Jesse (7 page)

“I had no idea that he dropped the car off.”

“It's part of the Code.”

Distracted, she looked down at Lacy. “What code?”

With a dramatic sigh, the little one shook her head. “Mommy, you gots to listen when people talk.”

Well, that was like the pot calling the kettle black. “Which people?”

“Cowboy Jesse.”

“Ah.” It all made sense now, something Jesse had said yesterday had stuck with her daughter; undoubtedly it had to do with being a cowboy. “Which part of the Code? He said a lot yesterday.”

“He promised he'd fix our car. Cowboys keep promises.”

The only other cowboy she'd known was her ex, and he certainly hadn't kept any of the promises he made to her. “Well, Jesse certainly kept this one, didn't he?”

“So we can go help Unca Jimmy?”

“I think you'll need to get dressed first.”

“But I am dressed,” Lacy insisted, stomping one tiny pink boot in frustration.

Danielle fought against the urge to smile—no use encouraging bursts of temper just because her daughter was so adorable when she was riled. “You can't wear your pajamas all day, sweetie. Get dressed.”

Reluctantly, Lacy turned in a swirl of candy-pink cotton, but did as she was told and headed for the stairs. Danielle waited until she heard Lacy stamping her little boots along the hallway above her before she let her laughter go.

“My little hardheaded angel.”

Five minutes later, the kitchen was put back to rights and her daughter was clomping back down the stairs, calling, “Ready, Mommy. Can we go now?”

Anxious to get started on the next phase in their lives, she followed her cowgirl who now sported a T-shirt with a race car on it that said “Go fast or go home!” with matching shorts. Danielle winced at the choice, but was a firm believer in letting her daughter choose what she wanted to wear most of the time.

The green and brown camouflage colors clashed with Lacy's pink boots and hat, but asking her to change would set the tone for how their day would go and definitely not in a good way. Remembering her mother's advice to pick her battles wisely, Danielle smiled, took her daughter's hand, and headed out to the car.

Jesse stared at the phone in his hand, shaking his head. “Well, damn.”

“Hey, Garahan!” a voice yelled. “You still there?”

Swallowing against the lump of emotion in his throat, Jesse held the phone against his ear. “Yeah, but could you repeat that last part one more time?”

The deep chuckle from the other end had Jesse wondering if he was going insane. Either that or someone was playing a cruel joke at his expense. “You heard me right. Doctor's orders, I have to give up driving for the next few months. This last concussion was a bad one.”

His hands were shaking, so he dug deep for control and cleared his throat. “Why me? We haven't hung out in town since my grandfather died.”

“Yeah, about that,” Slim said. “I'm sorry I didn't come around to see if you needed help, but—”

“Hey, you came to the funeral. I get it. Everybody's got stuff, lives to lead.” Jesse thought about it; he'd been so wrapped up in his own misery after losing his mom and then his grandfather that every ounce of his energy had gone into working with his brothers to keep the ranch going.

“OK, so are you interested in driving my car out at Devil's Bowl?”

“Hell yeah! What do I have to do? Do I have to come up with the entrance fee?”

“I'll front you for the first race, but I expect you'll clean up if you still drive the way you used to. You can take next week's fee out of your winnings.”

Everything Jesse ever wanted was being dangled in front of his face; all he had to do was say yes.
Is
this
a
test?
Should he be double-checking with Jolene to see if she needed him? Hell. A chance like this came along just once—if you were lucky—real lucky. “I'll need a helmet.”

“You can use mine. If it doesn't fit, I can get my hands on one for you.” Slim paused. “You'll be doing me a favor, man. I've invested a lot of money in this car. If you drive it for me until I can get back behind the wheel, my car will still be out on the track, keeping my sponsor happy. So don't think it's all one-sided.”

Jesse agreed.

“Meet me out at the track tonight for a couple of practice laps.”

“I'll be there.”

Jesse's childhood dream of racing cars filled him to bursting and it was only after he'd disconnected that he'd remembered—Lacy.

The whine of a diesel engine downshifting caught his attention and had him swearing. Their delivery of hay was right on schedule. Mentally shifting gears, he was back in rancher mode when the truck pulled up their driveway.

He'd have to figure something out for tonight. He never broke a promise before, but now, because he'd been distracted by the possibility of fulfilling a long-ago dream, he'd given his word twice for the same evening.

Hell, he'd have to work quickly if he was going to squeeze a trip into town to stop at the diner and explain to two ladies why he'd be putting off Lacy's riding lesson one more day.

A few hours later, he was finally able to put the first part of his plan into action. Pulling up outside of the diner, he got out of his truck and wiped his suddenly damp palms on his thighs.
Hell.
The prospect of seeing Danielle had him acting like a teenager.

Grumbling beneath his breath, he opened the door and walked in. He could hear voices coming from the kitchen, but no one was in the front of the diner, and that's when he remembered that Sullivan's closed early these days.

The voices sounded as if they'd moved further away; he opened the doors to the kitchen and walked in. Looking around he was taken aback—it was empty. “Well, hell.” The back door was propped open with a wooden crate and he could hear the sound of a truck's engine idling.

But now what? He strained to listen, but he couldn't hear much over the engine. Maybe they were all outside; he started toward the door, but then hesitated. He really didn't want to interrupt if they were receiving a delivery, knowing how hectic that could be.

He could walk straight through to the back, but he really didn't want to have an audience when he talked to Danielle. Although it seemed as if they'd buried the hatchet yesterday, there was still a chance that her uncle probably still harbored resentment toward him.

Jesse glanced around him and saw a clipboard and pen hanging from a cup hook on the back wall. Hastily scribbling a note to Danielle, he told her he was sorry he missed her, but something had come up and he wouldn't be able to give Lacy a riding lesson tonight. Promising to see her tomorrow, he left the note in the middle of the butcher-block table and pushed through the doors into the dining area. A gust of air swept past him into the kitchen, but he didn't take the time to notice.

***

“I've been waiting all of my life to get behind the wheel of a race car out here.” Jesse looked around him and said a silent prayer.
Lord, don't let me blow this chance
. So much was riding on him. Slim was counting on keeping his car in contention, having it racing Saturday nights even though Slim wouldn't be driving.

Then there was the Circle G; they needed to keep paying their debts down or else they could still lose the ranch. What the hell would they do then? Garahans had been working the land and driving the herd for more than one hundred fifty years. He and his brothers had other talents, but not that they could focus on twenty-four/seven, like they had to do with ranching.

Tyler had brought in a substantial sum while he worked over at the Lucky Star. Dylan added his portion by filling in for a few nights, but the bulk of what Dylan kicked in came from his side work as a carpenter.

Jesse wondered if he could win enough racing to make his contribution count. Hell, it was his turn, but things were pretty quiet over at the Lucky Star. The new headliner seemed to be working out just fine, so there was no need for Jolene to call on him for help. Too bad; he really wanted to have his turn up on that stage.

His cell phone buzzed in his shirt pocket. He took it out, checked the number, and grinned. “How the hell are ya, Tom?”

His cousin chuckled. “It'd take a couple of pints to tell you.”

Jesse asked, “So are you and your brothers in?”

Tom hesitated. “Something's come up… only Mike and I will be there.”

Jesse sensed something serious had happened, so he asked, “Did I miss something on the news?”

His cousin sighed. “It hasn't hit the news yet, but it's bad, Jesse. Real bad.”

“Who was hurt?”

“Pat,” Tom said. “But it's more than Pat's body that's hurt.”

From the break in his cousin's voice, Jesse knew that whatever fire the youngest Garahan had been fighting had taken a toll on his cousin. “You'll let me know if you need us to do anything.” It wasn't a question.

“Count on it, Cuz.”

“When's your flight?”

“Mike and I are flying out in two weeks. We both had some vacation time, so we decided to take it out at the Circle G.” Tom paused, then asked, “Is that OK with you?”

“Are you kidding? It'll be like when we were kids and Mom—”

Tom waited a few minutes and then finished what Jesse hadn't been able to. “Used to threaten to pull her hair out, riding herd on all us kids.”

“Yeah,” Jesse said, relieved that his cousin understood. “Have you heard from Sean?”

“He and his brothers can't get away, but I heard from Ben and Matt.”

Before he could answer, he had to wait for the race car coming around the bend to pass by. “Yeah?”

“Are you out at Devil's Bowl?”

He grinned. Leave it to his cousin to pick up on the background noise. “Yep, but if I tell you anymore, I'll have to kill you.”

His cousin hesitated as if he was actually considering taking that chance. He finally laughed and said, “They'll be coming in the day after Mike and me.”

“So the Murphy side of the clan can't make it, but the New York City Garahans and Colorado Justiss cousins will be here?”

His cousin laughed. “I, uh, had to pull some strings to convince the lawmen they needed to be in on the event.”

“Did you tell them that we aren't doing anything indecent? We're just gonna be up on stage wearing, jeans, boots, hats, and vests?”

“That was the problem, seems our Colorado cousins don't usually go around in public with their shirts unbuttoned, let alone not wearing them at all.”

Jesse tried to cough to cover his laughter, but in the end, just let it loose. “It's for a great cause.”

Tom hesitated, then asked, “So how many single women do you figure are in town?”

It wasn't what he asked, but the tone of his cousin's voice that had Jesse pausing to consider his answer. “Hell, a bunch. Do I need to get the details?”

“Yep, or else Matt and Ben won't fly down.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jesse couldn't believe his stubborn Colorado cousins wouldn't just come when he called for help.

“Yeah, Ben said something about the last time they came down, a bar fight, and redheaded twins visiting from out of town.”

Jesse whistled low and sighed. “That was one hellacious long weekend. Tell Ben not to worry. There are more than enough single females in Pleasure.”

It was Tom's turn to laugh. “Matt said they only want to hear about the single ladies over twenty-five.”

“That a fact?”

“Yep, I'm guessing they're pressed for time and don't really care about the important stuff, like what the women look like and their hair color…”

When Tom let his comment fade out, Jesse started thinking; maybe all of his cousins really needed this break for more reasons than just to help their Texas cousins out. “Don't worry, there are enough single women in town to attract and distract.”

“All right. Talk to you later.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

“No problem, but you'll owe us.”

Jesse sat staring at his phone. He didn't mind owing any of his cousins. They were family and families stick together through good and bad, thick and thin.

“Hey, you ready to race or not?” Slim sounded ready to roll.

Jesse's blood was pumping so hard, he wondered if his friend didn't hear it. “Why don't I just show you how ready I am?”

Slim grinned. “Grab your helmet and meet me in the garage.”

Following along behind, he felt his adrenaline kick start as he got into the car and punched the gas, racing around the oval at a speed just this side of insane. His tires sprayed dirt as the car dug into the groove and found the sweet spot right before he gunned it on the straightaway.

***

“Man, Slim, your car has balls.”

His friend grinned. “And a hell of an engine.” They tinkered under the hood until Slim finally straightened and said, “Let's not mess around with a good thing or Bo will kill us. 'Bout ten minutes till you've got to get over in the lineup. You ready?”

Jesse wondered if his friend felt this adrenaline rush before he raced. He tried to ignore it and concentrate. “Yeah, I'm ready.”

“Let's do it.”

The first few laps Jesse kept falling behind, until he realized that he wasn't pushing himself or Slim's car to the limit.
Have
faith
in
yourself, Son.
His grandfather had said those words so often, Jesse heard them in his head whenever he was up against something he wasn't sure he could handle.

Gritting his teeth, cutting the wheel, he goosed the gas pedal, moving past the car in front of him.
One
down, five to go.
Concentrating, aware of everything around him—the car, the track, the other cars—Jesse gave one hundred and ten percent and flew across the finish line to the roar of the crowd.

Stunned, he stared at his hands where they still gripped the wheel and wondered if he'd imagined that he'd crossed first.

“Hell of a finish, Jesse!” Slim unhooked the netting from the window frame and leaned in the car to take his hand. “Best decision I ever made putting you behind the wheel.”

Wiping the sweat from his eyes, elation swept up from his toes. “Can I drive again next Saturday night?”

Slim laughed and leaned his elbows on the window. “If you want to win again next weekend, you'd better be here practicing this week.”

With a grin, Jesse agreed; he was tired, sore, and couldn't stop smiling. He'd tested his mettle against the track and had come out on top.

“You tweaked more speed out of that car than I've been able to,” Slim said. “How'd you do it?”

“I'm not sure I can explain it,” Jesse said, “but I can show you again.”

Slim laughed. “I need to get under the hood with Bo. Let's do this again tomorrow night. Does that work for you?”

Jesse hesitated. “How late will you be here?”

“You've got something else going on?”

Jesse raked a hand through his hair and looked down at his feet. Would Slim understand if he told him about Danielle and Lacy? Was he crazy for even considering putting his friend off or selfish for putting off the Brockway ladies?

“Look,” Slim said, “don't worry about tomorrow night. It'll give Bo and I a chance to give the car an overhaul after the way you were screaming around the track tonight. How 'bout the day after?”

Relief swamped him and had him looking back up at Slim. “Thanks, man. It's a long story and I didn't want you to think—”

“That you weren't committed to racing my car?” Slim finished for him.

Jesse nodded.

“Hell, Jesse. I've known you since forever and know how badly you wanted to race cars back in high school. If things had been different—”

Jesse's gaze met Slim's and the other man fell silent, but Jesse knew he'd been about to say:
if
your
parents
and
grandfather
hadn't died.