Page 2 of Speeding Hearts

Way to make a first impression with my new boss. Then again, he wasn’t exactly making a great impression on me by calling meDean’s little friend.

Dean’s uncle was just one more macho man who didn’t think much when he saw a ponytailed girl with grease under her fingernails. I could handle those.

I thrust out my hand and gave the man—a big, barrel-chested dude of around fifty—my most winning smile. “Stella Archer,” I said.

The smile was one I’d polished to a specific sheen: personable, but not flirty. Warm, but not suggestive. I learned a long time ago that there’s a fine line you need to walk in my business. Be friendly but not too friendly. Don’t be a bitch, but don’t look too appealing either.

The man thrust his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. “Colin O’Malley,” he confirmed. “And you’re not s’posed to be here ’til Monday.”

I lowered my hand, my smile faltering only a little. He was right, I wasn’t due to start my new role—temporary, he’d made sure to repeat several times over the phone—until the day after tomorrow.

But I’d been cooped up in my car all day long and was too antsy to do anything except come straight here. Also, I knew that if I’d gone straight to the motel I was going to be calling home this summer, I would’ve spent the evening doing battle with my willpower, resisting the urge to call Dean immediately to tell him I was here.

“I just wanted to get a look at the track,” I said. “I’m sorry,” I tacked on, though I immediately regretted it. What did I have to be sorry about?

“There’s no apologizing at the Speedway, Miz Archer,” Colin said. “You say what you mean, and you mean what you say.”

I bristled. It was as if he’d read my mind.

Then he snorted and horned a golf-ball sized loogie onto the dirt next to him.

My stomach turned as it splattered against the dusty ground, but somehow, I knew it wasn’t a threat.

Dean had warned me his uncle was a cantankerous bastard. Luckily, I had one of those for a dad. I’d charm Colin over.

I grinned, giving him a little salute and skipping by him. I could do no apologies. “I’ll see you Monday, Mr. O’Malley.”

“Don’t be late.”

“No risk of that. I’m an early bird,” I said, heading to the chain-link fence marking the parking lot of the speedway. “As you can see.”

I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but I swore I saw the corner of the man’s lips go up in the barest hint of a smile.

My stomach did a weird lurch as I realized he looked just like his nephew. The one I had promised myself I’d keep at a distance while I was in his hometown, mostly so he didn’t feel any weird pressure about me following him here, but also because of the way he made me feel around him. Then I turned and headed back to my car.

* * *

The appon my phone said it was about ten miles from the Speedway to the town proper and that, halfway there, I’d find the Top Quality Motor Inn. I spent the whole drive wrestling with the nerves running around inside of me. Seeing the racetrack had suddenly made everything seem so much more real. And though I was thrilled with it, the adrenaline of being there still bubbling inside of me, I had the tiniest inkling of worry running through me too. Now that I was going to pursue being a race car driver, albeit on the side, there was something unnerving about picturing myself actually doing it.

Nerves, that’s all it was.

My phone dinged to indicate I was pulling up to the motel. Just like the racetrack, I hadn’t given much thought to where I’d be staying until it turned into reality. But unlike racing, it wasn’t about being too nervous to think about reality. I’d been preoccupied with getting everything organized back home with my replacement. One of my part-time employees was going to be running the shop, and my older brother, Will, was going to check in on it too. So I hadn’t given much thought to where I’d be staying. I was normally a pretty organized person, but this spontaneous decision to move here for the summer had thrown everything off. Not to mention, I’d had only two weeks to organize everything.

But I’d underestimated how overbooked this town was going to be in the summer, and by the time I sat down to sort out where I was going to stay, there had been nowhere that was available for a three-month stretch. The adorable B&Bs, the apartment block downtown, and even the vacation rentals were all booked up. If I didn’t want to play musical hotels, the only option appeared to be the Top Quality Motor Inn, which, judging by the motel’s website, appeared to not totally live up to its name. Both the website and motel looked to be a little outdated, but from the photos, it had looked tidy enough. I hadn’t been able to find any recent reviews, but I didn’t have much of a choice.

I’d thought more than once about appealing to Dean for help, but he was under a lot of stress himself. He was going home to look after his dad and, for all I knew, stepping back into his relationship with his old high school girlfriend. Not that it mattered to me. But I needed to give him space. Besides, I didn’t want to rely on him to help me with every last little thing.

But when I pulled around the bend and the motel came into view, it was all I could do not to grab my phone and speed-dial him.

Even in the golden hour, with the setting sun’s rays casting a beautiful golden glow over everything, there was no way to deny it. The place was a dump.

At one time it may have been a fine motor inn: a white, two-story stucco rectangle with blue doors and a black iron railing; a lobby with a portcullis on the right-hand side.

But today, the stucco was streaked and stained with water damage. A couple of the windows on the ground floor were boarded up with plywood, and the light-box placard over the lobby had a giant splintered hole right in the center, as if someone had thrown a brick through it.

I pulled into the parking lot next to the saddest-looking hedge I’d ever seen, brown and leaning as if it were too tired to stay erect.

To my horror, my throat swelled with tears.

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