Read Pedal to the Metal: Love's Drivin' but Fate's Got the Pole (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 3) for Free Online Page B

shoulder.
    “Actually, Andy used to be the personal chef for the Clintons when they were in the White House.” Senior poured himself another glass of wine.
    “Is that right?” Dale turned from drowning in Mom’s eyes to look at the lawyer. “Then, I reckon I’ve eaten Andy’s cookin’ a time or two. Bill had us to dinner at the White House twice, when we won back-to-back championships in ’99 and 2000.” Dale reached up to adjust his cap, letting his hand fall with a wince when he realized he wasn’t wearing one. “And, both times, there was a bottle of ketchup on every table.”
    I shot Robert a smug smile.
    Senior chuckled. “I can believe that about Clinton. Sure you won’t try this wine, Dale? I’d love to toast your weddin’ anniversary with you. You said when you called that you and your lovely wife just celebrated your fourth, I believe.”
    Dale shook his head. He lifted Mom’s hand to his lips. “That’s right. Four amazin’ years. No, thanks, but y’all go ahead. I can get drunk just lookin’ at my lovely lady.” He shot me a wink. “Both of ‘em.”
    Senior raised his glass. “Gotta admire a man who sticks by his religious convictions.”
    I gave Robert’s father a hard look, to be sure he wasn’t making fun of Dale. Dale must’ve picked up on the faintly condescending tone, too.
    “Not takin’ a drink ain’t got a damn thing to do with God.” Dale snapped the tri-folded napkin loose and dropped the square onto the knee of the suit pants he’d worn in the family photo. “One single ounce of booze slows your reaction time for a full seventy-two hours. Not indulgin’ durin’ the season gives me a fraction of a second’s advantage on any dumba—er, any other crewman who takes a drink. And those milliseconds,”—he raised cool eyes to Senior’s—“will be the difference between winnin’ and losin’. At least once I can think of, that slim margin was surely the difference between livin’ and dyin’.”
    Dale dropped his head and smoothed his tie, but I spied his smirk.
    “In that case, I’m even more impressed.” Senior tipped his glass in Dale’s direction before taking a long sip.
    Dale scooted his chair closer to Mom’s. “Macy, I hope I remembered to tell you how damn fine you’re lookin’ tonight.”
    “Indeed. A lovely wife you have, Dale.” Senior’s smile seemed a little boozy, but my nerves made it hard to trust my judgment.
    “So, Robert, I hear you’ve been accepted to law school?” Mom lifted her tea glass. She used it to screen Dale from the dirty look she shot me.
    Oh, poor baby, you’re mad about the ketchup remark? I gave her a bright smile. She was the first to look away.
    “Yes, ma’am. My father’s firm is one of the largest in Charlotte. I’ll be an associate there as soon as I pass the bar.” Robert gave my cast a pat. “So, when I’m through with law school, rest assured, I’ll be bringin’ Shelby home.”
    Dale grabbed his tea and took a long swallow. What was Robert playing at? Bring me home? From where? Surely to Jesus, he wasn’t trying to imply that I’d taken him up on that idiotic job in Columbia?
    Except, there was some reason he hadn’t been straight with his father. The smack on the head hadn’t affected my memory, but it had made reasoning out even the most basic things a challenge. I’d only agreed to come to avoid answering questions from Mom and Dale about my relationship with Robert. He’d stopped rushing me. He called occasionally to ask if I needed a ride somewhere. I had enough on my plate without trying to define our relationship.
    But I had no idea what was in this charade for Robert.
    I chewed the inside of my cheek, meeting Dale’s steady look, but kept quiet.
    “Uh huh.” Dale lifted a brow. “Where I come from, Robbie, it’s customary to ask a woman’s daddy for her hand before you gallivant off makin’ marriage plans.”
    Mom laughed. “Now, Dale’s just pulling your leg, Robert.