Page 8 of Speeding Hearts

John’s eyebrows had just about reached his thin gray-brown hairline, and whatever jokes he might have been about to crack appeared to have vanished.

That’s right, I thought. Emboldened by putting a sock in Mr. Smart-Mouth’s… mouth, I looked over at my boss. He examined me for a moment with something like curiosity, as if he was trying to figure me out, then he nodded and to John, said, “She’ll be running her own cars. But John has oversight of the garage, and I have oversight over John. If he has work that needs help, you can help him. Got it?”

I hesitated, not wanting to give John an inch. But now that he’d been taken down a notch, he didn’t actually appear too smug. More embarrassed that his teasing had gotten him called out.

I also wanted to be a good teammate—I’d be here all summer. “Got it,” I relented.

Colin kept his gaze on me a few minutes more as if waiting for me to renege. I hadn’t had a boss in a decade. But when I had, it had been an ornery old guy just like Colin. I was used to them. I gave him my most winning polite smile, and that seemed to clinch it. He turned on his heel to head back to the office.

I jogged after him.

“Mr. O’Malley,” I said. “Just one more thing. When can I drive? I’d been thinking evenings and weekends—whenever I’m not working on the cars, really. But I wasn’t sure what kind of arrangement—”

“You’ll drive a car when I see what you can do with them on your end and when John tells me you’re as good as my nephew said you were. Until then, you’re not going anywhere near that oval.”

I huffed. That dirt oval was the only reason I was here. If I’d wanted to strictly fix cars, I’d have stayed home in Jewel Lakes.

Colin waited for me to protest, but instead, I waited for the heat to settle in my chest. No, I wouldn’t let him get the better of me. I’d show him what an asset he had in me, then I’d demand to be let behind the wheel. Patience was all I needed. I let out a breath. “I’ll ask again next week, after you see what I can do with your vehicles.”

He stood there a moment, and then, just like yesterday, I thought I saw the tiniest quirk of his mouth. Then, he was gone.

When I got back to the cars, John was half-hidden in the hood of an ancient looking modified street stock. “Freddie’ll show you what needs doing,” he said. He wasn’t exactly polite, but he wasn’t making fun of me anymore either. This was fine. I could handle it.

“Who’s Freddie?”

“Me!” came a voice from behind me. As it turned out, Freddie Nunez was a gangly-looking kid with pale brown skin and thick black hair buzzed to nothing, who barely looked old enough to drive himself. He was obsessed with motors and happened to be a motor-mouth himself. “So, you’re friends with Dean Hughes, huh?”

“Word gets around fast,” I said.

That’s when my phone buzzed. As if summoned, Dean had finally deigned to text me back.

“Yeah, Colin’s his uncle, but Dean’s dad and him don’t get along, and I never see him around here, even though back in the day he won tons of races. Back when there were tons of races here.”

Freddie went on about the racetrack, but I wasn’t paying too close attention. I was too filled with fresh annoyance—and hurt—that Dean had waited so long to text me back. Then I was annoyed at myself for caring. He was just a friend—a buddy—and I wasn’t hanging on him to be anything else. I was here to drive cars.

Even if it took me proving myself to Colin to do it.

* * *

As it turned out,work kept me busy enough all day that I didn’t have time to think much about Dean at all.

Or at least, not much. I still felt the littlest fluttering in my stomach when I thought about tonight—he was going to come by the motel at seven-thirty and take me on a little tour of his hometown.

It almost felt like a date.

Except that it was my buddy, Dean.

But those thoughts only happened a few times that day. Most of the time, I concentrated on working my ass off.

By the time the closing time rolled around, I was shocked at where the day had gone. John gave me a begrudging nod as he left. He’d nitpicked my work all day, but before clocking out, he actually said, “You’re better than the last kid by a mile,” which I took to be the highest compliment.

Freddie showed me how to lock up, which I’d be doing on my own a couple days a week, and then, mercifully, I was on my own. Throughout the day, a couple of drivers had come by to practice on the oval, and each time, I’d looked up longingly at the sound of them but turned quickly back to whatever engine I was working on. It was imperative I showed Colin what I could do.

Now, with the track silent, I stood next to one of the nicer cars parked outside in the lot. I looked around. The place was completely deserted, and I happened to have the keys Freddie had handed me.

The keyring in my hand, I knew, contained the key for this particular car. I’d seen Freddie drive it around front earlier.

Colin had said I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near the oval.

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