Final Lap (Fast Track #8)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Chapter ONE

HARLEY McLain felt like Cinderella at the ball. Well, without Prince Charming. So far the only man to pay her any mind at this wedding was the groom’s stepfather, who was thirty years her senior and blind drunk. But still, standing on the terrace looking down over the gardens of the beautiful Biltmore estate, at the wedding of the illustrious stock car driver Ty McCordle and his PhD bride, Imogen Wilson, Harley definitely thought the night was magic. A million twinkling lights were strung across the enormous heated tents, and red and orange spotlights in a floral pattern lit up the side of the mansion to reflect the autumnal beauty of the mountains.

It was chilly outside in her cocktail dress, the November air brisk, leaves swirling across the stone floor, but Harley had wanted to take a minute to pause alone against the railing and appreciate the majesty of the mountains and the scene spread out before her. When her friend Eve Monroe had invited her to the wedding she had been reluctant to attend initially, knowing she would feel like an outsider in the racing crowd and being an add-on guest, having met the bride and groom only a few times. But Eve had insisted she needed a plus one, since Eve’s new husband, Nolan, wasn’t able to attend with her, which was actually a plus two because of Harley’s identical twin, Charity, being there as well. Now Harley was glad she had come just to experience the beauty of the estate inside the tent and out.

Besides, the groom had teared up when he had seen his bride appear on the stone steps of the mansion and descend toward him. That was worth the two-hour drive from Charlotte, just to see that love wasn’t the fictional unicorn Charity was convinced it was, and Harley was starting to waver on herself. She didn’t want to be that girl who felt bitter, but she was starting to question why love seemed to come easily for everyone else but her. It felt like the last time she’d been on a date, Christ had been on a potty chair. It had been that long, honest to goodness.

“Do you mind?” a masculine voice asked her, the air shifting as someone stepped in alongside her.

Actually, yes, she did, but that would be rude. Harley turned to give Mr. Whoever a polite smile and instead almost swallowed her tongue when she realized who it was. Cooper Brickman. Playboy driver. Good-looking as sin. The object of many a schoolgirl crush, including her own. And technically it wasn’t a schoolgirl crush, since Harley still got a little weak-kneed every Sunday when Cooper climbed out of his car, and she was way past the classroom.

Now he was standing next to her on the terrace under the fairy lights, wearing a tux. She was no longer cold, that was for damn sure, though her nipples were suddenly standing at attention underneath her dress.

He was holding up a cigar and a lighter, asking her permission to fire it up.

Like she would say no to him. For any reason. Whatsoever. “Sure, go for it.”

“Thanks. I needed a breather. A break from all my dance moves.” He winked at her. “I’m Cooper, by the way.”

As if she didn’t know that. “Harley. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” He puffed on his cigar, expensive lighter clicking shut.

Harley thought the stogie reeked like yesterday’s tire-kissed skunk, but she didn’t mind since when the hell was she ever going to get to stand next to Cooper again? Never. That’s when. She could have sex with him via osmosis. He didn’t even have to touch her. It was just enough that there was only six inches between them. It was like a virtual orgasm.

Sneaking a look over at him, she studied his profile. He was gorgeous, with a strong jaw, a narrow nose, rugged shoulders, and dark blond hair falling in his eyes. Beautiful, almost.

“Damn, beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked.

Harley started. “Huh?” Her heart started pounding overtime.

“The estate. I’ve never been here before. It’s amazing.”

Right. The gardens. Not him. Not her. Not this moment. “It is. The mountains are just beautiful. Our room has a view, but I guess every room has a view.”

“Our? You here with your husband?”

She was going to tell herself he cared whether or not she was single. “No. My twin sister.” Eve had gotten her own room because she didn’t like to share. At all.

“Y’all identical?” he asked, looking over at her curiously.

People always wanted to know that. They found the twin concept intriguing, for some reason. She nodded, used to the question. “Physically, yes. Otherwise, not so much.” Charity was the sexy sister. Harley was the serious one. Or at least that was the label everyone slapped on them because Charity was outspoken and fond of displaying her cleavage. Harley preferred the natural look, makeup-free for the most part, and she preferred the girls to remain in her sweater, not catching air and creepy stares.

“I have a sister, too,” Cooper said. “She’s twelve. She just moved in with me and I think she might kill me, honestly. Been driving for twenty years and I have never felt at risk of dying, but it’s this kid that’s going to be the death of me, I’m telling you. It’s stressful as hell to be responsible for another human being.”

“I’m a nanny for a couple of preschoolers,” Harley told him. “I love kids. But I haven’t dealt with any preteens yet. You have my sympathy.”

“I’ll trade ya.”

She laughed. “That only works in reality shows.”

“Damn, so you mean this is real life?” He gave her a grin. “Shit. I’m screwed.”

“I’m sure your sister will settle down. Twelve is a tough age for a girl.” Harley remembered legs that were too long and a sudden painful awareness of boys.

“She’s had it really easy and really hard at the same time,” he said. “That doesn’t sound like it makes sense, but it’s the truth. I want to do right by her. But I don’t always know what I’m doing. Actually, I don’t know what I’m doing at all.”

The laughter had left his voice and Harley heard the sincerity, the worry, in his voice, which she respected. It did her heart good to hear that he cared so much about his sister. To her, he’d always just been the cocky grin jumping out of the 78 car, sexy and confident.

But then he shook his head. “And I have no idea why I am boring you with my troubles. You just have one of those faces. Makes me feel confessional.”

She did. Everywhere Harley went people wanted to overshare with her. The bank teller spilled about her divorce, the dental hygienist confessed to an affair, the man behind her in line at the grocery voiced his fears over his upcoming surgery. She was used to it and didn’t mind, most of the time.