Speed of My Heart (3 page)

"You must be successful at what you do then?" I prompted.

"I try. If I want to keep my sponsors, I have to be. Course, it helped winning the Daytona 500 this year."

I raised an eyebrow. He probably thought I was an idiot, but, really, racing wasn't my thing. "I take it that's a pretty big race?"

Cole grinned, showing off killer dimples in both cheeks. "Yeah, the biggest." His smile faded a bit when he glanced down at his cast. "Being out of racing for the next six weeks is going to suck. For a lot of reasons. Would you believe this broken arm came from a car accident that didn't happen on the track?"

I shook my head in disbelief. "That's crazy. What happened?"

"I was riding with a friend of mine," he explained. "He was talking, not paying attention, and ended up running a red light. I broke my arm in several places and had a concussion. Anyway, six weeks is the minimum I have to be out before this cast can come off and the doctors will clear me to race again."

I gave him a sympathetic look. "That does suck. But look on the bright side," I said teasingly. "If you hadn't had to take time off, you wouldn't have met such a great new friend."

"True. But I would add to that: a gorgeous, sweet, refreshing, and adorable new friend."

We locked eyes and a thrill went through me as everything else seemed to fade. Electricity was charging the air, making me feel annoyingly helpless against the attraction that was there. It was weird to feel so connected to someone I'd just met.

Realizing our faces had gravitated just inches apart without me even knowing it, I sat back against my chair, saving myself from kissing a total stranger in front of a room full of people. Flustered, my eyes flickered back to Cole.  He looked cool as a cucumber. It made me wonder if he'd experienced the same thing. It was hard tell.

I turned away and started gathering my stuff, deciding it might be best if I left before I embarrassed myself. "Well, it's getting kind of late and I probably need to be heading home. It was really nice meeting you, Cole."

"You too, Mara." He seemed to be considering his next words before finally saying, "I know I'm only in Russell Springs for the next month, and you just met me, but would you be opposed to giving me your number? Maybe we can hang out sometime?"

He didn't have to ask me twice. Considering I wasn't interested in a long term relationship, the fact that he was only here temporarily, didn't bother me in the least. Cole was insanely attractive and I could tell he was a genuinely nice guy; something I had never seemed to be attracted to before. I was usually a jerk magnet.

"Hmm, I don't know..." I teased him. "You don't look like a serial killer, but you never know..."

Cole laughed, and I sighed inwardly at how freaking cute the dimples in his cheeks were. 

"Nope. Not a serial killer,” he said. “Ask Jack. On second thought, don't ask Jack. There's no telling what exaggerated stories he'd tell you about me."

"Oh, yeah. If Jack didn't have a good story on you," I said, shaking my head, "he'd make one up for fun."

I took a pen out of my pocket book and grabbed a napkin to write my telephone number down on. I don't know what possessed me, but instead of using the napkin as I had intended; I leaned over the table and jotted my number down on his blue cast, just over where his inner wrist was. You could barely see my loopy script because of the dark blue color of the plaster, but he would be able to make out the numbers if he looked closely enough. When I was finished, I looked up to see him watching me. He raised an eyebrow questioningly and I shrugged, grabbing my pocketbook and sliding out of the booth.

"I guess you won't have to worry about losing my number now, will you?" I teased, surprising myself.

He pressed his lips together and I couldn't tell if he was amused or shocked at my audacity. He slowly shook his head, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

I grinned back.

Amusement, definitely.

"No, I don't guess I will." He glanced down at his arm and then reminded me, "You forgot to write your name."

I swiped my empty coffee cup from the table and turned to leave, calling back over my shoulder, "If you can't remember my name, don't bother calling me."

What possessed me, I'll never know.

The next morning I was up early running errands for my grandmother. It was eleven in the morning and already I had been to the bank, the post office, and the grocery store. I had spent the last hour shopping for a months worth of groceries from a list a mile long. It was already hot and humid outside, and even my usual tank and cutoff jean shorts ensemble wasn't cool enough.

Sitting the last bag of groceries in my trunk, I turned around with plans to put the grocery cart away, and plowed straight into a rock hard body. Unfortunately, it was a body that was all too familiar. It took me half a second to realize who it was.

Marcus.

Dread pooled in my stomach.

I closed my eyes for a split second, remembering another time when the same scene had played out. Same people. Same dry, hot, typical summer day.

I placed the final item from my shopping trip into my trunk, a heavy 24-pack of bottled water. It was Memorial Day weekend and the only supermarket in town had been unusually busy. It had taken me almost two hours to get everything, wait in line, and unload it all into the trunk of my car. I paused to take a hair tie off my wrist and pull my long brown hair into a ponytail. When I turned around to return my shopping cart, I ran smack into a hard body. Coming face to face with my boyfriend Marcus, I instinctually flinched; at the same time plastering a smile on my face and taking a step back.

"Oh God, Marcus," I apologized. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there."

Marcus was staring at me, his eyes cold and unyielding. My stomach dropped when I realized he was in one of his moods. The kind that no matter what I did or didn't do, it wouldn't be enough. I swallowed hard when he grabbed my upper arm, his fingers just tight enough to cause discomfort. He was gritting his teeth. A sure sign I had ticked him off somehow; and for the life of me, I didn't know what I had done.

"Where the hell have you been all day?" he asked gruffly.

I shook my head at him, scrunching my face in confusion. "It's only eleven. I've been running errands for my grandmother all morning."

He looked at my hot pink sundress in disgust. "In that? Don't you have any pride? Or maybe you want the attention?" he accused.

I didn't even bother arguing with him. It wouldn't do any good. The outfit I was wearing had seemed acceptable when I left home that morning, but now I wondered if it was skimpier than I’d originally thought.

"I've got a jacket in the car. I'll put it on, okay?" I assured him, even though it was hot as hades outside. I really wished he would let go of my arm. I didn't feel like having to worry about covering up bruises again.

Marcus just shook his head. "Your grandma said you left at eight o'clock this morning to come here. I checked the parking lot at nine and you still weren't here. Who were you with?"

I looked at him incredulously. "Seriously, Marcus. I've been at the bank, post office, and putting gas in my car. You know how people are around here," I reminded him. "You can't go anywhere without being pulled into conversation. I chatted with the clerk at the bank for a good fifteen minutes, and Mr. Henry at the post office another ten." God, I hated having to explain every little thing like this.

"Yeah, I'm sure Mr. Henry loved talking to you half dressed like you are. I don't know why I put up with this shit from you Mara."

Before I could prepare myself, he tightened his hold on my arm, and then used it to shove me away from him with such force I slammed into the back of my car. A sharp, shooting pain reverberated through my hip where I took the brunt of the impact. I let out a whimper, instinctively grabbing my hip and cringing away from him.

After a couple of seconds, I realized he had left, and my eyes darted to where he was climbing into his truck. He thrust it in reverse and peeled out onto the road, squealing tires as he pulled off.

I let out a deep breath, relieved it was over... for now. Tonight he’d act like nothing had happened.

I closed my trunk, biting back a moan as a dull throb took up residence in my left hip. Tears stung my eyes, but I dared not shed any. My grandma would know if I had been crying, and it was going to be hard enough to come up with an excuse for why I was limping around. When Marcus got in one of his moods, he acted out of character. But, he was always horrified and apologetic later.

Marcus was known for his temper and, as far as anyone knew, the only place he took it out on was the football field. Most of the time, he was sweet and thoughtful: opening doors, pulling out chairs and leaving me little "just because" gifts. Every now and then I would do something to really tick him off, and he would lose his cool. The only problem was, that lately, it had been happening more and more often —for the most random of reasons. Today had been one of those times.

I shook the memory away and tried to keep the shocked look off of my face. It was deja vu all over again. But, I had broken Marcus' hold over me long ago and I wasn't about to fall back into our old ways.

I gave him a tight smile. I had discovered a lot about myself after our rocky relationship had ended. The most important —that I wasn't to blame or responsible for Marcus' moods or behavior. It had been a big revelation, and one that came only after a years worth of weekly visits to the school counselor. Marcus didn't intimidate me anymore, but it had been so nice not having to worry about running into him around town during the past year. Oh, why couldn't he have stayed in Ohio?

I put my game face on. "Marcus. What are you doing here?" I asked, making an extra effort to keep my voice calm and controlled. I wanted him to know I wasn't the same frightened and easily bullied girl anymore.

His face was all friendliness and warmth. This friendly, warm side of Marcus was the side that most people knew: the one that I had been initially drawn to. But I knew better than anyone how fast it could turn into a mask of fury and rage.

Marcus gave me a cocky half grin and held his arms out as if he expected me to run into them, full of excitement at seeing him returned. I eyed him disdainfully. "What? No hug?" he scoffed playfully. "No, 'welcome back Marcus'?" He placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "That hurts, Mara."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Excuse me, if I'm not overjoyed you're back. I think it would be a great idea if you just stayed away from me."

His face contorted into such a stricken look of pain that, if my heart hadn't been hardened to him, I would have been instantly repentant. I could see so clearly how I used to get sucked into his crap. He was so great at turning things around; making you think you had somehow been the injuring party.

"Mara," he pleaded. "Just give me another chance. I'm sorry I've hurt you, but you're all I've thought about for the past year. I can make it up to you; prove that I really am a good guy."

I was pleased that his words had little effect on me. I felt not one iota of weakness where he was concerned. It was empowering, actually.

"Sorry Marcus, but anything you and I had is long gone." My voice was strong, dismissive, and impressed even me. "I've moved on with my life and so should you."

I turned away from him, shutting the trunk of my car and moving towards the driver’s side of my car. When I felt his hand wrap around my upper arm, I froze. The familiar fear seized me for a split second before being completely snuffed out by my boiling anger. The look of surprise on his face was almost comical when I snatched my arm from his grip, shoving him hard, and climbing into my car. I started my Honda and cracked the window, looking up at Marcus' shocked face. "Stay the hell away from me, Marcus," I said icily.

 I jerked my car in reverse and sped away, keeping my eyes trained on the road ahead. I made sure not to look back in my rearview mirror. With Marcus, there was going to be absolutely no looking back.