The Chase
The Chase (Fast Track #4)(57)
Author: Erin McCarthy
“Look, I’m not some old codger down on love.”
She wanted to ask how old Carl actually was. She was thinking he was really only in his mid-forties, but she wasn’t sure given the silver in his hair.
“But racing is big money, you know that. I can’t afford to lose and neither can your husband.”
“Then don’t make it harder for him by giving him threats instead of congratulations.” She was well aware she was treading on thin ice here, but it was the right thing to do for her husband, her marriage.
Kendall braced herself for a reprimand but Carl just grinned. “I’ll see what I can do, Mrs. Monroe. Congrats. And bust some ass on that track, you hear me?”
She let her shoulders relax. Smiling back, she was tempted to salute him, but restrained herself. “Thanks. You can count on it.”
Feeling much lighter, she said good-bye and left, wondering if she could talk her brand-new husband into a nooner.
“WHAT’S married life like?” a reporter asked Evan on Sunday as he strolled from pit road to the platform for drivers’ introductions.
Evan grinned. “So far, so good. Best six days of my life.”
The reporter, a guy named Ed, who had been around stock car racing for the majority of Evan’s career, grinned. “Never thought we’d see the day. You guys are all falling like dominoes.”
“I guess we’re smart enough to know a good thing when we see it.”
“Can I get a quick interview with you and your wife?”
“If you can find her.” Evan glanced around and didn’t see Kendall. She liked to be alone before a race, and the last he’d seen her, she was in a quiet corner in the garage. It wasn’t his style, but he respected hers.
It had been a hell of a week. A fantastic, bliss-filled whirlwind. The press conference had gone well. Carl had chewed him out privately, but had smiled publicly, and Untamed Deodorant was going gaga, in a good way, over the news.
As Tuesday had blogged on Monday, it was a stock car racing first. Husband and wife both driving in the cup series. Never been done before.
Evan didn’t care about being first, he just cared that he’d won the ultimate race of all—the one for love. It was corny and sappy and had him eating all the words he’d ever spoken in disdain to his buddies, but he’d gladly swallow them down if it meant feeling like this.
“Hey, here she is.” Evan couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face when his wife came into view. Wife. It felt even better than he ever could have imagined.
“Kendall, congratulations,” Ed told her.
“Thanks.” She smiled at the reporter then raised her eyebrows at Evan. “Are you talking trash, Monroe?”
“I’m just telling Ed you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Smooth.” Ed nodded in approval.
A female reporter had noticed the two of them and joined in. “Can I see your ring, Kendall?”
“It’s locked up. Didn’t think it was smart to wear it driving. But trust me, it’s beautiful.”
“Practically vintage,” Evan told her.
“Practically? How is a ring ‘practically’ vintage?”
“He bought it for me ten years ago,” Kendall said, surprising Evan. He hadn’t thought she’d be willing to share that. “Only we broke up before he could offer it to me.”
“Sometimes you’re in the chase longer than you expected,” Evan said, knowing he sounded like a complete dork. He kissed Kendall on the top of her head in a move he was sure would embarrass her, but he didn’t care. “But the win is worth the wait.”
The female reporter actually put her hand over her heart. “Oh, my God, that was so sweet.”
Ed rolled his eyes. “You’re ruining it for us, man. First McCordle pops the question on live TV, then Jefferson remarries his ex-wife, and now you’ve gone all Air Supply lyrics on us? Bachelors everywhere are weeping.”
“Don’t let him fool you. He’s a real jerk at home.” Kendall smiled and leaned over and kissed his cheek. “See you in five. Love you.”
Evan grinned as he watched her walk away. “She’s hot and funny. Damn, I’m a lucky man.”
He hadn’t turned his cell phone off yet and it buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw it was another text from Sara. Frowning, he wondered if she’d seen the news about his marriage yet. Surely that would dissuade the girl.
I really, really need to talk to u. Now.
Was she nuts? He had a race starting in an hour. And what the hell was there to talk about?
Can’t, race is going to start soon. Look, I’m sorry, but I just got married. Don’t think we should talk.
He had barely hit send before he got another text from her.
I’m pregnant. Ur the father.
Evan stopped walking. All the blood rushed out of his head and he felt like he’d had the wind punched out of him. Like he might pass out. Like the entire world around him had started to tilt and spin.
Oh. My. God.
It couldn’t be true. There was no way. It had been months and months since he had stupidly slept with Sara, and if she were pregnant, wouldn’t she have said something sooner?
“Jesus,” he whispered, his face burning, mouth pooling with nervous saliva, stomach churning like a whirlpool of acid.
He deleted the noxious message, unable to even look at it.
How far along?
Maybe if she was lying, that would trip her up.
But her response was immediate.
Nineteen weeks. It’s a girl.
Evan thought back to the camping trip he’d taken with the guys, when the women had crashed. That had been before Thanksgiving, early, maybe mid-November. He wasn’t exactly sure. But it was almost the middle of April, which meant five months, which meant about twenty weeks . . . “Oh, my God.”
For a horrible second, he thought he was going to hurl, but he drew a few deep breaths and managed to control it.
“Hey, you okay?” Ed asked him, clapping him on the shoulder. “You look a little green.”
“My breakfast isn’t sitting right,” he said, forcing the words. “I’m okay though, thanks.”
“I think they’re about to call your name.”
Evan looked at the stage, feeling a little frantic. Damn, he had to pull it together. If Sara was pregnant, it was possible he wasn’t the father. They had only spent one night together, and hell, that had really only been about thirty minutes, not a night. Maybe she wasn’t even pregnant. Maybe it was just a ploy to get his attention since he had politely turned down her advances in the months since.