any strategies before I have to race tomorrow.
Robbie: What are you up to tonight?
Charly: Staying in, trying to study. Why?
Robbie: Want to come over for dinner?
Does he mean what I think he means? Is he asking me to come over to his house? I stare at my phone, trying to parse out his words. Is he asking me out on a date?
Robbie: If not, no worries.
Robbie: I can introduce you to my dad if that’s an incentive?
Fuck it. My thumb brushes over the call button before I can think better of it. There’s only one ring before Robbie answers. “I probably should have called, right?”
“Robbie Faraday, are you trying to ask me out on a date?”
The clang of metal hitting metal makes me wince. “Maybe?”
A blush tinges my cheeks with heat and stupid, fluttery excitement whirls through me. “Then yes. And for the record, you don’t have to bribe me with an introduction to your dad.”
“That’s a relief.” His nervous chuckle makes the line sound full of static.
“I’ve already met him, but he probably doesn’t remember me.”
“Oh God, don’t tell dad about this.” He groans. “I’ll never live it down. Be there to pick you up as soon as I can get across town.”
Forty-five minutes later, I get a text letting me know he’s in the parking lot and I dash down the stairs, looking over my shoulder to make sure there’s no one in the hallway to see me sneak away.
Excitement courses through me and when I see the big black truck idling outside the side door to the hotel. I burst outside in a near run. The passenger door pops open, Robbie leaning across the seat with a shy smile on his face. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I jump inside and close the door.
“Mom would smack me for not opening the door for you.” He’s half turned in his seat, for once not dressed in a race shirt and work pants. Even if it’s a rare occurrence, he cleans up well. He’s tamed his wavy hair into more uniform directions and put on a pair of khakis and a polo shirt.
“Tell her I forbid it.”
He sighs, his eyes darting over me before settling on my face. “You look really nice.”
I have one dress I travel with on the chance that I have to go somewhere nice for a sponsor event. Or you know, a date with the crew chief of my biggest rival. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”
“Thanks.” He mumbles, cheeks flushing. His hands fidget along the steering wheel before shifting the truck into gear. I watch the play of muscles in his forearm where it rests on the shifter and swallow down the sudden heat that’s ignited from thoughts of what else he can do with his hands.
A twinge of worry tries to take root. I might have bitten off more than I can chew, because nothing between us can be more than casual. There shouldn’t even be anything between us.
Except the way he already makes me feel is far from casual, and I don’t want to stop feeling this way.