Slow Ride (Fast Track #5)(64)
Author: Erin McCarthy

When she got there, for a minute she was worried she wouldn’t be able to gain access without any of her press credentials. But one of the guards recognized her and let her in.

Diesel was climbing out of his car, favoring his knee only a little bit. She stood on the edge of the track, overcome with emotion at the sight of him. When he pulled off his helmet, she saw he’d trimmed his beard. It wasn’t so unruly and mountain man as it had been. She wasn’t used to seeing him in riding gear. He looked sexy, like he was born to drive, which he had been. He was grinning, ear to ear, like he had just torn up the track and enjoyed every mile.

God, she loved him. How could she have ever let him go? How could she have said the horrible things to him that she had?

When he spotted her, he stopped walking and the grin fell off his face.

Tuesday forced herself to walk over to him, her heels clicking on the asphalt. “Hi,” she said, her voice low and husky.

“Tuesday. Hi. Are you here for the drive?” He looked wary of her, hands clenching his helmet against his chest.

She shook her head rapidly, not trusting herself to speak, the emotions she’d been busy processing all rushing to the surface at once, threatening to pull her under. “No,” she squeaked out. “I’m not here for the drive. I came to talk to you.”

“Oh.”

When she didn’t say anything, unable to figure out what to say he added, “How have you been? Are you okay?”

The answer she would have given in the past would have been that she was fine. But she no longer needed to cling to the façade of strength when none was needed. What they needed was the truth between them. “No, I’m not okay. I’m doing better, and I’m going to a counselor, and I’ve quit drinking, but, no, I’m not completely okay . . . not yet. I will be though.”

“I’m glad to hear that you’ve stopped drinking. That’s a good thing, sweetheart, a real good thing.”

The term of endearment emboldened her. She forged ahead. “I came here to apologize to you.”

“What?” Diesel glanced him around. “Do you mind taking a walk? I’d like to talk in private.”

“Sure, of course.” Tuesday fell in step beside him and without even thinking she reached for his hand and squeezed it, just like she had with her mother. She didn’t keep it there, though, and as glorious as it felt, it only made her more acutely aware of how difficult it was to no longer have the right to touch him.

She wasn’t sure what to say, where to start. She wanted to choose her words more carefully than she had in the past. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I was awful that night at the benefit. I can’t believe I made that announcement saying you would drive after you told me you didn’t want to . . . that was inexcusable. I did it because I was drunk and it made sense to me at the time and that just makes it even worse.” Tuesday stole a glance at him to see how he was reacting to her apology. She wasn’t sure if she should just shut up or keep going.

He was staring down at her intently. “I miss you, sweetheart,” he told her. He stopped walking and cupped her cheek with his hand. “I love you.”

Oh, God. That was the first time he’d ever come straight out and spoken those words to her and it thrilled and devastated her. But it had her tossing caution out the window and there was no thinking about her response. She just said it.

“I love you, too. So, so much.”

Then she threw her arms around him, because if this were it, if this were the last time she was going to see him in any meaningful way, she wanted to feel him, hold him. His arms came around her and he held her tight, his lips brushing along her temple.

“I’m sorry, too,” he told her. “I’m so sorry. You were right, I was holding back, I could have shared more. But I was afraid, I was afraid you would think I wasn’t a real man. And attacking you about everything that night at the benefit was the worst selfish timing.”

“What?” She pulled her head off his chest. “Why the hell would I think you were less of a man?”

“Because I can’t do this anymore.” He gestured behind him to the track. “Because I’m not an advocate for better safety measures. Because I sit in my house with no awards, no evidence of my career. Because I walk with a limp.”

Tears flooded Tuesday’s eyes. “God, I never thought any of those things. I had to write that into the article, it was a reporter’s speculation. But I don’t care if you drive or not. I just care that you’re happy. I should have listened to you better when you did talk.”

She stared into those pale blue eyes and what she saw there had flicker of hope sparking into a bonfire.

“I want to be with you.” He kissed her, the softest, gentlest kiss he’d ever given, one that spoke of love and promise and a life together. “I love you, and I want to work on whatever we need to. I was really damn happy with you, Tuesday. The happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Me, too, me, too.” She kissed him back, not caring who was watching, not caring where she was, just wanting him to feel what was inside of her. “I love you, Daniel.”

Thank God. Diesel hugged Tuesday tightly in relief, knowing they were going to be okay. They were going to be fine. They were going to be better than anything either of them could have anticipated and they were going to be happy.

They already were.

Suddenly he found himself impulsively going down on one knee, his bad knee, too, of all stupid-ass things. But here before all these other people on the track, before a photographer and Jesper and Roger Hanover, he was going to toss his idea of living together and go for the real deal.

“Tuesday.”

Her hands had flown up to her mouth and her eyes were huge. Tears glistened in her brown eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

She nodded without hesitation, up and down rapidly, multiple times.

Euphoria exploded inside him and he grinned. “Did I finally make you speechless?”

With one final nod, she burst out, “Yes! Holy shit, yes!”

He laughed. “I have always loved your enthusiasm.”

She jumped up and down a couple of times. “Oh, my God, we’re getting married!” She turned and waved violently to Roger, the billionaire, who was standing by the car he’d bought, looking bemused. “Married. Really? Are you sure, Diesel?”

As a matter of fact, he had never been more sure. “Yes. Totally sure.” But then he winced when he tried to stand up. “Now help me up.”