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in one year.”Kyle’s skin went white under his freckles, as though he’d just realized he’d insulted him.
    “ Ouch.” Carter gave the kid a mock wince, then tapped the brim of Kyle’s baseball cap. “Beau sounds like a smart kid.”
    Another pack of cars approached and all conversation stopped as the three of them braced for the next mini-earthquake.
    “ Stanley Phelps.” Kyle’s dad extended a hand. “Hope we’re not bothering you, but Kyle’s a real big fan, just like the rest of us. My nephew has posters of you all over his room.”
    Carter clapped the man on his shoulder, a puff of dirt floating up. “You’re not bothering me at all. I’m mighty honored that y’all are taking time away from watching your nephew to come talk to me.”
    “ There he is,” Kyle shouted, pointing to a bright green car. It broke sideways on the corner, then righted itself on the straightaway.
    “ He’s good.” Carter took a pull of his beer when Beau almost painted the bumper of another car. And seriously reckless. The kid was going to get his ass kicked after the race if he didn’t watch it.
    “ Can we sit with you, Mr. Carter?” Kyle sat down on the bleacher.
    Nodding, Carter sat down beside him and Stanley took the opposite side of this son. They watched the race, the occasional hiss of breath and cheer from Kyle breaking their silence.
    A woman waved a flag over the track, signaling that it was the last lap.
    “ Go, Beau, go,” Kyle shouted, but the kid’s enthusiasm didn’t help. His cousin came in next to last place. “Well, crud, tonight was his last race. Daddy said he couldn’t spend any more money, until he won one.”
    Stanly and Kyle stood, shoulder slumped and faces glum.
    “ Thanks for letting us sit with you,” Stanley said with a tip of his hat.
    “ Beau won’t believe it when I tell him who we sat with during the race,” Kyle crowed, jumping up and down on the bleachers.
    Carter stood, craning his neck to find the driver of the bright green car. Beau emerged, tossing his helmet to another kid, then kicked at the dirt. Carter knew exactly how he felt.
    “ Would it be alright if I said hello to Beau?”
    Stanley nodded and Kyle grabbed Carter’s hand. He followed them down to the Pit. Memories bubbling to the surface of his first race, his first wreck and the first time he got his ass handed to him. Carter couldn’t fight the grin. So much better than all the frowning and grimacing he’d been doing in the past twenty-four hours. The tightness that had worked its way deep inside of him eased and he exhaled, blowing away the frustration.
    “ Is that Carter Ambrose?” A sandy-haired boy’s mouth dropped open, gum falling to the ground.
    Winking, Carter put a finger to his lips. He didn’t mind people discovering he was here, but having it advertised was another. The fans in the bleachers should be cheering on their local favorites, not him. Taking away another driver’s fifteen minutes wasn’t anywhere on his radar.
    Carter hung back as Stanley talked to his nephew. All of seventeen, with hair the same shade of green as the Sprint car stuck up in clumps, Beau pointed to the track and shook his head. A silver hoop pierced his lip while dirt streaked his face and his suit.
    Beau walked over to him, an expression of chagrin on his face. “Holy shit, it is you.”
    “ Watch your mouth,” Stanley shouted.
    Rolling his eyes, Beau leaned into Carter. “He gets on my ass all the time for my language but my aunt’s the one that curses like a sailor. Uncle Stanley don’t say a damn thing to her.”
    “ Yeah, well…happy wife, happy life,” Carter said. He sliced his gaze to the Sprint Car. “Can I take a look?”
    “ Have at it. Maybe you can tell me what’s wrong with her.”
    Carter ran his hand over the roof, sliding his fingers down to the hood that was still hot. The kid’s ride was sweet. Popping the hood, he checked out the engine. You could tell a lot about a man by the