“A cookbook,” Crystal supplied. “I saw you had a good race in Charlotte,” she said to Dean.
Eyes still hard, Dean opened his mouth.
“Thank you,” Patsy put in, forestalling whatever it was Dean had been about to say, and earning a scowl from her husband. “The charity walk went well this morning,” she continued, directing her attention to Crystal. “I understand Softco made a nice donation.”
“Missed you there,” Dean said to Larry, innuendo sharp in his tone.
“I’ll be sending a check,” Larry added, refusing to rise to his brother’s bait.
“So what were the two of-”
Patsy nudged her husband with her shoulder, talking overtop of him. “Will you be joining me in the motor home later?”
“We might head up to Alan Cargill’s skybox,” Larry offered, feeling Crystal’s immediate and disapproving glare. “It’s a little hot down here. Hope you don’t mind but we dropped off Crystal’s dog at your motor home.”
“That’s fine. It’s the best place for him,” Patsy said. “Well, we’d better get going. We don’t want to be late for the driver introductions.”
“Have a good race,” Larry said to Dean, offering his hand.
“Good luck,” Crystal echoed.
“Thanks,” said Dean with a shake, but his expression told Larry they’d be talking later.
Larry watched them melt into the crowd. “See what I mean?” he said to Crystal.
“Are we going to hide up in the sky box and pretend we’re just friends?”
He thought about that. “Maybe.” Couldn’t hurt. At least for a while.
“You plan to see me again?” She leaned her shoulder to his, tipping up to whisper in his ear. “You plan to sleep with me again?”
He couldn’t deny that. “Absolutely.”
“What are the odds we can keep it a secret?”
“I’d have to write an algorithm to know for sure.”
“Ballpark it.”
“You trying to beat me at my own game?”
“You bet.”
He gave in with a harsh sigh. She was right. If they spent any amount of time together, their relationship was going to become public knowledge, at the very least public speculation. Hiding was a bad plan.
“Fine.” He agreed, deciding they should ease people into the idea. “We can wander around the infield. We can hold hands. But no public kissing. We’re not teenagers, and there are members of the press around here. As you know, the press loves my famous family.”
“I’ll try to restrain myself,” she muttered.
He held back a smile. “You do that.”
“But we’re kissing later.”
“Of course.”
“I don’t care if we have to park the rental car behind a warehouse or hide out in an airport restroom.”
“I’m not going into the ladies’ room. And you’re damn sure not going into the men’s room.”
“Do you academics get paid by the debate?”
“We do.”
“It shows.”
He took her hand. “Then explain to me why you keep winning.”
CRYSTAL WATCHED WITH RISING excitement as Kent Grosso hurtled his No. 427 car toward the finish line, trying to pass his father who was in the lead. Three cars were vying for the top spot. Dean was barely holding on to the lead as they tucked into Turn Two. Dean’s No. 414 car went high. Kent went low, and the third car struggled to find an opening in the middle.
The checkered flag was out, and she gripped Larry’s hand tightly as the announcer’s voice rose with excitement. The crowd was on its feet and the spectators on the infield crowded the fence, while the cars hurtled down the straightaway.
She held her breath as the three contenders drove into Turn Three. Dean held on, held on, held on.
He made it out of the turn, sticking solidly to the race track as he covered the final stretch to the line.
“And he does it!” shouted the announcer as a hundred and fifty thousand spectators filled the air with cheers. “Dean Grosso hangs on to take the checkered flag and win the race.”
Crystal whooped out a cheer and threw her arms around Larry. He hugged her tight, lifting her right off the ground.
“What a race,” she breathed. “Dean first and Kent second.”
Larry gave her a peck on the cheek, proud of his nephew. “When it comes together, it comes together.”
“Are you sorry Steve wasn’t spotting?” she asked, while Larry lowered her back to the ground.
The remaining cars whined past the start/finish line while Dean did a celebratory burnout to the roaring delight of the capacity crowd.
“He screwed up last week. No getting around that. He knows enough to be a man about it. Besides-” Larry gave her a wry smile “-I suspect Heidi’s doing a bang-up job of consoling him. And his team did get the points. The Chase is coming up fast.”
“And the points count above everything else,” Crystal agreed.
“You’ve got the picture,” said Larry. “Victory Lane?”
“You bet.” She fell into step beside him as they followed the surge of the crowd.
By the time they grew close enough to see the action at Victory Lane, Dean was climbing out of the race car, donning a Smoothtone Music hat. Team members clapped him in a hug as he was handed the trophy, which he hoisted in the air.
The Maximus Motorsports team had surrounded Victory Lane, and they were all grinning ear to ear.
“I should go congratulate the team,” Larry shouted in Crystal’s ear, taking her arm to steer her in that direction.
“You go,” she shouted back, disentangling.
“I’ll introduce you,” said Larry, obviously trying to make up for his earlier reluctance to acknowledge her.
But Crystal shook her head. “It’s the team’s moment. And we’re not sure how they feel about me.”
Larry’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not embarrassed.”
“I’ll be right here when you get back.”
He opened his mouth to argue.
“Go,” she insisted with a little shove. “Celebrate with them for a bit.”
“If you’re sure.” Larry took a couple of backward steps.
She gave him a nod, since there was no way her voice would be heard above the crowd. Then she watched him disappear, and her gaze shifted toward the team.
“Enjoying Larry’s company?” came Patsy’s voice directly beside her.
Crystal quickly turned to see the woman’s knowing smirk.
“I’m glad Dean won today,” Crystal offered.
Patsy beamed with pride. “Both of my boys. It’s a good day.” Both women glanced to the No. 414 car, where Dean was playfully spraying champagne on his team.
“But Dean’s not getting any younger,” Patsy continued, a flash of annoyance coloring her eyes.
“Is he thinking about-”
“Tell me about Larry,” Patsy put in smoothly, the anger disappeared as fast as it had risen. She linked her arm with Crystal’s and a twinkle came into her sky-blue eyes.
“He went over to congratulate the team,” Crystal offered.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Crystal blinked, hoping against hope that Patsy would back off.
“I meant,” Patsy elaborated, “now that my husband isn’t glaring daggers at the two of you, what’s going on?”
Crystal chose her words carefully. “We’re getting to know each other.”
“And how’s that going?”
“It’s going well,” said Crystal, her gaze involuntarily falling on Larry where he was shaking a crew member’s hand. He pulled another one back into a back-slapping hug.
“I sense a certain-” Patsy paused, waving a descriptive hand through the air “-energy between the two of you.”
Crystal held a quick mental debate with herself. She and Patsy weren’t exactly friends. But she had seen the woman on and off for most of her life, and she certainly trusted her.
“We’re trying to keep it low-key,” she finally offered.
“Why?”
“Larry’s self-conscious.”
“Libby’s been gone for three years.”
“It’s the age thing.”