Hart's Victory (7 page)

“I’ll call,” Hart said. He rose to his feet, hovering only twelve inches away.

“I’m going to leave now,” Kellie announced, her skin prickling with awareness of this man. “I promised another single mother I’d be her partner for the spades tournament. I don’t want to stand her up.”

“I like spades. Sounds fun,” Hart said. He moved aside so she could pass. She headed toward the door and he pressed a button to open it for her. “Thanks for coming by.”

She paused and gave him one last look. “No, I guess I should thank you for making Charlie happy. I don’t like this idea, but it’s for my son and he’s thrilled. I really do appreciate this opportunity you’ve given him.”

A
ND WITH THAT
she was gone, out into the night. Hart returned to his recliner and lifted the beer to his mouth. Then he sat the bottle down, untouched. He actually preferred to have something nonalcoholic. He stood, poured the remains of his beer out, and retrieved a diet cola from the refrigerator. His gaze landed on the can Kellie had left behind, and Hart went over and lifted it. She’d consumed maybe half.

He placed it on the kitchenette counter and tossed his body back into the recliner. Kellie was an enigma, much more so now than this morning�when Brad Muldoon had told Hart that Charlie had said Kellie wouldn’t date anyone but him. Sue, Brad’s mother, had almost choked with embarrassment, and seeing Hart’s subsequent confusion, she’d explained the whole “joke.”

Hart had found the paradox intriguing. Kellie, who hated him, was “holding out for Hart Hampton.” He’d deliberately asked those questions of Kellie during Charlie’s simulator time to get a reaction. She’d been refreshingly honest and forthright. She wasn’t that impressed with him.

Funny thing was, he was very taken with her. The more time he spent with her, the more time he wanted to get inside her head and see what made her tick. He wanted to get under her skin and see what reaction he could draw from her reserved persona. He asked himself if it was just because she was a challenge, and while he couldn’t say what it was, he honestly could say he wasn’t pursuing her because of that.

She wasn’t dating anyone; Sue Muldoon had helpfully provided all that information the moment Hart had tactfully asked, and sworn that he’d never reveal that Sue had shared Kellie’s secrets.

His cell phone rang. Cynthia. Hart flipped it open. “What are you doing phoning me?” he asked. “The race is on.”

“Clarissa just called me and I happened to catch her message. She and Clyde are back in Charlotte and she told me that you invited some woman and her son to the track next weekend for the All-Star Challenge.”

“I did,” Hart said. The race broadcast had gone to commercial so Cynthia had his full attention. “You’ll need to have my parents’ motor home sent to the motor home lot for them. Can you get it slotted next to mine? Charlie has leukemia, so can you make sure the med center is aware of that? I want him in the pit during my race, so get whatever clearances you need from NASCAR. He’s a few weeks shy of sixteen, so see what you can do.”

“Hart, don’t arrange PR stunts without telling me first,” Cynthia said.

“It’s not a stunt,” Hart replied sharply.

He heard nothing but a long silence as Cynthia processed that. “Then what is it?” she finally asked. “Please don’t tell me this is another pick-up scheme. It’s bad enough that all the single rookies try to flaunt their prettiest girlfriends at the Charlotte races. Makes me feel like an old hag.”

Hart cracked a wry smile. “No, I promise you it’s not that, although she is pretty. But she hates me. Well, how about she dislikes me a great deal and doesn’t watch racing unless she has to. Her son’s the fan.”

“Okay, you’ve lost me. Clarissa made it sound like you’re enamored of this woman.”

“I think I might be,” Hart said, honestly. No sense in hiding that. Cynthia would see right though him next weekend the moment she met Kellie and Charlie.

Hart glanced at the screen. Kyle Doolittle and Ronnie McDougal were fighting nose to nose down the backstretch.

“So you like her?” Cynthia asked.

“I’m very intrigued. All I know is that I want her and her son at the track next weekend, and I want that as much as I want to win the race. I want to see her again, if only to prove I’m not the cad she believes me to be. And I do like her son. This will be the experience of a lifetime for him. He’s great. You’ll love him. You’ll probably adore her. She’s different from all the bimbos you always claim I date. Not that Kellie even thinks of me in a romantic sense. I told you she’s not impressed with me, didn’t I?”

“Hart,” Cynthia said, and then she faltered.

“Cynthia,” Hart responded, knowing his aunt was already running various weekend scenarios through her head. “It’s all good.”

“I hope so,” Cynthia said. “We’ll talk tomorrow. We’ve decided to fly out tonight so I’ll stop by your house early afternoon. Okay? I’m going to go back to the pit.”

As Hart flipped the cell phone closed, a sense of quiet satisfaction stole over him, the same as when he’d decided to postpone his bachelor’s degree for a full-time racing gig. Inviting Kellie and Charlie was simply the right thing to do.

He was Hart Hampton, and in this respect, he was exactly like his father. He knew what he wanted when he saw it. She would never come to him; he had only convinced her this time because of Charlie. But he was determined that she discover he wasn’t what she thought him to be.

Hart Hampton was no joke.

T
HE
C
ESSNA
dipped low, dropping below the clouds on its final approach to Charlotte, North Carolina. Charlie Thompson kept his face pressed close to the rectangular window, but not so close that condensation formed. The things on the ground became increasingly clearer and bigger as the jet continued its descent. This was actually happening. He was almost there.

He hadn’t believed that his mom was actually going to let him take this trip until about five minutes before he boarded the private jet. He knew she hadn’t been too happy about Hart’s offer. Charlie had seen the expression on her face the moment Hart had asked that morning at camp. And if his mom had really put her foot down and said no, Charlie knew both he and Hart would have respected her wishes.

He clearly remembered holding his breath, glad that Hart had been the one to push for this trip. Charlie had expected his mother to fight Hart on the issue more than she had, but then she’d given in, much to Charlie’s delight.

Oh, his mom wasn’t any more thrilled now than when she’d first heard the idea. She’d been pretty tight-lipped about the whole situation all week, like she was whenever the doctor gave her bad news that she didn’t want to share right away. Although he hadn’t had much actual classroom experience, Charlie had had excellent homebound teachers. Because of increased one-on-one instruction and interaction, he knew he was more mature-sounding in his speech and thoughts than others his age. He also knew the toll his disease took on him and, in turn, his mother.

This trip would be good for both of them. Even the doctor had said so after his mom had called to check. Charlie’s doctor was all about new experiences and living a quality life. Charlie’s mom had researched his doctor and he was one of the best. And Kellie trusted him.

As for Hart, his motor home had been gone when Charlie and Kellie had walked to breakfast so Charlie hadn’t seen him since last Sunday. On Wednesday, though, Hart had called. Pinching himself bruised, so when Charlie had heard Hart’s voice on the phone, he’d actually danced around a bit as he’d realized this was real and not just some dream.

He and Hart talked for a few minutes about their respective weeks before Hart had asked for Kellie. The conversation between Hart and his mother had been even shorter, but the end result was that here they were, the only other person on the plane being Hart’s personal pilot.

“We’re getting really low,” Charlie told his mom.

Kellie put her
Home and Garden
magazine down. She sat across from him in a plush oversized seat. She glanced out the window and then at her watch. “I guess we’re about to land. It’s around the time Hart said we’d arrive.”

At that moment, the pilot came over the hidden speakers and announced that they were on final approach and asked that they buckle up.

“Now, Charlie,” Kellie began as she reached forward to make sure his seat belt was secure.

“Mom,” Charlie complained, tugging on his belt to show her it was fine. “Don’t start. Like last weekend, we’re going to have fun. And the doctor said doing this is fine.” He’d only unhooked the belt once, when he’d gotten up to use the bathroom. “I’m in no danger.”

“I know,” she said. She’d worn her hair down and applied some makeup. He couldn’t remember when the last time that had happened. “I just don’t want you to have too high expectations. Hart’s going to be very busy this weekend. He’s been generous in asking us here, as his guests, but this isn’t a date or anything like that. No matchmaking. No trying to ingratiate ourselves with him and try to win his continued favor.”

“Mom,” Charlie protested.

She shook her head, the blond ends swishing around her shoulders. “No
but moms.
I know you. Let me make this perfectly clear. Just because Hart’s invited us doesn’t mean that we try to make the family joke real. Don’t even bring that up this weekend. It’s embarrassing.”

“I promise,” Charlie said. “But what if Hart likes you?”

Kellie sighed. “I think you’ll see this weekend that that is a ridiculous notion. Even if I liked him like that, which I don’t, we’re not from this world. It’s like visiting a theme park or being on vacation. We can’t live there permanently.”

A
T THAT MOMENT
the plane touched down, the wheels hitting the ground with a thump. Brakes squealed and several moments later the plane coasted to a stop. Charlie and Kellie remained seated until the pilot came out from the cockpit, opened the doors and lowered the stairs. Sunlight streamed in through the opening, and they followed the pilot out. A Chevrolet Suburban waited about ten feet away, right there on the tarmac. A woman stepped out of the driver’s seat and approached them. She wore khaki pants and a white polo shirt embroidered with the Hampton Racing logo.

“Hi, you must be Charlie and Kellie.” She held out her hand, and both Charlie and Kellie shook it. “I’m Cynthia Jones, Hart’s aunt. Both of you call me Cynthia. Welcome to Charlotte.”

The pilot came forward carrying two carry-on bags that he’d retrieved from the plane’s underbelly.

“Ah, you’ve won my approval already,” Cynthia said as the pilot loaded the luggage into the back. “You know how to travel light.”

Cynthia watched as the pilot shut the Suburban’s liftgate. “Thanks, Jake,” she told him. “Hart won’t be needing you until Sunday, so as far as I know you can park the thing and go home.”

She turned to Kellie and Charlie and smiled. “Let’s get you two to the track. We might get there in time for the last of the media interviews. If you want, one of you can sit up front with me. It’ll make me feel less like a chauffeur, which, although I volunteered to do this, is not one of my regular jobs.”

“Cool,” Charlie said, climbing into back of the SUV. He turned around, noticing a third seat. Kellie climbed into the front. “This car is huge.”

“We carry a lot of people and equipment back and forth,” Cynthia told him. She fired up the engine. “On race weekends we have close to two hundred people at the track in various capacities.”

“What do you do?” Kellie asked, her eyes wide as Cynthia expertly got them out of the airport and onto the city streets.

“A little of everything,” she said. “Along with Hart and his dad, I’m an owner of Hampton Racing, so I have those responsibilities. That means media interviews, visiting with sponsors and their guests, being there for the drivers and crew chiefs, among other things. Mostly a lot of PR and face time.”

“And you volunteered to come and get us?” Kellie asked. She glanced over her shoulder. Charlie had put his earbuds in and was listening to his iPod as he stared out the window, taking everything in.

“If this was important to Hart to have you and your son here, then it was important to me,” Cynthia said.

“In other words, you wanted first dibs at checking us out,” Kellie said.

Cynthia laughed, her good humor making Kellie a little less tense. “That, too. Ever since he fired the last guy, I serve as Hart’s unofficial manager. He wanted to take more hands-on control of his sponsorships and such, so I stepped into help. As for his PR person, you’ll meet Russ. On race weekends, Russ is responsible for maintaining Hart’s schedule and getting him everywhere on time. He’ll also be in charge of getting you where you need to be. You’ll also have a schedule, and Russ will answer any questions you may have.”

Kellie settled back against the seat and glanced out the window for a moment.

“You seem overwhelmed,” Cynthia said.

“I am,” Kellie admitted. “I have a schedule? I’m still trying to figure out why we’re here.”

“Hart wanted it,” Cynthia replied simply. “He thought it would be a great opportunity for Charlie to watch a race in person. I happen to agree. When we announced our guests in the media center, the media thought it a great idea. We’re always trying to draw attention to the camp.”

“So long as no one flaunts my son,” Kellie said. “I don’t want this to simply be a PR stunt to make Hart look good. I won’t stand for anyone using my son like that.” She bit her lip. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound rude or ungrateful, but I wanted to make sure the air was clear before I meet Russ and he starts moving me around.”

“You’re wise to question, and I respect that you’re not going to be passive about all this,” Cynthia stated. She didn’t appear too upset, and Kellie relaxed some more. “I can tell you that Hart’s announcement was a new one for me. Hart’s had visitors to the track before, but normally he leaves his guests to fend for themselves. He’s never requested a separate motor home or for his schedule to be rearranged.”

Meaning that Hart’s previous visitors had probably all been females who’d shared his home-away-from-home and put up with his nonsense. A little annoyance flared and Kellie tamped that down as she focused on the last part. “Rearranged?”

“Hart wanted to make sure he had some free time to spend with you and Charlie, that is more than a few minutes between him running here and there. This is the All-Star Challenge, so there will be tons for him to do. Signings with fans, signings at the merchandise hauler, visits to the sponsor lunches and dinners, those types of things. He didn’t consider the two of you riding with him in a golf cart quality time. So he requested we trim his schedule back to only the priority items, and Russ and I accommodated him.”

Kellie fell silent as she contemplated that. Hart changing things for her sounded so surreal. The fact he was even bringing them here still didn’t make sense. Celebrities didn’t just make friends with those outside their “group.” Did they?

Cynthia didn’t seem like one who liked silence as she asked, “So you’ve never been to a race?”

“No,” Kellie said. “I’m not the fan. My mother and Charlie are. They stay glued to the television and cheer for Hart while I get a few hours of free time.”

“Is that rare?” Cynthia asked. The question was more out of genuine curiosity, not just because she was trying to make conversation.

“With Charlie’s illness, it is,” Kellie replied. “I’m a single mother running a household, and there’s always something to do. My mother moved in to help me out, and as part of the routine they eat pizza and watch TV. So race days are my time. I usually catch the tail end.”

“And your mom didn’t want to come?”

“She’s thrilled to be having the house to herself and has booked the weekend solid with seeing her friends. So it’s just me.”

“Well, once you’ve experienced live racing, you either love it or hate it. If it hooks you, you’re a fan for life. Russ will be your contact person. Ask either of us anything.”

“Do I need to be wearing green?” Kellie asked. “I wasn’t sure what to wear so my mother lent me her Hart Hampton shirt. I also have a seafoam green T-shirt. I figured that was close enough.”

“You don’t have to dress like a fan if you don’t want to.” Cynthia laughed. “Most of the people in the garage and the pits will be dressed like me. Hampton Racing polo shirts and chinos. I can get you one, if you like. The team will be the same. When he needs to be in the car, Hart will be in his uniform. If not, he’ll wear jeans and a T-shirt or a polo. You can wear whatever you want so long as you have closed-toe shoes, long pants and you aren’t showing your midriff or wearing a tank top. Shoulders must be covered.”

“I don’t wear tank tops or show my stomach in public,” Kellie said.

They were waiting for a stoplight and Cynthia turned to study her. “No, I didn’t think you would.” She seemed pleased with the fact, as if Kellie had passed some test. Kellie wanted to question Cynthia more, but right then Charlie shouted, “There it is!”

Kellie stared. Off in the distance, the grandstands rose majestically out of the flat ground. She’d never realized that race tracks were so huge. Of course they were, she chided herself. She’d done some Internet research. This track was 1.5 miles long. That meant it sat on more than two thousand acres of land.

Cynthia showed their passes, and soon the SUV dipped down through a tunnel and entered the infield area. Kellie tried to absorb it all as Cynthia began giving them some track facts. “You’ll find our motor homes in the large lot behind the garages.” She stopped at another checkpoint, showed her pass again, and then drove through. “You’re sandwiched between Hart and Ronnie McDougal. Liam and I are actually over in the hookups. Why we pay thousands for those I don’t know, but this race is all about status so we maintain ours. I’ll show you where my motor home is later.”

“Where does the team stay?” Charlie asked. He’d taken his earbuds out once they’d arrived at the track.

“Since we’re in Charlotte, they’ll commute from their homes. When we’re out of state on race weekends, we get blocks of hotel rooms for them.”

Cynthia parked the car next to a row of motor homes and Kellie glanced around. A portable basketball hoop had been set up down at the end of the lane. A few tricycles rested at the end of one home. A stroller sat next to another one.

“A lot of drivers have their families with them. Since we’re so close to most everyone’s houses, a lot of drivers will go home tonight, while others will choose to stay here. It all depends on the driver, his schedule and how he likes to prepare for a race. Some have routines they keep consistent, no matter what the track. Don’t be afraid to talk to people. In fact, Charlie, Ronnie McDougal has a son who’s right around your age. Be sure to introduce yourself to Stuart. I think you two probably share a lot of the same interests.”

“I’ll be sure to say hello,” Charlie told Cynthia.

“Good, because Hart and Ronnie are friends,” Cynthia said as she turned off the engine.

“Even after Richmond?” Charlie asked. “Hart knocked Ronnie right out of that race.”

“Those things happen,” Cynthia said. “The drivers know who they respect and who they don’t. Both were running clean races. There’s no ill will.”

She then took them inside the motor home that would serve as their home for the next two nights.

“Wow,” was the first word out of Charlie’s mouth.

Kellie, who had seen the inside of Hart’s motor home, still had to agree. While it was set up similar to Hart’s, it was obvious the place had a feminine touch applied. The colors were neutral, the accents a light teal. Pictures hung in strategic places, and Kellie went to study a few of them as Cynthia showed Charlie how to operate the satellite entertainment system.

One photo was of a younger Hart sitting in a midget race car. Another had five people in it; Hart’s family, Kellie surmised, for, although she only recognized Hart and Cynthia, she figured one of the older men in the shot had to be his father since the resemblance was so uncanny.

“Those are my parents,” a voice said nearby, and Kellie jumped as Hart came up the stairs and into the motor home.

“Hart!” Despite an earlier resolution to be “cool,” Charlie bounded over and gave Hart a high five.

“Hey Charlie,” Hart said. He tapped Charlie’s Marlins’ baseball cap. “We’ll need to change this one for a Hampton Racing one.”

“Cool,” Charlie answered.

“So did you have a good flight?” Hart asked, and even though his attention was fully on her son, Kellie could tell Hart was exceedingly aware of exactly where she was in the living area of the motor home. She knew from the little prickle that ran up her arms, the tingle in her toes. Maybe it was from the way her heart beat just a little bit faster despite her resolve to remain unaffected.

“The flight was awesome,” Charlie said. “I can’t believe that’s how you travel.”

“The novelty wears off quickly. I’m flying back and forth a minimum of two times a week,” Hart said. “Testing weeks are really long when I also have to do PR events.”

“Yeah, but you sure do travel in style,” Charlie replied. He gestured to the room. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Pride had Kellie smiling as her son remembered his manners.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re here.” He turned completely toward her. “Kellie,” he began. “Thank you for allowing this.”

His green eyes held hers for a minute before she glanced away. No doubt about it, Hart knew how to charm�and she wasn’t immune. “You’re welcome,” Kellie said her voice catching a little. “And thank you, Hart for making this possible.”

Cynthia coughed, drawing everyone’s attention back her way. “Hart, I haven’t shown them the sleeping quarters and or how to operate anything aside from the entertainment system.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll let you take care of that as I have to run. Although, I have a feeling Russ will be coming to grab you soon. You’ve got to get ready for practice. Remember, tonight is the party at the condo for our truck sponsors.” She smiled at Kellie. “You and Charlie are more than welcome to attend, and I’d love to have you both there.”

Party? Kellie hadn’t brought any party clothes. She’d brought a sundress, but that was not anything exceedingly fancy. She’d found it on the clearance rack of the local discount store last fall.

“As I might be wiped out from qualifying, we may just watch the truck race from here,” Hart told his aunt before turning to Charlie and Kellie. “My parents own a condo in one of the buildings you see on the other side of the track, right at Turn One. Since six NASCAR events are held here throughout the year, it makes for easy entertaining and a place to be out of the elements during race time.”

“Like watching a baseball game from a private box,” Kellie suggested. Not that she’d ever done that, either.

“Exactly,” Hart said.

“Well, in case I don’t see you again, call me on my cell if you change your minds and decide to attend,” Cynthia added.